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nepphi · 3 months ago

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(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."

425 notes · View notes

nepphi · 3 months ago

Text

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.

536 notes · View notes

nepphi · 5 months ago

Text

Corrupted Bond

"This is crazy, Liam. We shouldn’t be here. Are you absolutely sure his place is empty?" Rob whispered anxiously, his eyes darting toward the door as Liam unlocked it.

"I’ve told you a hundred times," Liam snapped, his frustration evident. "I’ve kept tabs on him long enough. We’ve got plenty of time before he comes back."

"God, you're insane... and what about his roommate, are you sure he isn't in there?" Rob asked, still uneasy.

"His roommate’s visiting his hometown. This is the perfect opportunity to take Hunter’s place. Relax, Rob. Help me find something of his—like a used shirt or jacket," Liam urged.

"This place reeks of jock musk," Rob muttered, grimacing as he stepped deeper into the apartment.

"Well, what did you expect? Hunter’s the jock of our campus," Liam shot back, rolling his eyes. "Now, help me search."

The two of them split up, carefully moving through the apartment and checking every room.

"Alright, I’ve checked everything. This place is ours for the next few hours," Liam shouted, his voice rising with excitement. "Now, let’s grab one of his clothes."

"Which one’s his room?" Rob asked, his nerves still getting the best of him as he glanced around the apartment.

"Found it—and I found the perfect item!" Liam called out from the other side of the apartment.

Rob hurried back, nearly tripping over himself in his rush. He entered the room Liam had called from—and froze, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes locked on none other than Hunter McAllister himself, standing right in front of him, wearing nothing but a pair of black underwear and a few accessories.

"Hey, Robbie Boy!" Hunter’s deep, raspy voice cut through the air, sending a jolt of panic through Rob’s chest.

"Shit! That happened way too fast," Rob muttered under his breath, wide-eyed.

"Of course it did," Liam—now owning the body of Hunter McAllister—snickered. "Why waste a single second transforming into Hunter fucking McAllister? Now, let’s finish the look, shall we?" He taunted, flexing his muscles, already draped in some of Hunter's signature pieces.

"Look!" Liam—now Hunter—gestured to the armchair piled high with clothes. "Throw me something to wear!"

Still flexing and turning to showcase his newly acquired, impressive back, Hunter loomed over Rob. Standing a full two feet taller than either of them, his presence was imposing. Rob stood frozen for a moment, mesmerized by the sheer size and power of the figure before him.

Finally snapping out of his daze, Rob hesitated for just a moment before carefully stepping toward the armchair. He reached for a combination of clothes he’d seen Hunter wear countless times.

Under Hunter's expectant gaze, Rob nervously tossed a pair of black joggers in his direction. With the effortless grace of an athlete, Liam caught the trousers mid-air. The smooth, fluid motion left Rob momentarily stunned.

"Good choice, Robbie Boy," Liam taunted, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he sized Rob up with the same cocky confidence Hunter was known for.

Rob quickly grabbed a black undershirt from the pile and tossed it toward Liam. With swift, practiced movements, Liam stretched the fabric over his torso, the shirt fitting perfectly against his frame. His muscles rippled as he pulled it down, completing the transformation that was rapidly becoming indistinguishable from the real Hunter McAllister.

"Now this is more like it," Liam smirked, flexing slightly in front of Rob. His tone dripped with an arrogant swagger.

"What a killer bod, huh? Guys envy it, and girls are dying for it." Liam said with smug confidence, his tone dripping with that familiar cocky swagger. He flexed his muscles, effortlessly showing off the sculpted physique that made him an intimidating presence.

The sight was so mesmerizing that Rob found himself struggling to maintain control, his mind battling the urge to surrender completely to the image before him. The physicality, the aura—everything about it was... captivating. Rob fought to shake the pull of the moment, but it was becoming harder to ignore.

"Dude, Liam. Are you getting a boner?"

"You really have to ask, Robbie? Tsk, kiddo!" Liam laughed, his voice dripping with smugness.

"Liam," Rob stammered, his voice faltering slightly. "It's so fucking hot when you talk like him."

Liam smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he was having, and leaned back.

Then Liam checked Hunter's boner what finally caused Rob's dick to also rise.

"...but we’ll have time for that later," Liam announced calmly, as if nothing unusual was happening.

With deliberate movements, he tucked the shirt into his trousers the way Hunter always did, admiring how perfectly it fit. His well-defined torso, now accentuated by the shirt, was pure perfection. Liam paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of being in Hunter’s skin.

"It feels fucking amazing to be in his skin!" Liam said, grinning widely as he adjusted the necklace. "I get why he's so into himself." He flexed his muscles once more.

"Let's give Hunter a proper welcome," Liam announced confidently. He left the room, eagerly awaiting the moment when the real McAllister would walk through the door. He sprawled across the couch, feet propped up.

Rob followed, nervously yet unable to take his eyes off Hunter’s every move.

"You think this will work?" Rob whispered, doubt creeping into his voice.

"Just 'shh' and hide in the corner," Liam responded coolly, his smirk widening. "Stick to the plan."

They didn't have to wait long. The door creaked open. Footsteps grew closer, and then, there he was—Hunter McAllister himself—stepping into the room. His eyes widened as he saw Liam lounging on the couch. The room fell silent as Hunter froze, staring in disbelief at the exact replica of himself sitting there, mocking him without a word.

"What the fuck?" Hunter muttered, his eyes narrowing. He took a slow, cautious step forward, clearly unsure of what he was seeing. The tension in the room was palpable, but Liam stayed calm, never breaking character.

Hunter took another step, his eyes scanning Liam’s form, as if searching for some flaw. "What the ..., who the hell are you?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening.

Liam grinned, enjoying every second of the stunned silence. "What the ..., who the hell are you?" Liam mimicked Hunter's speech pattern.

Hunter’s jaw clenched, his muscles tensing as he advanced further into the room.

As Hunter got closer, Rob moved quietly from behind, his steps nearly imperceptible. In one swift motion, he hit him with a bat. That was all Liam needed.

In a blur of movement, Liam surged from the couch, grabbing Hunter by the shoulders and slamming him backward. The impact knocked the wind out of Hunter, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. He struggled, swinging his arms wildly, but Liam now had the same size and strength.

"You’re not going anywhere, McAllister," Liam growled, his voice thick with authority. Hunter’s struggles became more frantic, but it was too late. A blow from Rob's fist to the back of his head sent him crashing to the floor and unconscious before he could even react. The room was silent except for the faint sound of Hunter's breathing as he lay motionless on the floor. Rob stood there, his eyes wide with shock, while Liam caught his breath and looked down at the

"The hell Rob, you nearly fucked it up" Liam complained. He kicked Hunter’s limp body, just to make sure he wasn’t faking. Then, Liam leaned over Hunter and sedated him with a syringe.

Rob swallowed hard, still trying to process the chaos that had just unfolded. "Holy shit... We really did it. This is insane. Are you sure you can pull this off? Being Hunter?"

Liam smirked, amused by Rob's question. His attention shifted to Hunter’s phone lying on the ground, still buzzing with notifications. With a quick shove of Rob aside, he grabbed the phone, a devilish smirk curling at the corners of his lips. He studied the sleek device in his hands. With a steady hand, he activated the phone’s face recognition. A second later, the screen unlocked effortlessly. Liam felt a jolt of satisfaction—he was in. He glanced at Rob, who was still watching him, eyes wide with barely contained excitement. Liam nodded toward the phone, giving Rob a wicked grin.

"Let me show you, how I can pull this off." Liam’s voice was low, almost too casual, as he dialed a number from Hunter’s contact list—someone who clearly held a special place in Hunter’s life. The call went through, and after a few rings, a sweet, unsuspecting voice answered.

"Hey, babe," came the voice on the other end. It was warm, familiar, and totally unaware of what was about to unfold.

Liam leaned back into the couch, his posture effortless yet commanding.

"Hey, beautiful," he replied smoothly, his voice deep and gravelly, the tone that had always gotten Hunter what he wanted. "You miss me?" Rob’s eyes were wide as he watched Liam’s every move.

The change in Liam’s tone, his entire demeanor, was so complete that Rob couldn’t help but marvel at how easily he slipped into this new persona. It was like watching a completely different person take control, and for a moment, Rob couldn’t even see his best friend. He saw Hunter McAllister. Liam then reached into his pants, playing with his new dick while talking to Hunter's girlfriend.

"I always miss you," came her response, her voice warm and affectionate. She giggled, clearly happy to hear from him.

Liam’s smile deepened, and he leaned forward, making sure his voice was low, smooth, and teasing.

"I know, I know. I’ve been caught up in things… How about we fix that tonight? I’m all yours, babe."

Rob could barely breathe, his gaze glued to Liam as the act unfolded in real-time. It was perfect—the way Liam's body language shifted, how he held the phone with just the right level of intimacy.

Her voice fluttered on the line, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend wasn’t, in fact, on the other side of the screen.

"I can’t wait to see you tonight." Liam held the phone in front of him, his eyes glinting as he played the role to perfection. But then, as if something darker stirred within him, he made a quick decision. Without warning, he switched the call to video.

The screen flashed as her face appeared, her bright smile lighting up her features. She looked gorgeous. Liam didn’t miss a beat. He leaned in closer to the camera, his eyes narrowing on her image. He studied her—watched her speak, listened to the way her voice quivered with longing. His heart raced, but not with affection. It was power, pure and simple.

As she continued, Liam mimicked Hunter’s movements with precision—flexing his defined body in front of the camera. His smile was the perfect mix of cocky and seductive, like he knew exactly what to say, exactly how to look at her.

"You miss me, huh?" Liam’s voice dropped lower, a mix of charm and command. He slowly ran a hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving hers. "Tell me more about that."

The look on her face made Rob’s stomach twist. She was captivated—completely unaware that the man she was speaking to wasn’t the one she thought. Her smile deepened, her eyes softening as she spoke.

"I’ve missed everything about you, Hunter. Your touch, your presence... everything. Why don’t you come over right now?"

Liam’s grin widened, but there was something darker in his eyes now. His gaze flicked to Rob, catching his best friend’s stunned expression. Rob’s mouth was slightly agape, his eyes darting between the screen and Liam. It was like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Liam gave Rob a small, almost predatory smile, then returned his attention to the screen. He leaned in even closer, his face filling the camera frame. His voice dropped, laced with just the right amount of arrogance and seduction.

"I’m still busy, but I promise I’ll be there. You want me to make it worth your while?" He let the words hang in the air for a moment, his eyes never leaving the screen as he watched her react.

She visibly melted at his words, leaning closer to her phone. "Of course, I do," she replied breathlessly.

Liam felt a grimace twist on his face, but he quickly hid it, shifting back into the role. Inside, though, a small part of him recoiled at how easy it was to manipulate her. He could feel the disgust gnawing at him, but buried it deep, focusing on the thrill of the moment.

"Good," he said, softening his voice now, mimicking the tenderness Hunter used to make people crave his affection. "I’ll be over soon. And when I get there, you’re gonna get everything you’ve been waiting for."

He could hear her heart racing over the phone. She was practically entranced. It was all too easy.

Rob stood silent, his mouth dry, eyes wide. He could barely process the level of control Liam had over the situation. It felt surreal. "Dude..." he whispered, his voice full of awe. "She has no fucking clue."

Liam just smirked, power radiating in his eyes. Without making another face, Liam gestured with his free hand as if someone was giving him a blowjob.

As the call ended, Liam leaned back on the couch, letting out a slow breath. He turned to Rob, his expression cool and calm, though his mind was still racing.

Liam burst into laughter. "Man, all those hours of acting class really paid off."

"You nailed it. She had no clue. You’re a fucking genius!" Rob agreed, still in shock.

Liam's smirk grew wider as he admired his reflection in the mirror. "I think the guy on the ground wears my favorite piece."

He slowly removed his own clothing, stripping off the black beanie and undershirt, then reaching for Hunter's signature flannel shirt with deliberate care.

He then started to flex his upper body once again. Throwing a challenging gaze at Rob.

"This," he said quietly, "is how you impersonate someone. Not just with looks, but with presence."

Rob’s jaw clenched, his admiration mixed with something else. "Man, you are him," he muttered, still in shock.

Liam’s eyes flashed. "And this is just the beginning..."

Liam’s eyes flicked down to the phone screen as another message popped up. His fingers hesitated over the glass, then he glanced back at Rob, who was still marveling at the transition from Liam to Hunter, completely unaware of what was happening.

The message was from Hunter’s roommate, Kyle Singer.

"Yo, I canceled the trip to my hometown. How about gym session later and I’m not about to go without you, bro. Don't make me drag your ass. Let me know."

Liam's lips curled into a grin as he read it, feeling a pulse of excitement run through him. This was a perfect opportunity to slip deeper into Hunter's life. He'd already seduced Hunter's girlfriend, taken his place with ease, and now, with Kyle expecting him to join for the gym, the stage was set to solidify his new persona. He could keep this up indefinitely. All he had to do was play his cards right. His fingers flew over the keyboard, typing out a quick reply:

"Sure bro, let's meet at home."

Liam set the phone down with a satisfied smirk. Perfect.

Turning back to Rob, Liam leaned back, folding his arms behind his head, his eyes scanning Hunter’s apartment with a newfound sense of ownership. "You know," he began, his voice slow and deliberate, "it’s funny. Being Hunter... Finally, I’m gonna take over his whole life. I’ll live like him. Study like him. Hit the gym like him. People will think I’m him, and no one will suspect a thing."

Liam's tone shifted, becoming more relaxed as he leaned against the couch. Rob, watching Liam's every move, began to accept that his best friend was now fully assuming the role of Hunter McAllister.

"That’s crazy," Rob said, still laughing, almost in disbelief. "But I gotta say, you are pulling it off. No one could tell the difference."

Liam leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with cold determination. "Exactly. Studying engineering will be a breeze. And the sports thing—he practically has a scholarship. People expect him to show up, perform, and be perfect. That’s how I’m gonna live. I’ll hit the gym like he would. I’ll study like he would. I’ll party like he would. Just like this. The more I live as him, the more real it feels. And once I’m in his routine, there will be a new Hunter."

Rob was nodding along, still fascinated. "Man... this is getting weirdly legit."

Liam’s smile widened, the edges taking on a predatory gleam. "I won’t just be him—I’ll be better than him." As the words left his mouth, his mind raced with possibilities.

For a moment, Liam almost forgot about Rob, too consumed by his plans. But when he turned to gauge Rob’s reaction, something shifted. Rob was still leaning back against the couch, his gaze distant as he processed what Liam had said. He seemed oddly comfortable, almost reassured by the idea that, despite everything, his friend hadn’t really changed.

"Yo, let's get rid of this body for now. Let’s stash him in my room."

They quickly moved the real Hunter into his own room, ensuring no one would find him. He’d be out cold for nearly a day.

"So, what’s next on Hunter’s list?" Rob asked, excitement lacing his voice.

"Well, I've got all the time I need."

"How about you prove to me once again that your performance as Hunter is flawless?"

"Dude, you need another demonstration after I already fooled his girlfriend?"

"Sure, why not?"

Liam leaned in, his voice dropping low, teasing, but with something darker simmering beneath. "You want to see the new Hunter in action, huh? You want to see me in action?"

Rob’s eyes were practically glued to him now, his voice trembling with anticipation. "Please, man, show me."

Liam paused for a moment, savoring the power he felt with Rob hanging on his every word. He stood up and finally pulled on Hunter’s flannel shirt. Turning to Rob with a dangerous grin, he soaked in the moment, clearly enjoying the sensation of wearing Hunter's shirt. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent—his own new musk. Effortlessly, he adjusted the fit, making sure his hair was in place.

"Alright," Liam said, his voice dropping lower, more controlled, the weight of his words heavy in the air. "You're gonna get your wish." He took a slow, deliberate step toward Rob, making his movements feel like a storm gathering force. "I am Hunter McAllister."

Liam took a few more calculated steps forward, his body shifting with the precision of a predator sizing up its prey. His arms flexed, his shoulders tensed. He gripped Hunter’s flannel shirt, twisting it slightly as though the final piece of the puzzle was falling into place. A slow, deliberate crack of his neck followed, the movement as natural as breathing. It sent a chill down Rob’s spine. That was something Hunter always did when gearing up for something. The action spoke volumes, a silent declaration of power.

Rob’s heart was lodged in his throat now, his body trembling. A mix of fear and excitement twisted in his stomach, every fiber of his being desperate to see how far this would go.

Liam’s eyes narrowed as he embraced Hunter’s imposing posture. He shifted, subtly puffing out his chest, making himself seem even larger than before. He straightened his back, shoulders wide, exuding an undeniable aura of dominance. As he locked eyes with Rob, the world seemed to fade away. In that instant, it was as though Liam had fully transformed into Hunter—but now Hunter carried the mance of Liam, and Rob could feel it in every inch of his body.

Liam's grin turned into a dangerous expression. "What the fuck?" His voice dropped an octave and sounded menacing. "Who the hell are you? You think you can just waltz in here like nothing's wrong?" His words dripped with contempt, mirroring the exact tone Hunter used when he was at his most intimidating. "Answer me, you piece of shit!"

Rob’s breath hitched in his chest, his heart racing faster than his mind could process. He could feel the shift in the room, the raw energy radiating from Liam. He could barely speak, but he managed to whisper a trembling, "Holy shit."

Liam moved like lightning. In a single fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, leaning in so close that Rob could feel the heat of his breath. His eyes were dark, calculating, as though he was sizing Rob up—inspecting him the way Hunter would scrutinize someone he planned to destroy.

"You think this is just a game, don’t you?" Liam’s voice was a low growl, each word laced with menace. The edge to his tone sent a spike of adrenaline through Rob’s veins. The room felt suffocating, as if the air itself had thickened. Rob couldn’t look away. "Scared? You better be."

Rob tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Whether it was fear or fascination that held him in place, he wasn’t sure—but he couldn’t tear his gaze from Liam. "N-No..." he stammered, his voice betraying his own fear.

"Then take a whiff." Liam straightened up, a wicked smile playing around his lips. He grabbed Rob's head by the hair and pulled him into his armpits. Rob, caught up in the intensity of the moment, surrendered to the role play, a strange sensation flooding through him as he allowed himself to savor the closeness of Hunter's arrogance.

But then, a noise shattered the calm. The front door creaked open.

Liam froze, his entire body going rigid. Rob didn’t notice right away, too absorbed in the lingering remnants of Hunter’s scent, until the distinct sound of footsteps in the hallway broke through his focus.

"Shit, that’s Kyle," Rob muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. He looked up, startled by the sudden shift in Liam’s demeanor. "I thought he was out of town?"

Liam’s face twisted into a dark, sharp smile. The sound of Kyle’s footsteps grew louder, and Rob didn’t see it coming—not the shift in Liam’s expression, nor the sudden tension that radiated from him. The uneasy calm settling in like the quiet before a storm.

"Piss off, you sad fucker." Liam shoved Rob away from him in a low, cold voice. Rob sank to the floor, trembling and blinking in confusion. "Get the fuck up, nerd. Now!"

"What's going on here? What's..." Rob whimpered.

Then Kyle entered the room, confusion flickering across his face as his eyes darted between Rob and Hunter, who was towering over the nerd on the floor. But that confusion quickly twisted into a sneer.

"What the hell is this?" Kyle muttered, eyes scanning Hunter up and down. His gaze shifted to Rob, still lying frozen on the ground.

"Hunter, what is this idiot doing in here?"

Liam didn’t flinch. His lips curled into a smirk, colder than anything Rob had ever seen. "Caught this weirdo sniffing around our place," Liam said smoothly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of something dangerous. "Fortunately, I came home at the right time. At first, I thought someone was trying to steal from us. But imagine my surprise when I found this dude... sniffing at our underwear!"

Rob’s heart raced in his chest. This had to be a joke. A sick, twisted prank. Liam was just playing the part of Hunter, right? Rob was certain he had some sort of plan—maybe to knock out Kyle and laugh about it afterward. This was part of Liam’s plan, wasn’t it?

Liam turned his gaze to Rob, his eyes cold, filled with disdain.

"So, this is how it’s going to be, huh?" he said, his voice harsh, each word deliberate, cutting through the air like a blade.

"I catch you snooping around my place, sneaking around like some rat? You thought you could just waltz in here?"

Rob’s breath caught in his throat, his mind scrambling to make sense of the words. It felt like the room had suddenly tightened around him, the weight of Liam’s accusation pressing down hard.

"Liam—wait, no, I—" Rob tried to speak, but the words stumbled out weakly, his voice cracking under the weight of disbelief.

But Liam—Hunter—cut him off, his tone icy, relentless. "Save it."

"Don't try to take me for a fool, wimp," he snapped. "Do you think you'll get out of here without consequences?" Liam took a step forward and pushed his way into Rob's personal space, causing him to instinctively crawl back. Kyle stood behind Rob, who was now fully engaged in the moment. He grinned and let out a laugh.

"Look at that loser," he mocked. "A pathetic nerd like you? Did you really think you could just come in here and do your thing?" Rob froze, his heart hammering in his chest.

What was happening? This wasn’t a joke. This was real. His best friend—Liam—was betraying him.

Liam smirked, watching Rob’s hesitation, the gleam in his eyes cold and calculating. Rob wanted to speak, to argue, but his throat tightened, each breath feeling harder to take. This couldn’t be happening. He had to be misreading this—there was no way. Not like this. Not Liam.

The betrayal hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. His best friend was turning on him.

"Liam, please," Rob whispered, his voice barely a breath. "You’re my friend… What’s going on?"

Liam’s expression twisted into something darker, more malicious, as if the mask of friendship had slipped away completely. He didn’t even flinch. Slowly, he stepped even closer to Rob, his presence overwhelming. His voice dropped to a low growl.

"Shut up. My name is Hunter. Don’t talk to me like you know me."

To their surprise, Kyle grabbed Rob by the collar and yanked him forward with one violent movement. Rob gasped and tried to free himself from Kyle's iron grip. This was no longer a game. There was no punchline. Liam wasn't playing along - he was all in.

"You’re lucky I haven’t kicked you out already," Kyle growled, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "But maybe we’ll have some fun with you first."

Without warning, he shoved Rob aside, sending him stumbling toward the wall. Rob collided with it, the impact sending a jolt through his body, struggling to stay upright as his heart dropped into his stomach. Kyle’s laugh echoed through the room, dark and cruel.

"You're pathetic. I always knew you and your faggot friend were a couple of weirdos on campus," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Look at you. What a joke."

Rob staggered to regain his balance, panic rising in his chest like a wave. He had to get out of here. But the slow, crushing realization settled in: Liam wouldn’t help him. Liam had chosen this. He’d chosen Hunter—the life that came with power. And Rob… Rob was nothing more than a casualty of that choice.

"Throw that useless fucker out, Kyle. He's lucky we didn't call the cops." Hunter ordered with an icy finality. His voice was so cold, so unfeeling. The weight of those words hit Rob like a punch in the gut. There was no turning back.

Kyle pushed Rob towards the door, disgust clearly written on his face. "Get out of here. Before we decide to show you what happens when you forget your place." Rob opened his mouth, trying to find the words to fight back, but they wouldn't come. His throat was tight, his chest heavy with emotion. There was no chance. This was no longer a joke. The door slammed shut behind him for good, and Rob stood alone in the hallway. His knees wobbled beneath him, the full weight of betrayal crashing over him. Liam had sacrificed Rob.

————

When Rob arrived at home, desperation clawed at him. He reached for his phone, his fingers trembling as he tried to contact Liam, praying that somehow, Liam wasn’t really abandoning him—that this wasn’t the reality he’d been left in. He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it.

Frantically, he sent message after message, each one more urgent than the last. But no matter how many times he hit send, Rob didn’t receive a response. Not a single word from Liam.

Defeated, Rob collapsed onto his bed, staring blankly at his phone as he scrolled through his friend’s stories. The weight of everything pressing down on him, he drifted aimlessly through the posts, until an idea suddenly struck him. He hesitated for a moment, then checked Hunter’s account.

Shocked, but somehow less surprised than he expected, Rob saw it: Hunter posting pictures of his workout, Kyle standing proudly by his side.

Hours passed, and more evidence piled up. His stomach churned as he saw more: Liam was at the girlfriend’s place now, exactly as he had planned hours before, stepping fully into the role he’d chosen. Rob’s heart twisted in his chest.

The moment Hunter posted a new selfie, showcasing his toned upper body, Rob couldn't help but feel a wave of envy wash over him. He stared at the image, his heart tightening. Hunter’s life—Liam’s life—looked perfect, and it made Rob feel small in comparison. All he could think about was Hunter’s girlfriend, getting fucked by the one and only Hunter McAllister.

419 notes · View notes

nepphi · 9 months ago

Text

Stepping Into His Boots

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

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

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

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

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

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

But something was still missing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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nepphi · 9 months ago

Text

As my dad drove us out to our Sunday afternoon hike, I could feel the tension in the air. My dad wanted to meet my boyfriend who lived in the next city and I was a little nervous to see how it would go. All three of us were pretty outdoorsy, so I knew we would have that in common, but I was still pretty nervous.

As my dad parked the car, he turned the engine off and looked over at me. "Son, I really do have a confession to make to you." He said seriously, putting his hand on his forehead. "I've been lying to you."

"What do you mean Dad?" I asked, not expecting those words from his mouth. "Is this about Evan?"

"Yeah it is. I haven't been entirely truthful to you." He swallowed hard before looking at me in the eyes. "I am Evan. Every weekend for the last two months... It's all been me."

Stunned and at a loss for words, I could only end up chuckling. "Dad, you're not funny. What does that even mean? I've been with Evan so much the last few months. You've never even met him."

"Son, I'm going to show you something but I don't want to freak you out." He said solemnly.

"Alright... but Dad if this is some kind of joke..."

All of a sudden, my dad scrunched his face and his forehead as he began grunting. I watched in equal parts horror and fascination as my Dad's beefy, masculine older body began to transform and take on a new build. His broad shoulders and pecs slimmed down along with his small beer belly dissipating. His lower half doing the same, shifting and contorting into the form of a young man. Lastly, the changes washed over his face as his gruff, stern expression was replaced by the youthful, carefree face of my boyfriend that I had been seeing the last few months.

I sat in silence as I watched the final changes gloss over my father as his clothes were replaced with my boyfriend's. He looked incredibly attractive in that sun shirt and cap that I loved seeing him in so often.

"I'm sorry son." My father said with his new voice. "I feel like I need to be honest with you. Evan doesn't exist. At least he doesn't in the capacity that you think."

"But-but I met him on Gr-"

"Grindr." My dad interrupted. "Yeah I did too. You deserve to know that I'm gay son. And I have the power to shapeshift."

"Dad! What the fuck! So I've been talking and dating YOU this whole time?!" I exclaimed, not believing what was happening.

"Well technically, I have all his memories. And his mannerisms. I'm not really your Dad when I'm him." Suddenly he closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders back before opening them again. "I can still be your perfect boyfriend, babe."

"Dad! I can't do this with you! Get out of him, please!"

My dad looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror and smiled, giving me a cute look as he placed his hand on his bearded chin.

"I can shapeshift you too if you want. Here, I'll transform you into my bro!" My dad reached over and touched my face as I felt a burning sensation spread across my body down to my toes. I felt my body going through similar changes as my dad, only in reverse. Instead of shrinking down, I was growing in size, muscle, and age.

"What the fuck Dad?! I'm Evan's brother?!" I yelped out feeling my bearded face and looking in horror at my phone.

"My sexy brother." My dad cooed. "It'll be fun, son. Let's go on our hike and have a little bro on bro bonding time, what do you say?"

My dad hopped out of the car with newfound energy and pep while I contemplated just how I was going to get out of this...

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nepphi · 9 months ago

Text

Trading Spurs for Sneakers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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nepphi · 9 months ago

Text

Through Another's Eyes

The neon sign flickered in the distance, casting an eerie red glow that danced off the cracked asphalt of the motel’s desolate parking lot. The word "Vacancy" blinked in and out, barely clinging to life, much like the dilapidated building it was attached to. The wind carried the faint scent of dust and decay, whispering through the night, as if the very air was haunted.

Tim squinted through his cracked windshield, pulling his car into the far corner of the lot, enveloped in shadows. He sat there, his fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel, the ticking of the cooling engine echoing like a countdown.

His plan was simple: sneak in, steal anything worth a dime—cash, electronics, jewelry—and disappear before anyone noticed. It was the same routine he’d pulled dozens of times, but tonight, something felt different—off in a way he couldn't quite shake.

Still, he pushed the thought aside. He was dead broke, but that wasn’t anything new. He was used to surviving on scraps, drifting from town to town, picking pockets and breaking into places like this to scrape by. And now, he found himself here, in front of this run-down motel, a last-ditch effort to score enough cash to get him to the next nowhere town.

He wasn’t going through the front door. That was a rookie mistake. Tim needed to be smarter, stealthier.

He circled to the back of the building, crouching low as he spotted an old metal hatch. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in years, maybe an old laundry chute or some kind of service entrance, long forgotten.

The bolts were rusted, the metal cracked—an afterthought in this crumbling relic. Tim pulled a utility knife from his jacket, a tool that had gotten him out of many tight spots. He wedged it between the hatch and the wall, gritting his teeth as he applied steady pressure. One hinge snapped, then the other, until the hatch swung open just enough for him to slip through.

The space beyond was tight, suffocating, like the walls were closing in. Tim’s pulse hammered in his ears as he crawled through the hatch, the cold metal scraping his skin.

Every movement felt deliberate, the darkness pressing against him, thick and oppressive. His breath caught, the damp, stale air seeping into his lungs, choking him for a brief moment before he forced it down. This was it—just another job. Nothing he hadn’t handled before.

But something about this felt different.

Pushing deeper into the narrow passage, his fingers grazed the cold, grimy walls, his mind racing. Then he noticed them—small, foggy windows lining the walls, barely catching the faintest glints of light.

At first, they seemed like nothing, but as Tim’s eyes adjusted, a cold realization gripped him. One-way mirrors. They weren’t just glass—they were portals, hidden views into the motel rooms beyond.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. Each mirror offered a voyeuristic glimpse into the lives of the unsuspecting guests on the other side.

Tim paused at one of the windows, his breath stilling in his chest as he leaned closer, peering through the foggy glass. The room beyond looked unremarkable at first—a bed, a couple of chairs, an unused TV in the corner. But it wasn’t the room that caught his attention.

It was the two naked men inside.

They sat across from each other, a heavy silence hanging between them. The younger man, his sharp features framed by a dark undercut, exuded a kind of elegance that only comes with age and experience.

The other, a bit older, with lines etched into his weathered face, radiated a quiet, unshakable confidence. But beneath the calm exterior, Tim could sense it—something dark and unsettled lurking just beneath the surface.

Tim watched them intently, feeling a strange sensation stirring within him. There was something intimate about this, more than just a conversation between two men. He pressed closer to the glass, his pulse quickening as he eavesdropped on their words.

The older man broke the silence first, his voice quiet but laced with regret. “I’ve been thinking… about everything. All the years, all the things I didn’t do. The things I wanted to do but never did. And now… now it feels like it’s too late.”

The younger man listened, his expression softening as the older one continued.

“I spent my life chasing what was expected of me. The job, the family, the routine… but what I wanted, deep down, I kept pushing aside. I always told myself I’d get to it eventually. But time… it slips away. And now, here I am, wondering why I didn’t act sooner.”

Tim felt a tug in his chest as he listened, the rawness of the man’s words striking something deep inside him. Regret. The bitter weight of not following one’s true desires. He had felt that before, hadn’t he? The tension of living a life that didn’t quite match what he wanted. As he stood there, hidden behind the walls, something stirred—something dark and sensual, an unspoken yearning he’d kept buried.

The younger man leaned forward, his tone gentle. “It’s not too late, Dan,” he said softly. “We’re here now. And we can still do what we’ve always wanted. We can still be who we want to be.”

Dan’s eyes met Ron’s, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. “I’ve wasted so much time, Ron,” he said, his voice low, almost pained. “But now, here with you, I feel like I can finally be who I am. No more pretending.”

Tim felt his breath catch as the atmosphere shifted, the air heavy with something unspoken yet undeniable. The words exchanged between the two men weren’t just about regret anymore; they carried a charge, a raw sensuality that made Tim’s skin prickle. He knew he shouldn’t be watching, but he couldn’t look away. The intimacy in their conversation, the quiet longing in their voices, stirred something primal in him.

The younger man, Ron, stood and walked toward a black duffel bag on the floor. He unzipped it with practiced ease, pulling out two folded skinsuits.

Tim’s eyes widened. These weren’t costumes—they were realistic, eerily lifelike male body skinsuits. Each was crafted to mimic a sculpted male form, from the rich ebony tone of one to the leaner, more defined build of the other. The craftsmanship was impeccable, every muscle and contour disturbingly real.

“You really brought them,” the older man, Dan, said, his voice filled with awe.

Ron nodded. “We both want this. You deserve to feel it—to be who you’ve always imagined.”

Tim’s eyes locked onto the older man, whose trembling fingers skimmed over the muscular form of the suit. He traced the lines of biceps and abs that didn’t belong to him, his breath quickening as his touch grew bolder. Anticipation flickered in his eyes. "It… it feels real," he whispered, almost in disbelief.

"Of course it does," the younger man said, already preparing to step into his suit. "This isn't just about pretending; it's about becoming someone else entirely.

Tim's mouth felt dry as he watched the transformation unfold. Dan slipped into his suit, his expression a mix of fascination and excitement. With a deliberate step, he slid one leg inside, the material clinging to him as if alive.

As the synthetic suit stretched over his body, muscles rippled beneath, his frame thickening. His chest broadened, pecs standing proud, and abs carved into firm ridges. His arms swelled, veins pulsing, while his waist tapered.

His legs thickened with powerful thighs, and his calves bulged as they flexed. His face shifted, seamlessly molding into a square-jawed, rugged mask framed by a dense, dark beard. The older man had become a handsome hunk, exuding raw, masculine strength.

Ron followed, his lean physique transforming into a hulking form. His hair vanished beneath the suit, leaving him bald except for the dark beard framing his square jawline. His frame seemed to melt into the suit, which stretched and reshaped him completely. His chest broadened, and as the suit closed over his shoulders, his lean muscles swelled into a statuesque form.

His skin darkened to a smooth, flawless, rich tone. His once-slender arms were now sculpted with taut muscles, his legs strong and perfectly proportioned, a vision of masculine beauty. His hands touched his face, feeling his features change.

His jawline sharpened into chiseled perfection, framed by a neatly trimmed beard. His lips curved into a confident smirk, and his eyes gleamed with new confidence. The false black guy stared at his reflection, seeing a handsome, muscular model looking back.

The transformation was breathtaking. Both men stood chiseled, their bodies sculpted into ideal forms of masculinity.

They stood there for a moment, letting their new forms settle over them. The air was charged with something else now—desire, lust, an unspoken need. Ron's muscular figure reached out, fingertips tracing Dan's new broad chest, exploring the unfamiliar landscape.

"I’ve always wanted this," the new handsome hunk admitted, his eyes locked on the new black man as his hand drifted lower. "To feel like this. To be like this."

The black guy’s face softened as he cupped Dan's new crotch. "I know. And I want it, too."

Dan groaned as Ron squeezed him through the skin, the material clinging so tightly it left no mystery to the shape beneath. Tim felt himself stirring at the sight, his own arousal building in tandem with what was happening in front of him. He reached into his pants, fingers wrapping around his cock as he stroked himself. This was wrong—so wrong—but he couldn’t help it. The raw need that permeated the room, the forbidden nature of their attraction, the primal sense of watching something he shouldn’t—it was all too much.

Dan stepped forward, hands trailing down the black guy's arms, his fingers skimming the muscles bulging beneath the skin. Their lips met, a soft, hungry kiss that deepened as they wrapped their bodies around each other. They moved onto the bed, their hands exploring each other’s new forms, the friction of skin on skin sending a thrill through Tim’s own flesh.

“You feel so good, Ron.” Dan groaned into the other guy’s mouth as their hands continued to explore. “Everything about you…”

Ron pulled back, his beard scratching Dan’s chin. “You’re amazing too. I don’t know how much more of this foreplay I can take.”

Dan chuckled as he flipped Ron onto his back. The black muscled figure moaned as Dan’s hand gripped his dick, stroking him through the suit. He reached down, sliding a finger beneath the material to tease the tip of Ron’s dick. They kissed again, their bodies rolling on the bed as they rubbed against each other.

“I want to feel you inside me.” Ron gasped as Dan squeezed him harder. “Fuck me in this new body of mine.”

Dan grinned as he fumbled for something in the duffel bag. He returned with a bottle of lube, squirting a generous amount between his fingers. Ron hissed as Dan worked his hole, his skin tightening as he stretched him open.

When he felt ready, Ron rolled onto his stomach, looking back over his shoulder as he spread his legs. “I want you to take me, Dan,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need. “Show me what you’re working with.”

Dan slicked his cock and positioned himself behind Ron. He held the black muscled figure's hips, looking down at the inviting ass waiting for him. Tim’s fist tightened around his own dick as he watched, his breath hitching as Dan started to push inside. The false handsome hunk groaned as Ron took him in, his cock disappearing into that perfect ass, his balls slapping against Ron’s skin.

“Fuck, Dan. You feel so big.” Ron writhed beneath him, his body trembling. “Give it to me. Show me who I am.”

Dan began to thrust, his powerful hips driving into Ron’s ass. The younger man arched his back, crying out as Dan slammed into him, the skin of his suit tight and taut against the force of Dan’s cock.

“More,” Ron demanded, his hands clutching at the bedcovers. “Harder.”

Dan gave him more, his hips moving back-and-forth as he fucked the synthetic black man. Ron whimpered, his backside clenching around Dan’s cock with each thrust. Their skin slapped together, echoing through the room as they took each other hard and rough. Tim could feel himself building toward something, his cock aching as he watched their bodies strain together.

Ron pushed back into each thrust, meeting Dan stroke for stroke. Their grunts mingled in the air, thick with need and lust. It was like nothing Tim had ever seen before—two men lost in each other, completely consumed by desire. He’d always known he wanted things he shouldn’t, but this was something different. There was a primal sense of power in watching their bodies writhe together, their suits mimicking something real but not quite human. Something darker, wilder.

The air in the room seemed to grow hotter as their tempo quickened. Dan was close, his thrusts becoming rougher as he chased his orgasm. Ron moaned, his hand reaching down to jerk himself as Dan’s cock hit his prostate.

“Oh, fuck,” Dan growled through gritted teeth. “I’m going to come.”

“Do it,” Ron gasped, his fist moving faster. “Fill me up with your cum.”

Tim’s fingers tightened around his cock as Dan slammed into Ron, his body shuddering as he came deep inside the synthetic man’s ass. Ron cried out, feeling Dan’s cum flood him, his own cock shooting ropes of cum across the bed. Their bodies trembled together as they rode out the intensity of their orgasms, their cries filling the room, lost in the heat of the moment.

When they were spent, Dan pulled out of Ron’s ass and gently turned him onto his back. He leaned down, kissing the false black man passionately, their lips lingering as they savored the afterglow.

“You feel so good,” Dan moaned into the kiss. “So hot and tight. I can’t get enough.” His hand slid down to grip Ron’s cock, stroking him while their lips remained locked.

Ron moaned, arching into the touch. “I love feeling your cum inside me. It’s so hot.” His hands trailed up Dan’s back, tracing the muscles rippling beneath his skin. “Fuck, you feel amazing in this skin. All that muscle on you is incredible. I’ve always loved a big man.”

Dan laughed softly against his lips. “You’re not so bad yourself. I like this bald look on you.”

Ron groaned, rubbing his cock against the older man's muscular form. “I could do this all night, but we need to get ready for the club. It starts in thirty minutes.” He pulled back, his eyes gleaming as he looked at Dan. “And we’ll need to use new skinsuits.”

He reached for another duffel bag, unzipping it to reveal two new sets of skinsuits. Tim squinted at them, taking in every detail—the muscle definition, the skin tone, even the patterns of hair. These suits were just as realistic as the last ones, and he couldn’t wait to see how they would look on.

“Only these identities are allowed in the club. We have to wear them if we’re going to get in,” the young man in the black man's skin explained.

Dan hesitated, his hands running down his chest. “I don’t want to take this off,” he admitted. “I… like this one. I like who I am.”

Ron chuckled. “And you can still be him after tonight. But for now…” He pulled out the new suits, shaking them until they unfolded into life-sized replicas of human bodies. “Trust me, Dan, you’re gonna love it.”

“You always know how to convince me,” Dan said, taking one of the suits from Ron. “These will be fun,” he added, running his hands over the synthetic flesh.

The two men began to peel off their suits, tossing them aside like discarded skins, shedding the skins until they stood naked once more. Their real bodies were now exposed—nothing like the godlike figures they had transformed into earlier. With practiced ease, they slipped into the new suits, their faces lighting up as their new forms settled into place.

The older man’s new skin was smooth, hairless from the neck down, with muscles defined but not overly bulky. His cock was long and thick, his balls hanging heavy between his thighs. The younger man became a hulk, his frame broad and powerful, muscles sculpted to perfection. His cock was thicker this time, with his balls a heavy weight between his thighs.

They dressed quickly, pulling on leather pants and jackets, the fabric stretching tight over their new muscles. Dan flexed to test the fit, admiring his reflection, his eyes bright, lips curling into a smile.

“You ready?” Ron asked.

Dan nodded, adjusting his jacket. “Fuck yeah. Let’s do this.”

They kissed one last time before leaving the room, shutting the door behind them. Tim remained hidden,his heart pounding, adrenaline surging from what he had just witnessed. The idea of transformation, of becoming someone new, was intoxicating. It gnawed at him, primal and irresistible.

He waited, listening until their footsteps faded. Then, as he shifted, his foot knocked against the wall. He froze. The soft impact caused a tremor, and he noticed something—a brick in the wall wobbled slightly, as if it had come loose.

Curiosity overruled caution. Tim nudged the brick, and to his shock, the wall slid open, revealing a passage leading directly to the room he had just been watching.

It felt surreal, like a dream. But it was real. Without hesitation, he crawled through the gap, his heart racing as he emerged on the other side. The room was dim, the air heavy with an electric tension. His eyes were drawn immediately to the skinsuits lying discarded on the floor.

He stared down at them, a chill running through his body as he picked one up off the floor. As he brought it closer, his breath hitched at the uncanny sensation of touching something so real, yet so fake.

The texture was disturbingly lifelike, so much so that he could have sworn it was real flesh beneath his fingers. It felt almost criminal to hold it. He cradled the skinsuit in his arms, and the realization hit him like a wave. He could take one of these suits, wear it, and become someone else. A new face, a new identity—a new life.

He shoved the skinsuits into the duffel bag and slipped back into the hidden corridor, carefully closing the secret opening behind him, sealing the passage from view once again. He sprinted down the narrow hallway, not stopping until he reached his car and sped off into the darkness.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw the neon lights of the motel flicker out of sight, leaving him with the same thought as the two men earlier:

“We can still do what we’ve always wanted. We can still be who we want to be."

--- ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ---

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nepphi · 10 months ago

Text

"Dad?! What the fuck are you doing here?!" Elijah screamed as he stumbled backwards onto the boat. "How did you-?!"

"Sorry to startle you babe. It's me, Julian. I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. I was thinking about how hot your dad was... and..." Julian trailed on as he pulled his new sexy silver fox body up the ladder from the water.

"AND WHAT?! Julian! How did you even do this? Why do you look like my dad! And worse, my dad in your speedo!" Elijah yelled as he motioned to his own father's bulge, now comfortably fitting Julian's blue speedo.

"Maybe now's a bad time to tell you I'm a shapeshifter. I guess you were going to find out eventually. I was hoping I could tell you once you got to know me a little better first. I didn't mean to become your dad... It just kinda... happened." He trailed on.

Elijah stood in silence for a few moments before turning back around and looking at his boyfriend, now donning the appearance of his father. "How are you a shapeshifter? Like, you can just become anyone you want?"

"More or less. I try not to use my power often. I won't lie, when you were showing me family pics of you and your folks earlier, I just couldn't stop thinking about how hot your dad is." Julian said ashamedly.

"I mean... where do you think I get my good looks from?" Elijah said, half-joking.

"I'm really sorry. I know this is weird. I think I can concentrate and change again. Give me a second."

"What? No, I mean. You don't have to. It must be hard for you to change." Elijah quickly rebutted, realizing he was now slightly turned on.

"Oh? You wanna spend the weekend with your old pop, huh son?" Julian questioned, now leaning into his character. "There's nothing wrong with this. I'm not really your dad."

"Yeah?" Elijah said, now sauntering up to his dad and tracing the hairs on his chest down towards his bulge. "You do wear him well. I never would have thought my dad would look good in a speedo."

"Just you wait son. You're gonna learn a whole lot about the new me this weekend." Julian said, taking his boyfriend's hand and guiding him towards the cabin. "This is just the start of our fun together."

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nepphi · 10 months ago

Text

As soon as the company’s big banking conference wrapped up, I moved quickly, trying to put as much distance as I could between myself and the crowd of businessmen, politicians, and investors. I had what I came for, all the top secret documents, plans, conversations, and intel from the company I was infiltrating. Now it was time to make my exit.

A voice crackled in my ear, coming through the invisible earpiece. “Putra, go to Building B, open parking lot, enter the restroom. You should be safe there to change and transfer the data. I’m waiting in 10.”

You see, I’m not actually some prominent businessman or investor, even though I spent the last few hours playing the part. I’m a shapeshifter, a master of disguise... and people hire me for big money to do stuff like this, spying, gathering secrets, blackmailing, all kinds of shady manipulation... And I gotta admit, I enjoy it! Being a shapeshifter turns out not a curse at all. And the best part it’s not the money or the thrill... it’s the sensation of being someone else—wearing different faces, slipping into different roles... That’s the real rush for me! Anyway, I had the intel my client needed and started heading toward the designated place.

“Mr. Kiran! Where are you off to?”

I froze. Fuck! I muttered under my breath, forcing a smile before turning around.

“Ah, Mr. Peterson.” I greeted him, shaking his hand like we were old pals. Why the hell is this guy in my way now! “Great meeting you at the conference. Lots of interesting ideas being discussed...”

“Yes! Absolutely eye opening, wasn’t it? The possibilities biotech security is incredible! I’m always on the lookout for my next big investment…” He kept rambling, but honestly, I stopped listening. I nodded at the right times, all while mentally plotting my escape...

Finally, I got to Building B near the open parking lot. Once inside the toilet room, I made sure it was empty, then locked the door. Perfect! Empty. I locked the door behind me and pulled out my phone and quickly transferred all the top secret information, recordings, everything, to my boss. Now comes the fun part!

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, grinning at the sight of my borrowed body. “Damn, this guy is really hot… but time for a change.” I ran a hand over Kiran’s buzzed hair with a smirk. “It’s been real nice being you.” One last glance before I began the process I never got tired of, the transformation...

“Urgggghhh…” I groaned as my skin began to ripple. The sensation started beneath the surface, like something crawling and bubbling just under the flesh. My back widened first, stretching my suit tight, and my calves bulged with muscle. “Nnghhh…” My torso twisted, abs carving themselves out, while my pecs and arms swelled. “Mmph…” The sensation intensified, my dick stretching and shifting size and shape, sending a wave of pleasure through me. “Ohhh…” The whole process felt way too good...

Gritting my teeth, I squeezed my eyes shut as my face started to crack and shift. The features that belonged to Kiran—the sharp nose, the deep set eyes—began to changed. My face shortened, my lips thinning, and my nose becoming less prominent and more flat, my eyes narrowing into something completely different. As the changes hit my scalp, I could feel hair sprouting, the buzzcut giving way to a full head of dark, thick hair. Damn, it was more intense than I’d expected. My skin darkened, taking on a deeper tan, and as the transformation slowed, I let out a ragged breath...

I opened my eyes and stared at the mirror. “Shitt... I look good...” My dress pants were soaked from the whole experience, but I couldn’t help laughing. The suit strained against my new muscles, way too tight now that my frame had grown... I took it off and tossed it aside, admiring the new body I’d just acquired.

“Ohoho… not bad at all.” I flexed, the muscles in my arms bulging, then raised my arm and took a deep inhale of my new scent. This guy reeked of sweat and musk, a total contrast from Kiran’s sophisticated, expensive cologne... The difference hit me hard, and I couldn’t stop grinning in arousal... I turned my attention back to the mirror, running my hands over my new face. It felt strange, but also exciting.

I flexed my muscles again, watching my biceps swell, and that’s when I noticed my new cock was fully hard, standing at attention... Mmph... Without thinking, I started rocking my hips, teasing my nipples, letting the pleasure take over... The intensity of it, this new man’s body, was... unreal. My breath hitched, and before I knew it, I came, splashes of thick cum dripping down my muscular thighs... I came handsfree while flexing my arms... I let out a dumb chuckle, still caught up in the wave of pleasure, when suddenly a voice shouted in my earpiece.

“Goddamn it! What the fuck, Putra!! I can hear you from here, you pervert!”

Shit... I’d completely forgotten the earpiece was still in. I grinned, wiping the mess off my legs. “Heh.. sorry about that...”

After cleaning up the rest of the mess, I grabbed my bag and pulled out my new outfit. Slipping into a pair of training pants and an orange polo shirt, I finished the look with a fake Rolex and some worn out training shoes. The final transformation: a hot Thai PE teacher. I checked myself one last time in the mirror. Mission accomplished! I unlocked the door and stepped out of the building, blending in with the crowd unnoticed...

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nepphi · 10 months ago

Text

The Deal

It all started when I moved to a new city after college. I was lucky enough to land an entry-level job in HR, but the pay was dismal. Still, it was a fresh start—leaving my family and friends behind to carve out a new life. I knew that making friends quickly would be key to adjusting to this new chapter of my life, or I'd end up feeling pretty isolated. Fortunately, I hit it off with a coworker who invited me to play basketball at a local community group, and that's where I met Marco.

He caught my eye immediately—a man in his mid-forties, tall, fit, with a commanding presence. I played it cool, waiting for my coworker to introduce us. "Marco, meet my new friend Lukas," my coworker said. "He just moved here." Marco gave me a firm handshake, grinning. "Glad to have you, Lukas. But I’ve got one question—are you any good?"

I smirked, trying to play it cool. "Well, I guess you're about to find out."

I was humbled pretty quickly. Basketball was still new to me, and it showed. But Marco didn’t seem to care. Throughout the game, I’d catch him glancing at me, more interested in me than the game itself. As the game wrapped up, he called out smugly, "All talk for someone who didn’t even score once!" Exhausted and out of my depth, I just laughed. Afterward, Marco introduced me to his wife, Serena. They had been happily married for 21 years, since right out of college. It was a bit of a bummer finding out he was married, but I was happy to have found a group to hang out with—and Marco seemed really keen to get to know me.

Our friendship grew from there. We’d meet up sometimes for basketball practice, where he’d help me improve my skills. Eventually, our meetups turned into grabbing drinks together. Marco got me into craft beer, and as the months passed, we both started to open up. He told me about his life—how he owned a medical sales business, how well it was doing, and how he had two sons in college. He spoke glowingly of his wife, saying he knew he had met his soulmate.

I shared my own struggles—how I was excited about starting my career, but also how tough it was financially. Marco gave me advice, encouraging me whenever I needed a boost.

One day, Serena was away on a business trip for the weekend, and Marco invited me over to watch a football game. After a couple of beers, Marco turned to me and, out of nowhere, said, "You know, Lukas, I’m kind of envious of you."

I blinked, surprised. "How come?"

He took another sip of his beer before responding. "No one knows this except you now, but... I’m bisexual. And while I’m grateful for the life I have, I’ve never had the chance to explore that side of myself. I wouldn’t ever jeopardize my marriage, but sometimes I do wish I could be with men."

I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say. Marco looked at me, gauging my reaction, before continuing. "I know this may sound crazy, but I trust you, and I want to ask you a favor. Hear me out before you decide, okay?"

Curiosity piqued, I nodded. "Sure, go ahead."

"What if there was a way for me to explore this side of myself without breaking up my family? If you were me, would you take it?"

I paused, considering his words. "Yeah... I guess I would."

He seemed relieved and leaned in a bit. "Okay, this is where things get... weird. I’ve never told anyone this, but I have the ability to shapeshift. And I want to switch places with you. Just for a month."

I stared at him, my mind struggling to process what I’d just heard. He wasn’t joking—his expression was dead serious. "Wait, what? How... how do you even do that?"

Marco smiled slightly, held out his hand, and said, "Let me show you."

Hesitant but intrigued, I reached out and shook his hand. Suddenly, a bright light flashed from his palm, scanning my body. He let go, rubbed his hands together, and I watched, dumbfounded, as an exact replica of my body appeared in his hands like a skin suit.

I was speechless.

Marco chuckled at my reaction. "So... I guess you’ve seen me naked now," I joked, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

"Yeah... I guess I have," he laughed.

He led me upstairs and laid out his entire plan. For one month, we’d switch places. I’d live his life—run his business, spend time with his family—while he experienced life as me, exploring his bisexuality in secret. His shapeshifting ability allowed him to perfectly mimic anyone he’d scanned, down to the last detail.

"But there are a few rules," he explained. "First, you cannot sleep with my wife. Second, you have to follow the business plan I leave you—no changes. And third, spend time with my sons when they come home for winter break. I’ll help guide you through it all."

"Marco, this is... this is overwhelming. I’m not sure I can pull it off," I admitted.

"You can. I trust you. And to sweeten the deal, I’ll pay you $10,000 for the month."

Ten grand? My heart raced. With that kind of money, I could get myself out of debt and start saving. After a long pause, I finally agreed. We shook on it.

I spent the next day tying up loose ends in my life, preparing for the swap. When I returned, Marco opened another beer for me. "Okay, Lukas, any rules you want for me?"

"Yeah, a few. First, you need to go to work—don’t slack off on that. Second, check in with my friends so they don’t worry. And third, don’t ruin my reputation, okay? I still want a chance at meeting someone after this is all over."

"Got it," Marco nodded. "I’ll be respectful."

He led me upstairs again, and I watched as he scanned himself. Another skin suit appeared—this time, an exact copy of Marco. He handed it to me, the lifeless face staring back. "Now, here’s the fun part," he said. "You’re going to put it on. I'll be downstairs waiting for you."

The idea of slipping into Marco's life—literally—was still hard to grasp. As Lukas stood there in Marco's bathroom, holding the lifeless suit in his hands, the weight of what he was about to do hit him again. The room felt colder, or maybe it was just the suit, its unsettling coldness radiating through Lukas' fingers. He stared at Marco’s face—blank, eyeless, but unmistakably Marco—like it was staring back at him, waiting to be worn.

He hesitated, then, with a deep breath, he slipped one foot into the opening at the suit’s back. The texture of the suit was strange, like cool, stretched skin. His toes felt icy as they sank into the hollow mold of Marco’s feet. He adjusted his foot until it nestled into the curve of Marco's arch, and the sensation was surreal. He repeated the process with the other foot, each movement deliberate, each step pulling him deeper into the shift.

As he pulled the suit up over his legs, the sensation changed—his thighs merged with Marco’s thicker, more muscular frame. His skin prickled as the cold transformed into a warmth that began to wrap around him, like the suit was responding to him, molding itself to his body. His hands trembled when he reached Marco's waist, hesitating as he pulled it over his own. The suit was snug, unnervingly intimate as it slid over him, conforming to his body like a second skin. Lukas took a sharp breath when his own body began to feel distant, swallowed by the suit.

When it reached his chest, the suit tightened. It compressed his torso, his own wiry frame disappearing as Marco’s broader chest settled into place. He ran his fingers over Marco's pecs, feeling the unfamiliar bulk. It was his touch, but not his body. He twisted slightly, and the suit shifted seamlessly with him, no gap, no seam—only Marco.

His arms came next. Lukas felt the power in Marco’s forearms, thicker than his own, veins more prominent. He flexed his new fingers, watching in awe as they responded just like his own, but the shape was completely different—Marco’s hands, rougher, stronger, experienced.

Finally, there was the face—the final piece. Lukas hesitated for a moment, his reflection staring back at him, half Marco and half Lukas. The difference between the two was stark, like seeing a stranger staring back at him. He lifted the faceless mask of Marco and, with trembling hands, positioned it over his own.

The sensation was like nothing he had ever felt before. The suit clung to his face, cool and slick, stretching over his features and fusing with his skin. As the mask settled, the fit was eerily perfect. His vision blurred for a moment as the world seemed to shift, and when he blinked, he wasn’t sure who he was anymore. Marco’s face looked back at him from the mirror, alive and breathing. He touched his cheek, feeling the unfamiliar roughness of Marco’s stubble beneath his fingers, and then ran his hand through Marco’s dark hair.

It was more than just a change of skin. He was Marco now—physically, at least. Lukas tilted his head, watching the reflection mimic him, then smiled. It wasn’t his smile. Marco’s grin was wider, more confident, almost cocky. Lukas admired the reflection longer than he expected, tracing the contours of Marco’s jaw, the way his shoulders filled out his new body. It felt powerful—alien and yet exhilarating.

He spoke, "Hello, I'm Marco Gonzales." The voice was deep, gruff—Marco’s voice, not his own. It reverberated in his throat, strange and foreign, yet perfectly natural coming from his lips. The reflection in the mirror and Lukas phone's camera spoke back, reinforcing the illusion.

Lukas could hardly believe it. He stared for a long time, running his hands down the length of his new body, tracing Marco’s muscles and curves like they were his own, yet so foreign. His chest rose and fell with each breath, the weight of Marco's frame making each breath feel heavier, fuller. The bulk, the strength—it was intoxicating.

Once dressed, he headed downstairs, the weight of Marco’s shoes and clothes grounding him further in this new reality. As he descended, he saw himself—his old self—lounging casually on the couch, a sight that made his stomach churn in disbelief. His own face, his voice, speaking back at him.

“Took you long enough,” Marco—his old self—said with a laugh. “What do you think?”

Lukas sat down, still in awe of the situation. “This is... unbelievable. I can’t believe how real it feels.”

Marco—wearing Lukas’ skin—grinned. “Told you it’d be something. Now, for the next month, you’ll be Marco Gonzales.”

They both sat there for a moment, the reality of the swap settling in. It wasn’t just about wearing Marco’s skin. Lukas was about to live his life—take over his work, interact with his wife, his children, and the people Marco had built his life around. And Marco would be living Lukas' life, exploring the side of himself he’d kept hidden for so long.

“Tomorrow, you’ll go to work, meet my clients, handle my business,” Marco explained, leaning forward. “And don’t worry, I’ll be guiding you every step of the way. I’ll be checking in with you, making sure everything goes smoothly.”

Lukas nodded, still feeling the weight of the transformation. “And what about Serena?”

Marco’s face grew serious. “You’ll need to act like me around her, but remember our deal—no crossing that line. You’re in my life, but you’re not me. My family is off-limits.”

Lukas swallowed hard, nodding again. “I understand.”

But as the days passed, things began to get complicated. Wearing Marco’s skin was one thing, but living his life was entirely different. The demands of his business, the constant pressure of pretending to be someone he wasn’t, started to weigh on Lukas. And then there was Serena—sharp, intuitive, and far more aware of the changes in “Marco” than Lukas anticipated. She questioned him constantly, sensing that something wasn’t quite right, and Lukas had to think quickly to keep the charade going.

Meanwhile, Marco was enjoying his time as Lukas—perhaps a little too much. He dove into the freedom of Lukas' life with reckless abandon, hitting bars, meeting men, and living without the weight of his responsibilities. And though he promised not to tarnish Lukas’ reputation, Lukas started to hear whispers, rumors about “himself” that made him question how much control Marco really had.

The month dragged on, and by the time the swap was supposed to end, both men had changed in ways they hadn’t anticipated. For Lukas, living as Marco had awakened something inside him—a sense of confidence and control he’d never felt before. And for Marco, the experience of freedom had reignited a desire for something he couldn’t fully grasp, something that his life couldn’t provide.

But when it came time to switch back, Marco wasn’t ready to let go.

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nepphi · 10 months ago

Text

Bodies of Desire: A New Identity

Part 2, soon...

Sam and Leo had been best friends for as long as they could remember. They met in elementary school, two quiet kids who bonded over a shared love of science fiction, video games, and comic books. While other boys were playing sports, Sam and Leo were busy debating who was the best superhero or building elaborate Lego spaceships. They were inseparable, two kindred spirits in a world that didn’t quite understand them.

As they grew older, their interests expanded, but so did their awareness of the social hierarchy that dictated life at their high school. They were labeled as "nerds" by the more popular students—especially the athletes, who seemed to effortlessly rule the school with their good looks, physical prowess, and easy confidence.

Sam, with his mop of curly brown hair and thin frame, was the more introverted of the two. He was brilliant with computers, often retreating into the world of coding to escape the pressures of school life. He had a sharp mind and a love for problem-solving, which made him a natural leader in their group of friends.

Leo, on the other hand, was slightly more outgoing, though still awkward in social situations. He had a deep love for fantasy novels and was always the first to suggest a new game or comic series. His dark hair and large glasses made him an easy target for bullies, but he never let it get him down. He had Sam, and together they could face anything.

Despite their deep bond, there was something unspoken between Sam and Leo—something that neither of them dared to address. Both had started to realize that their feelings for each other went beyond friendship, but neither knew how to express it. They would often steal glances at one another, lingering just a bit too long, or find excuses to touch—whether it was a pat on the back or a playful shove. But those moments always ended in awkward silence, each afraid of crossing a line they weren’t sure existed.

Their confusion only deepened when they found themselves drawn to the jocks who ruled the school. The football team was full of the kind of guys Sam and Leo had always secretly admired: tall, muscular, and effortlessly cool. It wasn’t just jealousy or a desire to be like them—it was something more, something neither of them had the words to describe.

Late at night, lying in bed, Sam would imagine what it would be like to be one of those guys—to feel the power in their muscles, the confidence that came with being admired. But more than that, he fantasized about being close to them, touching them, maybe even… kissing them. He would push those thoughts away, embarrassed and confused, but they always came back.

Leo had similar thoughts. During gym class, he would steal glances at the football players, watching the way their muscles flexed under their uniforms, the way they joked and laughed with each other. He wondered what it would be like to be part of that world, to be one of them—or even just to be close to them, to feel their warmth, their strength.

But these were thoughts neither Sam nor Leo could share with anyone, not even each other. So they kept their desires buried, focusing instead on their studies, their games, and their friendship.

As high school wore on, the pressure of keeping these feelings hidden began to weigh on them. They needed an escape, something that would take them away from the frustrations of their everyday lives. That was when they started visiting the old bookstore on the edge of town.

The bookstore was a relic from another time, a dusty old place filled with forgotten tomes and the scent of ancient paper. It was run by an elderly man who seemed to know everything about every book on the shelves. Sam and Leo loved the place, spending hours there every weekend, losing themselves in worlds far removed from their own.

One afternoon, as they browsed the shelves, Leo stumbled upon a section they hadn’t noticed before. It was hidden in the back, behind a curtain of cobwebs and stacks of yellowed newspapers. The books here were different—older, more mysterious. They had strange symbols on their covers, and titles written in languages neither of them recognized.

“This is weird,” Leo said, running his fingers over the spine of a particularly thick volume.

Sam joined him, pulling a book from the shelf. It was bound in dark leather, with no title on the cover. The pages were brittle and smelled of age. He opened it carefully, revealing text written in a language he couldn’t read. But there were illustrations, too—strange, otherworldly images that made his heart race.

“This is… intense,” Sam whispered, flipping through the pages. “What do you think it is?”

Leo peered over his shoulder, his eyes widening. “I don’t know, but it’s definitely not like anything we’ve seen before.”

They spent the next hour poring over the book, trying to make sense of it. Eventually, they found a section that seemed to be about spells. Most were too complex to understand, but one caught their attention: a spell that claimed to allow the caster to possess another’s body.

At first, they laughed it off. It was ridiculous—magic wasn’t real. But the more they thought about it, the more the idea took hold. What if it did work? What if they could use it to escape their lives, even if just for a little while? What if they could possess the bodies of the football players they secretly admired, become the strong, confident men they’d always envied?

The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.

“We have to try it,” Leo said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sam hesitated, but the look in Leo’s eyes convinced him. They had nothing to lose, after all. If it didn’t work, they’d have a good laugh about it later. But if it did… who knew what could happen?

Over the next few days, Sam and Leo became obsessed with the idea. They planned everything out, memorizing the spell, and gathering the necessary materials. It felt like a game at first, something to distract them from the frustrations of their everyday lives. But as the night of the ritual approached, the excitement turned to nervous anticipation.

What if it worked? What if they really could become the guys they’d always dreamed of being? And more importantly—what if it gave them the courage to finally admit their feelings for each other?

The night of the ritual, they gathered at Sam’s house, as they had so many times before. But this time was different. This time, they weren’t just playing a game—they were about to step into the unknown, driven by desires they had kept hidden for too long.

They lit the candles, chanted the incantations, and focused their thoughts on the football players. As the final words of the spell echoed through the room, Sam and Leo shared one last glance, their hearts pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation.

And then, everything went black.

----

Sam’s consciousness drifted through a dark void, floating aimlessly as the echoes of the spell still resonated in his mind. He felt weightless, detached from his body, as if he were caught between waking and dreaming. The sensation was both liberating and terrifying, and for a moment, he wondered if the spell had failed, leaving him stranded in this strange limbo.

Then, without warning, he was jolted back into reality.

His eyes snapped open, and he was immediately hit by a barrage of unfamiliar sensations. The first was the brightness of the locker room lights above him, glaring down with an intensity that made him squint. The second was the heaviness of the body he now inhabited—the feeling of muscle and strength that he had never known in his own body. But the most startling sensation was the cool air against his bare skin.

Sam blinked, trying to orient himself, and realized he was standing in front of a mirror. The reflection staring back at him was not his own. Instead, it was Cameron—the star quarterback of the football team, with light hair that fell in damp, tousled waves across his forehead, piercing brown eyes, and a jawline that seemed carved from stone.

But Sam wasn’t just looking at Cameron; he was Cameron.

He felt a rush of adrenaline, the shock of the transformation leaving him momentarily breathless. His gaze dropped lower, taking in the sight of his—no, Cameron’s—body. The broad, muscular chest was covered in a fine layer of chest hair that tapered down to his sculpted abs. Sam reached up, almost in disbelief, and ran his hand over the firm, defined muscles, marveling at the power he could feel coiled beneath the skin.

“This is… unbelievable,” Sam whispered, his voice deeper and richer than he was used to.

He looked down at his arms, flexing them experimentally. They were thick, veined, and powerful—nothing like the thin, wiry limbs he’d had before. He could feel the strength coursing through them, the kind of strength that came from years of training and dedication. It was intoxicating.

His eyes traveled further down, taking in the rest of his new form. Cameron was in the middle of changing clothes, and Sam could see why. The old uniform was lying discarded on the floor, caked in mud and grass stains from what must have been a grueling practice. But it wasn’t the dirty clothes that held Sam’s attention—it was the tight-fitting boxer briefs that clung to his new, muscular thighs.

He turned slightly, catching a glimpse of his backside in the mirror. The sight made his breath hitch. Cameron’s ass was… enormous, round, and perfectly sculpted, jutting out in a way that made Sam’s heart race. He couldn’t resist the urge to reach back and give it a squeeze, feeling the firm, muscular flesh under his touch.

“This is really happening,” Sam muttered, his voice filled with awe.

He had always admired guys like Cameron from afar, envious of their confidence and physical prowess. But now, here he was, standing in the body of the very kind of man he had secretly desired. The power, the strength—it was all his. And the way this body looked, the way it moved… Sam felt a surge of excitement, a thrill he had never experienced before.

The reality of the situation began to sink in. He wasn’t just possessing Cameron; he was Cameron, at least for the time being. He could do anything, be anyone. All the insecurities, all the fears—he could leave them behind.

But most of all, Sam couldn’t shake the feeling of raw, primal attraction he felt for this new body. It was overwhelming, the sense of freedom that came with it, the realization that he could finally embrace the desires he had buried for so long. And as he stood there, drinking in the sight of his new form, Sam knew there was only one person he wanted to share this with: Leo.

---

Leo’s mind surfaced from a deep, dark abyss, slowly rising into consciousness like a diver emerging from the depths of the ocean. The first thing he noticed was the muffled sound of voices, followed by the clinking of silverware and the soft hum of music. His senses felt sharper, more alive, and with every passing second, his awareness grew.

He opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear the haze. He wasn’t in the dark room of Sam’s house anymore. Instead, he found himself in a warm, dimly lit restaurant. The air was filled with the aroma of food, and the ambient chatter of diners surrounded him.

Across the table from him sat a beautiful girl, her light brown hair framing her face in loose waves. She was talking—saying something he couldn’t quite catch as his mind adjusted to the new reality. Her eyes were warm and affectionate, and the way she looked at him made Leo’s heart skip a beat.

But wait—who was she? And more importantly, who was he?

The spell. The ritual. It all came rushing back to him. The memories of chanting in the dark, the anticipation, the fear… and then nothing. Until now. He wasn’t Leo anymore; he was in someone else’s body. A body that felt… bigger, stronger.

“Javier? Are you okay?” the girl asked, her voice laced with concern.

Javier. The name hit Leo like a jolt. He was in Javier’s body—the star running back of the football team, known for his speed, power, and devastating good looks. And the girl across from him… Laura. Javier’s girlfriend. The realization sent a thrill through Leo, mixed with a hint of panic.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine,” Leo said, trying to sound natural. But the voice that came out was deeper, smoother—a rich, masculine tone that wasn’t his own. It was Javier’s voice.

He could feel the strength in Javier’s body, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with every movement. He could feel the weight of his broad shoulders, the firmness of his chest, the power in his arms and legs. It was incredible, overwhelming even.

Laura smiled, though she still looked a bit concerned. “You seem distracted. Is everything okay?”

“I just need a moment,” Leo said quickly, standing up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

Before she could respond, Leo made his way to the restroom, his mind racing. The restaurant was dimly lit, with sleek, modern décor. As he walked, he could feel the eyes of other patrons on him, admiring his—Javier’s—impressive physique. It was a strange, exhilarating feeling, being the center of attention like this.

He pushed open the door to the restroom, which was empty save for the faint hum of ventilation. Leo went straight to the nearest stall, locking the door behind him. He needed a moment to think, to process everything.

But as he stood there, he caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink, and all rational thought fled his mind.

There he was—Javier. The reflection showed a tall, incredibly muscular young man with light brown skin and dark hair that was cut short on the sides, with just enough length on top to run fingers through. His light brown eyes were striking, full of life and energy, and his jawline was sharp, giving his face a rugged, handsome quality.

Leo took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He had always admired guys like Javier from a distance, envying their confidence, their power. But now, he was Javier. He had that power, that confidence. And he could feel it in every fiber of this new, muscular body.

Slowly, he unbuttoned the top of Javier’s shirt, revealing the thick, sculpted chest beneath. He ran his hands over the hard muscles, feeling the warmth of the skin, the strength beneath it. It was intoxicating.

He hesitated for a moment, then unbuckled Javier’s belt and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down just enough to reveal the briefs beneath. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the bulge pressing against the fabric—larger than anything he had ever seen before.

With trembling hands, Leo pulled down the waistband, letting Javier’s massive cock spring free. It was thick, veiny, and impressively long, hanging heavily between his muscular thighs. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing—what he was feeling. The sensation of this weight, the warmth of the flesh in his hand—it was all so surreal.

“This is insane,” Leo whispered to himself, his voice barely audible.

He couldn’t resist the urge to explore further. He ran his fingers along the length of Javier’s cock, feeling every ridge, every vein. It was sensitive to the touch, sending shivers of pleasure through him. Leo was amazed at how good it felt, how powerful he felt in this body.

For a moment, he let himself get lost in the sensation, marveling at the size and strength of Javier’s manhood. He had never imagined anything like this—never even dreamed it was possible. But now, here he was, in the body of one of the most desirable men on campus, with the power and confidence that came with it.

But as much as he was enjoying this, he knew he couldn’t stay in the restroom forever. Laura was waiting for him, and he needed to keep up appearances. He quickly pulled up Javier’s briefs and jeans, adjusting himself before buttoning up his shirt.

Leo took a deep breath, steadying himself. This was his reality now, at least for the time being. And as he walked back to the table, he couldn’t help but smile. He had the body he’d always dreamed of, the life he’d always envied—and the possibilities were endless.

But there was one thought that kept nagging at the back of his mind: Sam. Where was he? Had the spell worked for him too? Leo had to find him, to share this experience with the one person who understood him better than anyone else.

---

After returning from the restroom, Leo couldn’t shake the excitement thrumming through his veins. Javier’s body was everything he’d ever dreamed of—strong, confident, and undeniably attractive. But as exhilarating as it was to be in this new form, Leo’s thoughts kept circling back to Sam. Had the spell worked for him too? Was Sam out there somewhere, navigating his new life in a body just as incredible as Javier’s?

Once dinner with Laura was over and they’d said their goodbyes, Leo hurried back to Javier’s apartment, eager to explore his new life further. The apartment was modern and spacious, filled with trophies, sports gear, and a large flat-screen TV dominating the living room. Javier had done well for himself, that much was clear.

Leo made his way to the bedroom, where a sleek laptop sat on a desk next to a stack of textbooks. He opened it, his fingers flying over the keys as he typed in the password—Javier’s password, which he somehow knew without even thinking about it. The laptop booted up, and Leo quickly navigated to Instagram.

Logging into Javier’s account was almost too easy. Everything felt natural, like second nature. As he scrolled through the feed, he couldn’t help but admire the pictures of Javier—shirtless gym selfies, team photos, shots of him with Laura, always looking effortlessly handsome and powerful.

But this wasn’t what Leo was here for. He needed to find Sam.

He quickly switched over to his own—Leo’s—Instagram account. The familiar profile picture stared back at him: a smiling face, not unattractive, but miles away from the masculine perfection that was now his reality. He took a deep breath and opened the direct messages.

There, at the top of the list, was Sam.

Leo: Hey, man. It’s Leo. I think it worked, the spell, I mean. Did it work for you too?

A minute passed, then another. Leo tapped his fingers impatiently against the desk, wondering if Sam had figured things out yet. Then, finally, the typing indicator appeared.

Sam: Leo? Yeah… It worked. It’s Sam. This is insane.

Leo felt a surge of relief wash over him. Sam had made it through the transition too, and they were both living in these incredible new bodies.

Leo: This is crazy. We actually did it. Listen, I’ve got an idea. Let’s meet up. How about the local gym? We can make a game out of it—see if we can recognize each other. What do you think?

The typing indicator appeared again, then disappeared, only to reappear seconds later. Leo could almost feel Sam’s hesitation through the screen.

Sam: A game? Sure, why not? But how are we going to recognize each other?

Leo grinned, feeling the rush of excitement return.

Leo: That’s the fun part. Let’s see if our friendship is strong enough to transcend even our bodies. We’ll meet at the gym, and we’ll try to figure out who’s who. No names, no hints. Just us, the way we’ve always been. Deal?

Sam took a little longer to reply this time, but when he did, Leo could sense the anticipation.

Sam: Deal. When should we meet?

Leo quickly checked Javier’s schedule, the information coming to him effortlessly.

Leo: Tomorrow morning. 10 AM.

Sam: See you then.

Leo couldn’t suppress the grin that spread across his face. This was going to be fun—no, more than that. It was going to be the ultimate test of their friendship. Even in these new, unfamiliar bodies, could they still recognize each other? Could they still connect the way they always had?

As he logged out of both accounts and shut the laptop, Leo leaned back in the chair, feeling the strength in Javier’s broad shoulders. Tomorrow was going to be a day unlike any other. He was sure of it.

And as he drifted off to sleep, the anticipation of seeing Sam—of seeing who he’d become—buzzed through him, making it hard to contain his excitement. Whatever happened next, he knew it would be an adventure they would never forget.

The next morning, Leo woke up early, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as he prepared for the day. Javier’s morning routine was rigorous—Leo found himself effortlessly going through the motions, showering, brushing his teeth, and eating a high-protein breakfast that left him feeling full and energized. The muscle memory was incredible; it was like his body knew exactly what to do, even if his mind was still catching up.

After slipping into a black tank top and a pair of athletic shorts, Leo took a moment to admire himself in the mirror. Javier’s body was nothing short of a masterpiece—every muscle perfectly defined, his skin smooth and tan, his dark hair still damp from the shower. He flexed his arms, watching the biceps bulge, and grinned. This was going to be a lot of fun.

When he arrived at the local gym, Leo felt a surge of familiarity. Javier clearly spent a lot of time here, and the staff greeted him with friendly nods as he walked through the entrance. The place was packed with people—some on treadmills, others lifting weights, and a few scattered around the boxing ring in the corner.

Leo made his way to the free weights section, scanning the room for any sign of Sam. He wasn’t sure what to expect—after all, they had no idea what they’d look like now, beyond the general knowledge of Cameron and Javier’s appearances. But that was the point of the game, wasn’t it?

As he approached the bench press, he saw a guy standing by the dumbbells, adjusting his grip. He was tall, with broad shoulders and light hair that was slightly tousled. The white t-shirt clung to his chest, revealing the contours of a body built from years of training, and gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, accentuating his muscular legs.

Leo couldn’t help but feel a spark of recognition. He knew it had to be Sam—there was something about the way he moved, the way he held himself, that was unmistakably his best friend.

But he couldn’t be sure just yet.

Leo walked up to the guy, feigning nonchalance as he picked up a set of dumbbells. “Hey, mind if I work in with you?”

The guy—Sam, Leo was almost certain of it—looked up, meeting Leo’s eyes with a small, hesitant smile. “Sure, go ahead,” he said, his voice low and rich, just like Cameron’s would be.

Leo nodded, setting down the weights. “So, do you come here often?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

The guy chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Not as often as I should,” he said, glancing around the gym. “But I’m trying to change that.”

Leo couldn’t help but smile. That was Sam all right—always humble, always downplaying his abilities. “Yeah, I know the feeling,” Leo said, leaning against the bench. “But it’s good to mix things up, right? Try new things?”

Sam nodded, and for a moment, their eyes met. There was a flicker of something there—recognition, understanding, maybe even a bit of amusement. It was as if they both knew the game they were playing, even if they hadn’t acknowledged it out loud.

“So, what’s your usual routine?” Leo asked, keeping his tone casual.

Sam hesitated, glancing down at the weights in his hands. “I usually start with some cardio, then move on to weights,” he said, almost as if he were testing the waters. “But today… I’m thinking of switching things up.”

Leo grinned, feeling a surge of excitement. This was it. He was sure now—this was Sam. And Sam knew it too.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Leo said, setting down the dumbbells. “But you know, I’ve always believed that it’s not about the routine. It’s about who you’re doing it with. Makes all the difference.”

Sam looked at him, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It really does.”

There was a pause, a moment of silent acknowledgment between them. And then Leo extended his hand, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “So, you want to team up? Maybe figure out this whole routine thing together?”

Sam’s smile widened, and he shook Leo’s hand firmly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

And just like that, the game was over. They didn’t need to say it out loud—they both knew who the other was. Their friendship had transcended even the most drastic of changes, and now, as they stood together in these new, powerful bodies, they felt an unbreakable bond, stronger than ever before.

As they began their workout, the air was filled with a sense of camaraderie and excitement. They didn’t need words to communicate, didn’t need to explain anything. They were in this together, no matter what, and nothing could change that.

And as they lifted weights, ran on treadmills, and tested the limits of their new bodies, Leo couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude. They had taken a leap of faith together, and it had paid off in ways they never could have imagined.

By the time they finished their workout, both of them were drenched in sweat, their muscles aching in the most satisfying way. But the sense of accomplishment they felt went far beyond the physical. They had tested not only their new bodies but also the strength of their friendship, and both had come out stronger.

As they cooled down, stretching out their tired muscles, Leo turned to Sam with a grin. "So, how did I do? Could you tell it was me?"

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "It wasn’t easy, but yeah, I figured it out. There’s no mistaking that smug grin of yours."

Leo laughed, the sound echoing through the gym. "And you? I knew it was you the moment you opened your mouth. Same old Sam, just in a different package."

They both fell into a comfortable silence, a deep sense of satisfaction settling over them. They had crossed into new territory, both literally and figuratively, and they had done it together. The future suddenly seemed full of possibilities—what else could they do with these new identities? How far could they take this adventure?

As they left the gym, the sun shining brightly overhead, Leo turned to Sam. "This is just the beginning, you know. We’ve got these bodies now, and who knows what else we can do? The world is ours to explore."

Sam nodded, a determined look in his eyes. "You’re right. We’ve got a lot to figure out, but we’ll do it together. Like always."

Leo smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. They had taken a huge risk, and it had paid off. Now, with their new identities, the possibilities were endless. But no matter what happened next, one thing was certain: they would face it side by side, just like they always had.

As they walked away from the gym, their bodies moving in perfect sync, they couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. The world was full of opportunities, and they were ready to take on whatever came their way.

Together.

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nepphi · 10 months ago

Text

The Reveal

The gym was crowded as usual, the steady clanking of weights and the rhythmic pounding of feet on treadmills filling the air. Travis wiped the sweat from his brow, his slender frame glistening under the fluorescent lights. He had been halfway through his final set when he felt a presence next to him, an imposing figure looming too close for comfort.

A man, mid-40s, stocky with a dad bod yet some underlying muscle definition, full beard, and an overbearing sense of arrogance in his stance. The man’s name was Austin, though Travis didn’t know that yet. He just knew that this guy had made some snide remark about his form, and Travis wasn’t the type to let something like that slide.

“Bro, you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep doing it like that,” Austin muttered, an air of superiority in his voice.

“I’m fine, man,” Travis snapped back, feeling the sting of irritation.

Aaron, who had been working out nearby, immediately noticed the tension building. Aaron, tall and muscular with a physique that drew attention wherever he went, had always been protective of Travis. The two had been together for a year, and though Travis was fiercely independent, Aaron couldn’t help but step in when things escalated.

“Everything okay here?” Aaron asked calmly, his deep voice cutting through the rising tension.

Austin sneered, his gaze drifting to Aaron’s bulkier frame. “Just trying to help the guy. But if he doesn’t want it, that’s his problem.”

Aaron smiled in that way that could both disarm and intimidate. He reached out and patted Austin on the back, his large hand resting briefly against the man’s skin. “No problem. We’ve got it handled.”

The altercation dissipated, with Austin walking away with a slight huff, and Travis letting out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. They then ended their gym session with Aaron snapping a picture of the two of them to remember this moment.

---

Later that night, in the quiet of their apartment, Travis and Aaron settled into their usual post-gym routine. Aaron had been oddly quiet since the incident at the gym, and Travis could feel the weight of something unsaid between them. As they lounged on the couch, Travis finally broke the silence.

“What’s on your mind, babe?” he asked, his voice soft, curious.

Aaron looked at him, his dark eyes searching Travis’s face. There was a hesitation there, as though he was on the verge of revealing something important.

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” Aaron began, his tone serious but laced with a hint of excitement. “Something I’ve never told anyone before.”

Travis furrowed his brow. “Okay… What is it?”

Aaron stood up, walking over to the middle of the room, his muscular body moving with grace. He took a deep breath, then said, “I can shapeshift. But not just any kind of shapeshifting. I can make perfect skin suits of people I touch—like earlier today at the gym.”

Travis blinked, unsure if Aaron was serious. But Aaron’s expression was deadly serious. “Wait, like… you can become someone else?” Travis asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron nodded. “Exactly.”

Travis sat up straighter, a mix of intrigue and disbelief coursing through him. “Show me.”

Without another word, Aaron focused. His hands moved fluidly, and before Travis’s eyes, Aaron began to peel away a strange, glowing substance from his own skin, almost like a second layer. It shimmered for a brief moment, and then, in his hands, Aaron held a perfect replica of Austin’s skin.

Travis’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was as though Aaron had created an exact copy of Austin’s body—down to every single speckle of gray in his beard, his chest hair, and hairy arms.

Then, without hesitation, Aaron began to slip into the suit.

First, Aaron slid his legs into the hollow, empty legs of the Austin skin suit. The skin stretched, wrapped, and clung to Aaron’s muscular calves as he pulled it up over his thighs. There was an eerie smoothness to the way it adhered to him, as if the suit knew exactly how to mold itself around Aaron’s form.

Travis watched, mouth slightly open, as Aaron continued to pull the suit higher, sliding the hollow torso over his own chest. He tugged the arms into place, one by one, the texture of Austin’s skin stretching over Aaron’s muscled frame, conforming to every contour. Aaron’s fingers flexed as they entered the suit’s hands, the transition seamless as the suit integrated into his body.

Aaron lifted the hollow head of Austin’s skin suit, and Travis could barely breathe as he watched Aaron pull it down over his own face. The transformation was instant—Aaron’s strong jawline and features were replaced with Austin’s rugged face, complete with the full beard, sharp eyes, and subtle signs of age.

Aaron blinked, adjusting to the new skin he was wearing. When he turned to face Travis, it was like looking directly at Austin—the Austin they had seen at the gym earlier that day.

“Holy shit,” Travis whispered, his heart racing.

Aaron—no, Austin—smirked. “What do you think?” His voice had taken on the deeper, gruffer tone of Austin’s. The impression was perfect, from the posture to the way he casually scratched at the beard.

Travis stood up, circling Aaron, completely astonished. The tattoos on his arms were identical. The muscles, slightly less defined than Aaron’s, felt real under his touch.

“I—wow. This is insane,” Travis murmured.

Aaron chuckled, mimicking Austin’s earlier gruff demeanor. “You want to talk about your form again, bro?” he said, playfully mocking the gym encounter.

Travis couldn’t help but laugh. The transformation was so complete, so flawless, it was hard to believe this was the same man who had held him that morning.

Before Travis could respond, Aaron—still as Austin—pulled him into a gentle hug. It was strange at first, feeling the bulk of someone else’s body against him, but the familiarity of Aaron’s warmth was there. The touch was tender, loving.

Travis looked up at Aaron’s new face and smiled softly. “You’re unbelievable,” he whispered.

Aaron, still in Austin’s form, leaned down, brushing his lips against Travis’s. The kiss was soft, lingering, as if they were both savoring the moment. Despite the change in appearance, the affection between them was unmistakable, an intimate connection that went beyond physical form.

When they finally pulled away, Travis looked into Austin’s eyes—Aaron’s eyes—and grinned. “So, what do we do now?”

Aaron smirked, his voice still deep and gruff. “Whatever we want, babe. I can be whoever you need me to be.”

And with that, they collapsed onto the bed, holding each other close, the boundaries of identity blurring into something new and thrilling.

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nepphi · 1 year ago

Text

The Chameleon Effect

Jonathan Reed had always been inconspicuous, an advantage in his line of work. As a private investigator specializing in corporate espionage, blending in was paramount. That Thursday morning, however, Jonathan was about to embrace a role that demanded more than just blending in; it required him to become someone else entirely.

In the dimly lit office of Dr. Helena Voss, a rogue geneticist with a reputation that tread dangerously between brilliance and madness, Jonathan examined the vial containing the transformation serum. The liquid shimmered like liquid silver under the faint light.

"Are you certain you want to proceed?" Dr. Voss asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and caution. "Once initiated, the transformation is irreversible for 72 hours."

Jonathan nodded, his mind racing with the implications of his mission. "Let's do it."

He felt the cold serum slide down his throat, a stark contrast to the warmth spreading from his core outward. The room spun slightly as he felt his body begin to change.

First came the tingling in his bones, as if they were being sculpted by invisible hands. His spine lengthened, his shoulders broadened, and within minutes, he was taller, his silhouette altering to match his new identity. Jonathan watched, fascinated and horrified, as his hands thickened, his skin tone deepened, and his facial features shifted. His reflection in the glass pane of a bookcase was no longer his own but that of Michael Sutherland, a senior executive at the rival corporation he was tasked to infiltrate.

"Explore your new form," Dr. Voss instructed, handing him a mirror.

Jonathan touched his new face, tracing the sharp jawline and the stubble that now framed it. His eyes, once a dull brown, had taken on a piercing blue, the kind that seemed to look right through you. It was disorienting to see someone else stare back at him with his own expressions.

Adjusting to his new body took effort. Each movement felt different, heavier and more deliberate. Jonathan practiced walking, his taller frame requiring a different posture and balance. He spent the next hour mastering Michael’s voice, an authoritative baritone, until it felt natural.

By the time he left Dr. Voss’s office, Jonathan was no more. In his place was Michael, ready to step into a life fraught with corporate secrets and dangerous liaisons.

At the corporation, Jonathan—now Michael—navigated through the sleek corridors with a confident stride, accessing areas and conversations previously out of reach. He schmoozed with higher-ups and gathered critical data with ease, his new identity providing a formidable shield.

But with each passing hour, the weight of Michael's life pressed down on him. He met people who greeted him with warmth or wariness, colleagues who shared jokes they thought he'd understand, and a young woman with sad eyes who called him "Mike" and touched his arm like she had a claim on it.

On the second day, as Jonathan sifted through confidential files in Michael’s office, he stumbled upon a project codenamed "Orion"—a scheme so ethically murky it could ruin lives. His heart pounded as he realized the implications.

That evening, as he prepared to meet the woman with sad eyes—who, he'd learned, was Michael’s estranged wife—he felt a pang of guilt. He was an imposter in another man’s life, wielding power that wasn’t his. The boundaries between his real self and his assumed identity began to blur.

In a quiet, upscale restaurant, as he sat across from Michael’s wife, she sighed. "There’s something different about you, Mike. It’s like you’re actually here, not a million miles away."

Jonathan struggled, the lines of the role he played tangling. "Maybe I am changing," he confessed, the words slipping out, veiled yet truthful.

As they talked, Jonathan realized that Michael’s life was a labyrinth of personal and professional entanglements. With every hour, the suspense of maintaining his guise grew, matched only by the intrigue of the secrets he uncovered.

On the final day, with the serum’s effects waning, Jonathan returned to Dr. Voss to reverse the transformation. As his features shifted back, a relief washed over him, tinged with an odd sense of loss. He had walked in another man's shoes, seen through his eyes. It had changed him.

He handed over the data to his client, the lines of morality blurred. "It’s done," he said simply. But as he left, the weight of the secrets he now carried felt heavier than any physical transformation.

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nepphi · 1 year ago

Text

The Catfish Incident

"Thanks for the energy drink, man," Jake said, cracking open his can of blue energy soda as we ambled down the dimly lit hallway back to our apartments. The gym members' party had left us both hot and sweaty, and I thought a refreshing drink would be the perfect cap to our evening.

"Yeah, no problem, bro. You owe me one next time!" I replied, although I was thinking something else entirely as I watched him guzzle his beverage.

He was tall, about six feet three inches, with a toned physique that would make anyone envious. His hair, the color of wheat, was slicked back with some kind of product, and he wore a tank top that hugged his chest tightly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and thick arms. His shorts were tight enough to show off his wide hips and well-defined ass.

Standing beside him, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of insecurity. While I was reasonably fit and steadily working towards what I hoped would be my ideal body, Jake's presence ignited a deeper yearning within me. It wasn’t just about having muscular broad shoulders and a confident stride—it was about embodying that effortless aura of masculinity, the kind of identity that defines an alpha male.

"Oh yeah, almost forgot—I need to head back to my apartment now," Jake said abruptly. "I have a little rendezvous tonight," he added, flashing a smile.

"Sounds like a plan. What time is your date?" I asked casually, pausing beside him.

“About an hour from now, so I should probably hit the showers first. Gotta freshen up and work out these guns again,” he laughed. Then, without warning, he raised his left arm above his head and flexed his bicep, staring intently into my eyes. “It’s been too long since they’ve seen any action.”

I felt myself blush uncontrollably at his words, but luckily Jake didn't see it, and he continued heading down the hallway.

"See you tomorrow, Dave!" he called out over his shoulder before disappearing through his apartment door.

Little did he know, I was well aware of who he was meeting tonight.

As I stepped into my apartment, the familiar walls and furnishings offered no comfort to the restless longing stirring within me.

Each well-placed book and neatly aligned chair seemed to echo the structured, unyielding life I had sculpted for myself—a life of discipline as a respected professor, always mindful of reputation and societal expectations.

With a sigh, I removed my glasses and set them aside on the table. The lenses caught the fading light of the day, scattering beams that danced across the blandness of my living space, teasing me with glimpses of brightness in my otherwise predictable world.

This simple act felt like peeling away the layers of a persona crafted over years.

It felt symbolic, like I was discarding a part of myself that was too familiar, too constricted by old fears and inhibitions. Tonight was not a night for the timid David hidden behind those lenses; it was a night for someone entirely new.

I pulled off my tank top, feeling the cool air hit my bare skin, followed by the soft cotton of my white gym shorts. Finally, I slid down my underwear and tossed them aside. I felt incredibly vulnerable, standing there nude with no one else around.

Across the room, my gaze then shifted to the bed, where the realistic bodysuit of a Latino model lay outstretched. The room lighting cast a bright hue over its meticulously detailed surface, accentuating each muscular contour and shadow, making it look almost alive. It wasn’t just a garment; it was a gateway to another existence.

As soon as I saw it, I couldn’t resist touching its smooth skin. I ran my fingers over its chest and arms, feeling the softness of its skin. Then I slid my hands down to its waist and squeezed its firm butt cheeks. It even had a built-in penis that was larger than my own, which gave me a sense of excitement.

"Alright," I muttered under my breath, "let’s get started."

I could feel my dick twitch as I reached down and grabbed hold of the slit at the back of the bodysuit. The suit itself was made of a special material that allowed for easy movement and flexibility. Slowly, I began pulling the two sides apart so that there would be enough room for me to get inside.

As I sat down in the chair, I began sliding my right leg into one of the muscular legs. They were tight but not uncomfortable. As I pulled them up over my thigh, I could feel the skin stretching slightly as it moved up my leg. This was going to be so fucking hot!

I continued moving my left leg into the second leg until both feet were on the ground. Next, I positioned my shaft to the built-in dick and slid my arms into the sleeves. My biceps bulged with each movement.

Standing up, I took a few steps forward, feeling the incredible strength of my legs against my skin. I flexed my arm, watching the veins pulsate under the surface. I couldn’t help but smile at my new, sexy body.

Finally, I put on the built-in mask that resembled the handsome face of a Latino model.

As I slid it over my head, I felt the soft material conform to the contours of my face.

Once the mask was fully secured, the ’Heddon’ app on my phone opened up.

In order for the bodysuit to work properly, it needed to be activated. I selected “Start Sealing” and watched as the screen filled with images of the process.

Suddenly, there was a click, and the suit began to seal shut around me. I felt the muscles of my legs begin to tingle as they fused with the suit.

My thighs and calves became more defined as the skin tightened around them. The same sensation spread across my chest and shoulders, making them bulge outward. My arms seemed to grow larger as the suit conformed to my muscles.

Within seconds, the transformation was complete, and the suit fully integrated with my body, leaving no trace of its presence. It was as if I had become one with this sexy, lifelike skin.

With a grin, I stepped towards the mirror, admiring my reflection. The face staring back at me was that of a young, fit Hispanic man with broad shoulders and narrow hips.

“Welcome back,” I whispered to myself as I looked in the mirror at my new reflection. “Diego.”

My jawline was strong and defined, giving me a masculine appearance. I flexed my biceps, showing off the definition in my arms.

I ran my hands over my hard chest, feeling the firmness beneath my fingers. Then, I squeezed my pecs, enjoying the way they rippled beneath my touch.

I let my hands travel down to the bulge between my legs, squeezing it gently. My cock throbbed with excitement as I imagined what it would feel like to fuck someone with this body.

I picked up my phone, opened a dating app and messaged Jake using the Diego profile. We’d chatted a little bit on the app a few weeks earlier, and he seemed really interested in meeting up.

“Hey sexy,” I typed into the chat window. “Want to see some pics?”

“Sure thing, stud,” Jake responded. “Whatcha got?”

I smiled as I sent him a couple of pictures of myself wearing different leather and latex outfits.

“That’s hot,” Jake wrote. “Do you think you can do something even hotter tonight?”

I grinned as I typed back, “Of course, baby. Anything for you.”

****************************************************

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a Reddit thread mentioning "Heddon: House of Transformation" — a service offering realistic bodysuits that promised an entirely new level of personal transformation. Intrigued yet skeptical, I clicked through.

The website was adorned with glossy images of transformations and detailed testimonials from users who spoke of life-altering experiences. Video demos showcased the suits’ incredible realism and functionality, portraying seamless transitions from person to suit.

Admittedly, the site and service were new, which did little to alleviate my skepticism. However, a promotional offer for first-time users—a significant discount on their first order—was enough to tip the scales.

Despite my initial doubts and the nagging thought that it could all be an elaborate scam, I decided to take the plunge with some disposable income I’ve set aside.

I ordered a customized bodysuit modeled after a muscular Latino—a physique and persona so starkly different from my own that it felt like it could only exist in fantasies.

When the package arrived, it included not just the bodysuit but also detailed instructions for using the accompanying "Heddon: House of Transformation" app.

The app, once downloaded, allowed me to control the bodysuit’s features, including the crucial sealing process which would integrate the suit seamlessly with my own body.

When I first donned my new Diego bodysuit a few nights ago, I created a fake profile on the dating app and got tons of messages but one message caught my attention— it was my gym buddy Jake.

“Hi there! You’re so hot and cute!” he wrote.

“Thank you! You’re pretty handsome yourself,” I responded.

We chatted for a bit, discussing our hobbies and interests. I told him that I was looking for someone to share my fetishes with, and that I loved wearing latex.

He responded quickly, saying that he was also interested in exploring his kinks and that he loved wearing leather and latex. Before long, we were messaging each other every night, sharing our deepest desires and fantasies.

A few days later, Jake asked me if I would be willing to come over to his apartment and have some fun. I agreed, excited to finally meet him in person.

“I’m so glad you’re coming over,” he wrote back. “I’ve been dying to meet you in person.”

“Me too,” I replied. “I can’t wait to see you.”

****************************************************

Now, here I am, standing outside Jake’s apartment door, feeling nervous and excited all at once. I knocked on Jake's door and soon heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The door swung open, revealing Jake standing there in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Diego! Come in!” he says, grinning at me. I follow him into the apartment, and he shuts the door behind us.

Jake leans against the door, studying my body. “Wow, you look amazing,” he says. “I never imagined you would actually look like this.”

“Thanks. It feels good to finally be able to meet you in person,” I reply. Jake smiles and directs me toward the living room. I remove my jacket, revealing my tight black muscle shirt and latex pants.

Jake’s eyes widen, and he lets out a low groan. “Damn, you’re fucking hot,” he says, running his hands along my chest. His hand then slides down my chest and over my crotch. “And you’re hard.”

“I am,” I whisper. “You make me feel so horny.”

We sit down on the couch, and Jake pours us some drinks. “So, tell me more about yourself,” he says. “What kind of stuff do you like doing?”

“Well, I love wearing leather and latex,” I say. “And I love playing different characters. Sometimes I dress up as a superhero, sometimes as a villain. It really depends on my mood.”

“That’s cool,” Jake says. “Me too. I love wearing my costumes, especially when I’m out with friends. It helps me let loose and have fun.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I say. “Sometimes it’s hard to be yourself when you’re around other people, but when you’re in your costume, you can let go and be whoever you want to be.”

“Exactly,” Jake says, smiling. “It’s like a whole new world opens up when you put on a costume.”

Jake leans closer, his eyes locked on mine. “And sometimes, they bring us closer to our true selves than we ever thought possible. Maybe because we feel safe behind the mask, we can express our true feelings.”

The air between us charges with an unspoken understanding. I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “Have you ever felt that way? Like you’ve discovered something real about yourself through a character?”

Jake nods slowly, his gaze intensifying. “More often than you might think. Sometimes, it’s only when I'm someone else that I can express what I really feel... what I really want.”

I watch as he removes his towel, revealing his hard cock. I gasp in pleasure as he strokes himself slowly, looking straight into my eyes. The moment hangs heavy between us, laden with unvoiced desires.

Then, impulsively, Jake closes the distance, his lips meeting mine in a passionate kiss that feels like the culmination of our shared revelations. Our tongues dance together, exploring each other's mouths, as I moan softly and my fingers thread through Jake's soft hair.

Jake breaks away from our fervent kiss, leaving me breathless and longing for more. With a sultry grin, he stands up and begins to undress me, one piece at a time.

My excitement grows as he pulls my tight latex shirt over my head, exposing my toned chest and chiseled abs. He trails his fingers down my torso, sending delicious tingles through my entire body.

As Jake continues to undress me, his touch becomes increasingly intimate and sensual. He caresses my skin, grazing his fingertips along my shoulders, arms, and sides. I lean into his touch, letting the warmth of his hands linger on my skin.

Finally, Jake reaches my pants and skillfully slips them down my legs, revealing my matching black briefs. He pauses for a moment, admiring the sight of me in my underwear, before slowly removing them as well. Standing before him completely naked, I feel exposed yet empowered by his admiration.

Jake's eyes sparkle with lust as he looks me up and down. "You're beautiful," he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

My heart races as he bends down to press his lips against my chest, trailing kisses down to my abdomen. His hands explore my body, massaging my muscles and stroking my skin. I close my eyes, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that wash over me.

Just as I start to drift into blissful oblivion, Jake abruptly stops. I open my eyes to find him looking intently into my eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

"What's wrong?" I ask, confused by the sudden pause.

"Come with me," he murmurs. "I have something I want to show you. It’s my private collection."

He then gestured to a door at the end of the hall. My heart pounded in my chest as I followed him into the room.

Entering, I gasped in surprise at the sight. Scattered all over the room were several realistic bodysuits, each one more impressive than the last.

While pretending to be amazed, I wondered if Jake realized I was wearing a fake body.

Jake grinned. "My job has its perks," he explained. "I'm a beta tester for 'Heddon', so I get access to their entire collection."

"This is amazing," I remarked, feigning ignorance. My hands ran over one of the suits. "What are these things and how do they work?"

"Don't pretend you don't know," Jake chuckled. "You may think you're fooling me, but you aren't."

He was right. Staring at him in disbelief, I asked, "What?... what do you mean?"

"It's not a secret," Jake replied. "These suits have a distinct smell, and I've gotten used to it. I know when someone is wearing one."

I sighed, knowing I couldn't deny it any longer. "Okay, fine," I admitted. "You caught me. But please, don't tell anyone else. This is just between us."

"Of course," Jake nodded. "I understand."

He reached out and touched the side of my fake face. "I don't care who you are or what you're doing. I like the idea of someone else being able to take on a new identity for a while."

"Thank you," I said, smiling. "But seriously, why are you showing me all of these suits?"

Jake shrugged. "Since you're wearing one, I thought of wearing one as well," he suggested. "Maybe we can have a little role-play fun."

He then picked up a bodysuit that resembled a tanned male model with long hair. "Do you think this fits the bill?" he asked, holding it up.

I smirked and touched the bodysuit Jake had chosen. "Let's find out, shall we?"

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