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Haunted: Distractions

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

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

Haunted: Distractions

prologue: Haunted

part one: Possession Play

part two: The Bet

part three: Occupied

The weeks that followed for Benjamin were the worst. Not because of the grades, not because some people would judge him for his sexuality, or any other teenage cliché that might cross your mind.

《 Sup? Do you want to go for a drink? 》 - he checked his phone, noticing a notification. Fuck, how did they get his cell number?

But for the constant harassment from the ghosts. Benji didn't have them all recognized yet (because there were surely more of them, as many as cockroaches hiding behind the walls of the school), but he already had a few of them memorized.

This by their behaviors, after a while, it was easy to remember them no matter how much they changed their skin (more because they were also predictable in their behavior, or rather, in what bodies they used)

He had recognized four so far. First Zeke, who had wreaked havoc in the principal's office, he didn't know how the deputy principal got out of that accident unscathed. He liked to occupy a wide variety of bodies, from muscular to lean.

The big detail here was: the scent. Ezekiel always gave off that characteristic smell of “herbs”, in addition to his relaxed or even "goofy" act, to say the least. He was the spitting image of liberalism, he didn't care about anything, and while he didn't try to get between her legs (or at least not so much anymore), he didn't want to pay attention to him either. After all, he was still the target of that bet they were so focused on winning.

- Come on. Talk to me, Kenji

- I told you it's Benji, Benjamin for you. And I have nothing to talk to you about.

He muttered dryly, moving down the school hallway, clutching his backpack.

- Not even a "hello"?

- Fuck you, Zeke. And you better get out of that body, the debate team has rehearsals this week.

- What's the difference? Come on, let's talk.

Maybe Zeke was the quietest of them, but on the other side.

We had Daniel, who was a headache, he was bossy, with a straight and authoritarian attitude that was suffocating, he didn't show up with a nice attitude, wanting to be your friend (as Zeke sometimes tried to do), this idiot wanted to boss you around, bend you over almost. He used to be president of the class of '65, until an aneurysm cut his potential political career short in the middle of a political speech (yes, he'd forced him to listen to his monologue for at least an hour, about his "tragic life"), and Benji had discovered with him... That ghosts had powers, and to his bad luck, Daniel's power was to control others. When he possessed a body, he had a small window in which,he could command people whatever he wanted. The ability was short lived but, he had the bad luck that their first meeting would end in a very... Peculiar way.

The bodies he used to occupy, were those guys with self-sufficiency on their faces, sports team stars (mind you, with enough brains to house his own), school committee guys, even the president of his class �� "To relive the old days" - he had said as it seeped into him.

A total egomaniac. Although he had lost track of him in the last few weeks, it was as if he had lost interest in trying to convince him to listen to him beyond his suggestion.

Then there was Tobias. He could remember him the day this whole nightmare started, his voice, raspy... with that melancholic touch that went with it, he always had that somber aura about him, plus a kind of Nancy Downs emo boy vibe or something, and to top it all off. He was the oldest of them all, dying in "unknown" situations in 1930. Quite the old man.

And with it, all his stigmas of the time.

The bodies he chose had that vibe of... guy of few words. Edgy or dark style. Like some dark poet or some guy with a cigarette problem.

He never tried to get intimate with him, at least not carnally, he always said he wasn't gay but he could see how he would stare at his lips more than usual or how he would concentrate madly on touching his pecs, quite the virgin.

Although, he always had great conversations with him, existential ones. He was hardly interested in the bet, more like someone lonely who longed to stop being lonely with all his might. They'd talk for a while, and then, he'd leave his host's body just like that.

But then there was Brady. Apparently the one who started the whole gambling thing, his bodies were diverse, but he was always a casanova, with a smirk, huge biceps or squandering “charisma” to tempt him, he was a jerk, and the most insistent of them all.

- Come on, Benny, don't you want to try all this? You've got the best athlete in the school at your feet, what do you want?

- From you, nothing - He said trying to stay as firm as he could, he had to admit that having so much jock, hot teacher and handsome guy paying attention to him and flirting with him so insistently, was tempting. There were several occasions when he almost “gave in” to those tactics, however, he knew it was all fake somehow, none of those guys wanted to be with him willingly, it was just delusional. And he wouldn't fall for it, no matter how much Brady would occupy his entire arsenal, such as possessing the principal or much of the teaching staff.

But Benji was far from knowing all the other ghosts. Like Elliot, a nerd from 2003 who had been ghosted after an asthma attack, and why hadn't anyone helped him or gotten to his inhaler? Because he had been locked in the bathroom by his bullies. Something sad, but that not many people remembered because he was not a sports eminence (as they remembered Julian).

Elliot had several peculiarities, but the greatest of all was his way of possession. All ghosts, without exception, entered through cavities such as the mouth, nose, etc.. It was a prerequisite to complete the possession, for all but not for Elliot. The way in which the nerd entered his hosts was by touch (who knows why?). Julian and Mark sensed it had been thanks to the circumstances of his death), but it remained a mystery.

Elliot had been in favor of the bet, but similar to Tobias. Beyond his carnal desires, he was lonely. Too lonely, he wanted a friend, he had Julian and Marco, yes. But he wanted to be seen by someone else, he was sick of being a ghost, "doomed" (he wasn't complaining about his friends, let's be clear on that) to know and see the same people for perhaps, all eternity. So to have a new guy who could see him, and talk to. It was certainly excellent news, the possibilities were great.

The bodies he always chose were those with glasses, slim, sometimes he liked slightly muscular, although sportsmen were completely out of his list. Of all the ghosts, Elliot was the one who possessed the least, maybe because he avoided it, it didn't seem right to him to usurp someone else's place, although when loneliness could outweigh his morals, he owned some guy, just to feel normal again, seen. That was the one thing Elliot longed for with all his might, to be seen.

He had thought for weeks about how to talk to Benji, whether to occupy a body or present himself as him (he preferred the former, it would be less invasive and wouldn't leave the guy looking like a maniac talking to himself), what topics to talk about, he had mapped out a whole imaginary path to occupy the perfect body. A senior guy, just like Benjamin, they were going together in calculus so it wouldn't be hard. All he had to do was walk across the school from the abandoned wing to the central wing, easy.

What Elliot didn't count on, was that he had to go through the gym, right in the middle of PE class. During a game of dodgeball; the nerd was trying to dodge every container that darted back and forth, totally oblivious to his presence. He hated dodgeball, and now he hated it more; that guy almost hit him!

Something else unusual about Elliot: He did not control how long his possessions lasted, while all other ghosts could come and go at will from their hosts, for him, the rules were very different. That lasted until one thing or another happened.

A. The body would eventually expel him

B. Something from the outside forced him to leave.

Elliot could almost spend a month inside someone if something didn't get him out, because he couldn't get out on his own, so he was also extremely careful about when and who he possessed.

He was a few steps from the entrance, past the hallway, he would be safe to carry out his plan. He was so close! He quickened his pace, running.

- Okay, guys! That's enough, practice is ov-!

What Elliot didn't count on was that someone would run right into his path. And boy, he run into someone.

It was like slamming into a brick wall and then turning to dust, swirling in anguish and near panic, until everything settled. He opened his eyes lazily, feeling heavy, big, he had always been very thin so feeling his center of gravity shift was a strange sensation. He'd been around big guys, yes, but nothing equaled that.

- Coach... Are you all right?

Elliot looked around, trying to find the coach with his eyes, but no one was there. He looked down, and then he understood.

- Holy shit - he muttered under his breath.

- Coach, is everything all right?

- Ah... - a deep voice escaped his lips, he didn't even know what to answer - Yes, yes, everything is in order. We're done here, everyone get changed.

- But there's still more time left...

- Let's make it free time.

Little by little they left the gym until they left him alone, his heart pounding. Everything had gone wrong for him, almost backwards. He put his hand to his head as he felt a kind of dizziness, not because of illness, but because everything that shouldn't have happened, had happened, it was regret. Now what would he do? He was trapped in that body, who knows for how long, and worse, it wasn't just any body.

He would have to keep a facade up, coordinate classes, see about some sports teams, fuck, fuck. Out of sheer inertia he flexed his arms, feeling his strength. Something he'd definitely never felt before, he'd been in some jock bodies when he'd been transformed into a ghost, but it had been years since then, so much so that he didn't remember the sensation. But now it was there, in the coach's body.

He walked over to a mirror nearby to begin flexing with a mixture of surprise and fascination. He watched as his biceps swelled with a trace of amazement in his eyes.

- What a thing!

He said with a chuckle, still flexing over and over again, making funny or even a little more... flashy gestures. He laughed softly, it was strange to see the trainer like that, a stern man, who forced the students to do at least 10 laps around the track if they made a mistake, he almost barked when he spoke, but with him in charge, he looked so docile and fascinated by his new skin.

He left the gym with wooden planks that squeaked under his new weight to go to the weight room, fortunately for him, it was completely empty: He took two weights of at least 40kg each and lifted them with a loud grunt, almost like a bellowing bear.

- Pfff! - he smiled boastfully - How simple, damn it!

Elliot never cursed, never. He was like a shy and fearful mouse, but now in the man's body, he had become something else.

He flexed his arms again and again, staring at the mirror as if there was no tomorrow, he laughed under his breath, not even satisfaction could describe what he was feeling in its entirety. All a lifetime (and even on the “afterlife” path) he had been a wimp, almost like a spaghetti, while other ghosts could lift at least “normal” things, he couldn't even lift a box, but now he was more than strong, with those imposing biceps and pectorals flexing at his will, every time he wanted and felt like it, like simple jellies that quivered with a single touch.

- And what a fucking smell - he muttered as he inhaled, the trainer's scent was deep, penetrating and extremely rancid, but it caused a deep gasp to escape his lips.

The nerd felt so many things inside him, things he didn't even get to experience in his most ambitious dreams in life: strength, body hair, stench. Elliot didn't smell like anything when he was human, hopefully peanut butter but that was as far as the story went. But now, he stank, he really stank, he was stinking, sweaty, like a monument to masculinity.

- Fuck yeah...

He kept lifting different weights, smiling as he discovered the limits of his new body, intoxicated was too little to describe it.

He had always found it strange the way the trainers dressed, with those sports suits, short shorts or tight t-shirts, but now he thanked whoever was on top of them, that it was so. Because shit, he looked delicious.

He felt like every muscle would explode, but he didn't care, he wanted more and more. Until he ended up exhausted, his back wet against the back of one of the sports machines, his forehead sweating like rivers, his chest rising and falling like a drum, and that smug smile on his face, not erased by anything.

— Fuuuuck, yeah...

He finally got up, and walked to the gym office, right where "his" desk was. He slumped against the seat, making it squeak and creak, which made him let out a low chuckle, he took off his tennis shoes and socks to let his huge feet breathe.

If any of the other ghosts saw Elliot act like this, they'd be infarcted (again), the guy was no saint or anything, but he was innocent, lazy in the realm of possession, and now he had a container that was distinguished in more ways than one.

He stroked his thighs, enjoying the sensation of his calloused fingers running over his cloth-wrapped legs, he wanted more. Desire more.

- Maybe we need to get these cumbersome things off.

He moaned to slide his pants down to just a tight lower garment. It gave off a scent that would have made anyone's nose twist and recoil, but the guy just dipped his fingers between his new balls and his slit, rubbing hard and then bringing it to his nose.

- It stinks like a man should smell.

Yes, again. Any of the ghosts would freeze to see him like this. Maybe the coach's scent was too much for little Elliot, submissive to a new identity and instincts that were pulling him to the bottom. He stuck his tongue out to direct his fingers to it and from there, underneath, wanting to lubricate the area to be discovered.

- Uh... - his eyes were lost in the impulse. His hands tried to look for something in those drawers to enhance the experience, who knows, maybe the trainer was as "crazy" as he was. But he found something completely different: a singlet, neatly folded and placed under some files, he took it between his hands, noticing the stench - Wow... It seems that the coach also has a very strong opinion on the subject.

He scoffed before taking it to his nose, rubbed the front and back area against his nostrils over and over again, eager to further scramble his brain cells with the aroma. He gasped quietly until his eyes lit up with an even better idea, he quickly slid the fabric down his thighs until he left it at his waist. He giggled eagerly like someone who is debuting a toy.

- How tight... - he laughed low - What? What do you want me to grade you up? Well, I don't know. Maybe we should talk about it in other... terms.

He laughed again, flexing his arm to suck and lick the armpit, his senses sharpened as never before, even the cold blowing of the wind made him roll his eyes with a long moan. So engrossed and distracted to realize the door was opening.

- Professor, I wanted to ask you about... - And yes, Benji's bad luck again, he had stumbled upon the scene head-on - Holy shit, Zeke, is that you again!!!?

Words could not even be articulated for Elliot, he was blank. That wasn't the time, nor the plan he originally had, much less the body; he only watched as Benjamin gave a gesture of what appeared to be disavowal before leaving the room, slamming the door. The nerdy ghost lay back in the chair, defeated, tears even appeared on his face, how could he ever try to approach again after such a... dreadful slip? He lay there for a long moment until he thought about it, he hadn't even realized who it was, for Benji, maybe it was Zeke making his messes again, he had no idea who Elliot was. And he could use that to his advantage.

He took off his suit to refold it and put it back in place, putting his clothes back on to leave the place.

It was almost two o'clock, so the school hours were almost over, he walked through the school, he had no idea what the next few days would bring, he would have to prepare for classes, practice with the soccer team (holy god, what were the rules of soccer?), although as he walked, thoughts were dissipated by the rush of the wind, as the vibe hit against his face and his borrowed hair flew with it. As a ghost, sensations are reduced to a minimum, by a miracle he could feel the air or the warmth of the sun, but now, he was there.

And the worries vanished. What could happen if he didn't fully adapt to his new role? Nothing would happen, he could be wrong, the important thing was to start over. And what about returning to his ghost form? The day would come when it should, now he had opportunities in front of him. Beyond the carnal (although a rather.... “ambitious” crossed his mind, after all, those muscles equated to those of a superhero).

But besides that, he could again feel the taste of food on his palate, the aroma of another place than the Institute, different sounds, everything beyond... He smiled at the idea, ready to start whatever fate had in front of him.

Although so much positivism and optimism ended up hitting him in the face, literally. As he was about to go down the sidewalk to leave the student property, an invisible force detached him from his body and propelled him backwards, he rolled on the grass as if a rocket had hit him.

- Holy shit, are you serious? Holy shit! - the ghost shouted angrily, he had forgotten a cardinal rule: Everything that belongs to the school, stays in the school - Is this a fucking joke?!

---

Benji walked forward with a mixture of anger and fear in his eyes. He was fed up, completely fed up with every ghost in this school, how everyone wanted to talk to him, or get between his sheets. It was hell! And the worst part was that it was just for him, the school sucked, the subjects sucked, the homophobia sucked. And now this!!!

He didn't need any of that theater, he didn't want that power, he was sick of it. The ghosts seemed to be as interested in him as someone who wants to find a spoon to eat, a mere object, that was not what he wanted. They saw him, yes, but so what? Just that, there was nothing else. He was so alone and ignored, by humans and spirits alike.

Just a lonely pawn; to the other humans, he was just a source of tasks, favors and advice that vanished once his mission was completed, and to the ghosts... Well. It seemed he had no one in the world, at least no real connection, not even to his blood, it was no coincidence that of all places he had ended up at that school (because yes, it was partly one of the only ones in the state), but there was something peculiar about it (besides his economic status and whatnot), that it was a boarding school.

Keeping him as far away from home as they could, out of his parents' care, right in the blind spot. So he had absolutely no one, and he was so alone. Desperate in the midst of his anxiety, rage and melancholy. The corridors were behind him until someone slowed him down.

- Benji, are you all right? You look distressed - Peter, a friend (or at least when he remembered him), the one who had helped him so much after the gummy incident. He stood in front of him with a worried expression.

- Yeah, just... Stuff. - He lifted his shoulders without being able to say much, because who could he tell about what he was seeing without being thought crazy? Exactly, no one.

- Well, do you want to go get something to eat in the cafeteria with me? Maybe I can help you clear your head.

- That'd be nice, thanks, Pet.

- You're welcome, buddy. Let's go.

The guy smiled, Benji nodded. There was something strange about his friend, not bad, like the typical shadow that accompanies ghosts, it was something different, more... Revitalizing, but whatever it was, he liked the way it felt.

----

Hello everyone!

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

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

---

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perfectharmonybanana · 1 day ago

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IncoHEARent

After spending the weekend over at his girlfriend’s place, Charlie returned home to his personal hell - the college dorms. He pushed open the door to his room, and immediately, a wave of stale, gym-scented air hit him. A telltale sign: Jackson was home.

Sure enough, Jackson’s muscled frame was sprawled across Charlie’s chair, his big, bare feet propped up on Charlie’s desk, surrounded by an abandoned chocolate protein bar, an unopened assignment envelope, and a small box for what looked like a card game.

“Yo,” Jackson greeted lazily, not even looking up. A slow grin spread across his face as he held up a card, reading it as though it were written in an alien dialect.

“Jar Lee Wheel… Oh Bay Knee?” he muttered, dragging out the syllables. “Ohhh. I think I got it.”

FLASH

He flipped the card over, read the back, and smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie?”

Charlie sighed, struggling to lock the door behind him. “What?”

Jackson grabbed another card and held it out. “Come over here and try this one. Sound it out.”

Charlie barely spared it a glance before dropping his backpack onto his bed. The text on the card was a mess of nonsense: "Yule Are Soup Ear Yore Two Knee."

He muttered it under his breath, frowning. “Yule Are Soup Ear Yore Two Knee…” His gaze drifted to the pile of cards now scattered all over the floor around his desk, and his fingers twitched with the urge to clean. “What is this? Some kind of—oh. It’s that stupid game you were talking about.”

“IncoHEARent, my dude,” Jackson corrected, flashing the box at him. “You read the gibberish out loud, and eventually, it sounds like a real phrase.”

Charlie glanced back at the card in Jackson’s meaty grip, his brain clicking through the syllables. Yule Are Soup Ear Yore Two Knee…

Suddenly, his eyes widened. “Oh. I think I know it.”

“The answer is…” Charlie puffed his chest out proudly, outsmarting his jock roommate once again.

“You are superior to me!”

FLASH

“Good job, bro.” Jackson laughed, flicking the card onto the floor below him. “Isn’t that fun?”

“Um….” Charlie blushed, his proudness deflating. Instead a wave of admiration for Jackson replacing it. “Y-yeah. I guess it was Jackson. Thank you for letting me play.”

“We’re not done yet, Charlie boy.” Jackson holds up a new card “Eye Yam Pa The Tick.”

Charlie struggled to comprehend the bizarre phrase, before he hears it loud and clear in his head.

“I am pathetic?”

FLASH

“You’re getting good, Charlie.” Jackson smirks as he sifts through the cards. Just hearing Jackson’s affirmation lights Charlie’s brain up light up like a Christmas tree. Charlie wonders what he can do to make Jackson say those words again. Charlie’s body absentmindedly slips from his bed to the floor as he rests on his knees. It feels more fitting to be looking up at Jackson rather than on equal level.

“Oh, this is a hard one.” Jackson holds up another card in his thick hand. “Eye Yam Anne M Tea Head Ed Cawk Suck Her”

Charlie’s eager brain clicks immediately.

“I am an empty headed cock sucker!”

FLASH

Charlie’s mouth started to salivate as his throat began to feel empty. All thoughts about his girlfriend, women, boobs fading away as a yearning for a big thick juicy cock to be shoved down his greedy cocksucker throat appears. God, it made him feel like such a pathetic loser. But he couldn’t deny the truth.

Suddenly, his girlfriend flashed in his mind. What will she think? The old Charlie began to put up resistance. But suddenly all thoughts are brought to a standstill as he remembers one thing…

Cock.

Jackson glances at Charlie on the floor - the poor boy on his knees, tongue drooling and eyes spaced out as images of cocks invaded his brain.

“How about we do these last two cards and then we’ll call it a day, okay cocksucker?” He flicked one up in Charlie’s pleasure filled face. “Stray It Men R Soup Ear Yore Zo Eye War Ship Stray It Fete.”

Charlie’s eyes zone back in as the answer slips out of his cocksucking lips.

“Straight men are superior! So I worship straight feet!”

FLASH

Before his mind catches up with his body, Jackson’s smelly straight toes are in his mouth. He sucks and licks their stench. The stench he used to resent so much, now becoming his reason to live. Jackson was superior. Jackson deserved this. He deserved everything.

“Once last card, cocksucker.” Jackson lets out an accomplished smirk. “Eye Yam Stuck Lick This Fur Ever.”

The empty headed Charlie struggled for a bit before it clicked. The old part of himself tried to stop him, but before he knew it, Charlie plopped Jackson’s toe right out of his mouth and said:

 “I am stuck like this FOREVER!”

FLASH

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perfectharmonybanana · 2 days ago

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The Window

The thirst wakes me first.

It’s the middle of the night, and my mouth is bone-dry, my skin fever-hot. I sit up in bed, heart pounding, and fumble for the glass of water on the nightstand. The first gulp is relief. The second is dread.

It’s time.

Every five years. Like clockwork. My body goes into what I call possession withdrawal—a high fever that won’t break until someone, anyone, takes control of me. And when they do, I’m still there, fully conscious, but powerless. Just a passenger in my own skin.

I glance at the clock—3:17 AM. Outside, the farm is silent except for the hum of crickets and the whisper of wind through the fields. My son, Theo, is asleep down the hall. He flew in from LA a week ago, all lanky limbs and city-boy skepticism, thinking this was just a summer visit with his old man.

God, I hope he says yes.

---

It started when I was 23, backpacking through Southeast Asia.

Some guy in a village in Laos—skinny, with a grin too wide for his face—kept pestering me. "What’s it like?" he asked, poking my bicep like I was a piece of meat. "So much muscle. So strong."

I laughed it off, tried to be polite. But when he started following me, whispering about "trying on a foreign body," I booked it. Didn’t even look back.

Big mistake.

The guy muttered something that sounded like an incantation. Next thing I knew, my skin was crawling, my vision flickering. Then—snap—I was shoved into the backseat of my own skull.

For two weeks, I watched through my own eyes as he haggled at markets, slurped noodles, even flirted with a German backpacker in Chiang Mai. All while I screamed silently behind the glass. He only jumped ship in Bangkok, dumping me back into control just in time to stumble onto my flight home.

I told myself it was heatstroke. Bad mushrooms.

Then, five years later, during a pickup football game, my buddy Mike tackled me hard. I was already burning up, but I’d promised I’d come. Didn’t want to flake.

The second he landed on top of me, knee in my ribs—whoosh. Like a vacuum seal breaking. Suddenly, Mike was in me, his panic ricocheting through my skull as I got shoved aside.

"Dude? DUDE?!" his voice echoed in my head.

"Fuck, not again," I thought back, weirdly calm.

After that, I figured it out: Every five years, the "window" opens. If I don’t let someone in, I’m stuck with a raging fever. But if I do? They get to enjoy being me, and I get relief.

Over the years, I learned to manage it. My buddies took turns. Some treated it like a party trick—flexing my arms in the mirror, marveling at my strength. Others didn’t last an hour, disturbed by my voice echoing inside their heads.

I never told my family. What was I supposed to say? Hey honey, want to hop into my body for a bit so I don’t feel like I’m dying? Yeah, no.

Maybe that secret was part of why Marissa left. Not the only reason, I’m sure. But it didn’t help.

Now, at 57, my options were slim. Mike moved to Australia. Dave died in a freak accident. Everyone else drifted away. That left Theo.

My son. Twenty-two, visiting the farm for the first time in three years. We got along fine, but fine wasn’t close. He’d inherited Marissa’s skepticism and my stubbornness—a hell of a combo. But he was old enough now.

And if he said no? Well, I’d sweat through my sheets alone.

---

I waited until breakfast. Pancakes—his favorite. Syrup pooled on the plate as I cleared my throat.

"Theo," I said. "There’s something I need to tell you."

He smirked, mouth full. "You’re dying?"

"Not quite." I laid it out—the fever, the window, the possession.

His fork clinked against the plate. "Bullshit."

"I wish."

"You’re either fucking with me, or you’ve finally lost it."

I stood up. "C’mere."

He followed me into the living room, wariness written all over his face. I took his wrist—long fingers, faint ink stains from his sketchbook—and pressed his palm to my chest.

"Push."

He raised an eyebrow but complied.

Nothing at first. Then—

His hand sank into me. Not bloody. Not gory. Like warm water. Like dipping into something alive.

Theo yanked back, staring at his hand like it had betrayed him. "Holy shit."

"Yeah."

He backed away, hands in his hair. "This is insane. This is—no. No way."

"You don’t have to decide now," I said. "The window’s open. Two weeks. If you don’t… well, I’ll be upstairs cooking in my own skin."

Theo didn’t respond. Just stared.

---

Days passed. The fever hit hard—chills, dry mouth, the whole miserable routine. I sweated through my sheets on the couch, blankets damp. Theo hovered like I was radioactive.

He’d sneak glances. Once, he sat beside me, hands clasped.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Not once they’re in," I rasped.

"And you’re just… there?"

"Yep. Watching. Front row."

He winced. "Jesus. That’s messed up."

"Tell me about it."

---

One morning, I woke up to movement.

Not mine.

My arms were already swinging my legs out of bed. My fingers rubbed sleep from my eyes. My lungs drew a deep, easy breath—no fever, no ache.

And in the back of my skull, faint but unmistakable: Oh my God. Oh my GOD.

Theo’s voice. Inside me.

He’d done it.

I settled back, a passenger again, as Theo took his first shaky steps toward the mirror.

He stared hard, mouth parted slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Ran my hands down my chest, over the stubble on my jaw, the lines in my forehead. Then he grinned. Tilted my head. Flexed an arm and whistled softly.

"Shit, Dad," he said aloud, admiring my reflection. "You really don’t make ‘57’ look bad."

---

Theo dove into the experience. Worked the farm like he’d never left it—hauling hay, fixing fences, even wrestling with the tractor when it stalled. He’d pause to touch my chest hair, roll a shoulder, run a thumb over my calluses like they were foreign artifacts.

His own body had been wiry, smooth. This? This was armor. This was power.

Then came Friday.

He drove my truck into town, walked into the bar like he belonged there. A woman sat alone at the counter—late thirties, dark hair, tired eyes. He bought her a drink. They talked.

I kept quiet, listening. He was smoother than I expected—laughing at the right moments, leaning in just enough.

Two hours later, they were in my bed.

I’d seen buddies fumble through sex in my body. But Theo? He moved like he’d been waiting for this. Slow at first—my rough hands on her thighs, tracing lines with my thumbs. Then firmer. Confident.

"You good?" he asked her, breath warm against her neck.

She nodded, shy smile on her lips.

"Use your words."

"Yes."

He smirked—my smirk, sharper now—and flipped her onto her stomach. One hand on her wrist, the other tugging her hips back. She gasped, and I felt it—the thrill coursing through Theo as her body responded to his.

When he paused, breath ragged, and said, "Condom’s coming off," it wasn’t a question.

"Yeah?" she asked, flushed.

"Yeah. Unless you say no."

She didn’t.

Bare, he slid in again—and froze. Just breathed. Felt everything. Then he gripped her tighter, dragged her back against him, hand on her belly like he needed to feel every inch.

"Fuck," he growled, "you take it so good."

She whimpered, and Theo snapped. His pace brutal, the bed slamming the wall. Her cries muffled into pillows, my body groaning with every thrust.

When they came, he didn’t roll off. Just pulled her back against him, chest to her back, fingers splayed over her hip.

"You alright?" he whispered.

She nodded, breathless. Theo kissed her shoulder, soft. "You’re fucking incredible."

She laughed, kissed him back. I stayed quiet, stunned. Not by what he did. By how easy it was for him to be me. To own me.

---

By the last day, I could feel it—the window closing. Not fever. Just pressure. A door inching shut.

"You should get ready to jump," I told him.

He shrugged. "I’m good."

"Seriously, Theo. We don’t know what happens if you stay."

"So I get stuck a couple years. Big deal."

He sounded so casual. Too casual.

That evening, I begged. "Theo, now. Get out. Please."

Then his phone buzzed. The woman. Come over.

He grinned, pulling on jeans.

"You don’t have time!" I snapped.

He didn’t answer.

I panicked. Pushed—whatever part of me was still there. For a second, I felt him waver. Like he lost his footing.

Then he shoved back.

Hard.

It was like falling backward off a cliff—then, thud.

I hit the floor.

My floor. My house.

But not my body.

I looked up. My own face stared down at me. Eyes wide—then narrowing into a smirk. Theo flexed my arm, rolled my shoulder.

"Theo," I said. My voice too light, too high. "What the hell just happened? Am I—?"

"You?" he said, laughing. "Yeah. You are now."

I scrambled up and lunged at him. Hit solid muscle. No sinking. Just impact.

Theo didn’t budge. He adjusted my shirt, grabbed the keys.

"Wait—Theo!"

He paused at the door. "Relax, Dad. It’s only two years."

Then he was gone. The screen door slammed. The truck roared.

I stood there. In his body. Alone.

Breath shaking, I stumbled into the hallway mirror. My reflection stared back—wide, dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, mussed dark hair Young. So young.

"Theo is me," I whispered.

"And I… I get to be Theo now?"

The words left my mouth before I could stop them. My mouth. His voice.

I froze.

A slow, involuntary smirk curled across my face.

I raised a hand—long, smooth, uncalloused fingers—and ran it over my chest, down my sides. My torso was lean and firm beneath my T-shirt. No paunch, no scars. No aches in the joints. My skin buzzed under my touch like it had just woken up.

I couldn’t help it. I pulled off the shirt and stared.

Toned, smooth, hairless. Tight abs. Small nipples. Clean lines.

I turned, admiring the definition in my arms, the graceful slope of my back, the taut curve of my ass beneath the waistband of borrowed boxer briefs.

Tingles of something—panic? relief? excitement?—rippled through me, settling low in my gut.

I took a breath. Grinned wider.

"Fuck," I whispered. "I’m Theo now."

And God help me, I liked it.

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perfectharmonybanana · 3 days ago

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perfectharmonybanana · 3 days ago

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Life has been good lately forever grateful for everything that is meant for me

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perfectharmonybanana · 3 days ago

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perfectharmonybanana · 3 days ago

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perfectharmonybanana · 4 days ago

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Shapeshift

Target acquired. I focused intensely on every aspect of his body. His muscular frame. His cinnamon skin. His fresh outfit. If I was going to become him, I couldn’t afford to miss any detail. Ever since I’ve honed my Shapeshifting abilities, I find that there is a different man I want to become daily. When I saw this fit Latino man at the muscle Beach I knew this was going to be my newest form.

I think I’m pretty spot on. I am him from his Air Force ones to his gold chains. Although I forgot his shirt. But with a body like this, why hide it?

I waited until he left the beach before I assumed the position he was sitting in. It’s like he never left.

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perfectharmonybanana · 4 days ago

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Man, this body really does stink. I swapped bodies with this jock in another state. His name is Travis. We met each other on the Swapper app and connected immediately. He really wanted to try being a sexy bottom twink for a few days and I always wanted to be in a body just like his. I secretly always wanted to be a dominant jock but I did not have the willpower to hit the gym like I would need to in order to achieve a body like his.

When I awoke in his body, I was wearing nothing but his boxer briefs and sleeping in his bed. Fuck, he was messy and kind of gross. I sniffed the sheets a bit and they just smelled like sweat and musk. I'm pretty sure I felt cum stains all over the inside of his sheets too. My new room was minimally decorated and I seemed to be living in a tiny crappy apartment. Guess I wasn't expecting much from a guy like Travis - still this body was so worth it.

I got out of bed and immediately stumbled over as I made my way to the bathroom, not used to my new body yet. After getting my bearings, I flexed a bit in the mirror and got hard at my own reflection. It was hot to see Travis's reflection obey to my whim. I made all sorts of silly poses and faces in the mirror which excited me.

What really sent me over the edge was just how manly and hot I smelled. I dreamed about shoving my face into pits like this and now I could do it anytime I wanted. I also fucking loved the smell of my feet. I never realized I had a stink fetish but being in Travis's body was proving me wrong.

What was even hotter was cumming in his body. I definitely jizzed all over the inside of his boxer briefs and enjoyed the sensation as I kept them on while going about my day. It was fun to impersonate Travis to his family and friends. They had no idea their personable himbo gay jock boy was secretly a bottom twink that fantasized about having his body. It's gonna be hard to go back... I hope Travis is enjoying his time in my body too.

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perfectharmonybanana · 5 days ago

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The Captain’s Table

I grinned at my new reflection in the rear view. Fuck, that was easier than I thought I said to myself. I rubbed my new thick biceps through Justin’s tight sweatshirt, damn he had a fit body and for the next couple of weeks it would be mine.

Damn. I had to pull over, I’d admired Justin from afar for so long and now I was closer than I’d ever dared believe—on the inside looking out. I grasped the steering wheel and flexed watching the fabric of the sweatshirt bulge; taking a couple of deep breaths I smiled–not mine, but Justin’s.

I slouched down in the luxurious seats of the SUV and cupped Justin’s pride in my hands; it felt warm and heavy. I gingerly bit my lip and slid a hand into the sweatpants I was wearing; I shivered touching something hard and my head dropped back with a groan. I grasped the base of the shaft and jerked it a little and a tingle rushed down my spine. My head snapped up, and I came face to face with Justin’s reflection again, and my lip curled into a smile; all mine I whispered under my breath.

When the football coach approached me asking if I wanted some help with my college funds I thought he wanted a new water boy or something menial like that; I wasn’t really the sporty type, skinny and breathless at the hint of any exertion. So when he explained that he was about to make the biggest hit on betting against the school’s team winning the final I just laughed. I knew the other team had no chance; Justin had been on training the guys all season, they where great! He explained that’s why he got such good odds.

I asked how I could help; he went on to explain he’d asked Justin to come on board with the scam, but he’d flat refused and threatened to call the police if he attempted to rig the game. With a grin he told be he could put me into Justin’s body, he told me that I’d know everything he did and my job was just to pretend to be Justin for a couple of weeks then throw the game at the final. Fuck, if he knew what a crush I had on Justin I doubt whether he’d ever have chosen me but the thought of being inside the jock just made me hard; without thinking I agreed.

Coach told me to meet him after school where he’d swap us. I watched the team practice, especially Justin as he commanded his team like a true captain. He walked past me on his way to the showers, his vest was wet with sweat clinging to his body. I could tell there was tension between him and the coach as they past, and he didn’t even bother to look my way; I could have been invisible.

I looked at the coach and he jerked his head, I got up and followed him to the basement. Inside was a chair in the middle of a pentagram painted on the floor, he nodded at the chair and I sat down.

“Once he’s in your body he’ll think he’s you.” he said. I didn’t like the idea, but he reassured me that when I swapped with Justin I would still know who I was but would have access to all Justin’s memories.

He left me for a moment saying he had to see the guys off, when he returned I agreed to call him once I’d become Justin. He started reciting some words I didn’t understand and dropped Justin’s practice vest in my lap. FUCK! It felt like I was being sucked up in a vacuum, and with a blink I was at the wheel of a SUV; and then I knew I was the captain of the football team.

—

Suddenly I snapped back as another vehicle pulled up alongside; it was Rob, Justin’s wingman. “Hey Just’ you still up for the party tonight?” he asked.

“Er, yeah why not,” I said.

“Cool, see you later then.”

I watched as he left, I remembered the plan–I had to call the coach to let him know I was in charge now. I picked up Justin’s mobile and smiled; he could wait, I had better things to do now.

Back at Justin’s house I took a slow shower investigating every aspect of my new body; fuck I must have shot my load three times in the shower and I had plenty more.

I towelled off and took a couple of pictures of the stud I’d become.

My thoughts were disrupted by the mobile going off; it was coach. “Yeah?” I said.

“Look you little shit, you where meant to call me when you got in him,” he growled.

“You know coach, I kinda like being the captain so why don’t you go fuck yourself.”

“You little double crossing shit, why I’ll–”

“You’ll do what? Turn me in? I think I’m holding all the cards now, I’m pretty sure I have to be standing on that pentagram to be swapped back. Oh and if you try anything stupid I’m pretty sure the authorities or worse would be interested in your attempts to screw the odds on the final.”

There was silence on the phone, and then he hung up.

I remembered the party and picked out a nice v-neck and hoodie, and left. I’m sure I could make as good a captain as the original, probably better.

Source: “Seanday Reloaded: The Captain’s Table” by Sean Mitchell

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perfectharmonybanana · 5 days ago

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Christopher to Topher

Hello everyone!! I know I have been gone, i have explained it but I wanted to share some of the things I got commissioned, this first piece was commissioned, Hope you all enjoy, there is a sequel as well!

I wasn’t always like this, a big, beefy, hunky, smelly, hairy, hot, sexy…. I wasn’t always this meathead okay. Fuck i’ve been getting so distracted lately, like my brain can’t focus, like my thoughts were going through molasses. Ever since I met HIM I haven’t been ME.

It all started last week, I was how I’m supposed to be your, normal average TWIG- no don’t interrupt me, lean nerd. My hair was chocolate brown, the sides cut short and the top long and wavy, resting on the side of my face. My skin was pale because I HATED leaving my dorm room, the outside sun and my allergies didn’t agree with me so it left me to my hobbies indoors, reading, writing and playing TTRPGS online with my friends LOSER, LAME, BORi- SHUT UP.

Sorry about that the voice in my head, the loud, horny, gay as fuck jock won’t leave me alone.

As I was saying I was your typical nerdy Geology student. I was lean, maybe a lil paunchy because of the freshmen 15 and my lack of willpower to maintain my body but I was having the most fun and freedom of my life. I kept myself shaved smooth and my body so clean any girl could eat off it. Just like the room I lived in, more spotless then probably your favorite restaurant. The campus messed up with the living arrangements so I had a single dorm to myself, which meant I could keep myself, my space and my life tidy just the way I liked it. The RA was decent and I was even talking to this cute girl in my geology program, Anna. Life made sense and I didnt care what anyone else thought for once.

That is until BRAD moved in, Brad was this stereotypical dumb football Jock. Apparently the university was experiencing some room shortages (shocker the place that mismanaged rooms at the start of the semester would do it AGAIN) and since I had space they sent me an email to EXPECT another roommate in a week. They sent me some details like his name, his contact info but besides that I was going in blind.

Man do I wish I lost my sense of smell instead. When Brad opened the door I smelled him before I saw him. It was like a fog of filth rolled into my room. Hours of sweat and musk swept into the room, causing my eyes to water and my throat to choke. As he stepped in the lingering scent of sex and cum wafted off him. He smelled like if a football practice was in a porno and my worst nightmare was having sex.

His footsteps loud on the tile floor as he made his way in carrying two duffle bags of poorly packed dirty clothes. His arms tensed and flexed, his biceps bulging out like mountains, his shoulders wide and beautiful with a loose tank’s straps draped across them slightly covering the pillow pecs that rested underneath. His neck was thick and corded with muscles as facial hair rested against his adams apple slowly growing up into a beautiful beard that framed plump lips. His nose and cheek bones were strong and chiseled like a statue as his brow bone loomed over his eyes giving him this fuck boy/frat jock look that probably drove sorority girls wild.

His shirt rode up exposing abs that looked like the cobbled streets of rome, his hips were graced with cum gutters and a treasure trail that made your eyes look down at his 3 inch inseam shorts that left little to the imagination. My own straight eyes couldn't help but look at the monster bulge that was begging to be set free. His thighs stretched everything to the limit as his calves shaped like perfect diamonds carried him to the empty bed next to me.

“Yo, you're my new roomy now sick!” Brad said dropping his bags on the floor, the clothes immediately spilling out as the zipper wasn’t fully done. My jaw basically hit the floor as my ideal life was eviscerated in seconds as fear for what the next year would basically be. If only I had known just how AWESOME- no terrible it would actually be.

The musk was strong especially when, he heard no response and IMMEDIATELY went up to hug me, my stunned body and weak form stood no chance of escape or defense as he picked me up with ease, his sweaty masculine HOT- no, manly physique picked me up like I weighed nothing. My face buried in his pecs, his body hair tickling my nose as his cleavage suffocated me.

“Sorry, what did you say?” he asks, putting me down, my face covered in his sweat. I try to just shake it off, mentally I was thrown off as I struggled to come up with some sort of thought. I hadn’t said anything right?

“it’s..Its not important, the names Christopher, Brad right?” I say holding out my much smaller hand. This meathead immediately grabs it. “That's right Bro look at you catching on!” he says, not mockingly I think just as a statement. From his GORGEOUS- STOP IT ALREADY I'M TELLING THIS STORY IF I'M TRAPPED IN HERE- as I was saying from his face all i could see was dumb innocence as he immediately picked up his bags dropping more clothes onto the floor. This semester wouldn’t end I thought

“Hey Brad, I know you just got here but do you mind we talk about some ground rules for the dorm” I say, sitting on my bed watching him, each movement he makes a flex.

“Yeah dude, as long as you're chill with me putting my shit away as we do.” he says nonchalantly, he empties out the contents of one bag completely, the smell of dirty socks and underwear filling the air, eyes starting to water.

“Yeah that's no problem..i..i actually wanted to start with talking about expectations and keeping the dorm clean is first.” I was hoping to just get this out of the way, it would be less awkward, and he’d know where I’d stand.

“Oh Bro I totally get it!” he says literally making a mess by shoving some of his pants balled up into his dresser, his bed already unmade.

“Well I just want to make sure we have a standard, the floor stays clean, beds made and its easy for me to focus on my studies.” I say trying to make sure he understands me. His muscles were insane as he put clothes away, each movement felt like a flex, like he was showing off for me but he couldn’t be. My eyes didn't want to leave his muscular back but as he turned to face me, his perfectly framed lips curled in a smile.

“I gotchu BRO no need to worry.” The way he says bro bouncing around in my head. Like there was more emphasis and weight to it. Its like the back of my head is tingling, a warm energy filling me to my core as I listen, before shaking my head. Brad was holding a crumpled up thing of underwear in his hand, the smell obnoxious but what really took me out was the way his arms were at his sides, almost crossed across his torso, making the pillowey pecs rest and jut out. It made me feel insecure looking at this adonis, his body built to make women’s mouth water theres no way I could bring a girl back here.

“Do you like games Bro?” He asks attention going back to his stuff.

“Yeah I mean I like Dungeons and Dragons, Magic The gathering, Yu-gi-oh is pretty fun..” He interrupts me.

“Nah i mean like video games, fifa, COD, Rivals, league?” He asks me, moving over to my bed sitting down at the head of it. Folding something.

“I, i don’t really play many I guess.” I say rubbing the back of my head, he was probably covering my bed in his smell.

“What bro really?! That's crazy, well I know what we're doing as soon as my pc gets here bro!” he says slamming his hands down on my bed, unbeknownst to me sliding a dirty jockstrap underneath my pillow. His face filled with excitement and joy, god I’d have to make sure he didn’t get in the way of me and Anna.

“Oh..uh okay good yeah! I’m down for that. Just uh one other thing about the dorm.” I say looking down, my head was starting to feel fogged up.

“Yeah bro? What is it?” He says leaning forward making eye contact with me.

“To make sure theres no big distractions are you good with not bringing any girls over, my coursework is super heavy and im fine with notice I just want to make sure that-”

“Woah Chris, breathe, you ain’t gotta worry about me bringing any chicks over!” Listening to him I took a big inhale, my vision getting hazy as I nod my head, jaw going slack. I didn’t even care that he called me Chris, I hated when people called me Chris. I can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Okay, that was one problem I wouldn't have to worry about. I didn’t question why, my head fully fogged up, mind running slow, I just felt like I could trust him.

“Great bro.. I mean Brad, I’ll let you finish up*yawn* I’m gonna sleep.” I say motioning him to get up. He raises off the bed as I get settled, not changing into my pajamas like I always do. My limbs feel heavy, mind so tired and my shirt is sticking to me as I see my bro Brad stand in front of me. Ass right in my face and all I can think is damn he’s ho-

________________

That morning was the worst I had had in a long time, my head hurt, I had missed my alarm. This meant I couldn’t shower and the room was a mess, clothes were still on the floor and that adonis of a man was fast asleep. I hadn't even changed, I was filthy and smelt like a locker room as I raced to my lecture, my feet moving faster than I was used to, I assumed it was the adrenaline, not realizing with each slap of my shoes bottom my legs stretch slightly. Foot getting meatier, longer, wider with each step, pushing it to its limits. I barely made it to my lecture before the doors were permanently closed. The eyes of my peers on me.

Everything my professor said was like water off a duck's back. I couldn’t take anything in. Every time I thought I was getting a grip on something, taking a deep breath, its like a fog rolled through my mind, setting me back to square one. I still smelled like Brad from last night. The sweat, musk and grime sticking to me like glue, god I wish my lecture would do that. Before class was even over I could tell my classmates had moved away from me, recoiling from the scent, even Anna seemed to turn her nose up at the scent.

I had tried to answer a question at some point, our professor opening up the floor to us in discussion. Basic geology fundamental question about how the different rock formation types interact within environments exposed to new catalysts or something. But I fumbled my words, my mouth feeling dry, voice cracking like I was going through puberty. It made me want to shrink in on myself, adjusting in my seat as NOTHING felt comfortable.

Even my clothes felt off, laying on my skin weird, I kept pulling my shirt and adjusting my pants. I was only saved when the class was dismissed, Anna hanging back to walk with me, her face looked sick.

“Christopher are you…are you okay?” She asks, her beautiful face was crested with worry as she looked me up and down. I was the most disheveled I’d ever been.

“No, no..not really you know that new roommate I was getting?” I ask her, trying to be vulnerable, when did Anna get so much shorter. I can’t help but think that as I looked her up and down it's like she was at my chin now instead of my forehead. I wanted to question it but as soon as my mouth open a burp came out of nowhere. I can tell Anna wants to help me but it was just so gross.

“y..ye..Yeah Brad right, you said on paper the guy was a total douche and you were like dreading it?” She asks waving her hand in her face, like she was wafting off some terrible smell. For some reason that motion alone had given me the ick, sure I didn’t smell great but that was just being a man. Wait where had that thought come from.

“Yeah, well he was like that as soon as he walked in the door, full muscle headed jock carrying his dirty laundry right to our floor.” I say waving my arms, raising them and exposing my now slightly hairy pit. That seemed to make Anna’s face worse, I could see her hold her nose, whatever attracted me to her fighting to hold onto the idea she was perfect. Because if she was perfect she’d admire this smell, she’d realize all the hard work that made that smell, how the grind never stops for them gains. What the fuck am i thinking I don’t work out, thi..this is from Brad.

“God that sounds awful, is that why you were late this morning?” She asks, getting further away. God she was so annoying

“Yeah, I guess that was him too.” I say getting uninterested in her, why was I even talking about my bro- I mean Brad with her.

“Well If he is causing issues you can always bring it up to student housing, I'm sure they’ll at least hear you out!” She says trying to sound hopeful for me, like if brad went away I would snap right back, I took a deep breath. I DIDNT WANT THAT. I couldn’t tell why I thought that, I did want him gone.

“Thanks Anna, I gotta go and try to clean up, i’ll talk with you later.” She nods, waving off, I still have to give her credit though. She might be annoying but damn was she hot. Maybe I didn’t want a relationship anymore but I wouldn't mind bangin- Fuck what's gotten into me.

________________

Getting to the dorm felt worse then sitting in that lecture. My clothes felt tighter, every step felt faster, and sweat was dripping off my face and running down my neck. I tried wiping it, feeling stubble graze my hand as I did. 5’ o clock shadow but I don’t- fuck the smell was so strong.

I got to the dorm fast, not saying hi to anyone I needed to get clean, my shirt stuck to my broader chest, my sleeves were stuck halfway down my forearms and my pants were cutting the circulation off at my thighs. When I opened the door I expected the mess, hell i expected the dumb jock on the bed. Just not a a GORGEOUS, LITHE HAIRLESS TWINK, bouncing up and down on his cock. Riding him like his life depended on it. His face buried into Brads chest as he stifled his own moans.

I wanted to say something, this, this was disgusting. The way that fucking twink arched his back as his hips gyrated. The way his ass bounced when Brad would thrust up to meet them. His whining grew stronger as Brad brought his meaty hands to hold the twinks face telling him he wanted to hear it. To hear how good he was making him feel. The twink threw his head back, eyes rolling, his curly brown hair bouncing with each thrust. This guy was losing his mind, his tongue hanging out as he groped Brad's Chest like they were handle bars to hold onto, their sweat mixing together, both men COVERED in it. His moans were insane as his eyes glazed over from pleasure, mouth opening wide as he begged for more. Brads face got hit with creamy fluid as the twink came his brains out.

God the smell was intoxicating I couldn’t help but breathe it in even if I felt like I wanted to vomit. Brad Manhandled him, switching their position till the twink was on his back, brads ass fully exposed to me. Covered in hairs, his meaty cheeks clapping with each thrust. He flexed so hard, pulling up both arms into a double bicep pose telling this fucked stupid man to worship him. The scent of sex, men and just everything washed over me, before I knew it my own vision was fogging up.

The last thing I saw before I hit the ground was Brad Cumming inside his boytoy, leaving both parties satisfied.

________

My dreams were filled with Brad Stroking a massive cock, at least ten inches long. His underwear, a bright red jockstrap down to his knees as he moved his hands up and down his Pre soaked cock. I felt my heart race as he got quicker, his words deep and loud bouncing around my head. You like this slut, you want it, give in worship a real man. Crawl over on your knees and burry your head into his crotch. Real men worship cocks. Real men submit to musk, real men deserve pleasure and muscle. BE A REAL MAN!

________

When I woke up I was still on the floor, Brad was lounging in just his red jockstrap like nothing had happened. The room was hotter then hell and we were both sweating up a storm. I felt my clothes fully stick to my skin, tight and unwelcoming to any sudden movements. Its like the fog that rolled in last night had fully settled, my brain conflicted confused and my TINY four incher was hard as a rock. Brad was scrolling through his phone when I managed to get onto my feet “Sup Bro sorry you walked in on that” he said nodding his head like I hadn’t just seen him get some primo bussy..wha..like the stud he was.

“Whats sup dude is that I literally just walked in to see you fucking some twink when I told you….” I'm immediately interrupted by him dropping his phone and staring at me. God the way that the red jockstrap just hugged his bulge was insane, my eyes didn’t want to leave it. The thought that that was just inside a guy made me want to hurl but my dream just then made my heart race faster then any chick ever had. My mouth watering, my jaw just a little slack.

“God Chris are you going to make it weird? You literally just said no chicks.” Brad says, in such a dismissive, douchebag way. Such a MANLY WAY. He’s such a real man he deserves pleasure. I almost lean into his voice, almost fall further under his spell, but there it was again. CHRIS, god I hate when people called me that, i shook my head.

“Bro don’t call me that, I hate when people call me Chris, it's Christopher and second..” he raises his arms behind his head exposing his armpits, His face taking on an amused grin. It's distracting but…but I need to say it Bro. “ Second You can’t be fuckin dudes in here either.”

“Fine Chris, i'll text you when i bring em over so you don’t barge in” He says almost conceding but even just the idea of some twink riding his cock makes me nauseous BRO. And he did it again, he called me Chris.

“Nah bro, you can’t be doin any of that gay shit in here” I say, venom leaking out of my voice. My friends had told me in the past that this was one of my biggest flaws. My homophobic beliefs, I always laughed it off, said I was always just hammin’ it up but really I meant it. I couldn’t stand fa- gay people.

“What did you just say to me Chris?!” he gets fully up and in my face, his body almost pressed against mine trying to get me to back down. He over-emphasizes my nam- I mean my nickname for some reason, only my friends called me that. Which he wasn’t, he was just going to keep calling me it, it was more important to tell my Bro the law of this dorm room then tell him off.

“You heard me, I don't want you shoving any of this gay shit in my face anymore!” I say standing tall. Yesterday I could have swore he lumbered over me, his hulking figure to my short self. Where before I was barely eye level with his chest I was up to his chin now, almost able to lay one on those kissable lips. I should have been nervous or questioned how I went from 5’6 to 5’10 but all I could feel was the fog and a heightened level of testosterone fueling my aggression.

“Take it back Chris, take it back right now!” For a second I could have sworn I saw bros eyes light up green, like some flicker of ancient eldritch power. But I was too caught up in his SEXY pheromones and musk to care. He had crossed to many lines in one day.

“No i won’t take it back you fuckin meat headed muscle queer freak. You have been nothing but disrespectful since you got here and now you're rubbing your sexuality in my face. I cant wait to fucking contact our GA and get you out of here!” I rant and ramble, finally speaking my mind. My mouth forming the cockiest, angriest smirk it's ever done as I feel pure relief.

Brad doesn’t immediately say anything, the room somehow grows darker, my spine feels not a chill but pure heat. Like a fire was set straight down my back. My clothes, the t-shirt and jeans I wore wet from sweat and clinging to my bigger body for dear life begin to stretch, the sound of fabric straining as Brad lets out a dull cold hearted laugh, his eyes dark.

“Well CHRIS, how bout I shove something in your face for real!” His voice brays as he brings his arm up before clamping it down on my face. His armpit acting like a black hole, my face landing perfectly underneath his musk immediately suffocating me in his pure man scent before everything WHITED OUT. I could no longer think ahead, hell I could no longer think. Bro’s scent was everything, and his godly sweat was marking me, seeping into my face and right to my brain. The dream flashing through my mind, Bros beautiful masculine body, his glorious cock and OH GOD THE WAY HE WAS FUCKING DESTROYING THAT TWINk. My mind and mouth both watering as the changes seeped into me. I felt myself nuzzle into Bro’s pits, sniffing, licking and worshipping them, the feel of his sweat and hair on my face making me feel so good. Moaning against the most divine scent I could imagine

The Musk wafted around me and traveled down my body, like a thick miasma of magic it removed my clothes turning the fabric into fog feeding brad, my lanky, lithe body of full display cramped against a MUSCLE GOD. BEGGING for his attention and admiration as I should. I felt the Sweat and GRIME seep deeper into my pores, my brow bone extending further giving me a more masculine look, my nose growing longer and wider giving me stronger features. My hair absorbing his sweat getting greased back tilla shell of a backwards cap magically appeared sealing my fate before I even knew it.

It felt so right being underneath BRO and all I had to do was lis- WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.

Brad was steady, keeping his heavy arm clamped down on my head. All these stray thoughts running rampant, the urge, no, need to LISTEN to him beating in my head as I realize all the weird thoughts, and changes that have happened to me in the last twenty four hours. The height, sweat, clothes being tighter, smelling worse and hating Anna, everything I pushed to the side and dismissed were him, as he revealed to me the truth.

“I tried so hard Bro, I wanted a real friend and I could tell you needed that too BRO, but you had to ruin it. I was too nice calling you CHRIS bro. Letting the change be simple and easy for you without takin too much. I can’t let some homophobic piece of shit have this gift, nah you can’t be CHRIS, YOU’RE OBVIOUSLY TOPHER!” His voice angry, sad and manic all at one as his other hand moves to the back of my head pushing me deeper into his MUSK. I panic trying to pull back but BRO is so much STRONGER AND HOTTER THAN ME, moan and groan against his pit inevitably still WORSHIPPING IT as I feel the words he emphasizes PULSE through me.

His hand moves down my neck, sending a shock through my system, my moans and groans come out strangled, and deeper as I feel that same PULSE wrap around my neck, this feeling of it widening as my adam apple grows bigger pushing against my vocal chords forever deepening my voice. My jaw feels stronger as it's chiseled away to match the neck I’m given. “That’s it TOPHER, Just give in to me, you're such a GOOD BOY TOPHER. You're gonna be my BRO and we’re gonna have so much fun TOPHER!” He says each use of BRO, TOPHER, and GOODBOY raking against my mind, scraping away parts of me and fueling this pulsing warmth inside of me. He releases me from his pit, both hands resting against my shoulders and it feels like the weight of my own existence has been put right on top of me. I feel my skin sizzle as it tans starting at my neck, and then my shoulders broaden becoming more masculine in size and better for holding muscles on my frame. It sends this thril of eroticism, of things to come as he teasingly starts moving them lower down my back.

I look at him,eyes pleading as I search for the words. “Please Bro, st..sto..stop whatever this is I promise Im sorry, please I’m….im not CHRISTOPHER- I mean i’m not Topher please. I’m not” My name jumps out of my mouth, my lips plumping as it does leaving me forever, erasing itself from my mind and clearing a better path for my BRO.

“You're not what TOPHER? What did you say I was? A MEATHEADED MUSCLE QUEER FREAK?! I think that's EXACTLY WHO TOPHER IS!!” He rushes his hands to my chest and I feel it, that same feeling from being trapped in his pit. My vision goes white and I let out this howling moan. Arching my back as my eyes roll back, his hands diving deeper than they should, flesh, muscle and the perfect amount of fat. It was heaven, it was orgasmic but it was also EDGING. My cock wanted to burst but something was stopping me as I tried to hump BRO. I couldn't stop myself. It felt like Brad was frying my brain through pleasure as he played with and sculpted these new muscle tits. Tweaking my nipples, growing them and making them more sensitive.

“Please Brad, please I just lemme cu-” Brad stops and grabs the jockstrap from underneath my pillow. “Shut the fuck up don’t you get tired of your voice. Just listen like the DUMBASS you are TOPHER!” He shoves the dirty smelly jockstrap into my mouth as he says it. The word dumbass ringing in my head as the backwards cap squeezes it in tandem with the pulses now shrinking my brain, the excess thoughts and ideas flowing down to my balls as BRAD resumes feeling me up and sculpting me. My back slowly becomes this tan corded muscle masterpiece as his magic spreads.

He moves to my arms this time making me flex them in a douchey HOT Double bicep pose. Each grave of his fingers, each press of his palm I feel this heat build in my body, as my bones are strengthened, my muscles BULGING and skin glowing in a beautiful tan. Till his hands travel inwards and dig into my pit, rubbing in a new stench MUSK that would be mine. Forever linking me to him and INFLUENCING all my decisions.

It Took a second for the foul DELICIOUS taste of the jock to settle in my mouth. I had foolishly tried to push it out with my tongue but each lick, each graze gave me a new flavor of man to savor. Each gulp of his sweat, precum, and cum stains drove my mind mad as I started to crave that taste. I couldn’t stop myself from internally begging for more as I begged for it to stop.

He moves his hands down my torso, each glance against my skin tightens my core, as he slides them down it leaves behind a cobblestone road of abs. Popping up like slabs of perfection All the while whispering my name in my ear over and over again. Topher, Topher, Topher, Topher, god I could listen to him whisper my name in my ear any day. He says it with so much lust and love I want to crea- ITS HAPPENING AGAIN, him saying my name helps him change me.

His hands make a clear v line down before releasing and taking a look at me. “Damn I gave you some Sexy Cum Gutters Topher.” he says walking around me, investigating his work as I helplessly pose for him losing my balance. “But don’t want you looking like a Dorito do we, gotta finish up Babe” he says lovingly teasing my inner thigh. Making them explode rapidly before he moves behind me and slaps me right on the ass. It happens again. That earth shattering feeling as my cheeks Jiggle before he gropes them. My eyes are rolling again as I helplessly beg for him to let me cum. My lips opened wide in shock as he does it again, spanking me. It happens again and again, HARD SPANKS to sensual groping as he creates a perfectly fuckable DUMPTRUCK of an ass that everyone would stare at.

Each time I'm begging to cum as he laughs, egging me on. “God your eyes are crossed BRO, look how the mighty have fallen, just a bit more!” he says massaging my cheeks one last time before his fingers slip between the crack and teases my hole, sending a massive pulse through me that makes my knees buckle. It shouldn’t even budge, no less open easy but the magic coating both of us now lets him tamper, and tease around my hoile before a finger slips in. im gasping for breaths as memories of girls I dated, crushes I had, feelings I bottled up are all erased. Whiting out again, and again as new pleasure centers are added to me.

A new need is demanded by my body, as one of Brad’s Massive, Gorgeous, Amazing hand makes me crave my hole being played with, as the other traces my thighs making them thunder thighs in seconds. His fingers tease and toy with me like I was just an instrument and he was a trained professional. My whimpering increases as he gets a second finger in while his other hand matches that tempo and carves my calves into perfect diamonds and he manages to get a third final finger into my CAVERNOUS, STARVING HOLE as his hand touches my feet. They explode becoming size 14 triple e wides.

“Almost there Bro any last words” He says destroying my world by removing his fingers. He pulls the jock out of my whining mouth, the need is so strong. My pathetic Dicklet is leaking so much precum, my mind is fried and I miss his fingers and the taste of his Dirty Jock.

“Please stop thi- BRO DONT STOP THIS, PLEASE I NEED…NEED..NEED to Cum Please..” he interupts my conflicted begging, his hand wrapping around my dick with ease swallowing it whole. He shushes me and tells me it's almost over as he easily glides his hand along my precum covered cock. The first stroke up feels like I’m getting harder. My cock raging and growing, as he slides it down it only continues the feeling. It goes from four to five in that brief moment as he gets to the root. He’s whispering in my ear how he likes his boys hairy, fur crops up around my chest, fills in my pits and covers my crotch.

His hand moves up again six inches. Down now my balls are sloshing with cum. Up were at seven he’s telling me how pretty I am, how cute I’ll look begging for his loads. Down I’m telling him he’s the hottest man in the world because it's true. Up now were at eight, no nine, I can't count all I feel is him slamming his hand all the way down again and nothing else matters. Its just Up, and down, Up and Down, UP, DOWN, UP ANd Down and now were at twelve inches and he tells me to say please and all i can do is fuck his hand over and over again pleading and begging as his other hand snaps and

Everything

Goes

White

Load after load shooting out. Every Memory, Every straight thought, higher thought or idea of who Christopher was unloading out of his balls as Topher takes over moaning and fucking his boyfriend Brad’s hand. No need to replace those memories, after all with Topher being a meatheaded dumb muscle queer freak he didn’t have the brain power to really remember that.

It was five loads before he was done and just stared at Brad who smiled and asked the him the only question he COULD answer now “Want to serve my Cock now Babe?”

“YES PLEASE!”

______ And that was one of the commission pieces I've done if anyone wants anything similar feel free to dm me I am currently taking coms and I do try to be accommodating to budgets <3

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