migue-gj

[migue-gj]

"What? Something different with me? What do you mean!?" I replied as my new roommate placed some rather suspicious questions.

That was close. I really needed to be more careful here. That guy I slipped in sure was a treat and I didn't want to jinx it just yet.

But now let's see what my new self are offering.

[migue-gj]

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

The fuck was Miguel doing FaceTime’ing him?

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

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

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

“Whatchu want Miguel,” Darrius groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuckin’ better, dude, I swear, I—”

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

“Miguel, seriously, how—?”

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

“Migs—!!”

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

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

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

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

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

Hell, he could work with this!

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

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

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

[migue-gj]

Himbo Dreams

Nick was trying to get some sleep. He had been lying on his bed, clad only in briefs, focusing on the spinning ceiling fan as if trying to lull himself into deep slumber. Nick thought he would finally join a club, go to parties, maybe even fool around with some boys. But college was just lecture after lecture, his overactive imagination already stressing about tomorrow's seminar. Goddamn. He needed to calm his mind, trying to focus on something else - that is, hot jocks.

Tall, beefy, muscular men had popped up in his brain like fleeting mirages. Somehow, Nick had ended up in a college that was a giant in every sport imaginable. From sun-kissed boys in the swimming club, to the brawny brutes of the football club. Of course, he could only watch, not do. Next to the pinnacles of fitness, Nick was just a regular unassuming guy. In a campus full of jocks he was short at 5'5", and though he worked out on occasion, his body didn't show anything impressive. The only interactions he got were accidental shoves from people walking past.

Still, an occasional glance at the hunks in his class or at the soccer team out the window helped get him through the day. He noted how each of the sport teams had their own sexy characteristics:

Down by the pool, the swimmers were lean and tanned to perfection, dripping water highlighted the grooves of their abs, carving straight to their cum gutters; brought out perfectly by tight speedos that left little to the imagination, showing off juicy curves and asses.

Full of testosterone and ego, the quarterbacks were huge. Larger than life in body and demeanor, always rowdy and loud in the field. Drawing attention with their boulder shoulders, accentuated by their shoulder pads; and tight pants that showed their meaty behinds. Unlike the smooth shaven boys in the water, the footballers were hairy and musky, pits and pubes full of sweat that could drive you crazy.

The soccer team were the complete definition of hunks, they loved to strip down on the field, showing their carved torsos in glory; the basketball players were tall and packing heat, black shorts only highlighted their lengthy members, and their stamina on the court wasn't just for show according to some rumors.

Nick could go on and on about every fantasy in his mind, hoping one of the jocks would magically ask him out, allowing him to feel up their bodies. Or even better, if he could be them. To be that muscular and commanding jock, sauntering into a room bulge first, popping his pecs in class, having a flex off with his like-minded bros. Although it was just a pipedream, it permeated his mind over and over, usually ending with him grumbling to himself and sighing deeply.

Out of all the stereotypical jocks, there was one he loved the most, the perfect combination appearing in every sport, and the final hot image in his brain - a frat bro.

Dumb, muscular, horny, hung, himbos, every descriptor activated the right neuron in his brain. These words were on constant repeat in Nick's mind, remembering them as he drifted into horny dreams, carrying those words with a wish. But tonight, someone heard it. And soon enough, static and fuzz crept into Nick's brain, compelling him into deep sleep.

Something whispered from the dark. Granted.

A small hum of energy blew in the air, as the bed began to creak, not from Nick's tossing and turning but from an increase of weight. With a sudden pop, his legs started to rapidly stretch, causing them to hang off the bed. His torso and limbs followed along, elongating in a deep stretch and pop that elicited a groan from the sleeping Nick.

Tall. Basketball player height.

5'5" became 6" that further lengthened into 6'4", leaving him as tall as most of the basketball team. Damn, he might have to duck under some doorways every now and then. The stretch continued, perfectly proportioning his limbs, as his neck and arms grew to fit. Meanwhile, a surge of energy focused on turning his average feet and hands into gargantuan monsters. His size 7 feet became meaty size 16s, toes becoming wider; they would make an audible stomp everywhere he went now, along with an unmistakable sweaty imprint. He remembered his bros complaining about the loud stomping in the frat house. Heh. He couldn't help it, they were just marks of a man. His fingers followed, popping longer and thicker to become meaty digits. They were better suited for gripping dumbbells and protein shakes, rather than any pens or keyboards for class. Not like he used them often. English and Arts? Nah, he was only there for sports, Athletic Science or some shit, with grades at the bare minimum.

Hunk. Toned Soccer Player. Nick's body began to lean out, the frustrating belly fat that had stayed through countless 15 minute core workouts dissolved into rock hard abs. Each individual ab popped into a perfect six-pack, carving and embedding themselves into his core. His waist cinched tight as his cum gutters became visible, allowing any drops of sweat to slide and accentuate his toned and tiny waist.

But it didn't stop there. Muscular. Football team large. A warmth spread up from his feet, which made his calves swell into massive diamond shapes. His thighs piled on muscle after muscle, causing his legs to spread apart, threatening to spill off the bed. A mixture of pain and pleasure washed over Nick. Memories of brutal leg presses and squats injected themselves straight into the fibers of his massive columns. After all, bros never skipped leg day, that was how they got their signature lumbering walk. His once average ass - not wanting to lose the fight - fattened into massive globes that lifted him higher into the air, soaking his sheets with sweat. Nick’s upgraded bubble butt was huge and round, each cheek constantly bouncy and jiggly, especially when riding his frat bros. In response, Nick started gyrating on the bed as new memories flowed into him -nights of being fucked and used - the sensation sending tingles down his spine, as his hole tightened to be used for maximum pleasure. Nick's audible groans became louder as the energy surged through his chest, ballooning into mounds of firm pecs that would show through any shirt he tried on. They swelled out into hefty milkers, his nipples stretching just a little wider, big enough for his bros to play with. His shoulders followed, doubling in width as they grew along with his broad back, connecting with his traps. Giving him that strong structured look. Biceps and triceps exploded with muscle, defined by a juicy vein that ran up from his steel forearms. When flexed, they would tear sleeves to their breaking point, but it didn't matter, his wardrobe was stock full with singlets and tank tops, just like any other bro.

Smooth and hairy in all the right places.

A tingle swept over his entire body, as his old pitiful wisps of leg hair fell out and disappeared into the ether, giving him smooth and soft skin. Instead, all the hair went into his pits and pubes, fluffing them up into musk-filled bushes, hairy and dark. They would peek out in his singlets and jockstraps, enticing everyone to sniff or lick. His hair grew to a messy mop that would be paired with beanies and baseball caps. Dumb and Handsome. With a crack, Nick's face began to rearrange to model status, making him attractive while permanently affixing him with a dopey grin. His nose thickened to breathe in more musk from bushy armpits, sometimes even his own. His lips fattened; sloppy and wet for passionate kisses or blowjobs for his bros. Panting like a dog, his tongue lolled out, wide and long, a pleasure tool on its own. Eyes became clear, removing any need for glasses but also becoming vacant, an open window to the constant horniness and empty thoughts in his head. And the final pop of his enlarged Adam's apple gave him that stereotypical bro cadence. His deep and dull voice had two purposes, dumb moans in the bed and rough grunts in the gym. Hung like a horse. Heavy bull nuts. Groans and pants filled the air with heavy breaths as the warmth spread to his most sensitive area. His cock and balls. Nick's average 5 incher rose to a sizable 9 inches, barely fitting into his white briefs, its uncut head leaking pre everywhere, almost turning the fabric translucent. Still, it kept growing. 10 inches... 11 inches... Harder, thicker, longer, into a fat meaty pole that shot out of his briefs with a satisfying pop, landing with a wet smack on his abs. Now uncontained, his 12 inch monster cock was a weapon of its own, when not being bred, Nick ravaged the bedroom with his footlong size. Thick veins ran up his erect dick, overflowing with cum from his pumped up nuts. His balls had swelled along with his hefty member, dropping from regular to swinging, heavy, animal nuts. Finding underwear would be impossible for the new himbo, remembering his package bursting through buttons and briefs in the past. Luckily, jockstraps could barely contain the beast, and the tight fabric behind settled perfectly in between his cheeks, pulled taut to tease his hole throughout the day. His balls were now cum factories, capable of going endlessly in a night, churning to the brim with frat bro seed. With one final swell and thrust, Nick erupted in a loud grunt, tensing his entire body as his cock quivered with pressure, balls tightening for release. A force in the air blew, and with the gentle gust of wind caressing his cock, he exploded with mind-breaking pleasure. Spurts of cum flew out, almost reaching the ceiling, as Nick bucked his hips in mindless pleasure. Each load caused deep and heavy moans to reverberate on his bedroom walls, his thick and smelly cum landing on every surface. He continued his musky assault on his surroundings, bucking his cock in the air like fucking an invisible hole. After painting the room white in cum, and staining the air with sweat, Nick let out a rich sigh, his sleeping face dumb and exhausted. His wet dreams were fulfilled. In a sudden, it whispered. Wake up.

Nick groaned, his body was on fire. Maybe he shouldn't have pushed himself so hard at yesterday's full body workout, but he knew the pump was well worth it. He stared blankly at the empty ceiling, strange, he could have sworn he had a fan up there. Maybe that's why he was so goddamn sweaty. Nick pulled himself out of bed, making a goofy grin at his still hard cock, twitching and ready for countless rounds. His sheets were always stained with a mixture of sweat and cum, making the room reek with musk. Last night must have been super wild, he'd always get extra wet dreams if he didn't jerk off before bed, but fuck there was even cum on the floor today, though he was unable to remember what the dream was. It didn't matter though, all it took was a second for his doubt to fade away. He'd clean up the mess later, or ask a bro to do it. Heavy footsteps paved their way to the shower, an audible signal of the dumb himbo. His horsecock dripped precum all over the floor, making a light slapping sound against his thunderous thighs. After a quick rinse to get rid of the excess sweat and cum, Nick stared hungrily at his own reflection. His towel draped at just the right angle to reveal his shredded torso and give a peek of his gorgeous v-line.

Fuck, he was hot. His model face and beefy body greeted him in the morning, along with his throbbing monster cock. Nghhh. He groaned, bull balls slapping against the white sink, he almost fucked the countertop in desperation. However, it stopped him, giving three basic words that completed his transformation. Lift. Eat. Fuck. Freshly imprinted into his brain, Nick let out a long guttural moan as the command settled into his every cell. "Huhuhu." A dumb laugh followed, and like a robot, Nick was steered by the hypnotizing call. Fuck it, he would go commando today, He threw on a white tank top and black sweatpants, ones that hugged his body tight for everyone's viewing pleasure; making sure to add a gray beanie and a chain necklace that screamed douchey bro to the world. Taking a quick snap in the elevator, the new Nick cemented himself as a forever dumb, muscular himbo. With another wish granted, it murmured. Good Himbo.

*you've made it to the end! finally wrote a tf story after lurking for so long, gotta start with one of my favorite tropes, the himboooo. but wait! who was that mysterious force? maybe we'll find out one day ^^, or you could find out if you magically wake up as a himbo ;)*

[migue-gj]

Spinoff: Fiancè Needs His Groomsmen Part 2

You can check on @fullfriendnerdclutch that we dubbed as part 1 here . As always, full credit to the OG storyline by @thesuitaskin

Pete's mind still buzzing from all the revelation and exciting plan laid out by "Austin". It all sounded too good to be true but the fact that driving Austin Hill's body for the past months turned out to be his gaming buds Owen still surprised him. That revelation really thrown out all the doubt that the shit "Austin" laid out is very much possible and he's going to be involved with the whole scheme if everything goes smoothly in the next 2 days!

Later that night, while busy watching some video he bookmarked in his X, Peter received a strange video call request from an unknown number that caused the video to pause. He rejected it for the first time, second and even third, but by the time the caller called once more, he picked it up and stared right at the screen in anger. His eyes instantly went wide to the sight that welcomed him, a true muscular daddy clearly built to perfection which also happened to be built like the kind of co-stars in the shit he watched

"Hey there, twerp. How's your evening? Done jacking off to those MILF porn?"

Surprised, confused and anger mixed into one as he barked back

"Who the fuck are you, creep? How can you get my number?"

"Someone way above your league, definitely. Enjoying what you see? That little chub already reached its full length?"

"Fuck, I don't need to engage with your weirdo ass. Fuck you!"

Peter turned off the phone clearly seethed with anger.....until it hits him. What if----

A message from that same number popped into his inbox. It's a selfie of the guy, all shirtless and slightly glistened from what seemed to be sweat

"Stop being so dramatic, Peter. Austin already told you about his plan, right?"

The same number called again, and this time, Pete picked it up

"Who the fuck are you?"

"As of now, I'm Mike, and I just called my brother Nick that I am not coming to visit him this week, per Austin's request,"

"Not my question, I mean, who the fuck are you exactly?"

"Can you make a guess? I know your bisexual ass probably thinking you are all straight for all the porn you watched but you literally watched straight porn for the dudes too HAHAHAH! I'm exactly your kind of type now,"

"You motherfucker. Benji, is that really you?"

"Hell yeah, but let's not call me that any longer because I'm not planning to get out from this dude, ever,"

"Shit, this makes me even more excited for Saturday! Dude, how long you've been inside that beast!?"

"My fourth day now. Austin told me about his insane plan around last week and told me to not reveal about my involvement yet to anyone, but I just can't resist not telling you any longer! He told me he would tell "the others" within this week so I figure he must've told you with the D-Day already approaching,"

"Yeah, it was insane, the whole thing. But fuck, this is beyond my wildest imagination. So, this daddy, is he a real one or just looked like one?"

"Oh, he's the real deal, got all this wife and two sons that he loved so much. The sons looked up to him and wanted to be like him while the wife really knows how to serve her husband to the fullest. They are all out for the weekend though, back to grannies place, so I'm all alone now,"

"Sounds like a perfect family,"

"Oh, indeed. A very perfect one, I'm having a hard time thinking to abandon this whole thing if this becomes permanent. You know how much I love to bury this cock inside a twink's hole while they screamed "daddy" or shit, but the way my wife's pussy just so slick and ready to swallow this whole monstrosity......it feels super right," Mike said as he angled his phone so it seemed like as if Pete looked up at him through his ridges of abs and pecs, the phone slowly placed lower until a marvelous cock slapped itself to hit the bottom part of Mike's ripped abs as it freed itself from the confine of the Calvin Klein brief

"Oh, shit---" Pete exclaimed as his hand absent-mindedly travelled down to his underwear, he's an audio and visual learner and could visualize everything with enough description, and clearly Benji is messing with him now

"Yeah, she's a fit, stay-at-home brunette Latina and I just love to spank that ass in the kitchen or mess up with her when she's showering. She's super playful and very open to do all sorts of things with me. Never in my life I encountered such an obedient bombshell that knows the biggest blessing in life for a lady is to bear the children of a patriotic, religious men and served her men obediently,"

"MMMHHHhhh......Ben--ji.....mmmhhhh.....stooppp,"

"The way she called my name as if she repented to Jesus, "Mikey, Mikey, daddy," ohhh such a fine tune to my ear. We got this beautiful mirror placed in our bedroom clearly to maximize our view when we fuck each other and oh boy, the sight of her back arched while I pounded her hole, boyyy, it should be immortalized and framed in the Smithsonian or shit,"

"Benn---ji---Mike....unghhhhmmpphhaahh.....stooop it......I'm fuccckkiinnhgg close nghhhhhaaahh!!"

"You disgusting shit. Are you really jacking off to my sexy time with my wife? But the real question though, are you imagining me or my wife? Because if it's her you're imagining, oh I swear to God I'm gonna turn you into a pulp. Only I can picture my wife looking all slutty and needy. Only I that can talk her tits because there's just no match to have such incredible mound of flesh all jiggly and versatile to possess. I can slid my 8 inchers cock in between those gorgeous 34Bs, I can squeeze it like a stress ball when I fuck her from all sides, I can munch it as if it's some kind of marshmallow and thank God we just had a baby so I can milk the shit out of it,"

"Mikey---Daddy-- I--- UNGHHHHHH----"

And the older man just laughed from the opposite screen while Pete just stared at his screen with bated breath and his whole clothing and hands messed up by the loads he shot.

"I haven't even touched you or shown you my wife and you are already a mess, dude,"

"Oh shut up, you know I'm weak for that kind of temptation,"

"Well, you better get an upgrade then. I'm not gonna keep in touch with a weakling, people will get suspicious. Maybe you can be my lil bro, what Austin said about it?"

"Nothing, to be honest. He didn't reveal which one I'll be between Nick and Adam,"

"Then, be Nick. So we can get close with each other without anyone raising eyebrows. Oh anyway, I need to grab my stash, it's about time I chug the pill for continuation,"

"Stash?"

"Yeah, he gave me a whole tube that would last me for 90 days,"

"A whole tube?"

"Yes, a whole tube, filled with this twisted possession pills and a handful that filled with the mind merging shit. He said he needed some place to stash it for a while so Eli didn't accidentally find it. After all, Eli stayed mostly at Austin's home nowadays and Austin told me that the small freak would snoop around the places and even frequently sniff his dirty clothing and whatnot,"

"It's still very surreal to listen to you calling Eli "a small freak" and you just so comfortably addressed Owen as Austin as if there's nothing odd about it,"

"Well, he speaks and thinks like the Austin I would know as my younger brother closest friend, why should I address him as anything else?" Benji said with a smirk while stealing glances at his own face in the mirror

Peter just chuckled. These pills really worked like a charm, huh? He thought to himself.

"So, why are you telling me all this? You can literally just not text me or anything, playing Mike to the fullest until Austin's further direction,"

"Well, we cannot let him steer all the fun, don't we? I heard him making all this big fuss about you guys trying out wedding suits, that's where you'll ambush my lil bro and Adam?"

"I suppose so,"

"Hmmmm.....wonder who will ended up as my lil bro. It disgusts me to the core that one of you slimy freckled freaks might slip and takeover my lil bro and used him like a puppet, but hey, that's probably for the best. He's such an asshole, a new driver might be using him better. Anyway, the plan is on Saturday right? Maybe we can spice things up a bit,"

"How? Do you have a plan in mind?"

"I have, but I'll tell you about it later. I have a guest coming in soon, gotta prepare myself first,"

"Later, we don't have later. Plus, what do you mean a guest? It's almost 10 PM now,"

"We'll have time, promise. And about the guest, well, no one's with me now, I'm a man with needs. I'll let your creative mind come up to your own conclusion. But after all, it's none of your business, twerp. Bye now,"

And just like that, the video call ended abruptly. What the hell was that? Pete murmured to himself, the cum already dried on his hand and clothing but his bed already reeked with all of the sweat and the JO. The time shows 10 PM, but he just felt dirty and sticky so he jumped to the shower to feel refreshed while internalizing the thought that Mike/Benji just floated to him

"Be Nick then,"

Nick Moretti. That arrogant douchebag. It's one thing to look at him in all his muscular glory from the outside, listening to him talking about girls like they're that easy to manipulate.

But to see the world from such perspective? To lure in the chicks with a flash of your smirk and a casual flex of muscle? To be the one in possession of such fine specimen of a body? Without Pete realized, his hand already grabbed his 3 inchers and jacked it off furiously for the past few minutes under the warm shower, and when everything went blank in his mind, that's also when he shot his load to the shower tiles. He panted under the cascading water, this weekend will be tough to not get horny despite it's probably going to be more nerve-wracking, he thought to himself

---

As Dominic flopped to Mike's bed after travelling out of town to eventually get himself fucked senselessly by the DILF to the point of passing out, Javion walked in to the bedroom to witness the mess

"Yo, so you tellin' me I need to step inside the gay dude you just fucked? Like.....bro, you can just NOT fuck the dude or something,"

"Well, beggars can't be choosers, either you go in there or you can go back working with your boring uncle and tutored your bratty cousins, your choice,"

"You better not fuck me once I slide into him,"

"Why would I? I'm not fucking a dude twice, heck, this body ain't fucking any dude ever again, I just see him as a means to an end. Hurry before he wakes up,"

Javion chugged the multi-colored pill that made his eyes sparkled all sorts of brilliant color and prepared himself for the takeover. If not for the fact that the towering DILF next to him convinced him that he's actually Benji, Javion wouldn't even bother to come here, but the dude knew things he supposedly got zero idea about so Javion trusted his guts and believed on him despite the way it sounded impossible. Yet, as soon as his hands "melted" right into the back of the passed out guy, he stared back at Benji/Mike in an amused yet disbelief expression before fully committing himself to the takeover. Another pill and several minutes later, Dominic is already wide awake and his eyes looking at Mike with lust that he simply can't hide

"That last pill.....mmmmhhh....fuck, the thought of you pounding my ass again becomes so irresistible. You didn't tell me how well it makes me think like him,"

"Oops, sorry not sorry. And no, I'm not touching you anymore, but I know what you can do to fulfill that insatiable desire,"

---

Mike said nothing for the next 2 days after his call to Pete. But right before the sun rises on the eventful Saturday, a chat popped in from the number Pete saved as "Daddy Mike". Mike revealed to Pete that he's going to pick him up and explain things face-to-face with him about his little plan. Pete opened the message around 30 minutes after the chat sent by Mike and he instantly leaped from his bed to at least clean himself for the day. Then, he stopped mid-tracks......if he's going to get inside Nick or Adam today, well, why the fuck he should care about showering, so he simply just washed his face, brushed his teeth and changed his clothing to prepare for Mike's arrival. Around the same time, Austin texted Pete that he needed to postpone things for a couple hours, so that certainly give Pete and Benji/Mike enough time to do whatever plan that Benji/Mike already stored in his mind.

Once Mike's car arrived in front of Pete's apartment building, the dainty man stormed out from his apartment building to then quickly entered the car. Inside the car, he's welcomed by the leathery musk of the car that mixed pretty intensely with Mike's body odor. It's also the first time that Pete witnessed Mike in real life and boy he looks super intimidating and imposing

"Morning twerp, are you ready for the day?"

"Oh, definitely. Also, I just heard from Austin, he needed some extra time today because there's something he needs to solve first,"

"I saw Nick's Strava, he's still in his neighborhood as of now, jogging, so Austin's delay clearly not involved him because based on his Strava, he's somehow went out of town and will take around an hour or more before coming back based on this distance. Any idea why?

"No, honestly. Maybe it's related to Adam. He got this family cabin or something, is it near the lake?"

"Yes, I think he's going to the lake. Well, based on the track, he stopped by at Ron's, so maybe you are going to be my little brother then seeing that Ron is probably heading to get Adam?"

"Oh fuck, for real? But why do the takeover not in the designated place? Is it because the cabin is pretty much isolated?"

"Hmmm.....maybe, but anyway, I think we should go to your suit appointment, staking the place first and see what you are going to work with, what do you think?"

"Sounds like a plan to be honest, bro, is that the plan you've been waiting to tell me, a stakeout?"

"First of all, nu uh, too early, twerp, not your big bro yet. Second, you'll see for yourself,"

---

"What the fuck???" exclaimed Mr. Wendell when he witnessed all 3 of his employee involved in practically a threesome in the 2nd floor private room.

The shock somehow compounded when from the opposite private room, Anthony stormed out and phased inside Mr. Wendell, his old yet still muscular body trembled as he fell to the ground with his face planted to the wood paneling. Then, several seconds later, he grunted through the possession as he's kneeling on all fours like a dog while both of his arms trembled hard trying to withstand the onslaught. Yet, to no avail, the takeover turned out successful as Mr. Wendell stopped trembling before letting out a deep, rich chuckle. He exclaimed that he did it, and looking at his 3 employees already enjoying themselves and each other, he started to pick himself up before starting to undress himself.

"Save some space for me boys, I need to punish Dominic for bringing these thugs into our dignified, artisanal shop," he said with a wide grin that the other assistant responded with the same kind of crooked, devious, smile

---

"Are you serious? All of them?"

"Yeah, what do you think?"

"So, this is the big plan? For more of our friends involved in this scheme?"

"Well, the big plan is to really ensure you are the one getting Nick. I feel like since Austin gave me that much pills, it's a bit of a waste to just use it for me when I can......share,"

"Austin will be mad at you, you know,"

"So be it, I bet he probably can churn out more pills anyway and between me and you, I know he will not let us get kicked out from our skinsuit. After all, deep down he's still our reliable, people-pleasing friend, Owen,"

"That's a bit cruel, don't you think? Using him and his power like that?"

"Think about it from bigger perspective. He told us to abandon our life altogether, I think he's a bit cruel himself for demanding us to do that. Yeah it's definitely nicer bodies and all, but he practically used us all in his scheme just to mess up with Eli,"

"Yeah......that sounds.....messed up if you put it like that,"

"Think of this as our extra payment, we deserved it after all the sacrifices we made. It's not like I hated my past lives, the offer is just too good to resist and this new live can only be enjoyable if we have some companies," Mike said as he circled his muscular arms around Dominic and Mr. Wendell, "Austin got you and Ron....and to some extent, Eli. Me.....well, I built my own circles,"

Pete just stared at the 5 men in front of him, 4 of them suited and looking preppy while Mike's in the centre with his camo tanktop and bandana that made him look a bit out of place but it's pretty much giving the real Mike vibes, all grinning and having their bulge prominently shown as if to cue what kind of sexual deviants that ended up in control of their bodies

"So, I already texted Nick to come by here, I said that Austin told me to come by, you maybe want to prepare yourself? He probably arrives in 10 minutes or something, so excited to meet his older brother," Mike said with a smirk as he grabbed two pills inside a tiny plastic bag from his pocket, one for the possession and one for the mind fusion.

"You are setting up a trap to lure in your own little brother?" Pete replied coyly with a hint of intrigue to match the deviousness of the men in front of him

"As I told you, he's a bit of an asshole, maybe someone can make him a better man,"

"Guess that's my job then," Pete said as he grabbed the tiny pills package and strut to the private room on the first floor

"Okay boys, let's prepare ourselves. It will be quite a fight but I believe 5 of us can take him down, no slip-ups, no miss, and no bruises on his pretty face, okay?"

---

Nick never seen it coming.

He's too elated to witness his older brother in a fitting button-up PINK polo, he never mentally prepared for the back-breaking hug Mike gave him right from the get go that caused him unable to move as it took him by surprise. He chuckled at first and flailed around trying to wrestle himself free, but Mike didn't let go even after both of their bodies ended up on the floor. Nick's eyes darted all around the shop trying to get some help but all the attendant and even Mr. Wendell himself simply just smirked at Nick's desperation. An adjustment in the positioning caused Mike to be able to slip his arms with ease and circled around Nick's neck with his powerful biceps. Choking for air, Nick eventually passed out from the strangling his own big brother did to him and that's when Pete walked out from the room, he's been peeking everything from inside the room as he watched everything unfold.

"I believe he stared at me for a couple seconds or something," Pete said as he walked out from the room with the possession pill already in his hand

"Well, let's get you in there quick so his last memory is not about his older brother choking him to death or something,"

"Uhhh--ohh---okay, but....umhh......can I do it inside the room? I'm....not so sure I want to do it in front of everyone,"

Mike rolled his eyes but he quickly grabbed Nick's limp arm and dragged him to the room

"Do you need it to be a private moment too, princess?"

"Actually, yes,"

"Just do it quick, okay? Austin already texted you, right?"

"Uh.....yes, he's going to be here in around half an hour,"

"Well, you have 15 minutes then,"

"That's more than enough," Pete said as he closed the door and then locked it from inside, Nick's limp body splayed on the floor with his back sweating from the onslaught

Pete heard the description on how the possesion felt like, but to be actually experiencing it is a full-on bodily experience he couldn't fully grasp or describe himself. The closest thing that he could think of about the sensation is that he feels like he's a hot knife that glides through block of butter, smoothly getting in-between the butter and yet somehow, there's an end to it. His whole body sustained to remain inside the body that he just slipped inside of and there's just no way out too as the entrance is no longer an entrance, but a solid back that he cannot penetrate again.

His amorphous form soon spread all across Nick's internal system, claiming control of all the limbs and nerve system of the passed out man by leaving a speckle of itself in the vital points that all will be powered once he controlled the nervous system. As it reached the brain, the amorphous Pete witnessed the real Nick's consciousness slumped in his control seat. Curious, Pete then touched the unconscious Nick and something unexpected happened to him as his form then slowly yet surely engulfed the real Nick's consciousness. Moments later, Nick's eyes snapped open in the real world. It has the same intensity and everything, but there's slight confusion beneath that intimidating eyesight. Did he.....just engulf the real Nick? Is that supposed to happen? The mind fusion pill is still in the tiny plastic bag so why on Earth he already knows everything about Nick? His confusion on why his brother strangled him. His excitement when Mike revealed that he's in town. His fuck last night with that NBA cheerleader he met at the club. But not just the recent memories, flashes of Nick's childhood and juvenile years, Nick's first kiss, Nick's first fist-fight with a dude that hit on his girl......everything is accessible for Pete without the need for the mind-fusion pill or whatever it called. But, afraid of making others suspicious and noting the tight timeline he's in, he decided to brush it all aside and hide the pills inside his jeans, he's not obliged to tell everything to everyone after all

"Fuck, shit is so painful," he muttered to himself, testing out his new-found voice while nursing his strangled neck as he quickly picked himself up to witness his own form in the full-length mirror.

"Hey, name's Nick. Nice racks," he said to his own reflection, replicating the douchebag opening line Nick uttered to the cheerleader that he ended up sleeping with last night

"Pretty privilege, fuck. He can say the dumbest shit but he'll still get the girls because he's fucking hot. Well.....I can say the dumbest shit and still get the girls because fuck yeah I AM fucking hot," he said to the mirror while flashing his predatory smirk

Pete's eyes then wandered to the growing bulge in his jeans and he decided that there's no way he's going to just jack himself off like a pathetic dude that cannot pull anyone to do as he pleases. So, as he let his jeans dropped to the floor, he then strut to unlock the door and called out one of Mr. Wendell associates

"Hey fuckers, anyone up to suck my fucking hard cock? I'm fucking horny over here!"

Mike and the others turned around as soon as they heard the voice. The 36 years old smirked at the sight, it's his little brother standing in front of the private dressing room with only his underwear on.

"Nicky, looking good over there," Mike said, purposefully calling Nick with his childhood nickname to tease him and see how the pills work

As expected, Nick's face turned slightly sour before smirking

"Fuck you Mike. Don't call me with that faggy name, ever,"

"Oh, so you preferred me to call you what? Pete? Petey?"

"Don't push it bro, I'm still not over you choking me, I'll pay it back when I have the chance,"

"Hahahahahah yeah right, good luck with that. Anyway, have you checked your phone? Austin probably texted you on his whereabout,"

"Yep, he's close. Less than 10 minutes to go. What do you want to do next? You want to reveal your involvement?"

"Ehh.....not really. I guess I'm just going out to the corner and hide while you guys can do whatever you wanna do. I think we can play a bit more with Austin, don't you think? Make him insecure and wary that not everything happened per his plan and there's external variable he cannot control, I bet you can use that creative mind of yours to come up with some shit,"

"Heh, I do have some shit on my mind in case you don't want to reveal your involvement yet. I'll update you later then, bro,"

"Okay then, I know I can count on you bro,"

"Always,"

As Mike left the premise, Nick grabbed one of Mr. Wendell associates to help him in the private room

"Let's dig in to our brain and pull off some role play, shall we?"

[migue-gj]

Spinoff: Fiancè Needs His Groomsmen Pt. 1

A collaboration with @vindictivenerdcels that reached out to me through his other account, inspired by @thesuitaskin Untouchable Fiancè series

Austin observed Nick from the distance like a hawk eyeing its prey. Every move of Nick's muscle, the dangling cross pendant, the way he grunted with each reps, the strength that body capable to produce, everything filtered through the lens and perspective of his now-wonderfully informed brain when it comes to all things workout and building physique. That is one delicious body to be taken over, he thought to himself as he stopped watching his supposed-best friend like a creep from a hidden point of view in the gym and walked to approach him.

"Hey there bro, you seemed to be in the zone already,"

"Oh hey there dude, you just arrived?Fashionably late today, don't you? The future Mrs. Hill kept you preoccupied?"

"Nah, it was future Mrs. Hill very own bestfriend that kept me longer in bed, it took quite some times to make the beast softened after all," Austin said with a smirk and a gentle grab of his crotch, which caused Nick to deviously grin and playfully punched Austin's arm

"You slick bastard. You know you can ruin that strong girlhood bond if you fuck all of her bestfriend's behind her back," Nick replied with a hint of sarcasm to Iris friend circles

"Well, what do you suggest I do to satiate their sex drive? Introducing my jacked douchebag of a best friend to them as my replacement?"

"Obviously, meathead! That's a start I know you haven't even think about until now. I mean, come on man, as I said it so many times, you gotta stop playing around and start sharing the ladies that hit on you to me or Adam. We have no issues pulling chicks but I'm not gonna say no if you pass me some hot chicks my way. And you, you can focus all your love and attention to Iris and her family,"

"HAHAHAH fuck you, dude! Stop teasing me to talk about that dweeb and his best friend. They disgust me, fuck, you just made me shivered with the thought of those two dweebs probably fucking each other while thinking about me,"

"Yeah dude, that story you shared about them scrolling through your IG sounded like a total nightmare. Fucking pervs,"

"Well, enough yapping. I'm about to hit chest today, so, see you around?"

"You don't need me to spot you? My schedule's free till the evening actually,"

"Nah, just lightweight workout for the day. Iris wanted to check out some vendor later today so I don't want to be pushing too hard,"

"Okay then. Oh yeah, totally forgot. I can do the fitting this Saturday, so you don't need to split my session's and Adam's, my brother postponed his visit,"

"Sweet, will tell Mr. Wendell about it so he can prepare his team for us. See ya later then, dude,"

Yup, all goes very sweetly according to his plan. Hopefully Benji will enjoy his time inside that incredibly jacked form of Nick's older brother, Mike. As for the fitting session.....that's the grand trap that will capture the two oblivious hunk unaware that they are literally like a pair of fish that swims into the net. As he started his set, his mind raced to the possible scene of seeing those jacked bodies of Nick and Adam seized by his best friends instead and how they will fool and toy around with Eli, a hardening meat started to beg to be released from the confine of the cotton briefs as it creates a rather prominent bulge in his pants, which Austin just stared with a smirk as he admired his overall form

---

Behind Eli's back, Owen actually used Austin's more flexible time to develop yet another set of pills. If the previous pills helped to jailbreak other people memory by integrating one's form to the neural system of the one taken over, he took it one step further this time. As far as he knows, he's the only one with the power to possess another people. He saw telekinetic, animal mind control, super strength or pyrokinetic folks in the past when his now-dead parents brought him to the "Gifted Meetings", or so they described it, but no one owned the kind of his power per his recollection.

The soul is a very sacred spaces and maybe his desire to have a loving parents caused him to develop such power in the first place, after all his mother was blessed in manifestation and foresight as her power so maybe this possession skill of his is the same kind of power as her manifestation but more directed towards something and definitely more potent due to its focus. The desire to live like others with complete set of family and sheltered from the cruelty of the world led him to have this ability and now, he finally materialized its full potential by staying inside Austin Hill for the past few months, much longer than his previous possession of Mr. Evans, the history teacher back in his highschool or Jamal Brooks, his college wide receiver, that only lasted around a week or two.

For him, the key has been the pills that he still took once per week, but he found the idea of making others experienced the same sensation as him to possess others to be thrilling so he used the profit Austin gained from crypto and stock to fund his exploration to create the possession pills. It sounds to be quite an extraordinary — even impossible — feat to achieve but as if proving his mother's powers, he indeed managed to create the pills as his dreams and just mere flashes of thoughts shown him to whom he should talk to, what ingredients to pick and what kind of steps he should take. The pills finished earlier this month and he's been making calls to some surprised friends that received a very odd phone call from the one and only Austin Hill. The surprise turned into intrigue as he explained his detailed plan to the flabbergasted friends, but of course they agreed to join forces and help Owen/Austin with that kind of reward on the line

Benjamin has been the first to demonstrate the efficacy of the pills. As he posed as a UPS delivery person, he downed the new pill right as he knocked on Mike Moretti's front door.

Not wasting his time, Benji lunged right away at Mike's body as soon as he opened his door and instead of stumbling and falling together to the ground, as planned, Benjamin indeed slipped into Mike's body with ease, the body was so shocked it failed to react appropriately to the invader. Benji, as Mike, quickly ripped open the package he previously brought filled with the memory pills. He grabbed one pill out from the tube and downed it dry in one go, Mike's supplement usage eased him to down the big pill with no help of water whatsoevers.

The metallic bitterness hit instantly, and within seconds, a slow surge ignited behind his eyes. His breath caught. His knees bent slightly—not from weakness, but from the sheer force of the incoming neural flood. Images, names, memories came in waves. Friends. Codes. Muscle memory. How Mike lifted. How he fucked his wife so incredibly to the point of them having their 5th child and would be 6th if she didn't stop him . How he thought. How he ran his business, everything became accessible for Benji as he quickly made the phone call to Austin to confirm the success of the possession

"Well, call your brother then and deliver the news that Angelo is too sick or whatever, make it convincing as fuck and ensure him that he can stay in town and you will come visit the other time, no need to visit you, okay?"

"This is the last time I'm calling you. I don't take orders from anyone, I'm Mike fucking Moretti," he said with a teasing growl

"Yeah, yeah, enjoy that thick Italian sausage, you dweeb. Just do your job and I will not mess up with you,"

---

"Where are you going this early? It's Saturday, I'm making breakfast,"

"Not your business, fag, and I'm not eating your soyboy cooking anyway,"

"Hey, that's not nice, and I know where you are going anyway,"

"And so, why do you ask then? I'm not obliged to let you know my errand or who am I going to meet,"

Eli stammered. That sounds like Austin, yes, but there's also this bubbling Owen that seemed to rose to the surface, is Owen frustrated with him? Eli thought

"I--- I just---"

"Anyway, just do the fucking laundry and prepare for Iris to come later. I know you will probably sink your nose to my gym gear before tossing it to the washing machine, just don't let me see you doing that shit when I come back and do wash it clean, will ya? My Alphalete gear smelled ripe because you probably didn't wash it right, thank fuck I'm the face of the brand so I can just request a new set, but I want what I have now to be clean, you hear me?

"O---okay, Austin,"

As Austin entered his car, he called Peter and Ron to prepare themselves as he is on his way to the tailor. Then, as he starts to drive, Adam calls him

"Hey there dude, sorry for such last minute call. I somehow cannot start my car and I'm actually in my family's cabin by the lake, no sane Uber will pick me up over here. Can I postpone my session to next week?"

"I can pick you up," Austin said as he gritted his teeth, slightly pissed off with the situation as his mind already wandered to all the adjustment he needed to do

"Wait--- what? Are you sure? Man, so sorry for the hassle, okay? I promise I will make it up to you, if Mr. Wendell charged you extra, let me pay for it,"

"No worries, I'll handle him. I'll be in your place in around 45 minutes,"

As he takes a sudden U-turn, he sends a voice note to Ron

"I'm picking you up in 10 mins, we're going for a quick road trip,"

---

"Dude, that's hella quick, I thought I would have some times to cram in some work before you pick me up. And oh, who's that tailing you?"

"See, told you he forgets you," he said to the dejected Ron that stands behind him as he just swallowed the pill, "Well, he's been called Ron all his life. But he's about to be called Adam soon,"

"Oh.....okay, he has the same name as me?"

"Even better. Now Ron!"

Frozen in his seat as he's left puzzled on what Austin said and the sight of the pale fat fuck that sprinted to his direction, Adam blinked a bit too late as he witnessed the way Ron's obese body seemingly sinking into him. He's left speechless, his mouth opens but he cannot say a thing as the invading force caused him to be practically paralyzed from head to toe. He let out a painful groan as more and more of Ron submerged into him and seemingly aligned his form inside of his much leaner physique. His eyes darted to the smirking Austin that approached him with what seems to be a tube of supplement. Austin takes one out and it glows like a shiny metal. As Ron seemingly take more and more spaces inside of him and started to reach control over his vocal chord, Adam's eyes went wide as he listened to himself chuckling bitterly

"After all the session I taught you back then, fuck you for forgetting me! I'm taking my payment now you meathead!"

He tried to reply to the statement that escaped his mouth, trying to plead sorry as he remembered Ron now as the Math prodigy that helped him survived the mandatory Math classes he should take back then by being his tutor for free, but it's a bit too late as Ron already controlled his nostril too and caused Adam's psyche to panic as he momentarily suffocated in the uncertainty. Soon after, he lost his sight and eventually grip of his own physical form, cornered to his brain that he valiantly tried to protect from the invading force. He witnessed in his subconscience how Ron tried to fit himself to the controlling seat of his body but Ron's massive form failed him to be in the controlling seat as it's already molded to fit the real Adam and the real Adam only. But that's when Adam heard

"Chuck me the pills, I'm fucking ready!"

Adam watched in confusion then as he heard the gulping sound and then a loud, whirring noise and a bright blast hit him very hard. He let out a crackling scream that falls on deaf ear as he's no longer the conscious and soon not even a subsconcious part of his own physique. The noise and the blast also revealed a rather surprising transformation as he witnessed Ron's psyche already shifted to resemble him through and through, no longer fat and totally resembling Adam even to every single detail of his five o'clock shadow.

With a smirk as he stared back at the surprised Adam, his impostor seated himself in the controlling seat of his brain, all connected to the whole nervous system and memory bank that belong to Adam. In the outside world, Austin witnessed live for the first time how his pills take effect in real time and he's more than pleased seeing how seemingly effective the whole thing is. It's not even 5 minutes since the initial takeover, and Adam is already a changed man inside

"Ohh Austin......he really is a goody two shoes per your explanation. So positive, a very prominent advocate for wellness and mental health, a very nice sweet guy. He's a changed man from his college days, but too bad he's a dick to me and to be honest, we can let that rotten former college jock personality out a bit more, don't you think? I'm not building my muscle all this year for nothing,"

"As tempting as it sounds, you better stay in character. We cannot let people suspect a thing for now. Plus, it's too early and you still need to retain control, I'm afraid acting out of the ordinary will make the brain detected something off. It's pills after all, not the same as my power,"

"Uggghhh fine........"

---

When they finally arrived back in town, they go straight to the tailor. Hopefully Peter stick to the plan and keep himself hidden from anyone's sight, Austin muttered under his breaty. It's going to be pretty reckless of him to tackle Nick all by himself in such a public setting. Even worse, Pete might be beaten to a pulp by Nick and that's not a sight he wished to see. As they walked in to the shop, Mr. Wendell welcomed them

"Your friend is waiting inside already, I already measured him and he's probably changing his clothes or tried out some things with my assistant Jason,"

Austin and Adam entered the room that Mr. Wendell pointed at and found quite a sight to behold. Nick just finished putting on his white tee but his cock dangled out freely with the blonde, dainty guy presumably to be Jason kneeled right next to it with his face splattered by cum

"Oh, there you two, I'm fucking bored waiting so I called him in and just make him use his hour. You paid him by the hour, right?"

"Nick---"

"Yeah?"

"What the fuck is this? Are you trying to get me blacklisted?"

"Oh calm down will ya. Jason here won't say a word to Mr. Wendell, right? You are not going to make your uncle have a heart attack and also break your parents heart because of your slutty mouth, correct?"

"Y---yes, sir,"

"See, told you. After all, I will not fuck that mouth of his if you're not late, Austin. Now, cum rag, clean up and call your friend to come here, it's fitting time for them," Nick said coldly as he put on the casual dress shirt given by Mr. Wendell for sizing and material options

"Y--yes sir, on it,"

As Jason walks out from the room, Austin quirked his eyebrow

"Pete? Are you there?"

"Who's Pete?"

"Drop it, Pete. It will take quite a tremendous coercion to even make Nick let a fag gets close to his cock, let alone him blowing his load for anything but a chick,"

"Well, guess I do need that mind merge pills after all. Do you bring it with you?"

"How the heck you made it?"

"Him? Oh he's easy as fuck. He was busy listening to this shitty men's right podcast with his earbuds as he exited his car. I just jumped right in from behind, no witness, no camera, no resistance, just a smooth takeover,"

"Oh......that's nice. Wait......did you hear that? Someone's groaning from outside, should we check?"

As the three men walk out from the private fitting room, they are surprised with the sight in front of their eyes as the store blind closed in full so no one from the outside can see the debauchery that happened inside. Mr. Wendell, in all his bonafide DILF glory with his suit tattered on the floor, is getting serviced by his three assistants, Jason, Franco and Dominic. As Mr. Wendell opened his eyes, he makes eye contact with Austin & co. and let out a chuckle while Nick grinned from ear to ear

"What did you do, Nick?" asked Austin rather sternly

"Oh well......about that----"

-------

Part 2 and (maybe) 3 will be released by @vindictivenerdcels

[migue-gj]

(Un)touchable Fiancé

Read Part 1

Thank you for reaching the first 500. I hope you like the sequel you've been asking for.

"You're really okay with this?" Austin asked, his tone low. "With me being him?"

Eli nodded, slowly. His voice came quiet, tight. "I want you even more because of it."

Austin didn't react right away. He simply stood there, framed by the mirror. His body—broad, sculpted, veined—was frozen in a moment of self-worship. The gold chain resting against his collarbone caught the light, swinging gently with each breath.

Behind him, Eli sat on the bench—shirtless, flushed, and silent. His eyes didn't move. He watched like the moment might vanish if he blinked.

Austin flexed—just one arm, slow and deliberate. The muscle swelled beneath his skin, perfect and unhurried.

"You still breathing back there?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the mirror.

Eli swallowed. "Barely."

A smirk crept across Austin's face. Not playful—measured.

"Good," he said. "That's how it should be."

He ran a hand slowly over his chest, down across his abs, watching his own fingers trace the hard lines. "You know what's wild? I look like this, and somehow it's your sister who got the ring. Not you. But you're the one in here, watching me like I'm a god."

Eli didn't respond.

"God damn," he muttered, almost to himself. "I really do look better every day."

Austin stepped toward him.

"Look at me."

Eli obeyed.

Austin leaned in, close but not touching. "You'll come crawling back again. Because you don't want kindness. You want this. My voice in your ear. My hand on your throat. This body. This ego."

He licked Eli's forehead—not tenderly, but like sealing ownership.

Eli's voice came, small but thick with tension. "I saw you last night. Through the door. With her."

Austin grinned, teeth flashing in the mirror. He didn't look at Eli—he didn't have to. "Yeah? You watched the whole thing like a little perv? That door wasn't closed by accident."

Eli flinched, cheeks burning.

Austin finally turned, walking slowly toward him, towel loose around his waist, droplets sliding down the deep grooves of his abs. "Let me guess—you were stroking it while I railed some random girl from the club? You couldn't help yourself."

Eli tried to respond, but the words caught in his throat.

"She was so easy," Austin said, standing over him now. "Didn't even ask my name. Just spread for the body. And you? You're sitting here begging for scraps. Watching me like I'm some kind of prize. Pathetic."

Austin grabbed Eli by the arm and turned him around with casual force.

"Come on. Bend over."

Eli didn't resist.

Austin smirked.

Eli leaned forward, bracing himself against the cold bathroom counter, breath shallow, heart pounding. Austin stood tall, his presence imposing. "I'm still not gay," he muttered. "But you were made to worship me."

Austin's hands gripped Eli's waist with quiet control—assertive, firm. His confidence wasn't loud; it didn't need to be. Then Austin began to move his hips forward, again and again. His hand reached around Eli's neck and pulled him back.

His gaze didn't shift to Eli. It stayed fixed on the mirror—on himself. On the way his shoulders squared perfectly, the way control fit him like a second skin. His reflection was the only approval he needed.

Eli trembled—not in fear, but in awe. Pulled into the gravity of the man behind him.

"You look better like this," Austin said in a voice low enough to make Eli's spine tense. "Bent. Obedient."

Austin growled against his lips. "Don't moan too loud. The same girl is still asleep in the other room."

————

Austin's days had rhythm—an unapologetic, alpha routine that never missed a beat. If Owen had once hesitated to slip into the full rhythm of Austin's life, that hesitation was gone. Now, he didn't just wear the body. He lived it. Owned it.

Every morning started with sweat. A run at sunrise, letting the sun catch every hard line of his body as he pushed himself down the neighborhood sidewalks.

Once Austin entered the open garage door, chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths, his brown tank clinging to every ridge of his body. Sweat darkened the fabric in streaks down his chest, spine, and armpits—fresh proof of his morning run.

Eli stood silently at the edge of the room, eyes locked on him.

Austin didn't look at him at first. He peeled off his running watch, unbothered, then finally turned his gaze to Eli—sharp, annoyed, knowing.

"You got a job to do, Eli. Don't just stand there drooling." he commanded, voice cold and clipped.

Eli flinched at the command—but his breath caught in his throat at the same time. He nodded quickly and moved forward, eyes fixed on the soaked outline of Austin's torso.

"God, my scent," Austin muttered, pulling the hem up slowly. Eli's breath hitched again as each inch of sweat-slicked muscle revealed itself. The tank peeled off with resistance, clinging to Austin's back and armpits before he yanked it over his head.

He let it fall to the floor with a wet slap.

"Pick it up."

Eli obeyed immediately, fingers trembling as he lifted the still-warm shirt to his face. He pressed it against his nose, inhaling deeply, eyes fluttering shut. The salty, masculine scent hit him like a drug.

Austin watched him with open disdain. "God. You really are into this. You're not even trying to hide it anymore."

Eli couldn't speak—he was too overwhelmed. He just nodded again, clutching the soaked shirt like something sacred.

Austin raised one arm, slow and deliberate, revealing the soaked tuft beneath. The scent was stronger here.

"Go on," Austin said. "Since you want it so bad. Prove it."

Eli leaned forward, face trembling as he pressed into Austin's armpit, inhaling like it gave him life.

Austin sneered, barely hiding his smirk. "You're disgusting. And you love it."

Eli nodded again, eyes wide with reverence.

"Don't stop. Not until I say."

And so he did—worshipping the body, the scent...

————

Austin also worked as a fitness coach by late morning. Sessions took place in a sleek, private gym downtown—clients hung on his every word. Women flirted. Men tried to impress him. Austin teased, flirted back when it suited him, leaning fully into the role. He'd touch a client's waist to correct her form, let his voice drop when giving praise. And when he caught her checking out his arms or the sweat pooling at his chest, he never hid the smirk.

Afternoons were filled with errands, emails, and business calls—running the small online fitness brand Austin had built before Owen took over. Content planning, sponsorships, Instagram reels showing off his pump progress and morning ab checks. His DMs were a warzone of thirsty messages. He chose who to respond to with precision.

And then came evenings.

Austin often went out—but Eli didn't know where or with whom. What he did know was that in the mornings, random women sometimes emerged from the bedroom. Eli had long since accepted that Austin cheated on Iris regularly. Owen didn't hold back, using the body to its full, raw potential—sleeping with whomever he pleased.

Other nights, Austin played the part of the fiancé. Iris adored him. He remembered how she liked her wine, her favorite shows, when to compliment her dress. He kissed her on cue. Held her waist when her parents visited. Took couple selfies, posted with cocky captions. He even showed up for brunch with her friends—pretending he wasn't hungover from the night before.

Every version of Austin was a role Owen performed to perfection. The gym god. The charming coach. The flirty bad boy. The ideal boyfriend. The golden son-in-law.

And beneath it all, Owen smirked in the mirror.

Eli had become a regular fixture in Austin's house—not as a guest, but as something else entirely. He played the role Owen carved out for him: submissive, silent, always eager. He stayed in the guest room most nights, waiting for a single message from Austin to know when to be present, when to disappear, when to listen.

Austin never hid his disdain—his words were sharp, cold, often laced with casual homophobia. "You're lucky I let you breathe my air, creep." And Owen made sure those words came from Austin's lips with such authenticity it made Eli shiver.

And Eli loved it.

He loved serving under the illusion—the golden boy alpha who barely tolerated his existence. He loved the tension. The cruelty. The way Owen's intelligence laced every insult, making them cut deeper.

Sometimes, Austin would text him just one word: "Stay."

That meant Eli was to remain silent in the guest room while Austin brought home a girl from the bar. The moans would echo through the walls. The creak of the bed. The low grunts. The gasped praise—Eli heard it all.

And it tore him apart.

Not because of Iris. Not because of the girl.

Because it wasn't him.

He'd sit on the floor in the dark, fists clenched, head against the wall, drowning in envy. Wishing Austin would walk in and humiliate him all over again. Wishing he could be the one under Austin's grip. Pinned down. Owned.

Eli wasn't just obsessed.

He was addicted.

To the scent. The sound. The body.

To Austin.

To Owen.

Because now, the man everyone loved? That was him.

He didn't just become Austin.

He became something more.

————

There were days Austin played the role so well, Eli almost believed the lie himself. Whenever he showed up with Iris at the family house—clean-cut, confident, polite—he slipped into the real Austin's mask without effort.

He'd greet Eli's parents with a strong handshake, compliment the food, talk about crypto investments and gym progress. With Iris clinging to his side, Austin would chuckle at jokes, nod along to weekend plans, and throw a protective arm around her shoulders.

And to Eli? Nothing.

Sometimes a nod. Sometimes a curt "Hey."

The golden boy act was flawless.

Eli sat across the table, barely spoken to, barely acknowledged. Austin would look right through him during dinner. Smile at Iris. Toast with her dad. Pretend Eli wasn't even there.

Once, during a cookout, Iris was chatting with her mother in the kitchen, and Austin leaned against the doorframe, sipping from a beer bottle. Eli passed by, their eyes met.

"Don't get too worked up tonight," Austin said under his breath, his voice sharp and smug. "She's wearing lace for me."

He took another slow sip and walked away like nothing happened.

Another time, after a family board game night, Austin stood next to Eli in the hallway as everyone packed up. His voice was low, expression cool.

"You looked like you were going to cry when I kissed her goodnight. What's wrong? Jealous?"

And once, when they were all watching a movie together, Iris curled up under Austin's arm, Austin looked across the room to Eli, his expression unreadable.

Then he mouthed the words: "She moans louder than you."

Eli's stomach twisted with heat, shame, and longing. And when Austin returned to stroking Iris's hair like a perfect boyfriend, Eli could only sit in silence—haunted, aching, addicted.

Because no matter how well Austin performed the golden boy, those sharp moments of cruelty proved one thing: Owen knew exactly what Eli needed to hear to burn.

————

There were moments Eli couldn't tell where Austin ended and Owen began. He knew the real Austin had been cold, distant—never openly cruel, never dramatic. If he disliked someone, he did it through silence, through subtle power plays. The perfect image of masculine composure. He never needed to raise his voice to dominate.

But Owen… Owen gave Eli something different.

Something darker.

Living in Austin's body gave Owen permission to push the fantasy further, to explore what Eli secretly wanted: a golden boy with a monster lurking beneath. And so, when the two were alone, Austin transformed into something wild—unhinged, unapologetic.

He strutted shirtless through the house, sweat glistening from an afternoon run, cracking open a cold drink and letting it pour down his throat—down his chest, soaking into his shorts like he couldn't care less. He was a god with no grace. Loud. Cocky. Animalistic.

Eli watched, frozen with lust.

"Look at you," Austin barked. "Sitting there like a pathetic little fanboy. Waiting to lick up my sweat?"

Eli said nothing.

Austin leaned in, grabbing Eli's chin with just enough pressure. "You didn't know the real Austin. Just the curated one. But this is what you wanted." His eyes burned.

Eli nodded, breathless.

He flexed—slow, deliberate—then stepped closer, voice low. "The real Austin would've ignored you. Me? I watch you break."

And just like that, the cruelty turned primal. He grabbed the back of Eli's head and shoved him down, sweat dripping from his chest.

"You want the real thing?"

Eli didn't answer.

Austin smirked. "Then prove it."

And Eli did—because every sharp word, every grunt, every second of dominance… was devotion.

————

There were moments when Owen's exaggerated roleplay took over—loud, taunting, openly cruel. But there were others Eli craved more. The ones where he caught a glimpse of who the real Austin had likely been beneath the curated image. And it wasn't in private, but when Austin was surrounded by his best mates.

That was when Austin let the mask drop just enough.

He wasn't loud like them. He didn't boast. But he was the quiet leader—leaning back with his arms crossed, expression unreadable, letting the others bark and laugh around him. He chose when to speak. And when he did, they listened. That's when Eli saw it. The natural dominance. The way Austin didn't need to mock or posture.

But Nick? Nick was different.

Eli first met Nick at a boxing event. Austin had paid for Eli's ticket but told him to sit a row behind. "Don't make it weird," he'd texted.

Eli obeyed. And from there, he watched.

Nick was the kind of guy who didn't know how to tone it down. Built like a tank, forearms veined and bulging, his black shirt stretched tight across a chest that looked carved out of gym steel. His voice boomed over the crowd, even in the packed arena.

"Bro, that chick from Friday? Absolute smoke show. Tightest fuckin' body I've seen all month. Screamed my name like she was in church."

He laughed—loud, careless. Eli flinched at the sound, but also… couldn't look away.

Nick leaned over toward Austin, fist bumping him. "You get with that blonde again? The one with the fake lashes? Told you she wanted it."

Austin gave a small smirk and a slow nod.

Nick whistled. "Fucking savage. Bro, you live the dream. These girls are starving out here, man. I swear, give 'em a wink and they melt."

He leaned back, spreading out in his seat like the arena was built for him. Tugging at the collar of his shirt to reveal a bit more of his chest, Nick caught sight of a group of girls walking by and grinned.

"Watch this," he muttered to Austin with a wink, then stood up mid-row, swaggering down toward the girls with no hesitation, confidence practically dripping off of him. He said something loud—too loud—and one of the girls laughed, tossing her hair. Nick threw his arm around her shoulders like they'd known each other for years, spinning her toward her friends like a prize.

"Told ya I was gonna pull one," he called back over his shoulder to Austin, who simply smirked, watching the spectacle unfold with an amused shake of his head.

Nick whispered something into the girl's ear, then pointed toward Austin with a booming laugh. The girls looked over, giggling, before Nick made his way back up the steps.

"Bro's the silent killer," Nick said with a grin, clapping Austin on the shoulder. "All I gotta do is point, and they're wet."

Then—he smiled.

It wasn't the kind of smile that invited you in. It was the kind that promised trouble. A flash of white teeth, confidence, and danger wrapped in testosterone and ego. Eli caught it from two rows back—and felt his whole body lock up.

The smile was erotic, magnetic. But there was something vicious in it. It wasn't meant for him. Nick hadn't even registered Eli's presence. But just seeing it made Eli feel exposed.

That smile was a warning.

He was the embodiment of danger and dominance, the kind of guy Eli knew would destroy him with a glance. There was no softness. No filter. No shame.

Eli couldn't help it—his stomach fluttered with something he hated admitting. Arousal. Terror. Obsession.

And from a row ahead, Austin glanced back once—just once—and caught the look on Eli's face.

He smirked.

Because he knew exactly what Eli was feeling.

Just then, Nick leaned over again, clearly enjoying the spotlight he never stopped demanding. Whatever he said was low and crude, just for Austin's ears—and Austin's expression cracked. The cool exterior gave way to something looser, rougher, like a mask dropped in the presence of a real friend.

"You're such a piece of work, bro," Austin said, laughing under his breath. He bumped Nick's shoulder, eyes lighting up with something rare—genuine camaraderie. "But yeah, she was into it. Said I ruined her for anyone else."

Nick let out a bark of laughter, no filter, no care who heard. "Classic. You and your damn cheat codes, man. Bro, stop hogging all the tens. Leave a couple for the rest of us degenerates."

Austin rolled his eyes but smirked, lifting his drink in salute. "Earn it like I did, asshole."

The two of them shared a look, a loud laugh, and suddenly Austin wasn't the polished, controlled version Eli usually saw. He was in full bro mode—smirking, flexing slightly as he laughed, leaning into Nick like they'd ruled every locker room they ever walked into.

It was jarring—and hot.

Because Eli had never seen Austin like that. He looked unfiltered. Real. Like this version of him had always been waiting under the surface.

————

When it came to Austin's friends, Eli hadn’t expected someone like Adam.

He'd imagined someone like Nick—or worse. Another alpha clone who acted like women and protein shakes were all that mattered. But Adam? Adam was something else entirely. He looked like he belonged in their circle—tall, athletic, lean muscle in all the right places—but his energy was nothing like the others.

He was open. Friendly. Grounded.

"Hey," Adam said, holding out a hand when Austin made the lazy introduction. "Adam. You're Iris's brother, right? Cool to finally meet you."

Eli blinked, surprised by the genuine smile. "Yeah—Eli. Nice to meet you too."

Austin didn't bother to chime in, already sipping from a shaker bottle and looking at his phone.

"Iris told me you were around a lot," Adam added with a chuckle. "Guess that makes sense now."

Austin shrugged, not looking up. "She made me promise to hang with him today."

"I don't mind," Adam said quickly. "Actually, I was about to hit the gym, but I can reschedule—"

"No," Austin cut in, finally glancing up. "We'll go. Just us."

Adam glanced at Eli, clearly not wanting to exclude him. "Unless you want to come too? It's chill either way."

Eli nodded, heart hammering. "Sure. Sounds good."

————

Eli was used to following Austin to the gym. There, he could drool over Austin's body without restraint. Austin, of course, rarely acknowledged him. It was a game for both of them.

But Austin always made an effort to keep Eli out of sight—to avoid unwanted attention. No one was supposed to suspect that a guy like Eli was hanging around someone like Austin.

Not even when Austin's younger brother suddenly appeared on the scene.

It had been a few days ago. Eli had just returned to Austin's place after working a grueling night shift, all he could think about was crashing on the couch for a few hours. The hallway was quiet, the familiar scent of Austin's cologne still lingering from earlier.

But as he stepped into the kitchen, the low hum of a blender caught his attention.

Someone was already there.

A guy leaned against the marble countertop, sipping a thick protein shake from a clear bottle. Tall. Muscular. Blonde hair, shorter on the sides, styled with effortless confidence. He wore a deep blue tank top that made his frame look even more pronounced—the kind of build that made gym influencers jealous. His skin glowed under the kitchen lights, arms veined, neck glistening.

For a moment, Eli thought Austin had returned early. But the posture was too relaxed. The expression too open.

The stranger looked up from his phone and gave a slow, assessing once-over. "Yo. You Eli?"

Eli froze. "Uh... yeah."

The guy nodded, offered a hand. "Justin. Austin's brother. Guess I'm the surprise guest today."

He smiled. Not like Austin's smirks that always felt loaded—this one was disarmingly warm, and yet... just as commanding.

Eli took the handshake, his mind racing. Austin had never once mentioned having a brother. And now here he was, in the middle of their apartment like he belonged. Like he'd been here a hundred times before.

Justin tilted his head as he took another sip from his shake. "Don't worry, man. He probably didn't mention me ‘cause I've been outta state for a while. Work stuff. Startup gig in Seattle. I just moved back this week."

"Oh," Eli said, trying to compose himself. "Cool. That makes sense."

It didn't. Not really.

Because now that he saw him, he couldn't stop seeing the Austin in him. Same sharp jawline. Same cut-from-marble build. But different all the same. Where Austin was intense, cold, even cruel—Justin felt grounded. Open. Like a guy who wouldn't put you down just for breathing next to him. But that familiarity in his voice, the shape of his arms, the way he rested his weight against the counter like he owned it—that was Austin.

And then, a flash—Eli remembered. A photo from months ago on Austin's Instagram feed. He hadn't paid attention to the second guy back then. But now... the resemblance was unmistakable. Justin had always been there, just outside the spotlight.

Eli found himself locked in place, eyes tracing every shift in Justin's posture. He hated how quickly his heart had started pounding.

"He told me you were staying here," Justin said. "Said you were the brother of Iris, so you are like family. That true?"

Eli hesitated. "I guess you could say that."

Justin's expression shifted slightly. Less amused. More analytical.

"Huh," he muttered. "Didn't think he'd keep someone like you around. Not saying that to be rude. Just... surprising, considering it's Austin."

Eli tensed. "What does that mean?"

Justin shrugged, letting the moment hang. "You just don't seem like the kind of guy he lets get close. He always had his... type."

Before Eli could respond, Justin stood and stretched, tank riding up to reveal tight abs and the dip of his hips. Eli tried not to stare.

Justin leaned against the doorframe. "You seem alright though. Maybe he's changed. Or maybe you just caught him in a generous mood."

Just then, the door opened behind them. Heavy footsteps. Austin.

He walked in, scanning the scene with narrowed eyes. His jaw tightened ever so slightly.

"Didn't realize we were having a family reunion," Austin said, voice clipped.

Justin turned slightly on the couch, grinning. "I was in the neighborhood. Figured I'd say hi. Didn't believe you were keeping Iris' brother as a roommate."

Austin's eyes flicked to Eli. Not pleased. Not surprised either. Just annoyed.

"Well, now you know," he said. Then, to Eli, "Got something to do or you just standing there for fun?"

The tension hung like smoke.

Justin gave a low chuckle. "C'mon. Don't be like that."

Austin grabbed his keys and turned. "We're heading out."

"Where to?"

"Gym."

Justin adjusted his shirt. "You're not coming?" he asked Eli casually.

Austin cut in. "He wouldn't lift a bar if it had gold on it."

Justin laughed, short and sharp. "Damn. Brutal."

But Eli caught the flicker of something else in Justin's smile. Not just amusement. Something colder.

And then they were gone—two forces of nature moving out the door, leaving Eli standing in their wake.

————

But with Adam in the gym this place became something else entirely. Eli had been there countless times with Austin alone—but never like this. The two of them fell into rhythm instantly, spotting each other, trash-talking between sets.

"You're slipping, man," Adam said, racking his weights. "That last incline was sloppy."

"Bullshit," Austin replied with a smirk. "You're just jealous I've still got the better chest."

"You've got the better ego, maybe."

Eli hovered at the edge, pretending to be into his cardio, but his eyes kept drifting back. To Adam's shoulders. The way his chest swelled with each rep. The defined lines of his arms when he racked a barbell.

And that smile.

Friendly. Real. Like he didn't have anything to prove. Eli could see why Austin kept him around—it grounded the whole dynamic. Even if Austin was colder now, Owen still respected the bond.

"You sure you're good over there?" Adam called out at one point, looking toward Eli on the treadmill.

Eli nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm just doing cardio."

"No worries. Just let us know if you wanna jump in."

"He won't," Austin muttered to Adam. "He's more of a watcher."

Eli flushed but forced a laugh. Adam gave a brief glance—confused, maybe—but didn't press.

The rest of the session, Eli tried hard not to stare. He focused on keeping his form tight, wiping sweat often, hoping Adam wouldn't catch a glimpse of the way his eyes lingered.

But when Adam peeled off his sweatshirt halfway through the workout, revealing that sculpted torso, Eli's stomach twisted. Not with lust alone. But with guilt. Guilt that he craved something pure—and turned it into his black fantasy.

Adam caught his eye at the water fountain later, offering a kind smile.

"Hey, if you ever wanna tag along for a workout or just talk fitness, I’m around," Adam said, easy and sincere. "No pressure, man."

"Yeah," Eli replied, his voice catching slightly. "That... that’d be great."

And as Adam turned back toward Austin, laughing at something stupid he said, Eli knew he was doomed.

Because there was something about Adam—the body of a god, the soul of a saint—that made Eli want to be good. Even if he couldn't stop living his fantasy.

————

The morning sunlight was already sharp when Austin walked through the front door, a tailored camel coat hanging open over a white V-neck tee and slim jeans. The collar of a leather jacket peeked out from under the coat, framing his jaw like armor. His boots clicked sharply against the floor. He looked annoyed. Not furious—just mildly inconvenienced, like whatever girl he'd left in bed wasn't worth the Uber back.

Eli stood in the hallway, breath catching.

Austin looked like a walking ad for danger and dominance. The coat framed his broad shoulders perfectly, the jeans hugging his thighs just right. The way his hand casually tugged at the hem of his shirt made the moment feel choreographed—effortless and commanding.

"What?" Austin asked, catching Eli's stare, voice flat and cold.

Eli blinked. "N-nothing. Just... welcome back."

Austin grunted, grabbing a protein bar from the kitchen. "I am going to the gym."

Eli's heart jumped. He opened his mouth to beg—then stopped.

"You're coming too," Austin said casually, already peeling the wrapper. "Don't look so surprised. Even Adam'll be there. Figured you'd enjoy that."

Eli stiffened.

Austin turned, a lazy smirk on his lips. "You really think I haven't noticed how you act around him? The good guy. The sweet one. Bet you dream about thanking him on your knees, huh?"

Eli flushed, lips parting, but Austin didn't wait for a reply.

"Just remember your role," he added, stepping closer, eyes sharp beneath the edge of his coat. "You're my servant. You don't get to choose who turns you on. I do."

————

The gym air was thick with testosterone and pre-workout fumes.

Adam greeted Eli the moment they walked in. His smile was just as warm, his handshake firm.

"Hey! Good to see you again, man. Glad you came."

Eli melted. "Thanks. You too."

Austin slipped between them quickly, clapping Adam on the shoulder. "Let's get started. Bench first."

The two dove into their rhythm—warm-up, plates, reps, low banter about stocks and macros. Eli stuck to cardio, eyes tracing the two of them. Adam was all focus. Form perfect. Eyes kind. Even as he tried to include Eli with little comments, Austin pulled him away.

"Let him run. You're here for a real workout."

Half an hour in, Austin left for a moment and Adam turned during a water break.

"You and Iris get along well?" he asked Eli.

"Yeah, she's great."

"That's good. I've known Austin forever. If he's serious about someone, I wanna know the people around her are solid. You seem... grounded."

Eli smiled faintly. "I try."

Adam clapped his shoulder. "Keep trying."

Austin returned minutes later, scowling as he saw the two of them mid-conversation. His voice was clipped. "You done bonding yet?"

"We're good," Adam said easily. "Just chatting."

Austin gave Eli a look. The kind that said: mine.

———

Eli slipped into the restroom to catch his breath—but the moment the door clicked shut behind him, he froze.

Nick.

The beast stood shirtless, entirely absorbed in his reflection.

Under the harsh, sterile locker room lights, every inch of his carved physique was on display. He wasn't posing for anyone. This wasn't vanity. It was reverence—toward himself.

Nick grinned at his reflection. Not with arrogance, not with menace - just a quiet, deeply satisfied grin. Like a man who is proud of the temple he has built. As if the mirror only reflected a pale version of who he thought he really was. As if he knew he could never reflect the full power.

Then his gaze wandered upwards and caught on Eli through the reflection, who was playing with his own bulge with his hands.

The mood changed instantly.

"What the fuck do you think you're lookin' at?" Nick growled, stepping forward, veins popping along his neck.

Eli's breath caught.

Nick advanced like a charging bull. "You some kinda fuckin' creep? You wanna stare at me like that, you better be ready to deal with it."

Eli stumbled backward.

"Eyes down, freak," Nick snapped, voice rising. "You hear me? You think this is a fuckin' show for you to jerk off to?"

Eli bolted for the nearest stall, slammed it shut, and locked it. His pulse hammered as Nick's voice echoed through the room.

"Sick little bitch. Don't even belong in this gym. Stay the fuck away from me."

Eli crouched in silence, breath ragged, humiliated. The cold tile pressed against his back as he stared at the closed door of the stall, his thoughts racing.

Why the hell is Nick here?

Finally, with a shallow breath, he stood. His legs were stiff, his heart still hammering in his chest. Carefully, he unlocked the stall and pushed it open just an inch—then another—peeking out as if the air beyond might bite.

Empty.

He stepped out slowly, shoes echoing faintly on the tiles. No sign of Nick. Just the afterimage of that confident grin in the mirror, etched into his mind.

————

Back in the gym, Nick was nowhere to be seen. Eli hoped—prayed—they'd missed each other. Adam greeted him with a warm nod, like nothing had happened. Eli forced a smile, but the question burned in his throat.

"Did you know Nick was here?" he hissed at Austin, voice low.

Austin smirked, tossing a towel over his shoulder like it was nothing. "I know."

Eli blinked. "You... what?"

Austin's smirk didn't fade—but his gaze sharpened, cool and annoyed. Eli flinched, instinctively taking a step back. Without another word, he returned to the treadmill, head down, heart thudding.

Just as he reached for the start button, a voice rang across the gym floor.

"Yo!" Nick barked, striding in like the space belonged to him. "What's up, bros?"

The dynamic shifted instantly.

Austin leaned back into his relaxed dominance, arms loose, grin sharp. Nick took up space—loud, physical, unfiltered. And Adam? He moved with effortless calm, fitting into place like the final piece of a puzzle.

"You made it," Austin said, smirking.

Nick flexed one arm casually. "You think I'd miss a pump with my boys?"

Adam chuckled and pulled out his phone. "Alright—squad shot. Let's make it official."

He took the selfie—all three flexing in front of the dumbbells.

They looked like gods.

Still on cardio, Eli listened in on their locker room banter. Nick was loud, throwing weight around with a theatrical grunt after every set. He thrived on attention, barking jokes and jabs, flexing whenever a mirror caught his form. Austin smirked along, occasionally adding a low comment that kept the rhythm going—cool, detached, but fully present.

Adam, meanwhile, balanced the chaos. Calm and precise, he moved between sets with silent discipline, re-racking Nick's weights without a word, adjusting posture when needed. He didn't compete for the spotlight—he just existed in it naturally. And somehow, that dynamic worked. Nick's storm, Austin's swagger, and Adam's grounded control—they weren't just friends, they were a unit. The kind Eli could never touch.

Nick moved on to dumbbell presses. Each rep was a performance. Sweat rolled down his chest as Adam hovered behind him, hands guiding for perfect execution.

"Keep it clean," Adam said. "Full range. No swing."

Nick grunted, pressing harder. After the set, he tossed the dumbbells down with a thunderous crash. "Fuck yeah! That's what I'm talkin' about!"

Then came the deadlifts. Every rep was a thunderclap. Every growl exaggerated. Adam coached him softly between breaths, calm and precise.

After the final set, Nick roared loud enough to echo across the gym. He stood tall, sweat clinging to every cut of his chest, breathing heavily—an animal momentarily satisfied.

Then his eyes found Eli again.

The moment stilled. Nick's smile faded, jaw setting. Without a word, he dropped the bar with a clang that made heads turn and stormed across the gym floor, his footsteps as heavy as his mood.

"You again?" he growled, voice low, teeth clenched. "You some little gym perv?"

Eli froze. His body stiffened, breath caught in his throat.

Nick advanced. "I catch you starin' one more time, I swear, I'll drag you outta here myself."

Before he could close the gap, Austin intercepted—cool and calculated.

"Chill, Nick," Austin said, blocking his path. "Didn't know some random dude could break your temper like that."

Nick's nostrils flared. "Bro, he's been watchin' me all day like I'm some strip show."

Adam joined them, calm as ever but with purpose in his tone. "What's going on here?"

"This boy here's about to get a lesson in boundaries," Nick snapped, eyes still locked on Eli.

Eli's eyes found Adam's, pleading silently. Adam's return gaze was calm and grounding. He offered a small smile—gentle, almost brotherly. A quiet message: I've got this.

Adam then slipped between Austin and Nick, placing himself directly in front of Eli. He flexed one arm slowly, each movement deliberate, and looked down at Eli with a smile that was all golden charm and quiet dominance.

"You think Eli's ready to suck me off?" he said, voice smooth, grin sharp like a knife wrapped in velvet.

For a heartbeat, the world stilled. Eli's breath caught.

That smile—so warm before—now dripped with something dark. The curtain was pulled back.

Eli's eyes darted to Austin, desperate for clarity—but all he saw was approval. The same look Austin wore when admiring his own reflection: proud. Possessive. Unapologetic.

Austin rested his arm on Adam's shoulder—casual, commanding. "What do you say, Eli? I let my boys test out some new pills. Ones that let them possess bodies—even without the natural gift. Then I gave them the same formula I used."

His smile curled, slow and deliberate.

"Let them borrow a few... golden specimens."

Suddenly, Nick roared like a wild animal, tensing every muscle group. "God, this dude is so full of pure aggression." He laughed like a maniac, checking out his reflection again. "But who cares when you look like that—glorious as fuck. Can't get enough. If I didn't keep these new instincts under control… well, let's just say you wouldn't be standing there, Eli. And I'm not even talking about his thoughts. Dark. Cocky. Just the way I like it." He smiled in a way Eli could only read as threatening.

He laughed to himself, then turned back to the mirror, grinning. "And this face... yeah, no wonder people cave the second I flash a smile. Guess how many pussies that smile has already brought me."

His gaze slid back to Eli, the mood shifting—cold, sharp. "But every time I see you? It just boils in me. Why'd you have to walk in—staring like the creep you are—right when all those memories kicked in?"

Adam's smile twisted—cool, sharp, but carrying a sneer just beneath the surface. "Stop your bitching, Nick. At least the guy you're riding wasn't some puppy-dog do-gooder. You think playing Mr. Perfect was fun for me?"

He shook his head, flexing his jaw as if shaking off a bad taste. "All that grinning. All that ‘Hey Eli, how's your day?' crap. I had to sit there pretending to give a damn—like I didn't want to roll my eyes every time he opened his mouth."

Adam glanced back at Eli now, his voice thick with sarcasm. "You seemed to love it though. Thought Adam was your sweet little gym hero, didn't you?" He laughed, but there was no warmth in it. "God, that act was suffocating. No wonder he was always so quiet."

He leaned forward, voice low and mocking. "Hope you enjoyed it, Eli. Because that version of me? Gone."

Austin stepped back, eyes gleaming. "You didn't really think I was gonna keep all the fun for myself, did you, Eli? Those pills cost a fortune. But for my boys? Worth every cent."

He winked at Eli.

"Now I've got the full squad. The new golden boys. And you? You get to watch."

Eli's world shattered.

All three jocks stood before him—smirking, flexing, reborn.

"Do you think anyone will stop us if he sucks us off here and now?" Austin laughed, and there was a certain curiosity in his voice.

Adam leaned in with that familiar warmth—the one Eli used to trust. His tone was soft, almost apologetic. "So, Eli… mind if I go first?"

He smiled kindly, just like the old Adam. "I mean, come on, I've always been nice to you, haven't I? Always friendly. Always respectful. The good guy."

He chuckled softly. "Bet I was your favorite squad member, huh? The one you looked up to while pretending not to drool."

Eli blinked, caught in the familiarity—until Adam's expression twisted.

The smile he wore—so warm, so practiced—snapped into something else. A sneer. Cold. Sharp.

"Yeah," Adam muttered, his voice dropping as his smile turned cold. "Fuck this Mr. Nice Guy act."

He stepped in closer, his body towering over Eli with casual dominance. His fingers came up—soft at first—brushing Eli's cheek in a mockingly gentle stroke.

"You liked it, though, didn't you?" he whispered. "That sweet, humble Adam. The one who smiled at you like you mattered."

Then his thumb pressed under Eli's chin, forcing his head up.

"So how about you thank me for all that fake kindness, huh? Get on your knees like the grateful little bitch you've always been."

He gave Eli's cheek a patronizing pat—more firm this time, like ruffling the hair of a child he barely tolerated.

"You never wanted Adam. You wanted me," he said, his voice like velvet draped over barbed wire. "to treat you like trash."

And with that, he smiled again.

In the background, a guy tried to pass the group—but Nick had already made it clear, with nothing more than a glare and a subtle shift in posture, that he needed to take the long way around. No room for questions. No room for interpretation.

"Gosh, fuckers," Nick muttered once the guy was out of sight, shaking his head. Then, with a mocking smirk, he turned to Adam. "Hope you're not planning to let him suck you dry. Just look at him—guy's practically shaking."

As Adam chuckled darkly, Nick took a slow, deliberate step back—circling around Eli like a predator eyeing weak prey. His heavy breath grazed the back of Eli's neck before he spoke.

"Just know," he growled, voice close now, breath hot against Eli's ear, "if you screw this up… I'll tear you apart."

Austin, watching from the side, let out a slow, amused breath—his smile tired, but proud.

————

The gym lights were soft in the late afternoon, casting long shadows across the polished floor. The room echoed with the rhythmic clank of weights and the distant thump of bass-heavy music. At the far end of the free weights area, Justin stood shirtless in front of the mirror, glistening with sweat.

He admired himself—shoulders pulled back, arms flexed just enough to make every vein pop. There was no shyness in his expression. No modesty. Just pure, wordless satisfaction. His shorts clung to his chiseled frame, abs contracting with every subtle movement. It wasn't just a glance—it was performance.

"Damn," he muttered, smirking as he twisted to check out his back. "What do you think, bro?"

Austin stood next to him, chewing gum with the same casual rhythm he always used when pretending not to be impressed.

"You've been killing it lately," he said—voice low, casual, but with a glint of approval.

Justin chuckled and struck a full front double biceps pose. The lighting carved definition into every groove, like a sculpture under a spotlight.

"Yeah? Think I finally caught up to you?"

Austin tilted his head, smirking. "Not yet. But you're definitely getting cockier. I'll give you that."

They both laughed.

"You always had it easy," Justin said, still locked on his own reflection. "The looks. The respect. Girls. Status. Guess I just had to figure out how to take some of that for myself."

Austin raised an eyebrow. "I doubt you have any trouble with girls."

"Of course not," Justin replied, flexing again with a cold, arrogant stare. "Just look at me."

Austin didn't respond right away. He nodded slowly, studying his brother through the mirror.

"You really like being you now, huh?" he asked finally, his tone more thoughtful.

Justin met his gaze. For just a flicker—barely a heartbeat—something else passed through his expression. Then the smirk deepened.

"Let's just say… I finally get why you enjoy walking around like a god," Justin said. "Can't blame me for loving it."

Austin let out a dry, knowing laugh. He slung his gym bag over his shoulder.

"Well, looks like you finally fit into my selected circle. Nick and Adam are already at my place. You coming?"

Justin didn't answer right away. He gave one last flex, ran a hand down the center of his abs, watching the muscles tighten beneath his touch. His smile, this time, wasn't just confident.

It was Eli's.

He turned to Austin, his voice calm—almost reverent.

"You always make sure I feel good, brother," he said, drawing out the last word with a knowing, intimate edge. "Don't think I'll ever get tired of that."

Austin grinned. "Wouldn't want you to."

[migue-gj]

Untouchable Fiancé

Austin waited in an alley near his gym, checking his phone again and squinting into the sunlight. His wide chest rose and fell slowly as he sighed. He glanced down at his watch.

Late.

Too late.

"That's not like her at all," he muttered, rolling his eyes. He was supposed to meet his fiancée—at least, that's what the text from her number had said.

But instead, two familiar silhouettes approached.

Eli and Owen.

Austin's expression shifted instantly. His jaw tightened, and one brow arched in clear irritation. He leaned back against the brick wall, arms folding loosely across his bare chest, his posture relaxed but unmistakably tense beneath the surface.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he said, voice flat, sharp with annoyance. "This some kind of joke?"

Eli looked uneasy, adjusting his glasses, clearly not built for confrontation. Owen, silent, stood at his side, eyes steady, unreadable.

"She… had to cancel last minute," Eli stammered, eyes darting to the ground.

"Oh yeah?" Austin scoffed. "And she sent you two instead? What, you thought this'd be funny? I don't know how you guys faked those texts, but you want to screw around with my schedule like a couple of kids?"

He took a slow step forward—his body relaxed, but his voice sharpened. "You realize I don't exactly have time for whatever this is."

Eli opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had no good answer.

Then Owen stepped forward.

Calm. Deliberate.

"We didn't come to waste your time," Owen said. "We came for you."

Austin's eyes narrowed, his patience cracking at the edges. "You got a death wish, or are you just that weird?"

Then—without warning—Owen raised his hand. Not fast, not hostile. But with purpose. And placed it flat against Austin's chest.

Austin's mouth parted—then curled in disgust. "The hell do you think you're—"

He moved to shove Owen's hand away, but when his fingers touched Owen's arm, they didn't push—it sank into it. Austin's eyes went wide as the sensation hit him. A split-second of confusion. Then panic.

"What the—?"

But Owen was already halfway through the process. His arm slid deeper, like mist slipping through water. Austin staggered back instinctively, but Eli rushed forward, grabbing Austin's arm—not out of aggression, but to keep him in place.

"Get—get off me! Are you crazy?!"

Austin's voice cracked with rising disbelief. His breath hitched, and his body shuddered violently. He tried to fight it, but each movement only seemed to welcome Owen in further. Shoulders, chest, spine—fusing slowly, unnaturally. Owen's face briefly pressed into Austin's, then vanished.

And then—silence.

Austin's body slumped for half a second, then stood upright again—too quickly. It adjusted its footing. Rolled its neck.

Then the eyes opened.

Still Austin's face—but wrong. The expression behind the eyes wasn't his. The grin that spread wasn't cocky—it was delighted.

It was Owen.

The body rubbed a hand over its head, as if grounding itself. Then, hesitating for the briefest moment, it started to speak.

"…Wow," Owen's voice said through Austin's lips. "I've been waiting way too long to do this."

He looked down at his hands, flexing the thick fingers. Then, slowly, he ran a palm across the broad surface of Austin's chest, tracing one pec with amused curiosity.

"He really is built like a Greek statue," Owen muttered, admiring his reflection in a window.

Eli swallowed hard. "You... you actually did it."

Owen took a breath and tried to move like Austin—shoulders back, chest out—but there was an awkwardness. His arms felt too heavy, too unfamiliar. He flexed them, testing the strength in each movement. Austin's casual grace was missing; Owen wore the body like an expensive suit a size too big.

Eli blinked. Everything looked right—Austin's towering figure, his tanned, sculpted torso exposed beneath the open zip hoodie, his confident posture—but something was off. The soul that had animated that body with such swagger, with that effortless dominance, was gone.

Austin's body jerked slightly, awkward and stiff, as if it were being controlled by someone unfamiliar with its movements. Owen glanced at Eli, an eager, almost nervous excitement twitching in his expression.

"So, how do I look?" he asked, his voice too nasal, too uncertain—a stark contrast to Austin's usual confidence.

Eli winced. "You don't sound like him at all."

"I'm just fine, Eli. Give me a second," Owen muttered. His voice still didn't match—still carried his own nervous rhythm, lacking the smooth charisma Austin exuded. Eli crossed his arms, unimpressed.

Owen cleared his throat and tried again, adjusting his tone. "What's the problem, huh?" he said, dropping his voice and trying to inject some bite.

Still wrong.

He tugged at the sleeves of the hoodie, then planted a hand firmly on his chest, grounding himself in the new body. He closed his eyes for a second, channeling the image—Austin's tone, his bite, the amused arrogance he wore like cologne.

Then he spoke:

"Tch. Waste of my damn time."

The voice was perfect—low, smooth, dangerously charming. Even Eli's eyes widened.

"That's it," Eli said, surprised despite himself. "That's exactly how he sounds."

Owen smirked with pride, but didn't quite sell Austin's signature attitude. He still moved like a stranger in borrowed skin.

"You've got the body now," Eli said cautiously, "but you're missing the confidence."

Owen's gaze cut to him—sharp, irritated. "I'm doing just fine," he said, forcing himself to walk like Austin, correcting the rhythm of each step. "The possession takes time. I'll get there."

He rolled his neck, pulled the hoodie sleeves again, adjusting the fabric so it sat just right on the massive frame.

"Anyway," he said, voice more steady—more Austin—"let's go inside."

He paused, casting a brief, controlled smirk in Eli's direction.

"I want to see what this body's capable of," he said, his voice tinged with curiosity. "And what these pills will really give me."

Owen stood shirtless in front of the gym mirror, a single pill pinched between his fingers. His reflection was stunning—every vein and muscle sharply defined under the cold LED lights, just as they had been hours earlier, when Austin had still been himself.

He smirked faintly, rolling the pill between his fingers while watching his reflection. It looked like a fitness supplement, but Owen knew better. This capsule promised full memory integration—down to Austin's habits, tics, speech patterns, locker combinations, even passwords.

Eli's voice echoed in his mind: "You sure you're ready?"

"Yeah," Owen murmured. "Once I take the pill, his memories should flood my mind."

He flexed one of Austin's massive biceps slowly, still holding the pill in the other hand. No wonder Austin had such a high opinion of himself—he was built like a walking sculpture. Owen tried out Austin's signature cocky smirk in the mirror. It came out wrong. Too forced. Too tense.

He tossed the pill into his mouth.

"This is it," he said—his voice now deep, unmistakably confident—Austin's voice. "Welcome to Austin."

The metallic bitterness hit instantly, and within seconds, a slow surge ignited behind his eyes. His breath caught. His knees bent slightly—not from weakness, but from the sheer force of the incoming neural flood. Images, names, memories came in waves. Friends. Codes. Muscle memory. How Austin lifted. How he flirted. How he thought.

That bench? First time he benched 365. The corner by the squat rack? Where he kissed Eli's sister, Iris, for the first time. Owen knew it now. Felt it. The gym wasn't just a building anymore—it was personal.

Then came the micro-details. The way Austin held tension in his jaw when he was lying. The lazy lean of his stance when he was feeling smug. Even the exact rhythm of his laughter. It all clicked into place.

Owen opened his eyes slowly. His breathing felt easier, more automatic. His tongue rested against the roof of his mouth differently. His abs clenched instinctively between each inhale.

This body no longer felt borrowed. It felt like his.

And looking back from the mirror now… was Austin. Owen smiled again—this time, perfectly natural. He flexed his arms and let his shoulders roll into that familiar swagger.

Eli immediately noticed the difference in Owen's behavior and couldn't believe his eyes—the impact of the pill was staggering.

"Time to let these muscles work," Owen said dryly.

The rush of the pill was like warm static flooding every inch of Owen's brain, unraveling memories with crystal clarity and layering them seamlessly atop his own consciousness. His movements smoothed out as the body remembered what Austin had done a thousand times—pose, flex, smirk. No hesitation. Just instinct.

Austin's mind was a vault of curated charm. The flirtatious glances he gave Eli's sister. The subtle way he leaned in when talking to her—just close enough to spark tension, never close enough to commit. How he laughed at her jokes in public, then rolled his eyes the moment she turned her back. How he assessed her family—especially Eli.

Weak guy. Soft. Probably smart. Not worth the attention.

Owen didn't just hear the thoughts—he felt them, as if they were his own. He saw his real self through Austin's lens now: unimpressive, forgettable. A quiet nerd with an awkward sense of humor and too much intensity. A guy who clung too hard to things that didn't matter. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he questioned everything he had been—everything he thought was important.

But then the sharp confidence of Austin's persona began to take hold again. The weight of self-doubt started to dissipate, replaced by something more familiar, more certain. Owen straightened, inhaling deeply, as the voice of Austin seemed to echo in his mind, pushing him forward with ease.

And there were new memories. Former classmates, professors, gym bros, coworkers—each memory sharp as glass. Every interaction. What Austin said. What he really wanted to say. The things he never said aloud. Each thought tucked away with ego, precision, and cruel amusement. He could feel them now, not just as fleeting memories, but as part of the foundation of Austin's existence—stepping stones that built the confidence Owen now wore like a second skin.

Even the gym—the sanctuary where Austin had built this flawless frame—felt eternal now. Every rep, every pump, every calculated protein shake. It was muscle memory now, more than knowledge.

Owen felt the subtle shift in his posture as his body adjusted, aligning with that same insufferable arrogance. He wasn't just in Austin's body now—he was becoming him. Owen didn't need to think. He simply moved. Walked over to the bench, adjusted the weights like he'd done a hundred times, and began a flawless set of incline presses. Slow. Perfect form. Not a hint of strain.

Eli stood nearby, arms crossed, watching in stunned silence.

"Still watching, huh?" Owen said—voice smooth, charismatic, unmistakably Austin. "Knew you were always his biggest fan."

Eli swallowed hard. He said nothing.

Owen—Austin, now—finished the set with ease. Then, without breaking eye contact, he slid into another. Slower this time. Controlled. Almost theatrical.

"You don't have to look so surprised, Eli." He smiled. "It's not just the muscles I've got now—it's the method."

He glanced at the mirror, admiring the definition in his shoulders. "Perfect form isn't about showing off—it's about efficiency. Every movement has to be deliberate. Feel the contraction, control the negative, no ego-lifting."

He adjusted the bench angle slightly before sitting back down. "And rest days? Not lazy days. They're where the real growth happens—recovery, repair, progress. Austin timed everything. Knew when to push, when to hold back."

Owen looked back at Eli, his voice taking on that familiar smugness. "And nutrition? Not just chicken and rice. He tracked macros to the gram. Protein timing, carb cycling, even how much sodium he needed to stay pumped without looking bloated."

Owen took another set, smooth and steady.

Eli's gaze locked on Owen—on the way his muscles shifted under the skin with each perfect rep. There was no awkwardness now, no uncertainty. Like he'd lived in that body his whole life.

A drop of sweat slid down Owen's chest, and Eli's eyes followed it instinctively. His throat bobbed with a shallow swallow. His breathing had changed—slower, heavier.

Owen adjusted the weights, veins tight against his forearms, and moved into the next exercise without hesitation. The flex of his back, the way his shoulders rolled... Then Austin's eyes flicked toward him—calculated, amused.

"I remember everything he thought about you," he said softly. "Everything he never said out loud."

The words struck harder than any insult.

And yet Eli didn't turn away. Owen could feel it. The tension. The confusion. The attraction. He watched Eli's jaw clench as if trying to keep himself in check.

Austin stretched his arms behind his head, letting the light rake across his sculpted torso. His abs caught the shine like marble. Every pose felt deliberate now. Built to intimidate—and seduce.

Owen looked over at Eli, a mocking smirk curling on his lips. "You're not all bad, Eli," he said, the words dripping with condescension. "I mean, you manage to be around without completely embarrassing yourself."

Austin's mind had always dismissed Eli as beneath him, something to tolerate rather than respect. Austin's real thoughts were more than just dismissive. They were cutting, cold, and homophobic. But Austin's intelligence, knew how to turn that into a smooth, careless insult, the kind that slid off the tongue without a second thought. Every word felt like a jab, dressed in the armor of charm and disinterest.

He glanced at Eli, his smirk widening. "You should feel honored, Eli," Owen said casually, "that you can stare like that without facing any consequences. Lucky for you, I'm in control now."

Then he turned toward the cable machine. Each movement radiated strength, precision, and unapologetic ego.

Owen stood at the cable machine, Austin's thick fingers curling around the bar like they were molded for it. His grip was firm but casual, practiced. He rolled his shoulders back, chest expanding, before starting a set of slow, concentrated cable flys. The motion was artful. Each rep pulled the sculpted muscle into sharp definition—pecs contracting with powerful grace, abs locking into tight lines. Sweat collected along his collarbones and slid downward in perfect trails. It wasn't just physical. It was performance.

"God, he was so obsessed with this part," Owen murmured, smirking just a little. He met Eli's gaze through the mirror, voice low and biting.

Eli's eyes wouldn't—couldn't—look away. Every breath Austin's body took made Eli's chest feel tighter. The way his back arched slightly on each rep, the way the sweat gathered and shimmered—it was too much. Too exact. Too exposed.

Owen felt it all.

He remembered Eli's glances using Austin's memories. The way Eli's eyes lingered just a second too long when Austin's hand would settle on his sister's ass. The guilty little flicks of his gaze across Austin's chest at the beach. The tension in his voice whenever his sister brought up Austin's name—like he was swallowing something.

"Careful, Eli," Owen said mid-rep, not even looking this time. His voice was soft now, knowing. Cruel. "You're staring more now than you ever did before."

Eli flinched but didn't deny it.

Another slow rep. Then another—grindingly slow. A grunt escaped from deep in his throat, rough and guttural, filled with effort and knowing theater. Sweat slid down his neck, traced a path across his chest, curved around the ridges of his abs. Deliberate. Calculated. A show for one.

"You used to fantasize about seeing him like this, didn't you? Not just seeing. Hearing him. Watching every pump of his body."

He let the bar fall back into place with a clang that echoed.

Then he turned to face Eli fully. Spread his arms slightly. Chest rising and falling. Breathing hard. Sweat clinging to every cut of muscle.

He held the pose.

"I remember even your looks from the past, by the way," Owen said, voice smooth and laced with a biting edge. "How he thought your little stares were striking. Annoying, even." A low chuckle followed as he reached for the dumbbells, the sound almost too casual for the way Eli flinched. "And now I'm here—giving you a better show than either of you could've ever imagined."

He began to curl the weights—slow, precise reps that pulled every line of muscle into focus. The gym lights caught the sheen of sweat trailing down his biceps, veins bulging and pulsing with each motion. Austin's body moved with flawless rhythm, every flex another reminder of the power Owen now wore like a second skin.

Owen glanced at Eli through the mirror and gave a lazy half-smile. Eli stood stiff, frozen in place. His eyes tried to drift elsewhere—but kept snapping back.

"Don't worry," Owen added, breath light from the exertion. "He liked being watched. Just not by you."

Eli's jaw locked.

Owen exhaled on the next rep, a quiet, guttural grunt that hit Eli like a slap. His movements were all performance now—slow, controlled, drenched in tension. Every motion bled confidence.

Eli felt blessed. This wasn't a memory or a fantasy - it was real. The full Austin experience. It was perfect. To be this close to everything he could ever imagine.

Then Owen froze.

The dumbbell hovered mid-rep as his free hand rose slowly to his temple. Fingers pressed in—firm, grounding—as his eyes darkened. He winced, just slightly, and stood perfectly still. A tremor of breath escaped him. A memory surged.

The scent of Iris when she curled against him in bed, whispering nothing words into his skin. Her laughter as she danced across the tiles barefoot in the morning. The weight of her hand resting on his chest, like he was something fragile and cherished. The way she clung to him, believing she knew the man inside. The way she touched his chest when she thought he was asleep. The things she whispered when no one was around. How she clung to him like a prize she didn't want to lose.

His eyes fluttered—just for a second—then sharpened. He dropped the weight with a quiet clink.

"You know what's funny?" Owen asked, stepping forward, the echo of Austin's swagger leaking into his movements. "Your sister thought she had him figured out. Sweet, loyal, tamed." He laughed under his breath, dry and cutting. "She didn't see half of it."

He paced slowly, like a lion circling something smaller.

"She thought he loved her—and he did. But not the way she believed. She never saw how often his eyes drifted to someone else, how he wondered what it'd be like to give in. Never heard the things he muttered under his breath after she left the room. She didn't even realize he betrayed her a few times. Thought he was just tired, stressed. Oblivious."

Owen paused, eyes gleaming.

"And those family dinners?" he scoffed. "She didn't notice the way he flinched every time your dad started preaching his liberal ‘wisdom' like it was gospel. Or how your mom practically climbed all over him, smiling too wide, talking too much. It was suffocating."

He paused, gaze piercing. "She didn't realize he couldn't stand you either. Always hanging around, trying to play little brother. It was exhausting."

Owen's hand returned to his temple, tapping it lightly. "She's still in here. So is he. I hear her when I'm not even trying. Feel her touch sometimes when I close my eyes. He loved her. As much as he could. But…"

He stepped close now. Eli could see the rise and fall of his chest, smell the cologne mixing with sweat.

"…that doesn't change what I am now."

The words hit like stone.

Eli's breath faltered. His legs felt weak, but he didn't move. Couldn't. His heart beat wild against his ribs, and every glance, every flex of muscle, every word from that mouth pulled him deeper into something consuming.

Owen tilted his head and smirked—and that's when he saw it. The tremble in Eli's breath. The dilation in his pupils. The flush at the base of his neck.

"Well," Owen drawled, wiping sweat from his jaw with a towel, "someone's enjoying this a little too much."

He paused, watching the shift in Eli's expression—shame and desire knotted together. Then Austin's posture changed. Shoulders rolled back. Chin lifted. A spark of arrogance flared behind his eyes.

When he spoke again, the tone had changed completely.

"Eli," he said, dragging the name out, letting it drip with smug amusement. "Still staring like that? You've always been kinda awkward around me."

Owen's sudden switch to referring to himself as Austin brought Eli's dick to ooze precum.

"You really thought I didn't notice?" he said, voice velvet and venom. "The way your eyes wandered when Iris wasn't looking? How you could barely talk to me without fumbling over your words?"

The man in front of him was Austin now—cocky, commanding, irresistible. His smile pierced just deep enough to make you question yourself. "She thought you were just shy. But I always knew better. Guess my looks are enough to forget your weird friend Owen." He winked, mischievously.

Eli looked up at him, dazed, his lips slightly parted, the weight of everything crashing down at once.

Austin leaned back against the rack, arms crossing slowly over his chest, every muscle flexing with the pose. "God," he said, almost laughing now, "you should've seen your face when I grunted through that last set. You liked hearing that, didn't you?"

Eli could only offer a soft, trembling breath in response.

Owen stepped forward again, close enough now that Eli could smell the sweat and cologne, see the slow pulse in his neck.

"You want to touch it, don't you?" Owen whispered.

Eli nodded, just once.

With a final smirk and a wink, Owen brushed past him—his hand grazing Eli's chest, just enough to leave him shivering.

Eli's mouth went dry.

"I might let you," Owen said over his shoulder, voice low and teasing. "Later. If you're good."

And with that, he vanished into the locker room, towel slung around his neck—leaving Eli standing there: flushed, breathless, and completely undone.

He stood alone, frozen, still replaying what Owen had just revealed—and the way Austin's muscles had tensed and rippled with each perfect motion. The way Owen—his best friend—had slipped so naturally into that godlike form, like the body had always been his. It was surreal. Like a fantasy finally coming to life.

The echo of that final grunt still rang in his ears—raw and intoxicating. The air was thick with the sharp, masculine tang of sweat and cologne. Eli's chest rose and fell unevenly, his thoughts spiraling. Heart hammering, he moved without thinking, following the trail of heat and tension down the corridor. He pushed open the locker room door—

And froze.

The reborn Austin caught his reflection and smirked—first at himself, then at Eli through the mirror.

"Oh," he said, voice low and velvet-smooth, "you followed."

He turned slightly, just enough to give Eli a view of his back, muscles shifting with every movement. Then he rolled his shoulders, glanced back over his shoulder, and added, "Couldn't stay away, huh?"

"Isn't that glorious?" Austin taunted, his voice like silk stretched over steel.

And then—without hesitation—he undressed completely.

Eli's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened. He couldn't look away. He didn't want to. For a single heartbeat, he saw Austin in his full, unapologetic glory—chiseled, flawless, unreal. He hadn't wanted to look away—and he didn't. Not until—

Laughter. Casual. Loud.

The locker room door swung open, and two guys walked in, chatting like nothing was happening, like they hadn't just stepped into the middle of something sacred. Eli stiffened, his body locking up like he'd been caught in the middle of a crime. They didn't say anything—just paused, glanced at him, puzzled. Confused. Maybe judging. It didn't matter. The moment had shattered.

Austin, completely unfazed, flashed Eli a smug grin before disappearing into the showers, every step confident and unrushed—like the disruption had never touched him.

Eli stood there, flushed, caught red-handed by reality.

Why did they have to come in now...?

He bolted, nerves tangled in embarrassment, slipping out of the locker room like a ghost.

Now outside, leaning against the cool wall, Eli tried to catch his breath. But the heat didn't go away. He dragged a hand down his face, trying to clear the fog in his head, but it was useless. Owen—his best friend—inside Austin's body, moving like him, being him, every subtle quirk and unconscious movement. Every muscle flexed with authenticity. Every word dripped with Austin's natural smugness. The way he had looked at Eli, the way he'd spoken to him… And then, the way he peeled off every inch of clothing with no hesitation, completely unashamed.

That's when the world sharpened again—the slam of a door in the distance, and movement beyond the glass.

Eli looked up—Austin was striding across the parking lot, dressed in a black tank that hugged his chest like it was tailored just for him, shorts framing his powerful thighs.

Eli, pulse roaring in his ears, didn't even realize he was moving again.

He shoved open the door, adrenaline spiking, heart thudding hard. The heat of the afternoon hit his skin instantly, but it didn't slow him. He broke into a half-jog across the lot, driven by pure lust.

Standing like a sculpture carved from confidence and Greek marble, Austin's arms were folded tight across that familiar chest. His legs were spread wide, black shorts clinging to his thighs just enough to make Eli's thoughts blur. His heart pounded, and it wasn't just from walking too fast.

Austin glanced sideways. The perfect jawline dipped slightly in acknowledgment, eyes narrowing just enough to add bite to his smirk.

"Never thought I'd catch you trailing me, Eli. Gutsy. Kinda weird." Austin's voice came low, teasing—cocking an eyebrow with a slow, deliberate smirk. "Kinda desperate."

Austin's mockery was paralyzing. Eli couldn't tell for sure if Austin really felt that way about him or if it was Owen's words—or both. Whatever the reason, Eli was horny.

"You okay?" Austin asked, stepping forward. The tone was effortless, exactly right—him.

Eli's face flushed. His stomach twisted with a strange, electric heat. It wasn't just the insult—it was how flawlessly Owen had become Austin. The strut, the smug tilt of the head, the way every word curled off his tongue. It was him. God, it was him.

"You know," Austin went on, his voice dipping into a low, velvet hum, "your sister had the same face when she was drooling over me." His smirk deepened, eyes dragging over Eli with lazy confidence. "The way her eyes wandered... hilarious."

He continued.

"Almost like you right now. But nothing in compare to your weird little friend Owen used to... that creep."

Eli swallowed hard, a lump catching in his throat. The words stung, but the voice—the cadence, the Austin-ness of it—was devastating.

"Owen..." He laughed softly, as if amused by something private. "That boy is something else. I don't know why but I've got all his little dreams now. His quiet fantasies. His obsession with…" He trailed off, gaze dragging over Eli, amused. "Me. And you."

Eli's chest tightened. His breath caught. The idea that Austin now held every piece of Owen—every secret, every feeling—was almost too much to bear. The way Austin looked at him, studied him, enjoyed him… it was overwhelming.

"I wonder," Austin whispered, "how much more fun I'm going to have than you two ever imagined."

Then came the smile.

Wide. That impossibly charming grin that could shatter defenses like glass. The world could fall apart, and that smile would still be the last thing Eli remembered before everything gave way.

Austin reached up, casually adjusting the hem of his tank top. The motion was slow, deliberate. Just enough to flash a glimpse of chiseled abs in the sun. A single drop of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. Eli followed its path with his eyes, breath shallow...

"Are you coming with me, Eli?" Austin asked, voice honeyed, mocking. "Or are you just gonna stand there and keep drooling?"

Without waiting for an answer, Austin slid into the Porsche like he owned the world.

The door shut with a soft click, and Eli sank into the passenger seat. The moment he did, the scent hit him like a punch to the gut.

The cabin—sealed tight from the afternoon heat—was thick with the heady mix of leather, Austin's cologne (rich, clean, expensive), and the fresh, masculine musk of post-workout sweat still clinging to his skin. Eli didn't even dare to breathe too deeply, but it didn't matter. The smell curled into his lungs, into his bloodstream, stirring something raw and animal inside him.

Austin leaned back in the driver's seat, one hand draped lazily over the wheel, the other raking through his damp, perfect hair. His tank top clung to his chest, soaked just enough to leave a trace of sweat on the seat behind him. He glanced sideways, smirking.

"You gonna keep breathing like that?" he asked, voice smooth, teasing. "You're fogging up my windows, man."

Eli flushed, throat tightening. His hands curled into fists on his thighs, fighting the impulse to squirm. The closeness. The heat. The scent. It was overwhelming. His heartbeat slammed against his ribs like it wanted to escape.

Austin chuckled—low, deep, satisfied. "God, Eli," he murmured, shifting just enough for the muscle of his thigh to brush against Eli's. "You really are into this, huh?"

Eli finally exhaled. "I—just…" He swallowed. "What's it like? For you. Being in his body."

Austin turned his head slowly, elbow resting on the wheel, his jaw tensing like he was holding in a laugh. Then he let it out—one sharp, cocky bark.

"That's what you wanna ask?" he grinned. "That's your big question?"

Eli didn't answer—he just watched him, heart hammering, trying not to drown in the reality of who was beside him.

Austin leaned in, muscles rippling like stone beneath skin. "You are pathetic," he said, voice velvet over knives. "You've got the most perfect man you've ever seen—right here—and you wanna talk about Owen?"

Eli looked away, shame biting hard.

But Austin wasn't done. "I never liked that creep," he continued. "Always hanging around at your family's place. Always looking at me like I was some prize he could never touch. You know how desperate that is?"

He tilted his head back against the seat, gazing at the ceiling like he was watching some old memory flicker above him. A slow smile stretched across his face—satisfied, cruel.

"But now?" he said, voice dropping. "Now I get these little flickers. His thoughts. His feelings. It's… funny, honestly. Like watching a bad romance movie playing in my own head."

He turned back to Eli, the grin sharper now. Cutting.

"You'd laugh if you saw the things Owen imagined. About me. About us." He gave a slight, amused shake of his head. "Makes you wonder who the real freak is."

Eli's breath caught. His legs pressed together instinctively. His chest trembled, trying to hold back whatever was clawing its way up from beneath the surface.

Austin saw it. Of course, he did.

And he smiled wider. That amused, predatory smirk.

"You're leaking, aren't you?"

Eli's eyes widened in horror.

Austin leaned back, cool as ever, his posture a casual display of confidence. "Don't mess up my car, but don't worry," he said with mock sympathy, "It happens. To guys like you, anyway."

He slipped on a cap and turned the ignition, the engine roaring to life. The vibrations pulsed through the seats, sending a shiver through Eli's spine.

"Buckle up," Austin threw a wink at him. "Let's see how long you last."

————

The garage door rolled open with a smooth hum, revealing a perfectly organized space: matte black floors, spotless racks of gym gear, and in the corner, a fridge stocked with labeled supplements like a shrine to peak performance.

Austin didn't even wait for Eli to get out. The moment the Porsche came to a stop, he jumped out, stripped off his tank top, and opened the trunk. He took a silver scoop from a tub of protein and dry-scooped it straight into his mouth—no water, no grimace—just a grin as he tapped the tub shut again.

Eli followed slowly, eyes adjusting to the sharp contrast between the sun outside and the meticulously curated masculine temple inside. As Austin turned, he caught his reflection in the long garage mirror.

He paused.

Not to pose. Not to flex.

Just to look.

The veins still stood on his arms from the workout, shoulders broad and slightly glistening, the lines of his jaw cut clean in the mirror's cold light. For a moment, there was silence, the hum of the air system the only sound. Austin stood there, letting the weight of his reflection settle into him.

Eli stopped a few feet behind him, watching in awe. It felt intrusive—like witnessing something private. A real man, entirely at ease in his own skin.

Then Austin's voice broke the silence.

"Never thought I'd bring you here," he said with a slight shake of his head. His tone was amused. Honest. "We have nothing in common. Not the same drive. Not the same ambition. Not even the same idea of fun."

He turned, still chewing a bit of protein like it was gum.

"But hey," he continued, walking past Eli, "guess this is your little peek into the life of someone who made it."

He tossed his gym bag onto a bench, cracked his neck, and leaned against the counter.

"You know what most people don't get?" he said, grabbing a cold bottle from the fridge. "Strength isn't just about lifting weights. It's discipline. It's waking up at five when everyone else is hitting snooze. It's choosing to suffer now so you're unshakable later."

He popped the bottle open, took a sip, and then looked back at Eli. "I started lifting because I hated the idea of being average. Every rep? Every set? That was me becoming untouchable. And yeah—maybe I got obsessed. But you don't get a body like this by scrolling through social media and whining about life being unfair."

He glanced down at his arms, then rolled a shoulder like he was brushing off gravity itself. "I built this. Hour by hour. While people like you were hoping life would hand them something."

There was no venom in his tone—just conviction. Like this was gospel to him.

"And it's not just the gym," Austin continued, walking toward the far side of the room where a laptop waited. "When I wasn't training, I was reading. Learning. While you were... what? Writing movie reviews on Tumblr?"

He snorted softly.

“I got into crypto early—back when it was all theory and chaos. I didn’t chase trends. I studied the tech, read the whitepapers, saw where things were headed before anyone else was paying attention. Flipped a few altcoins, made decent gains, and didn’t get greedy.”

He leaned back, one hand resting on his thigh with casual confidence. “I didn’t waste it on flash. Rolled it into smart plays—grabbed undervalued property before the market shifted, picked up shares in small tech companies before they hit mainstream. Helped a start-up get off the ground last year. Not flashy, but it's already making money.”

He turned back to Eli now, the smirk returning. "You're still figuring out how to file taxes properly, aren't you?"

Eli, frozen, shifted his weight.

Austin narrowed his eyes, amused. "Of course you are."

He then reached into his pocket, pulled out the house key, and without even glancing at Eli, flicked it toward him with a casual wrist snap.

The key spun in the air—clean, deliberate.

Eli reached up too late.

It bounced off his palm, hit the floor with a metallic clink, and skidded to the side.

Austin didn’t sigh. Didn’t smirk.

“Pick it up,” he said—voice calm, but edged with something smug. “Door’s not gonna open itself.”

He didn’t move. Just watched.

“Guess hand-eye coordination’s not your thing either.”

Austin simply stood there, hand on his waist, the other relaxed at his side, veins running like roads across his biceps and forearms. His quads bulged like sculpted columns, calves tight, feet planted firm and confident. Austin tilted his head slightly, the way someone might if they were sizing up a challenger.

Austin reached down to adjust the waistband of his shorts slightly—subtle, effortless, but undeniably confident. Then he stepped aside, walking toward the door leading into the house. His back was just as carved as the front, shoulder blades like armor, traps rising thick into his neck.

"Come on," Austin said with a half-smile, stepping toward the door that led into the house. His voice was commanding, but there was a hint of amusement beneath it as he glanced back at Eli. "Let's go inside. I bet you can't wait to check out my place."

Eli followed closely, nerves buzzing with anticipation. As they crossed the threshold into Austin's home, he was immediately struck by the contrast in atmosphere. The interior was flawless—sleek, modern, and meticulously curated. Every piece of furniture looked hand-picked, every surface gleamed with precision.

On a nearby desk, Eli spotted a few framed photos. One showed Austin surrounded by a group of evenly tanned, effortlessly attractive jock friends. Another captured him in Cuba, leaning back with a cigar in his mouth, radiating effortless cool. And then—there it was—Austin with Eli's sister, both smiling in a picture-perfect moment.

This guy really did have the perfect life.

Eli couldn't tear his eyes away from the luxury that surrounded him—the flawless aesthetic of the place, the curated decor, and every evident sign of Austin's young, unapologetic success.

While Eli took it all in, Austin—ever the center of his own universe—disappeared into another room, leaving him alone to wander. Curiosity tugged at Eli's thoughts until he found himself stepping deeper into the house. His pulse quickened. This was Austin's world—the world of the narcissistic guy Eli found irresistibly handsome—and now he was walking right through it.

The first thing to catch his eye was an expensive Rolex gleaming under the soft bedroom light. It sat on a side table like a trophy. Eli picked it up carefully, turning it over in his hand. It was heavier than he expected—sleek, precise, commanding. Just like Austin. He imagined what it would feel like to wear it—not just the watch, but the power and confidence that came with it.

Setting the watch down with care, Eli let his fingers glide across the smooth surfaces of the room. Everything felt intentional, from the cold sheen of the furniture to the placement of framed photos and the scent of expensive cologne still hanging in the air.

Then he noticed the wardrobe. The door stood slightly ajar.

Curiosity guided him closer, and when he pulled it open fully, he was immediately hit by a wave of scent—clean fabric, sharp cologne, and something else underneath. The inside was immaculate, like the rest of the home. Rows of designer sportswear hung with perfect spacing: performance shirts, tapered joggers, hoodies made from high-end material—more than just gym wear, they were status symbols.

Eli ran his fingers gently across the fabrics, feeling the smoothness of well-made cotton and moisture-wicking synthetics. He could almost picture Austin in each one, his athletic form filling out the sharp lines with ease. But the wardrobe held more than just activewear. On the opposite side, Eli found casual wear: crisp button-ups, tailored blazers, dark-wash denim—every piece folded or hung with military precision. There was no doubt: Austin didn't just look good; he planned to.

Then, Eli's eyes drifted to the corner of the room.

There, slightly apart from the pristine order, sat a loose pile of laundry. It was the only chaotic detail in the otherwise controlled space. And yet, even this felt… telling. Ripped tanks, gym shorts, sweat-darkened tees—it was lived-in, real. These were clothes Austin had actually worn, pushed off after long workouts or busy days.

Eli's breath caught in his throat. His fingers craved the dark underwear, which smelled of sweat and deodorant. He brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply. The scent was intoxicating - Austin's deodorant mixed with the sweat of his training, pure masculinity.

He couldn't hold back. Slowly, Eli leaned closer, his face buried deeper into the fabric, taking in more of the familiar scent. His body felt hot, his mind racing, unable to keep his senses from being overwhelmed by the sheer intimacy of the moment.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Eli froze, his heart hammering in his chest. He slowly turned his head, his body stiffening as he looked up to find Austin standing in the doorway.

Austin was now wearing a simple turquoise undershirt. The fabric clung to his torso, outlining sculpted abs and broad shoulders, a picture of effortless confidence. His expression as he stood in the doorway was unreadable—disdain laced with something darker, quieter. A raised brow, a flicker of something knowing in his eyes.

Austin stepped forward, his gaze locked on Eli. He stopped just behind him, close enough for Eli to feel the heat radiating off his skin.

Then came the breath—warm against the back of Eli's neck. It made him tense, though he didn't move. The space between them crackled with something unspoken, something sharp and electric.

Austin leaned in closer, his voice low, almost a whisper.

"What the hell are you doing, Eli?"

There was no anger in his tone—just a quiet, intense curiosity. It was the kind of question that didn't demand an answer immediately, because Austin already knew the truth—or thought he did. "You think you can just come into my room and... sniff my stuff?"

Eli's was ready for what ever would come.

Austin stood close enough that Eli could feel the warmth of his skin, the silent pressure of his presence pressing into the space between them. The soft fabric of his undershirt barely masked the sculpted hardness of the muscles beneath. He inhaled slowly, a deliberate, steady breath that only deepened the silence.

His eyes flicked downward, landing on Eli's hand—still gripping the shirt pulled from the pile of laundry.

"What the fuck is going on in that head of yours, Eli?" Austin said, his voice dipping lower, darker—almost amused.. He tilted his head slightly, eyes locked on Eli with a look that could burn through steel. "You've been following me around, sniffing my clothes, practically drooling over me… What's next, huh?"

Eli swallowed hard, his throat tight with something between nervousness and anticipation. Slowly, he turned around, his eyes meeting Austin's. The challenge was clear in Austin's gaze—sharp, intense—and the slight curl of his lips wasn't just teasing. No, it was something deeper, more intimate. It was as if Austin was daring him, pushing him to do something Eli hadn't yet.

Then Austin's smirk faded just enough to make Eli's pulse spike.

Eli barely had time to react. Before he could even pull the shirt away, Austin moved with swift, determined force and ripped the fabric from his hand. His fingers curled around the underwear with a force that sent a jolt through Eli's body.

Austin held it to his nose, brought the fabric to his face and inhaled deeply. It was a deliberate, controlled action, and Eli could see the small flicker of satisfaction in Austin's eyes as he took in the scent. His nostrils flared as he took it in - his body seemed to draw strength from the scent that had once intoxicated Eli so much.

Eli felt the heat of the moment envelop him and his mind raced. His pulse quickened as Austin exhaled slowly. Austin then brought his hand to his mouth and licked it skillfully. Austin's gaze remained intense, fixing Eli with an unblinking stare.

"Good, isn't it? You can even smell my cum." Austin said in a low voice, but the confidence of his words made it impossible to misunderstand his meaning. "And the best part? The scent strong and it's mine."

Austin brought the fabric back to Eli's face with a firm but deliberate force. "You like it, don't you?" His voice was low, almost a whisper. "You like the way I smell."

Eli tried to pull back, but Austin held the fabric with a tight grip, pulling it closer to Eli's face, forcing him to inhale the scent even deeper. There was no resistance in Austin's eyes—just the quiet certainty of a man who knew exactly the effect he had on those around him.

"It's not just the scent, Eli. Everywhere I go, heads turn. They can't help it. The women, the men... They all want a piece of this." He gestured to himself with a casual air, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Eli's breathing quickened, the tension between them hanging thick in the air. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. Everything about Austin, from the way he spoke to the way he carried himself, was a force that Eli couldn't seem to escape, even if he tried.

Austin leaned in slightly, the closeness almost overwhelming, his voice dropping a notch lower. "This is me, Eli," he murmured. "And you can't forget it. You can't forget who you're standing next to. Because there's no one like me."

As Eli and Austin stood in the wardrobe room, the air thick with tension, a momentary silence hung between them. The attraction—so palpable, so undeniable—was thickening the space. Austin, always confident in his body and presence, hovered closer to Eli, and for a second, their faces almost met. There was a flicker of something deeper, something charged, and Eli could feel his heart race, his breath quickening as his thoughts tangled in the proximity.

Austin's gaze dropped briefly, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "I think you waited long enough," he said quietly, voice low, "for what will follow next, right, Eli?"

Austin now pushed Eli to his knees and put one hand on his shoulder while he reached into his pants with the other and grabbed his cock. This was already causing a noticeable bulge as Austin's own smell was already causing him to get hard. Austin then grabbed Eli's hair, but Eli was quicker and willingly steered towards Austin's tool. Before Eli and Austin could continue, the sudden sound of an approaching car broke the tension like a snap.

Austin froze. His eyes sharpened instantly, his entire body going still. He turned his head toward the window, listening intently, then glanced down at his phone.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, stepping back and pushing Eli away from him. "That's Iris."

Eli's pulse jumped. Confusion hit him like a wave. "Iris? But... you're—" He trailed off, the moment he had been waiting for slipping through his fingers, stolen before it could fully form.

Austin turned to him, his gaze suddenly colder, and his voice dropped into a tone that cut through the room. "She's my fiancée, Eli. Don't be so stupid."

Something twisted in Eli's chest—a knot of frustration, disbelief, and something deeper he couldn't name. How had Owen, with all of Austin's memories, not seen this coming? How had he not anticipated Iris showing up?

Austin swiped through his phone quickly, his brow furrowing as he scrolled through a growing stack of unread messages. "Damn. She's relentless today." He let out a short, cocky laugh, his body language shifting effortlessly back into that familiar posture of arrogant confidence. "Looks like a surprise visit. No plans. No warning."

Eli stood frozen, the sudden shift in energy disorienting. One moment there had been fire between them, and now—cool calculation. Then Austin looked at him again, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

"So, what should we do, huh?" His voice was laced with a biting playfulness, like a blade wrapped in velvet. "You think I should break up with her? Show her what's really going on here?" His smile widened, the arrogance in it unmistakable. "What do you think she'll say when she walks in?"

Eli's mind raced, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He could still feel the phantom warmth of Austin's body—of Owen, really—just inches from his own. The moment had slipped, but not entirely. Then a thought crossed his mind, bold and intoxicating, hotter than anything that had just happened. Hotter than even the sight of his best friend walking around in the body of Austin, living out Eli's wildest, most secret dream.

"You'll pretend to be the real Austin," Eli said, voice steady despite the thundering in his chest. "Do what he would do. Play the part for her. And when you're back…" His eyes met Austin's with quiet fire. "We'll continue where we left off."

Austin stilled. For a heartbeat, the smirk on his face froze—then shifted slowly into something darker, sharper. A wicked smile unfurled across his lips, the kind that said I didn't think you had it in you. He stepped closer again, just enough to make Eli feel the heat all over again.

"That is sick, Eli," he murmured, almost admiringly. "You really want this?"

The question lingered in the air like smoke—heavy, daring, electric.

"I can't think of anything hornier than watching my sister's hot fiancé fuck her who is actually my best friend. Can you do that, Austin?"

Austin's eyes lit with amusement, disbelief, desire—it was hard to name. He tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening, almost feral now.

"Damn, Eli," he said, voice low and edged with heat. "You've been sitting on that fantasy for a while, haven't you?"

He took another step forward, his body language shifting again, all casual swagger layered over something predatory. His voice dropped to a near whisper as he leaned in close enough for Eli to feel the breath on his cheek.

"I can't decide what's more messed up—that it turns you on this much, or that I'm actually tempted to go along with it." He chuckled, quiet and slow. "You really want me to walk out there, flash her that golden boy grin, maybe even kiss her like I mean it… while you stand here picturing what I taste like? You want me to play prince charming in front of your whole family while you just stand here, drooling over me…?"

"Yes," Eli pleaded, his voice low but urgent. "I want you to live the full life of Austin. Take on his routines, keep up his physique, run his business like it's yours. Hang out with his cocky friends, flirt with other girls—hell, even cheat on my sister like the real Austin would. But let me be yours. Let me be your whore."

"I'm starting to think you might be the sick one." Austin smiled. "Alright," his voice settling into a commanding tone. "You stay here, Eli. Don't move. Don't say a word." His eyes glinted mischievously as he stepped away. "Let your soon-to-be brother-in-law handle the situation—like always."

Just seconds later, Iris entered the house, her cheerful voice ringing through the space. "Hey, babe! I had such a great day with the girls," she called out, upbeat and glowing. "I figured you were probably working out, but no worries—I'm not mad about you not responding. I want to go out tonight, though. A little date night?"

Austin leaned back into the familiar role with effortless ease, his charm slipping on like a tailored suit. He responded with smooth, practiced confidence—his voice light, flirty, and perfectly timed. The banter between them flowed naturally, as if nothing unusual had just taken place.

Once Iris had settled into the living room, Austin announced he was going to get changed. He headed back into the wardrobe room, where Eli was still waiting—tension etched into every line of his posture, his eyes fixed on the door like he hadn't taken a full breath since Austin left.

"Okay," Austin whispered, voice low so it wouldn't carry. "Here's the deal. She wants to go on a date. I'll handle it. You stay put."

Eli nodded, though his eyes never left Austin. He watched, completely captivated, as Austin began to change.

With fluid, self-assured movements, Austin peeled off the sporty outfit. He grabbed a pair of sleek grey pants, the fabric gliding over his toned legs as he stepped into them. Every motion was smooth, deliberate—like muscle memory made flesh.

He reached for a crisp white dress shirt next, sliding his arms through the sleeves and pulling it down over his frame. The cotton stretched just slightly across his broad chest, molding to his shape like it belonged there.

Austin paused at the mirror, taking a moment to admire the reflection. He looked like the golden boy come to life.

Then came the cologne. Two quick spritzes, and the air filled with a clean, masculine scent that hit Eli instantly. His senses swam in it—so distinctly Austin that Eli almost felt dizzy.

Austin closed his eyes briefly, savoring the moment. When he opened them again, he ran his fingers through his blond hair in one smooth, practiced stroke, pushing it back into its usual flawless shape.

Eli's eyes followed every motion. The way the shirt pulled at Austin's back when he moved. The curve of his shoulders. The subtle flex of his muscles beneath the cotton.

Finally, Austin stepped back, inspecting the final result in the mirror.

"Do I look perfect?" he asked, his eyes meeting Eli's with a playful, mischievous glint.

Eli swallowed hard. His voice came out as a whisper. "Definitely. You… look handsome as fuck."

Austin chuckled, a low, smug sound of satisfaction. "Of course I do. That was a rhetorical question."

He smirked as he tucked the shirt neatly into his pants, buttoning it up with quick, precise movements. Every gesture was clean, confident—like he was born for this. Like he was this.

Eli felt his pulse quicken as he watched Austin adjust the sleeves. He didn't just roll them up—he did it with a style that looked casual but was clearly calculated. The sleeves stopped just short of the elbow, revealing the defined muscles in his forearms, the fabric hugging just enough to suggest power without trying too hard. It was effortless.

Next, Austin grabbed a black belt, its polished leather a sharp contrast against the light grey of his pants. He cinched it with precision, adjusting the fit until everything sat perfectly at his waist. Eli watched with quiet admiration, noting how even the smallest touches—the way Austin squared his stance, the tug on the belt loop—felt like part of a performance he had somehow mastered.

"It's so hot," Eli muttered, unable to stop the words from slipping out. "How easily you've adapted to being Austin."

Austin smirked, eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction. "What do you mean?" he said, voice smooth. "I am Austin."

He turned slightly, giving Eli a perfect side view as he tugged the shirt deeper into his waistband. The fabric settled neatly across his back and shoulders, every line of muscle outlined beneath the crisp white cotton. Eli felt his breath catch in his throat.

Austin adjusted his collar with a small, deliberate flick of his fingers, then glanced back at Eli, lips curling into a teasing smile. "You sure you're okay over there? You've got that look on your face."

Eli couldn't help himself—his eyes traced every line, every movement. The way the shirt framed Austin's torso, how naturally he wore the role. "Every movement, every moment … I can't get enough of it."

Austin raised a brow, clearly pleased. "Me neither...." he responded, his tone low and taunting. "The best thing is that it's my body... I am Austin Hill." Austin whispered as he proudly stroked his chest with both hands. He turned back to the mirror, smiling a million dollar smile while checking himself once more. "Who would've thought you'd be the one letting your best friend strut around in my body... and charm your sister while he's at it?"

He reached for the cologne again, giving himself a final, confident spritz before smoothing the front of his shirt with practiced ease. Every crease vanished beneath his touch.

Eli's gaze didn't waver. There was something hypnotic watch every movement of Austin—fluid, composed, owning every inch of the body as if he'd always lived in it. The confidence, the posture, the way the shirt hugged his back—it all screamed Austin, and Owen wore it like a second skin.

As Austin was about to leave the bedroom, he reached for the wristwatch Eli had admired earlier. The sleek metal caught the light, gleaming like it belonged to him. He slipped it on without a second thought—an afterthought to the transformation, but somehow the perfect finishing touch.

Eli couldn't tear his eyes away and finally reached into his pants and stroked as fast as he could. Not even seconds and he shot into his pants.

With the final click of the watch strap, Austin looked up and locked eyes with Eli. The smirk was gone.

"You really didn't just da that, did you?" His voice was sharp, laced with contempt. "Why does Iris have to have such a pathetic little brother?"

"Dude, my sister robbed me of my moment," Eli muttered, trying to sound wounded, but the heat in his voice betrayed him. "It's just fair…"

"I don't know when I'll be back or if she'll be with me, but when I come back, you'll be here. And I expect you to either hide to watch me fuck your sister or suck me off later. Do you understand that?"

There was a pause, and Eli—thirsty, breath unsteady—nodded almost instinctively in response.

Austin gave him a small, knowing smirk before adding, "Good boy."

The slight curve of his lips, paired with the gleam in his eyes, suggested he was more than ready to deliver a flawless performance as Austin—confident, composed, and completely in control.

He turned and left the room with the same ease and certainty he had used to slip into the rest of his attire. Eli, still processing the intensity of the moment, could only watch as Austin walked away—knowing full well that he would no longer have any trouble getting along with Austin Hill.

[migue-gj]

Entry #53: His Body Is A Temple

I always go for solo travelers—fit, straight, and focused on “finding themselves.” Makes it easier when I take over and redirect their little journeys. Why book a flight when I can slip right into a tight-bodied tourist already deep in paradise?

This one was perfect. You could tell by his clothes and haircut—definitely some kind of Euro backpacker. Moped. Clean buzzed hair. Bro was gripping the handlebars, lips slightly parted, focused on the road like it was a mission. Serious, hot, unaware he was about to become mine.

I had other plans.

Slid into him mid-ride. His back arched, thighs clenched, jaw dropped with a grunt—“Uuhhhhnn…” That thick accent wrapped around the sound so perfectly. He pulled over fast, body twitching, chest heaving. I made him lift the phone and snap that first selfie. Damn. That face? Brooding. Sculpted. You can see it in the shot—brows drawn, eyes intense, lips pressed like he’s deep in thought. Serious. Focused. Like he’s still trying to figure out what’s happening… but I’m already in full control. That calm, collected expression? All mine now as I made him flash a cocky smirk. I looked down to see his body more. His chest was the first thing I noticed—tight, defined, sweat clinging to it, begging to be enjoyed.

No more sightseeing. He’s the attraction now.

Fast-forward to tonight. Local club, packed and steamy. I got him shirtless the second we walked in, sweat already working down his tight chest and abs. Arms up, hips grinding into the next guy who couldn't keep his hands to himself. The locals eat him up—fingers dragging over pecs, tracing the lines down his stomach, sneaking under the waistband.

I’m the one making this damp, glistening body thrust, flex, moan.

“Fffuuckk… yeah—touch me right there…” I groaned through his lips, head rolling back, the voice drenched in lusty need.

He’s not just sweating anymore. His cock throbbed in the shorts, soaked with pre, twitching from the overload. Every movement, every one of his moans—mine.

I’ve had him going nonstop, his body fully trained to obey my every filthy urge. He wanted self-discovery. I gave him a new identity.

Mmm, yeah… he was supposed to be finding temples. Now he’s the one being worshipped.

[migue-gj]

Jaxon, my friend, loved anime. Not the girly Sailor Moon shit, but the superhero stuff like My Hero Acadamia and Naruto. When we first switched bodies, I thought his room was so nerdy; his room was covered head-to-toe in anime posters and manga. I had always been a outdoorsy type of guy and my room was a pigsty of sports equipment. Which is why we switched bodies. He wanted to experience a jock-ish body and I wanted to understand his hobby.

It had only been a week when it happened.

I don't like to talk about it, but the switch is now permanent and I'm adjusting to this new life as Jaxon.

I tried to keep up appearances with studying, reading manga, keeping to my bookish self while grieving. An entire life gone.

I've grown to appreciate Jaxon's hobbies while I don't particularly enjoy them. His books about charismatic heroes that protect the weak seem childish, but I understand their sentiment. For his memory, I try to be a good person.

After a while, I went back to my old hobbies I enjoyed as my old self. I worked out, played sports, joined teams; however, I kept my initial promise to him that I wouldn't let his grades suffer. I watched his scrawny body develop with muscle. His abs grew and became defined, chiseled, and cut. His arms bulged and his pecs grew meaty. I find myself calling it his body. But I guess it's mine. My body grew even stronger than my original.

People used to tease Jaxon for being bookish and weak. Now people seem to love him. I'm the total package, they say. I'm bookish, nerdy, and kind hearted. But I also got muscles, pecs, washboard abs, and a noticeable bulge.

As I'm getting ready to head off to college, I'm also thinking of love. I'm not sure who's desire it is, but I like guys. Whether that came with the body or myself, I don't know. Jaxon and I blended so much of our lives together, it's impossible to untangle our identities and his memory.

Whatever comes next, I'll keep that in mind.

[migue-gj]

Sudor Prestado

Narra Oliver:

Desde hacía unas semanas me había mudado a México para estar más cerca de Carlos, mi novio. Ambos sabíamos que no sería fácil. Él estudiaba y trabajaba medio turno; yo apenas me defendía con el español. Pero queríamos intentarlo. Carlos me convenció de comenzar a trabajar como conductor de Uber usando su coche nuevo. “Para que te distraigas, conozcas la ciudad”, dijo. Yo acepté más por él que por otra cosa.

Lo curioso era que justo frente a nuestro departamento había un gimnasio. Pasaba horas mirándolo desde la ventana. No era que me interesara hacer ejercicio, era más bien… lo que salía de ahí. Tipos musculosos, tatuados, con el cuerpo brillando de sudor. Pero ninguno como él.

Era difícil no notarlo. Piel morena clara, cabello corto con los lados desvanecidos, mandíbula cuadrada, cejas gruesas y una mirada dura. Siempre usaba camisetas sin mangas y shorts deportivos que dejaban ver sus muslos firmes y tatuados. Su cuerpo era un mapa de músculo joven y trabajado. Se movía con seguridad. Era el tipo de hombre que dominaba un lugar sin decir nada.

Lo deseaba. Nunca lo dije en voz alta, pero lo miraba cada vez que podía. Imaginaba cómo sería tocarlo. O… ser como él.

Un día, en mi tercer turno como Uber, me apareció una notificación de viaje desde el gimnasio. Nombre del pasajero: Luciano. El corazón se me aceleró. Fui de inmediato.

Y ahí estaba. Salía con dos amigos. Camiseta blanca pegada al cuerpo por el sudor, cadena de acero en el cuello, mochila al hombro. Me vio, preguntó si yo era Oliver, y subió al coche sin más.

Durante el viaje, lo observaba por el retrovisor. Su cuello, sus brazos, el modo en que se sentaba. Me descubrió mirándolo. Frunció el ceño y murmuró algo.

—Pinche marica rara…

No sé si lo dijo para sí o para mí. Pero lo sentí como un golpe. No dije nada. Solo lo llevé a su destino.

Cuando bajó, tomó la mochila equivocada. La suya era idéntica a la mía. Me di cuenta hasta llegar a casa. Ya no podía alcanzarlo. Me resigné. Abrí la mochila para buscar su número o algo que me permitiera contactarlo.

Había camisetas usadas, shorts deportivos húmedos, toallas con olor a colonia y sudor. Olí una prenda. Cerré los ojos. Sentí un escalofrío. Algo animal, crudo, me recorrió el cuerpo.

No sabía por qué lo hice, pero me puse una de sus camisetas y sus shorts. Me quedaban grandes. Me miré al espejo. Me reí nervioso. Me vi ridículo… y excitado.

Y entonces algo pasó.

Un calor subió por mi espalda. Caí al suelo. Mi cuerpo comenzó a tensarse. Mis músculos se estiraban. Sentí cómo crecía, cómo mis huesos crujían, mis brazos se ensanchaban, mi voz se ahogaba. Jadeaba. Era un dolor y un placer al mismo tiempo. Como si mi cuerpo estuviera naciendo otra vez.

Cuando todo se detuvo, corrí al espejo.

Y ahí estaba.

Luciano.

Yo… me había convertido en él.

Me toqué el abdomen marcado, el cuello tatuado, la cara dura. Probé mi nueva voz: grave, masculina, con acento chilango. Era su cuerpo. Su carne. Su vida.

Pasaron horas. Intenté buscar mi propio celular en su mochila. Lo encontré, pero estaba bloqueado. No sabía su clave. No sabía nada de él más allá de lo físico. Me asusté. ¿Qué pasaría si no podía volver? ¿Qué haría Carlos si me veía así?

Entonces sonó el teléfono. Era un mensaje de voz:

—¿Qué pedo, güey? ¿Vamos a las retas o qué? No me vayas a salir con tus mamadas de siempre, cabrón. Vente ya al parque.

Respiré hondo. Y respondí con su voz:

—Simón, ya caigo.

Y salí. Me puse sus tenis. Bajé las escaleras. La gente me saludaba como si me conocieran. En la calle, el sol pegaba fuerte. Pero mi cuerpo no lo resentía. Caminaba con fuerza. Me sentía pesado pero poderoso. Todos me miraban distinto. Algunos con respeto. Otros con deseo.

Me senté en una banca del parque. Miré mis manos, mis muslos, mi sombra. Pensé en mi vida anterior: en Carlos, en mis días encerrado en el departamento, en mis inseguridades, en el acento que me delataba en cada palabra.

Ahora todo eso había quedado atrás.

Tal vez era un castigo.

O tal vez, una segunda oportunidad.

Porque, por primera vez en mucho tiempo, no tenía miedo.

Solo hambre.

Fin .

[migue-gj]

Secrets (Part 4 of 4)

Part 1 - The Prelude

Part 2 - The First Project

Part 3 - The Second Project

Almost half a year had passed before I dared making the last BodyPlast suit. I had been lying low for a while, but Easter was approaching and soon exam season was upon us, so time was rapidly running out, and I still had one last classmate on my checklist.

Martin - and he was definitely worth the wait. He had really been hitting the weights lately, and his bulk increased - he was almost as big as Lucas, and I was as envious as ever. Envy - my constant companion.

Another spiked drink, another classmate collapsing - and once again I volunteered to take my unfortunate classmate home. I told myself, this would be the last time, one last suit.

Martin was out like a light, but he was heavy, if not heavier than Lucas, and I for certain hadn't been hitting the gym. I managed to get him position on the strewn newspapers. As he laid on the floor I began to paint him using the last remaining of the first can of BodyPlast. I wanted to test the limit of this stuff, so unlike before I painted his entire body from head to toe, then I waited.

Slowly but surely the colour faded and Martin was back in his glory. No traces of the coating that I had applied to the whole body. I struggled trying to find an edge at his lips that I could start peeling from, and I started panicking, frantically trying to get the suit off. Finally I managed to get hold of something, and I could begin stretching the shell of BodyPlast from its host. I couldn't help, but thinking of an animal shedding its skin, as I peeled off the replica of Martin, and once I got his head free the rest was easy. His strong neck, wide shoulders, smooth and built chest and arms and so forth, losing their definition as I pulled the shed skin off, before returning to their former glory as his real skin was revealed underneath. With a final *pop* at his feet, I had released the skin, and while I was very satisfied with my previous creations, this one was even more impressive. It was like a deflated balloon of Martin, twisted grotesquely, but still recognisable, I could only imagine, what it would feel like to wear this. I couldn't afford to waste anymore time, the process had taken longer than I anticipated, and the longer I waited, the higher the chance of something going wrong.

Martin had moved out, so there was nobody at his place to confront/greet me - in my head I had an idea of putting on the Martin-suit straight away, slip on all that nice smooth muscle and his handsome face, as well as putting on his clothes and pretend to be him. I could imagine myself being pulled over as I drove and present myself as Martin, with his license and everything, and the real Martin playing the role of my drunk twin brother. But it was too risky, so many things I had done had been risky and if I kept tempting fate, then at some point...

I folded the Martin-skin neatly and placed it on the back seat, before redressing Martin in his clothes and dragging his unconscious body to the passenger seat. I couldn't stop thinking of carrying out the scenario I had imagined, just slip on the suit straight away and pretend to be Martin, it seemed so easy and yet I couldn't get myself to go through with it.

Fifteen minutes later I let myself into Martin's apartment, it was pretty unremarkable in every way, but I supposed it was to be expected since he hadn't lived here for long. I imagined a different scenario, where I simply took Martin's place, his life, his appearance, everything that was him, wearing the BodyPlast version of him permanently. Thinking of having his face, his muscles, his... aura.

Having placed Martin on his sofa, I stood as if I was alone, I made a decision. I rushed down to the car, and picked up the skinsuit and stashed it in my backpack before returning to Martin's apartment. I stripped and began to pull on the Martin suit, entering through the mouth. It was much easier to get on, compared to getting it off Martin before, so that was at least of perk of being small... for now. I replaced my skinny frame with Martin's muscles, his sculpted features superseding my own. I plunged my arms down the suit's mouth and into Martin's strong arms. I finished the transformation as I stretched the mouth one final time, pulling it over my head. The result was impeccable, I could pass for Martin's twin... or Martin himself. Seeing myself in Martin's mirror, I couldn't contain myself and I ended up climaxing right on the floor of his living room.

As if Martin's personality had also awoken within me, his confidence and cool, I didn't feel nervous or worried anymore, I couldn't be bothered to clean up that stain, and by the time Martin would wake up, it would probably have dried up. I walked over to Martin placing my identical face down by his neck and took a deep breath, inhaling his smell. The same scent that clung to this skin, it was intoxicating. I threw a blanket over Martin and began to redress in my own clothes, the pants were very tight on my bigger legs, but I managed, the shirt was a problem however, but I decided to be resourceful if not daring. I found Martin's laundry bag in his bathroom, rummaging around before pulling out a sweaty long-sleeved shirt, that I, without hesitation, pulled over my head, loving how it stuck to my artificial arms and torso. Now that I looked the part, I couldn't resist the temptation of pulling Martin's wallet out of his pocket, after all I was going to need his license to get home.

I left the apartment, snapping a few pictures of my new body. Nobody would know it wasn't the real Martin...

And by Monday I would return his shirt and his wallet. The wallet had fallen out of his pocket, when I brought him home, and I had borrowed his shirt as he accidentally threw up on me - that's what I would be telling him, it would probably be for the best.

---

Fortunately my parents let me sleep undisturbed, so I kept on the Martin-skin, but once I awoke, I had to take it off and stash it away, and go back to be boring old Damien, keeping my secret guarded - and I truly thought that I had nothing to worry about, but a couple of days later my father wanted to speak to me...

“Damien, we need to talk,” said my father, his tone was very serious, and the whole ‘we need to talk’ wasn’t something I had ever heard him saying before. Dad sat down on my bed and looked at me with a stern face, “Damien, I know you stole the BodyPlast from the hospital.”

I flinched… He knew, how long had he known?… “Why did you do it?” he asked, there was an undeniable disappointment in his voice.

Having my secret exposed, I decided there was no point in lying, I might as well be honest.

“I’ve been using it on my classmates.”

“Why?!” my father said clearly shocked, “they are your friends, why would you do that?”

My father’s words really stung, though he probably wasn’t aware of how much they did, having had my secret exposed was mortifying enough, my voice began trembling as I answered.

“Friends?!” I said trying to hide being upset, “They were never my friends.”

My father’s face changed from shock to concern, which made me feel a bit better. It seemed like he understood.

“I thought things were going much better socially, you were popular, you were spending more time with them, going to all the parties – even coming home late at night.”

“It was all just a facade, so that I could get away with it… Earn their trust and not to arouse any suspicion.”

My father said nothing, he just looked at me with something I assumed was sympathy, so I continued my rant.

“To them I was merely an asset, I was useful. I only got all that attention, because I was the first in my class with a license, I could drive them places, be it drive-ins, the city or home after they had drunk their brains out. I was their chauffeur, their designated driver, that’s all. I’m not saying I was being excluded or bullied or anything, but I’m just not like the others… And despite all the attention I’ve gotten, it still doesn’t change that I don’t see them as friends, they are just my classmates, acquaintances if you would prefer a different term…”

My father remained silent, he clearly was going through some strong emotions too, struggling to put them into words. I hadn’t seen him like that before, it almost felt like, he thought he had failed as a father for not noticing my discontentment sooner.

“I see,” was the first thing my father said after a long pause, it took him some time before he continued, “how did you do it? I don’t suppose they volunteered for it.”

“I put something in their drinks,” I admitted, saying it out loud made me feel very ashamed.

“That’s very irresponsible, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!”

“I know, but you have taught me of how to dose sleeping pills, and I only gave them a very small dose, I never hurt any of them, I just needed them to be passed out long enough for me to…”

I hesitated, I probably shouldn’t go into more detail, I think he got the picture; “and none of them suffered any side effects.”

“You couldn’t have known that, you can’t just-”

“I know, I know, it was wrong and I’m sorry, but what’s done is done.”

“And what did you do with them?”

I went over to my closet and opened it, then I pulled out the three skinsuits, placing them all on the bed for my father to see. He was breath-taken and shocked as he looked at the display.

“You made three?”

I nodded.

“Have you- have you worn them?”

“Not really, no, a few times at home, but not for long, I couldn’t risk you or mom walking in on me. And it’s not exactly like I can go outside wearing them, I’d risk running into someone, who knows them, or even worse – run into one of them. But I really wish I could have… trying to be someone else, if only briefly.”

My father seemed lost in thought, then he resolutely got up and looked straight at me, “then pack your bags, you and I are going on a little road trip.”

I couldn’t believe his reaction, it was a relief.

[migue-gj]

Secrets (Part 3 of 4)

Part 1 - The Prelude

Part 2 - The First Project The new week started, and I was back at school, everything seemingly like the week before.

"Hey Damien, thanks for driving me home from the party," Lucas said completely oblivious. I smiled innocently, trying to hide my feeling of guilt, but Lucas seemed to be completely unaware of the whole thing, so it seemed like I could relax. "It was no big deal," I replied. "Yeah, I'm not exactly sure what happened, usually I can handle it… Maybe I didn't eat enough that evening or trained too much the day before, but anyway, thanks for being there," Lucas responded and went back to his seat. As my gaze followed him as he got back to his chair and continued to joke around with some of the others, I couldn't help feeling… something, excitement?

I envied Lucas and his body, but the very fact, that I had a copy of his skin, stashed away at home was surreal, if not outright unbelievable. I could look like him if I wanted - I really could. And looking around at my classmates… I could become any of them too… and honestly, I was quite eager to play around some more with the BodyPlast, and I already knew who to use it on.

Still for the time being I had to lie low - I wouldn't risk arousing too much suspicion, and I probably would, if I drove a new unconscious guy home every weekend. There was still a whole school year in front of me, but this was the last one, so by the end of next summer I had to be done. I couldn't believe I was trying to rationalise this, and yet here I was. The Lucas-suit had been stashed away in my room, I hadn't dared to wear it for the fear of my parents walking in on me, it remained hidden and secret, but soon it would get company.

I had waited three months before I attempted making my second suit; Kevin.

Kevin had dyed his hair striking platinum blonde, and while it did suit him, I didn't want my BodyPlast replica having that hair colour, fortunately by the time I dared taking action his hair had almost reverted to its original dirty blonde.

Guilt-ridden I watched Kevin slowly collapse, and once more I could present myself as the reliable and responsible designated driver, and shortly after I had brought Kevin to my house, had him stripped and laid on the floor so I could add the miraculous mixture.

This time I coated the entire body with the exception of the head. The vibrant pink colour began to fade as I waited, holding my breath. Kevin was not as muscular or athletic as Lucas, but his body was still toned, and I marvelled as the BodyPlast took his exact appearance. Peeling off the suit was surprisingly easy, I could stretch the area by the neck wide enough to get both Kevin's shoulders free at once. It was almost like a wetsuit, and I was at a loss for words, when the skin slid off his feet and I held it up in front of me. But I wasn't quite done yet, carefully I painted Kevin's face with the BodyPlast and dipped his hair in it. In fifteen minutes I had a perfect imitation of Kevin's face.

Checking the time, and carefully listening for any footsteps from outside, I began to tidy up, I needed to get rid of my equipment, the BodyPlast skin and get the real Kevin dressed and home safely. The rushing frustrated me, but the more time I spent, the higher the chance of something going wrong. Once I had Kevin delivered to his parents' apartment, I headed down the stairs. But just before I exited the building and wandered back into the night, I stuck my hand in my pocket and pulled out the freshly made Kevin mask and slipped it on.

[migue-gj]

Secrets (Part 2 of 4)

Part 1 - Prelude

I had meticulously planned everything for the party. And though I had doubts I kept assuring myself, that my actions were harmless, and as long as nobody found out, then…

I shuddered at the thought, that I was really going through with this… but I had to try. The party was as big a disappointment for me as expected, I was a fish out of water, and though I knew these people and they were delighted to have me, I still felt like a stranger and outsider, but I had to play along.

"Hey bud! You having fun?"

My classmate Lucas smirked at me, before placing his hand attached to his impressive, muscular arm on my shoulder with such a force, that I was almost knocked over. Lucas was a real golden boy, everything I wasn't - muscular, confident, handsome, popular and being obsessed with fitness. He was everything I wanted to be - and thanks to the BodyPlast, I could.

Lucas cheery mood and exaggerated gestures told me, that he had already had a beer or two… or eight. I just added some carefully measured crushed sleeping pills into his drink, then I just needed to wait.

Eventually, five minutes past midnight, Lucas collapsed, though that didn't exactly make the party stop. My classmates laughed and joked that Lucas couldn't handle his alcohol - but I knew the truth…

Acting responsible, I made my way over to my unconscious classmate, "I better take him home," I said, trying to sound determined and loud enough to make people hear me over the music.

Though there were initial protests, I eventually managed to make them let me leave the party with Lucas hanging over my shoulder. I said my goodbyes and stuffed him in on the backseat of my dad's car.

---

Relieved of finally being away from the noise and the obnoxiousness, I had to be quick… I drove as quickly as possible, though staying within the speed limit to get home. In the garage I had everything prepared; a can of BodyPlast, several paintbrushes and newspapers strewn across the floor to catch any excess.

Dragging the unconscious Lucas into position was difficult, he was heavy and I was a twink - I wish I had his muscles - that would definitely have made this a lot easier.

As breathtaking as Lucas' body was, I needed to get started, we couldn't stay here all-night. I popped open one of the cans of BodyPlast, the thick pink liquid ready to be applied.

I stripped Lucas, then I began to paint his body. I began with his lower body, feet, legs and genetalia. After the usual fifteen minutes, I pulled the BodyPlast off like a pair of leggings. It was an impressive result, incredibly detailed and lifelike. But I did not have the time to marvel, I needed to continue, my eyes were beginning to itch, I wasn't used to being up so late. I began to paint his torso, his impressive muscular torso... I really need to push myself to focus, not to get completely stunned by Lucas' enviable physique. Soon enough his entire torso, shoulder, arms and even his head was covered with the pink goo. Having to flip him over was a struggle, but the result was even and promising.

I held my breath as the pink colour began to fade, Lucas looked like himself again, the BodyPlast indistinguishable from real skin. I found an edge and successfully pealed the upper body off. With a satisfying pop the BodyPlast came off, and I stood with a perfect copy of Lucas' skin.

In my mind, I imagined slipping on both Lucas' torso and his legs, then applying some BodyPlast at the seems to seal myself in permanently. The thought was exhilarating and arousing... Someday, I thought, but not today.

Having stashed all the equipment and new creations away and having redressed Lucas, I managed to get him back in the car. It was time for him to go home. I had no idea how late it was. ---

“Hi Mrs. Thomson, I brought Lucas home,” I said with a smile, as Lucas' mother opened the door. “Goodness,” Mrs. Thompson said as she laid eyes on her son, who hung on my shoulder, “Is he really that drunk?” “Yeah,” I answered faking sincerity, “he had a bit too much, so I thought it was a good idea to drive him home to sleep it off.” “That’s very thoughtful of you, Damien,” Mrs. Thomson said, as I dragged the unconscious Lucas inside. Mrs. Thomson showed me to Lucas' room and I dumped him on his bed, he’d probably stay like this until midday. I could hear Lucas' mother rummaging in the next room, so I was alone in Lucas' bedroom.

Looking at Lucas, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, he was just a drunk teen, who've had a bit too much... and I was the kindly soul, who had helped him home. As I headed for the door, I couldn't help to take note of some of Lucas' laundry lying on the floor... and I just couldn't resist - the room was a bit of a mess anyway, so he probably wouldn't notice if a used undershirt and a pair of briefs disappeared. As tempting as it was, and as much as I would have liked to swipe his entire wardrobe, I stuck with the two pieces of sweaty underwear and stuff them inside my jacket.

As I made my way out the house, Mrs. Thomson met me at the door. She handed me a chocolate bar, "Here," she said, "thank you for bringing Lucas home safely Damien, I will go to bed now." "Thank you," I replied, "and it was no problem, Good night Mrs. Thomson," I finished as I left the house and the door shut behind me. Now I could finally breathe, the high that I had been on for the last couple of hours had finally begun to wear off. In the car laid the two-piece suit I had made of Lucas. Did I dare to put it on? It was extremely tempting, but I had to admit, that I was feeling fatigued.

Back at the car I took a moment to behold my work. Lucas flawless skin, perfect physique, even his hair and smell was perfectly replicated, though it was only a lifeless husk, at some point it would be brought to life. And I still had plenty of BodyPlast waiting back home.

[migue-gj]

Secrets (Part 1 of 4) - Prelude

Originally an excerpt made for a writing challenge, after some encouragement to expand it, I have completed the story and broken it into four parts.

Being the oldest in your class wasn’t noteworthy, at least not most of the time, if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t have guessed that I was the oldest in my class, I was small and skinny, tall, but not as tall as half of my classmates. But being the first to turn 18 gave me some attention all of a sudden… Especially when I was the first in my class with a driver’s license, then my usually non-existing popularity soared.

I could borrow one of my parents’ cars quite frequently, and it did make me quite coveted in my class, both the guys and the girls thought it was pretty cool, now I could drive them places… It was nice to get the attention, it was nice to feel unique and special… But again it probably wouldn’t last forever, after all, they were going to turn 18 soon enough, and then they could start doing the same, and I could fade back into obscurity.

“Are you coming to the party, Dam?” asked Alice, one of my classmates. “No,” I answered, “you know I don’t drink.” “You don’t have to, quite the opposite actually, Vicky and I were kinda hoping you could drive us home after… Maybe we could go through a drive-in along the way,” Alice said with a wink, “think about it, will you? It would be so great, if you did.”

My class was a party class to say the least, it felt like they were having a party or get-together every week, usually drinking way too much. It was far from the first time I had been invited to the parties, but I always declined, I don’t drink for starters, so I wouldn’t fit in, but Alice’s words got me thinking, although honestly they were both pretty thoughtful as they were inconsiderate. Now they wanted me at their party as their ‘designated driver’, so I could chauffeur them all home after they got wasted.

---

My father works at a hospital in the next town over, he’s a bit of a workaholic, even after an accident that caused him to break his right foot quite badly, he insisted on getting back to work as soon as possible. That meant my mother or I had to drive him to and from work, the plus side being, that I could get to drive more often and gain more experience.

One day, when I came to pick up my father at the hospital, I had a life-changing moment, well, sort of. He wasn’t at the parking garage, but that wasn’t unusual, if he wasn’t here, he was still working. So I entered the hospital, hoping to run into someone, who could guide me in the right direction.

“Hi,” I said to a doctor heading out the double doors to Section 4. “Oh hi Damien, are you here to pick up your father?” she asked. “Yes, have you seen him?” I said, usually it was hassle to locate my father, especially when he was working overtime, when he wasn’t on the parking lot, I had to try and find him in one of the hospital departments, and that wasn’t always an easy task. “Well, he’s doing some work, in the Dermatology department, the storage room, room 417,” she said. “Room 417,” I repeated, “thank you very much.” “You’re welcome,” the doctor said with a smile as she left.

Sure enough I found my father in room 417, a room filled with shelves containing who-knows-what. My father sat at the only computer in the room with his back turned away. “Hi da-” I began, but I almost stumbled over what looked like two large, incredibly visible paint-cans. “Watch where your going, Damien,” dad said as he turned towards me. “Sorry, I didn’t see them,” I said embarrassedly, embarrassed that I could stumble over something so obvious. “Why are those buckets right in front of the door?” I asked. “They need to be disposed of,” my father said. I read the label on the white paint cans, on a pink label with thick black letters, it said: BodyPlast.

It was an unusual name, and I was kinda curious. “What is it?” I asked my father, who resumed his work. “It’s an experimental substance, meant to be used on skin on burn victims and other people with dermatological conditions. It apparently can replicate the exact skin tones and even hair on the skin that it’s applied to, quite remarkable.” “Then why are throwing it out?” “Because the labelling is incorrect.”

“Really? Seems like a waste.”

“Maybe, but it’s a safety standard, a common hospital procedure, we cannot use something on a patient unless we’re 117% sure, we know, what it is. So if the labelling is wrong, we can’t use it.”

The computer monitor went black, and my father got up from his chair, and began gathering the papers on his desk in a stack, “and although it’s quite interesting,” he said, “I’m not quite sure how helpful it’ll be, because if it replicates the skin of those it’s applied to, then it would take the colour of their skin as it is now with burns, scar tissue and so forth, which means that people would have had to apply it before their skin was affected. Then all of a sudden, it doesn’t sound that useful.” He picked up the papers and got up from his chair. “Listen, I just need to hand these sheets over to my colleagues, and give them some instructions. Can you just go back to the car and drive it over to entrance D? and I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” “Ok,” I answered instinctively.

My curiosity was piqued, well more than piqued. This BodyPlast sounded unbelievable, I had a scar on my neck, that I’d like to cover, but there was so much more to it than that. If what my father said was true, I could replicate the skins of others, that prospect lit a fire in me. My father left and went down the hall, I could hear his footsteps, thanks to the boot he wore on his right foot. Not wasting any time, I picked up the buckets, between them was a little folder, which I assumed was the package leaflet, I quickly stuffed it in my pocket, hopefully it would tell me everything I needed to know about BodyPlast. I left the hospital carrying the buckets, nobody noticed, nobody said anything. Once I was at the car I put them in the trunk, and hit them under the blanket, that always stayed in the trunk. I picked up my father by the entrance, and we drove home. My heart was pounding, but I tried to conceal it. Once we were home, I just needed to get the buckets into my room and hide them there. ---

At night, I opened one of the cans with great expectation. It contained a thick, viscous, pink liquid. I dipped a paintbrush into it, then applied a coating to my left arm, just a little bit above the wrist. Then I waited. 15 minutes later the pink colour had faded completely, it was now the exact same colour as my skin, and it was almost unnoticeable. I found an edge, and peeled it off. It was remarkable. The material was incredibly stretchy too – I could stretch incredibly wide, but would resume its original form, when I stopped, still looking perfect. I had to try it again. This time I painted my entire left arm, all the way up to my shoulder, and then I waited again. I peeled it off like a glove, and it looked exactly like my skin, it felt like my skin, even the small hairs were replicated. This was incredible. I slid on the ‘glove’ again, it was surprisingly easy to put on, and the result was flawless. You couldn’t tell, I was wearing an extra layer of skin on my arm. Then it dawned on me, and it was like being hit by a bolt of lightning… With this stuff, I could do almost anything… Or at the very least become anyone. All of a sudden it did feel like a good idea to attend a party.

[migue-gj]

Secrets

Body a day - #27: Closet

This is an excerpt from a longer story I'm writing, but haven't finished yet. I will probably be able to finish it in the new year. Update: The story is finished and can be read here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4

“Damien, we need to talk,” said my father, his tone was very serious, and the whole ‘we need to talk’ wasn’t something I had ever heard him saying before. Dad sat down on my bed and looked at me with a stern face, “Damien, I know you stole it from the hospital.”

I flinched… He knew, how long had he known?… “Why did you do it?” he asked, there was an undeniable disappointment in his voice.

I decided there was no point in lying, I might as well be honest.

“I’ve been using it on my classmates.”

“Why?!” my father said clearly shocked, “they are your friends, why would you do that?”

My father’s words really stung, though he probably wasn’t aware of how much they did, having had my secret exposed was mortifying enough, my voice began trembling as I answered.

“Friends?!” I said trying to hide being upset, “They were never my friends.”

My father’s face changed from shock to concern, which made me feel a bit better. It seemed like he understood somewhat.

“I thought things were going much better socially, you were popular, you were spending more time with them, going to all the parties – even coming home late at night.”

“It was all just a facade, so that I could get away with it… Earn their trust and not to arouse any suspicion.”

My father said nothing, he just looked at me with something I assumed was sympathy, so I continued my rant.

“To them I was merely an asset, I was useful. I only got all that attention, because I was the first in my class with a license, I could drive them places, be it drive-ins, the city or home after they had drunk their brains out. I was their chauffeur, their designated driver, that’s all. I’m not saying I was being excluded or bullied or anything, but I’m just not like them… And despite all the attention I’ve gotten, it still doesn’t change that I don’t see them as friends, they are just my classmates, they are acquaintances if you would prefer a different term…”

My father remained silent, he clearly was going through some strong emotions too, struggling to put them into words. I hadn’t seen him like that before, it almost felt like, he thought he had failed as a father for not noticing my discontentment sooner.

“I see,” was the first thing my father said after a long pause, it took him some time before he continued, “how did you do it? I don’t suppose they volunteered for it.” “I put something in their drinks,” I admitted, saying it out loud made me feel very ashamed.

“That’s very irresponsible, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!” my father said angrily.

“I know, but you have taught me of how to dose sleeping pills, and I only gave them a very small dose, I never hurt any of them, I just needed them to be passed out long enough for me to…”

I hesitated, I probably shouldn’t go into more detail, I think he got the picture; “and none of them suffered any side effects.”

“You couldn’t have known that, you can’t just-”

“I know, I know, it was wrong and I’m sorry, but what’s done is done.”

“And what did you do with them?”

I went over to my closet and opened it, then I pulled out the three skinsuits, placing them all on the bed for my father to see. He was breath-taken and shocked as he looked at the display.

“You made three?”

I nodded.

“Have you- have you worn them?” “Not really, no, a few times at home, but not for long, I couldn’t risk you or mom walking in on me. And it’s not exactly like I can go outside wearing them, I’d risk running into someone, who knows them, or even worse – run into one of them. But I really wish I could have… tried to be someone else, if only briefly.”

My father seemed lost in thought, then he resolutely got up and looked straight at me, “then pack your bags, you and I are going on a little road trip.” I couldn’t believe his reaction, it was relief.

[migue-gj]

Buyer's remorse?

You froze when you saw the transaction on your bank account. It was ten times as much as you'd thought. Frantically you look through your mailbox looking for the invoice, but to your horror you discover, that the same ludicrous amount is written there. All you wanted was a good-quality Spiderman suit, just for a bit of escapism, but now you were almost broke. Looking over the invoice again you finally realise the mistake - it said Spiderman Suit Deluxe. You don't remember choosing a Deluxe, and now that little word had cost you a minor fortune.

Finally you calmed yourself, telling yourself it's going to be alright. You get the package, then just use the return label and get your money back. It took excruciatingly long for the package to arrive, the webshop had no phone number nor chat function, only an e-mail address, and though you wrote multiple mails explaining your situation and the obvious mistake, you received no answer. You feared that you had been duped.

Then finally three weeks later, the package arrived. Getting it home from the package shop was an ordeal, as the package was much bigger, heavier and unwieldy than you expected, and yet you still felt the concern of being scammed, the thought of the box containing some cheap - or in this case - expensive knock-off.

You carefully opened the box, being extremely cautious, trying to make sure that you didn't bruise or dent the box or its content the slightest. There it was the iconic red-and blue suit… the white-eyed mask, the intricate black web-pattern. It wasn't just a cheap knock-off, this could pass for the real thing. The fanboy in you really wanted to put it on, but your common sense said 'no' - any sign of use and the suit might be unreturnable.

There was no visible delivery note on top of the costume, so you carefully began to pick up the pieces and place them gently on the floor, making an internal note of which order they would have to be put back in. As you removed the components of the Deluxe-Spiderman suit looking for the delivery note, you began to wonder how this suit alone could justify such a big box, once you removed the suit itself from what you assumed was the last piece, you expected to find a ton of packaging peanuts filling half the box, but no, it was something else.

Your jaw dropped as a flesh-coloured mass revealed itself, at first you couldn't comprehend what you were looking at, but then you realised they were synthetic body pieces. There was a torso with arms, a pair of legs, feet, hands… and a face - Tom Holland's face. So this is what made the costume 'deluxe'.

As you picked up the pieces of the body, you forgot everything about the hefty price tag, this was way more than you have ever dreamed of. You could be the actual Spider-man, you could be the actual Tom Holland in the role of Spiderman. You found the delivery note at the bottom of the box, but that somehow seemed completely irrelevant now. You stretched one of the hands/gloves, it looked like skin, it felt like skin, it even smelled faintly human.

With an unparalleled eagerness and excitement you undressed, you held up the sculpted torso in front of you, still amazed at the detail, still beyond belief of how this could be real. You pushed your head through the opening at the neck, then pushed your arms through the sleeves, it was just like putting on a shirt, except this was something far more than that. You adjusted the shoulders and made sure they were in place, and marvelled at the result. You got Tom's tight pecs and athletic arms, you place a hand on your new stomach feeling the abs beneath the synthetic skin.

Having had a taste of what you could have only left you hungry for more - you felt insatiable and wanted it all. You slid on the legs like a pair of tight leggings, except padded with lean muscles, soon enough your lower half was covered with Tom's strong legs. Grinning you put on the hands like they were regular gloves. They slid right over your own hands and within moments they felt like they were. You stretched and flexed your new fingers, rubbing your face, your new pecs and abs. They felt real, looked real, right down to the fingerprints, which you imagined were identical to the real Tom's - everything else seemed to be.

You put the feet on like a pair of toe socks, pushing each toe into place and wiggling them as they stretched over your own. With the feet perfectly in place, you stand up to get a better look at your new body. You look astonished at yourself in the mirror, the face still your own, but the rest of your body unmistakably Tom's - athletic, smooth, lean and all yours. You pick up the Tom Holland mask, so incredibly life-like, from the lush hair to the soft cheeks and the strong chin, you almost lost yourself in thought, maybe you could just keep this on - permanently. Out of the corner of you eye, you notice a little tub at the bottom of box, you put down the Tom mask.

You read the label of the little container and opened it to reveal a bright pink substance, it was a sealant, to cover the seams of the suit, effectively fusing them together. Without hesitation you dipped your fingers into the thick pink goo and immediately applied it to your wrists and ankles, the bright colour faded soon after, the seems that before were near-invisible were now completely gone. With a delighted smile on your face, you apply the sealant to the seam at your waist. The bright colour faded again, taking a natural skin tone, and you felt the skin tighten, the seam was gone. With the replica Tom-body under your command and firmly attached, you slip on the mask.

The face snapped into place, and you stepped in front of the mirror. It was unmistakably Tom staring back at you, every facial feature flawless and indistinguishable from the real one . You lost track of time exploring every inch of your new body, and you've already decided, this was simply too good. You pulled on a pair of underpants, letting go of the elastic with a pleasing snap.

You put on the Spiderman suit, though it almost feels almost secondary now. You're already wearing a "Spiderman-suit" and this one, you are never taking off - however this is the true fanboy dream, you aren't just the character, but also the actor who brings it to life.

With expected ease you slip on the Spiderman-costume, it was tailored to perfectly fit Tom's/your body, and it did. You smiled at yourself in the mirror, brimming with confidence, looking like a hero, feeling like a hero, having the body of a hero.

Before you slipped on the second mask, completing your costume, you glanced over at the little tub of sealant on the table and chuckled, knowing there was still a handful left. You had a feeling, that in the very near future, you'd be applying it to your neck, making the fantasy complete.

And soon enough you did. The mask sealed in place. Tom's body and face were yours, and you're never going back.

[migue-gj]

I was on my way to a friend's house when I felt like a bite on my neck and then everything started to spin. Suddenly everything went dark as I felt the sweet hug of the void. Now I don't understand where I am. I'm bonded inside a weird pod kind of thing and I hear bipping sounds. Oh wait, i think I can find a way if I can just unscrew this ... Hey! Wait no, get off of me. What the fuck is that?! No Stop!! What is happening to me?! What are you doing?! Get those glasses off my face. No stop don't put this in my mou...MmmHHfffFFfffFfff...

You blink slowly as you open your weary eyes. Your temples throb and a dull pain in the back of your neck has you groaning with discomfort. As you try to raise your arm to massage your aching head- sudden, painful resistance. Groggy, you twist your gaze downward and immediately, you feel entirely alert with a sobering realization. Cold, rigid cuffs are clasped tightly around your wrists, binding you firmly to the cold metal table beneath you.

You shiver, your bare naked body lies on the frigid surface as you take stock of your surroundings. The room is dark, barely lit with a dim red light on the far concrete wall. From this vantage point, you’re just able to make out the industrial ductwork on the ceiling and rows of shelves lining the side of the cavernous room. The buzzing and whirring of heavy machinery is cacophonous and intense- your ears are ringing already, and the intense noises are only worsening your growing discomfort.

Suddenly, light. Bright, blinding light. You close your eyes, the pale white illumination overpowering your blurry vision. The clink of a lock and sound of a heavy metal door rolling open makes your heart drop to your toes. You feel your breath start to quicken, grow shallow, and quiet whimpers escape your lips as thumping footsteps slowly approach you. You turn your head toward them, and squint your eyes; there’s easily twenty more men restrained and passed out, and slowly approaching out of the wide open door is your likely captor.

They’re massive- easily seven feet tall, and extremely broad. From head to toe, they’re covered entirely by a mustard yellow rubber hazmat suit, their face entirely obscured by the gas mask atop their head. A long tube slithers out of it and into some strange canister attached to their hip; you feel yourself squirm as you see it seemingly undulating, as if something more than gaseous vapors were being pumped through it. The heavy rubber boots squeak as the captor arrives in front of your table, cocking their head to the right before flexing their arm.

You try to speak, but only hoarse, indecipherable groans are able to leave your mouth. The captor leans over you, reaching beneath your table and ruffling through contents below. You get a whiff of the heavy rubber, the scent of industrial latex wafting from the suit as you feel its slick texture slide over your dick. You moan ever so slightly, enough to catch the captors attention. Up close, you’re able to hear the machine strapped to their waist. Inside the tube, you can hear thick, viscous slurps and squelches as it shudders against your chest.

Beneath that mask, you swear you can feel the captor grinning wildly- what else would some lunatic kidnapper be doing under there? From under the metal surface, they pry out an item you can’t quite make out at first- though when you realize just what it is, abject terror fills your soul. A full black rubber gas mask sits in the captors hands, the tube dangling wildly as they slowly slide it over your head. The smell inside is intense- thick, concentrated rubber, and the heady stench of sweat fills your lungs to capacity. The interior is sticky, and it tightly suctions to your head as if vacuum sealed.

Bound and now arguably gagged, you’re unable to offer any resistance against them as they fasten a heavy rubber apron around your body, slipping on fantastically large gloves and boots onto your hands, arms, and feet. For a moment, the captor just stands at the foot of the table, cocking their head to the right and left, as if admiring their handiwork. You moan as you feel their rubbery grip slide up your bare leg, beneath the heavy apron and grasp your unintentionally hard cock.

The slow, deliberate strokes of your dick seem like a cruel tease to you- the slick rubber gloves feel as if they’re lubing themselves as they slide up and down your length. Your head is thrown backward in ecstasy, the sloshing of the captor’s tube and the wet sounds of your dick getting stroked echoing in your ears. So enveloped are you by carnal pleasuring that you don’t even seem to realize the captor taking ahold of the tube slinking down from the gas mask you’re donning. It’s only after hearing a metallic clink that you look down to see that the captor has detached their tube from the machine, and has attached it to yours.

Immediately, you feel a long rubber tendril extend from the mask, thrusting past your lips and into your mouth. It clamps down onto your teeth, fastening hard before you hear the grumbling start to emanate from the captor. Their tube starts to quiver again, and you can feel something rushing down from their mask. You have a mere moment of final panic before a torrent of liquid bursts into your mouth and down your throat. The taste is foul- as if you’re licking a tire, a condom, the sole of a sneaker… The rubber flavor matches the thick consistency; it’s gloopy, glue like and seems to have some sort of locomotion of its own as it plows down into your stomach.

Still stroking you slow and steady, the massive captor climbs atop the table, straddling your waist as they feed you the substance. Your stomach starts to distend as it fills, the uncomfortable feeling of fullness quickly becoming an enrapturing one. You find yourself hungrily drinking down the sludge, your belly growing larger and larger. Beneath the rubber apron, you see the bubbling of your abdomen bulging and squirming. Frankly, every ounce of care you had has melted away at this point. You’re so entirely lost in the pleasure that the reality of your situation is simply thousands of miles away from your mind.

Had it been present in your mind, you’d would realize that your quickly bloating stomach is no longer going to be able to contain the volume. Had it been present in your mind, you’d see the shrinking form of the captor slowly deflating on your lap. Had it been present in your mind, you’d recognize that the sludge in your gut is starting to spread outward- your chest and arms swelling larger and larger… But it isn’t present in your mind. You can only happily groan into the stinking rubber mask shellacked to your head, as your legs and feet grow large and long and your arms double, then triple in size.

Your skin stretches and warps, your bones crack and break. The suited captor is all but entirely gone, just the last vestiges of sludge inside a vacant hazmat suit sitting atop your bulking, bubbling quads. Your cock throbs hungrily as it stretches longer and longer, begging for more stimulation your hand cannot currently provide. As the last of the sludge barrels into your gullet, you hear a loud and sharp crack inside your head, and you scream as you feel the sludge squeeze inside of your skull, pressure building in your head as it penetrates your brain.

Then, silence. The only noise coming from your writhing, contorting body is the sounds of slimy schlorps, squelches, and stretching. The cuffs around your wrists and ankles finally release, and thankfully so. The meat around them is so swollen, so large, that the moment they unlatched, the deep canyons where they’d been quickly were filled in with sludge. Your body shudders and gargles, and still growing on the cold table. Your legs start to slide down off of the edge of the table until your gigantic feet gently touch the ground, even as you are laying on your back. Your arms follow suit, stretching longer and longer until your knuckles feel the hard cement floor.

The noises starting to subside, and your body finally ceasing to grow much beyond the 7’2” inflated muscle man you now appear to be. Your body begins to move of its own accord, your former consciousness all but entirely integrated into the captor now piloting your body. He takes his first breath as you- all of your memories, your knowledge, your language incorporated fully into his mind as he purges the remainder of who you once were. All you feel now is what he feels. All you think now are his thoughts.

Your gigantic hand reaches to the mask, ripping it off your head and revealing a face no longer your own- recognizable only to one with a keen sense of observation. In one swift movement, you launch yourself onto your feet, which squish against the cold concrete, the sound of the sludge still sloshing about within. The wet slaps of your footsteps sauntering out of the open door echo in the chamber as you pass the group of vessels, each waiting for their own assimilation and corruption in a deep slumber.

The door behind you closes in a loud thunk, as jets blow in every which direction while you strip the temporary conversion garbs from your body. Looking down, you quietly observe your new form- chiseled, wide, fit, tall… a serpentine footlong cock slithers and coils around your thick thigh. Your expression is unwavering, entirely stoic, emotionless, empty. All notions of human nature are completely gone- you once would have seen this form and immediately busted a nut. Though with him in control, it is mere indifference.

You continue walking down the cylindrical passageway, each step squelching loudly and leaving behind a slimy, wet footprint of your size 20 feet. You crack your neck, rolling your shoulders and hope the measly human skeleton within will gain its newfound strength sooner rather than later. Looking down as you walk, you cock your head to the right, and your cock immediately starts to unfurl from your leg. You allow some of your slime to exit from the slit, your baseball sized balls now churning enough to maintain yourself naturally, and watch as the rubbery black sludge begins to coat your lower body. It cascades down your legs, all the way down to your feet. More and more secretes from your groin, until by the time the door to the training room opens before you, your new uniform has already solidified into its elastic, slick solid state.

Inside of the room, your brothers are examining their new vessels, ensuring the conversion was complete and successful. If not, they’re purged from the human and return to their containment suits, still assimilated with their hosts intertwined in their minds. You lean back against the quaz’sirkk bars behind you, awaiting for one of them to come check you; you’ve been waiting some time for a vessel, and this time it’s a good chance it’s your forever home.