tf-evansblog

[tf-evansblog]

The Cursed Locker

Caleb and Jordan had always been the last ones out of school. Whether it was detention, sneaking into the AV room to play old horror movies, or just wandering the halls after dark, they liked pushing boundaries. That’s how they found the locker.

It was at the very end of the dimly lit hallway near the gym, a row of old, rusted lockers no one used anymore. Except one was… different. The number was worn away, its metal dented and scratched as if something had been trying to escape. But the thing that really caught their attention? The green glow leaking through the vents. “Dude, what the hell is that?” Caleb asked, taking a cautious step forward. Jordan smirked. “Only one way to find out.”

As they got closer, the glow pulsed, almost like it was… breathing. And then they heard it—whispers, calling their names, hissing promises of strength, power, something more.

“Open it,” the voice urged.

A normal person would’ve run. But they weren’t normal. With one final glance at each other, Caleb grabbed the handle and yanked it open.

A wave of stench hit them like a brick wall. The air was thick with the overwhelming odor of sweat, mildew, and decades of unwashed gym clothes. Inside, there was nothing but old sports gear: reeking cleats, yellowed tank tops, sweat-stained football pads, rank basketball shorts. The smell was unbearable, yet… intoxicating. Jordan coughed, eyes watering. “Bro, this is foul!”

Caleb felt the air shift the moment he opened the locker. The stench hit him first—a rancid, overwhelming wave of old sweat, mildew, and decades of unwashed gym clothes. It was the kind of smell that clung to the back of your throat, thick and nauseating. His stomach churned, and his eyes watered, but beneath the disgust, something else stirred. Something deep. Something primal.

Inside the locker, the contents looked mundane at first—battered cleats with laces frayed to the core, a cracked football helmet caked in dried sweat, a set of shoulder pads with yellowed foam and a stiff, sour texture. But the longer Caleb stared, the more the items seemed to pulse with an unnatural energy, glowing faintly under the sickly green light spilling from the locker’s depths. And then… he heard it. A voice, not quite a whisper, yet not fully formed, slithered into his mind.

“You’re not strong enough, Caleb.”

“You’re not tough enough.”

“But you could be.”

His hand moved on its own. Trembling, hesitant, he reached for the jersey draped over the pile—a faded maroon and gold football jersey, its fabric stiff with the ghosts of a thousand games. The second his fingers brushed against it, a jolt shot through his arm, freezing him in place.

The whispers grew louder.

“Put it on.”

His breath hitched. His skin crawled with an alien sensation, like something ancient and sweaty and overpowering was seeping into his pores, claiming him. He wanted to pull away. He wanted to turn back. But he didn’t. With a shaky breath, Caleb lifted the jersey and pulled it over his head. The moment it settled on his skin, his body seized.

A raw, burning heat ignited in his chest, spreading outward like wildfire. His veins pulsed, his muscles clenched, and then—It began.

His arms bulged, the once wiry limbs thickening with heavy, corded muscle. His pale, thin fingers swelled, his nails darkening as calluses formed on his palms—hands meant for gripping a football, for tackling, for dominating the field. The sleeves of the jersey, which had once hung loose, now stretched tight around his broadening shoulders as his chest expanded, his pecs pushing against the fabric.

A deep, bone-cracking pop echoed through his body as his spine lengthened, his torso widening, ribs pushing outward to accommodate his newfound bulk. His waist remained trim, but his legs—God, his legs. They exploded with power. His thighs thickened into massive trunks of pure muscle, the kind built for speed and impact. His calves coiled with strength, tendons reshaping to give him the reflexes of a seasoned athlete. The worn denim of his jeans strained, seams groaning, before splitting apart entirely.

Beneath them, his skin had darkened to a golden tan, the complexion of someone who had spent years under the relentless sun, practicing, sweating, grinding. His breathing hitched. The scent in the air—it wasn’t just coming from the locker anymore. It was coming from him. A thick, acrid musk seeped from his pores, pungent and overpowering. The smell of locker rooms, weight rooms, and endless summer practices baked into his very being. It clung to him, an unshakable part of who he was becoming.

His face twisted, his features shifting, molding into something new. His jawline became sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced. His nose broadened slightly, his lips plumping as a hint of stubble darkened his jaw. His straight, dull brown hair darkened, thickening into black waves, slightly damp with sweat, as though he had just come off the field. And then, the memories hit.

Flashes of games under the Friday night lights. The roar of the crowd. The brutal clash of bodies on the field. The sweat dripping down his face, his jersey clinging to his body after hours of practice. The pride, the adrenaline, the hunger to win.

He wasn’t Caleb anymore. He was Carlos.

Carlos Gutiérrez, the star linebacker of a high school football team, a natural-born athlete, built for brutality and victory. He lived for the game, for the weight of his shoulder pads digging into his skin, for the smell of sweat and dirt filling his lungs, for the unbreakable bond between teammates forged through blood, pain, and glory.

Carlos exhaled, rolling his massive shoulders as the old, sweat-stained football pads settled onto him like a second skin. His thick, muscled arms flexed instinctively, and he grinned. He stank. God, he stank. And he loved it.

Jordan watched in horror… and fascination. The whispering voices curled around him now, seducing him, calling to him. His fingers brushed against a pair of old basketball shorts, and before he could even think, he was stepping into them.

Carlos stood beside him now, a hulking, sweat-drenched football player, reeking of masculinity, muscles pushing against his pads, veins thick with strength. But Jordan barely noticed—his gaze was empty and lost.

He gasped.

His chest seized, his muscles tensed, and then— Everything snapped. Heat rushed through his body, a fiery, electric sensation that crawled beneath his skin, reshaping him, molding him, building him into something new.

His legs exploded first. The once-skinny limbs thickened, lengthened, stretching toward the ceiling as his femurs expanded, his knees cracking, his calves coiling with fast-twitch muscle built for speed and agility. His thighs ballooned with dense, powerful strength, the kind that could launch him into the air with effortless grace and dominance. His sneakers groaned, the rubber soles bending as his feet grew larger, broader, sculpted for the relentless pounding of a basketball court. Then came his torso.

His spine elongated with a sickening pop, his entire frame stretching upward, pushing past six feet with ease. His ribs shifted, his shoulders broadened, his chest expanded into a lean, chiseled masterpiece of athleticism. His arms, once gangly and unremarkable, swelled with defined muscle, his biceps and triceps sculpting themselves into perfection, his forearms corded with strength meant for fast breaks and powerful dunks. And the sweat. Oh, God, the sweat.

It erupted from his skin, thick, salty, pungent. A powerful, musky stench filled the air, soaking into the shorts he now wore, mingling with the decades-old scent of past players. It was ripe, overwhelming, completely inescapable. And it was his. Jordan choked on his own scent, but instead of disgust, he felt pride. He smelled like a baller, like an athlete, like someone who had spent his entire life drenched in the effort, the grind, the glory of the game. His skin darkened, shifting from pale to a rich, warm brown, smooth and glistening with sweat. His features morphed—his jawline sharpening, his cheekbones becoming more defined.

The two new athletes locked eyes. A strange understanding passed between them. The boys they had been—the nerds who had snuck around school, who had never set foot on a field or court—were gone.

Carlos rolled his massive shoulders, the dampness of his pads seeping into his skin. “Damn, bro,” he grunted, his voice thick with a Spanish accent he hadn’t had before. “I feel… good.”

Jamal bounced on the balls of his feet, spinning a phantom basketball on his fingertips. His body dripped with a constant layer of sweat, his scent thick, overpowering, dominant. “Hell yeah, man,” he smirked, cracking his neck. “Feels like I was born for this.”

The locker door slammed shut behind them, the green glow fading. The whispers died away.

All that was left was the stench of the two stinking boys.

[tf-evansblog]

“Oh yeahh! Now this is what I’m talking about!” The possessed hunk flexed his huge arms and walked onto the balcony of ‘his’ new flat. He stood overlooking the busy streey below in nothing but some tight undies. He loved the feeling of having such a big, strong fleshie body again, especially someone this attractive.

He cleared his throat until his voice was a perfect copy of Julien’s. A big smile crept across his face as he realized he could now perfectly imitate his sexy host’s mannerisms.

“Man, I could get used to this! Think our girlfriend will have any idea her boy Julien is actually possessed by a geeky white boy? Nah, I’m not gonna ruin your life dude, just enjoy myself. A secret grindr account never hurt anyone though!”

‘Julien’ walked back inside his flat and started to make a new account on his phone. “Oh and sorry bro, I’m totally a bottom too.”

[tf-evansblog]

Your Kind of Relationship

You made fun of Yousef a few minutes ago. It was just your kind of relationship. You grew up to be a beefy jock. He grew up to be a weedy nerd. It was just your dynamic. It didn't make you love him any less as a friend, though. This time, you might've gone too far, or maybe he was just fed up with you.

He got quiet, smirked, and started typing on his phone ferociously. It started small at first- you could notice his frame was filling out just a tad more. Maybe he actually had been going to the gym like he always talked about wanting to do, but then you noticed he was handsomer? It was like his pimples and rough oily skin just disappeared. He shifted position on the couch and spread his legs, you could see his newly long legs and thick thighs straining against his shorts. He was totally the type of guy that you would go for.

He excused himself, his voice a tad deeper as he went to the bathroom. You swore you could see the outline of his dick swaying, and it was huge. Like a moth to a flame, you couldn't help but to discreetly follow him. He closed the door behind him as you listened through the door.

He was clearly loudly jerking off, his moans low, intimate. Suddenly you heard a thud against the door- he fame so hard that it shot on the door all the way from the toilet.

The handle creaked open as he stared down at you, his eyes hungry, vengeful.

"So whose the nerd now?"

His voice was deep, sulty, controlling

"Y-you are daddy"

Your voice came out higher. You realized that he was a lot talller, but you must've also shrank down a few inches. Your newly skinny frame responded to his voice, your dick chubbing as he picked you up with ease and took you to the couch.

Yousef always had his way with you, and you loved how dominant he was. It was just your kind of relationship.

[tf-evansblog]

I came home from work when I felt something push into my back. I tried to turn around to see what it was and that's when it all happened.

I began to lose control of my body. It was like something else was taking over and I couldn't stop it. After trying to fight back I finally lost to whatever it was.

I took a deep breath in and kept walking inside my apartment. I was beginning to strip

"OH yeah this will do nicely" came out of my mouth but I didn't mean to say it.

"Fuck man your hot" I said again, not in control.

"Sorry bud, but I need to get laid tonight and my boyfriend and I have been watching you two and figuring out this possession for a while" I said.

What? What did he mean by possession? Was I being possessed by a ghost?

Wait.......he, I said two.....oh fuck Kevin my roommate was in the other room.

As I was thinking about him I heard Kevin say "what the fu" as it was cut off by weird sounds and thrashing about.

"There's my boyfriend " I said as I completely stripped naked

I opened the door to Kevin's room to see him half naked sitting smoking a cigarette.

"Hey babe" He said as he came and gave me a kiss.

As much as I wanted to stop it, my body welcomed and kissed him back. At the same time I pulled his body into mine while I was tasting his cigarette smoke on my tongue. I was getting hard, and so was Kevin.

"I can't wait to fuck you" I said

"Likewise baby" Kevin said. " and your positive this will work? "

"Having sex while in control will make their bodies except us as the main hosts, these guys will be their but we will be in charge and can finally be together" I said

WHAT?? NO no no this can't be happening.

"I can't wait to spend my life with you" Kevin said and began kissing me again.

I had to watch and feel in horror as me and Kevin were forced to have sex against our will. I played with his cock in my mouth and my cock in his. What was worst is that they made it feel so freaking good. I wasn't gay but I couldn't help to feel how these two ghost felt for each other.

I fucked him while stroking his cock and about 30 minutes later we both came and hard.

I felt the control slip away from me. I felt the other guy take full control as my cock throbbed. It was a weird bliss. I laid there next to Kevin holding him as he laid on me. I began playing with his pecs.

"These pecs are amazing" I said

"You can play with them whenever you like" Kevin said.

I gave a big smile. "I'm looking forward to this" and I started getting aroused again.

As much as I wanted to protest, all of it slipped away as I accepted my fate. I hope Kevin did too because I was beginning to feel what other me felt and wanted to hold Kevin and play with him and fuck him and suck him.....I guess this is my life now.

Kevin went down on me this time and then we showered together talking about our new life together and all I could feel , strangle was, Happy

[tf-evansblog]

"You really think I'll be out when Pride's over? Yeah, tough luck, fucker, I'm staying fit through you until I have enough looking at your reflection in the mirror while sniffing your fucking pig stench. A lot of them folks like the new you anyway, so why should I stop making you bend those twinks under the shower or spread your cheeks for those DILFs in the bar? No answer? Exactly, as you should, fucker. No talking back to the one in charge of your physique,"

[tf-evansblog]

Catfish Corruption

"Who the fuck are you???" said Leon to the strangers he found sleeping next to him as he leapt out from his bed, his mind raced to all sort of possibilities and the slight annoyance at his fucker that seemingly just unceremoniously left. The sleeping, slightly-overweight Felix just chuckled casually as if this is something normal as he stretched himself in Leon's bed

"It wears off already, huh. This is gotta be 9 AM or something," he murmured to himself

"What the fuck are you saying? Again, who are you?"

"You'll know me soon," smirked Felix as he grabbed his phone from the bedside cabinet. Mere moments later, Felix is no longer in bed and in his place is Leon's date from last night, Fred.

"Should have extended it last night for a few more hours so you don't have to see the real me hahahahah. Anyway, ta-da,"

Leon just dropped unconscious due to the revelation, and only after around an hour, he's awake once more. This time, he's welcomed by the sight of a buff DILF smiling at him

"Don't pass out again, okay? Let me explain to you,"

So, as Felix explained in great details about the premium version of the dating app they both used, Leon couldn't help himself to not drop his jaw with every sentences coming out from Felix's mouth

"So the app tracked even our time on a date? That's creepy...."

--

" Got thumbed down until 500 times before that option exist? Is that even common? Dang bro, you were fine originally, what's wrong with society? And how is this supposedly helped your self-esteem??"

--

"Tipping the scales in the favour of the rejected, to end injustice? Bro, it's a dating app.....that sounds like something coming straight from revenge p---"

--

"You can CUSTOMIZE the look you wanted and HAVE MORE THAN 10 saved???? What is that going to do, it's not like you are trying to be a secret agent or----"

--

"You can customize the duration of wearing one look up to 72 hours? What is this, suit rental---"

--

"Express alteration so you can take the look of someone that rejected you? Bro.......that can be used for so many bad---"

--

But eventually, what mattered is the moment when Felix tinkered with Leon's phone and that allowed him to have the "Catfish" feature. The 25 years old marketing associate fantasized his senior manager a tad too much, even his catfish look is almost an exact replica of him

"Fuck, I really looked like Damien.......dude, this shit is sick,"

"No, dude. Sick is the fact that he can boss you around to do shit when you are in fact can ruin his life by just posing as him and pull off some stupid shenanigan as a revenge. He's only in his position probably because he fucked that recently-divorced slutty director of yours,"

"Wait---how do you know about our office's gossip?"

Felix just stared intently at the tense Leon, and then just like a breeze of the wind, Leon calmed himself down a couple seconds later

"Let's just say, I curated the people that I want to get their hands on this upgrade, and you are one of the select few," Felix said smirking as he approached Leon and tried to hold his face. As he grabbed Leon's much-more angular and different face from his original face this morning, Leon's eyes twinkled in different light, Felix words seemingly find its way to Leon's psyche that no longer terrified or astounded by what just transpired

Not even noon, and both Felix and Leon already welcomed an eager pervy twunk that fell victim to their bait. They advertised themselves as two fit French tourist looking for a good guide (and fucktoy) while they are on holiday in the States, and of course more than a dozen people flooded their message in under 5 minutes, only for one to get replied as Felix scrolled through his profile and believed this person would benefit the most from having the upgrade installed to his phone. Now, the question is, what kind of twisted alteration Felix will manipulate his new target to turn into, and with Leon by his side, surely there will be more than enough encouraging voices to corrupt the twunk to fulfill his most insatiable fantasy of his own

[tf-evansblog]

Spiked the Champagne

[tf-evansblog]

Possessed by Pleasure

(AI Generated)

The summer sun beat down mercilessly on the empty park, the air thick with humidity that clung to everything like a second skin. Colton, a broad-shouldered college jock with a mop of blonde hair plastered to his forehead, chucked another rock at the ducks gliding across the pond. The splash echoed in the stillness, the ducks scattering with indignant quacks. He wiped sweat from his brow, his tank top soaked through, clinging to his chiseled frame. 

Nearby, Samuel sprawled across a weathered bench, his muscular legs splayed wide, fanning himself lazily with his baseball cap. His thick, curly mullet dripped sweat onto his neck, the dark brown strands matted against his tanned skin. His hairy chest glistened under the open shirt he hadn’t bothered to button, the heat making him careless.

“Man, this summer’s a fuckin’ drag,” Colton groaned, tossing another rock. “No parties, no chicks, just our dumbass parents nagging us about school.”

Samuel snorted, tilting his cap back to reveal his sharp green eyes. “Tell me about it, bro. My old man’s on my case about grades again. Like I give a shit about calculus when I could be balls-deep in some sorority girl.” He grinned, crude and unapologetic, scratching at the coarse hair on his chest. “Remember that blonde from the Kappa house? Swear she was begging for it after, like, two beers.”

Colton laughed, a low, arrogant sound. “Yeah, dude, you’re such a stud. Bet she’s still dreaming about that mullet tickling her thighs.” 

They cackled, their voices carrying across the empty park, brimming with the careless bravado of youth. They were kings of their own small world, untouchable in their shared arrogance, lazy in their disregard for anyone but themselves.

Boredom gnawed at them, the kind that made trouble sound like fun. “Let’s head into town,” Samuel suggested, sitting up and cracking his knuckles. “Steal some shit, mess with people. You know, the usual.”

Colton’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Fuck yeah. Let’s see how many of those old farts we can piss off before dinner.” 

They grabbed their stuff, littering the park with empty soda cans and chip bags without a second thought, and kicked over a “No Loitering” sign by the park entrance for good measure. The crunch of metal under Samuel’s sneaker made them both laugh as they sauntered toward town, their strides long and confident.

The main street was quiet, the heat keeping most folks indoors. They passed a diner, where Samuel flipped off a waitress who glared at them through the window, and stopped outside an antique store tucked between a barber shop and a laundromat. The faded sign read “Mabel’s Oddities,” and the window displayed dusty trinkets and creepy porcelain dolls that made Colton shudder exaggeratedly.

“This place looks like a fuckin’ haunted house,” he muttered, but his grin betrayed his interest.

Inside, the air was musty, thick with the scent of old wood and mothballs. Shelves overflowed with junk—rusted candelabras, chipped teacups, a taxidermied owl that seemed to stare right through them. Behind the counter sat an old woman, her hair a wild nest of gray, her eyes sharp and suspicious. She wore a shawl that looked older than the town itself, and her voice rasped like dry leaves when she warned them, “Don’t touch nothin’ unless you’re buyin’.”

“Yeah, yeah, chill, grandma,” Samuel said, flashing a smirk as he poked at a brass lamp. 

The woman, presumably Mabel, glared but said nothing, her fingers tightening around a cane propped against the counter. Colton wandered toward the back, nudging Samuel and nodding toward a glass case behind the counter. Inside was an ancient tome, its leather cover cracked and adorned with strange, swirling sigils that seemed to pulse under the dim light. A small brass lock held it shut, glinting faintly.

“Dude,” Colton whispered, his eyes gleaming. “That book looks like some Harry Potter shit. Bet it’s worth something.”

Samuel’s grin widened. “Let’s snag it. You distract the old hag, I’ll grab it.” 

Colton nodded, sauntering to the back of the store where he “accidentally” knocked over a shelf of glass figurines. The crash was deafening, and Mabel hobbled over, cursing under her breath. Samuel seized the moment, slipping behind the counter with the grace of a practiced thief. His fingers worked quickly, picking the lock on the case with a paperclip he kept in his pocket for exactly this kind of thing. The tome was heavier than it looked, its pages yellowed and brittle, but he tucked it under his arm and whistled sharply. Colton bolted for the door, Samuel close behind, their laughter echoing as they sprinted down the street.

Mabel stood at the entrance, shaking her fist and screaming, “You little shits! You’ll regret touchin’ that book!” 

Samuel turned, flipping her off with both hands. “Suck it, you old bitch! Go back to your cauldron!” They disappeared around the corner, the tome pressed against Samuel’s sweat-soaked shirt, their cackling fading into the humid air.

—

Back at Samuel’s house, the two sprawled in the living room, the AC barely keeping up with the heat. The tome sat on the coffee table, its presence oddly commanding. Its leather cover was warm to the touch, the sigils seeming to writhe when caught in the corner of their eyes. Colton pried open the lock with a pocketknife, revealing pages filled with incomprehensible text, the ink faded but still dark in places, some smeared with what looked like dried blood. The metallic scent hit them both, and Samuel wrinkled his nose. “What the fuck is this? Some kinda vampire diary?”

Colton flipped through, stopping on a page with a vivid illustration. It showed a circle of naked figures—men and women locked in a writhing, orgiastic embrace around a pentagram. Above them hovered a horned creature, its form both grotesque and alluring, with a tail curling like smoke. 

“Yo, check out the tits on that one,” Colton said, pointing at a woman in the drawing, his voice dripping with juvenile glee.

Samuel laughed, but his eyes caught something else—a scrawled translation beneath the pentagram, written in shaky Latin. 

“Hey, look at this. Someone wrote what it says.” Without thinking, he read the words aloud, his voice stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables: “Ego invoco te, Xaz’zaraul, filius Asmoseros, dominus libidinis…” 

The incantation rolled off his tongue, each word heavier than the last, until the final syllable hung in the air like a thunderclap.

The world went silent. The hum of the AC, the distant chirp of cicadas, even the creak of the house all vanished. The air thickened, pressing against their skin, and a wave of dread washed over them, primal and suffocating. 

Colton’s eyes widened. “Yo, Sam, you feel that?”

Before his friend could answer, a deep, sultry voice purred from behind them, “Oh, I definitely felt that.”

Hands, warm, strong, and unnervingly heavy suddenly settled on their shoulders. They yelped, scrambling forward and spinning to face the intruder.

He was massive, at least seven feet tall, his skin a deep, blood-red that seemed to glow faintly in the dim room. Black, wiry hair covered his broad chest and scalp, framing a face that was both youthful and wickedly handsome, with sharp cheekbones and a goatee that he stroked with long, clawed fingers. A tattered cloth hung low around his hips, barely covering him, and a long, whip-like tail swayed lazily behind. The air around him shimmered with heat, carrying a scent that was intoxicating—sweat, musk, and something primal that made their pulses race.

Colton stammered, “What… what the fuck are you?”

The creature bowed with a flourish, his tail flicking playfully. “Xaz’zaraul, at your service. But you boys can call me Raul. One of the thirteen sons of Asmoseros, lord of lust and carnal delight.” His voice was like velvet, each word dripping with promise. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as he savored the humid air of the room. “It’s been… oh, two thousand years since I last tasted the mortal world. You boys opened a lovely little rift for me to slip through.”

Samuel’s shirt, discarded on the couch earlier, caught Raul’s eye. He bent down, picking it up with a reverence that was almost obscene, and pressed it to his face. His long, forked tongue slithered out, lapping at the sweat-soaked fabric, his sharp teeth grazing it as he moaned softly. “Such… vitality,” he murmured, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

Samuel, pale and trembling, shouted, “You’re a fucking sex demon?!”

Raul’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “Precisely.” He dropped the shirt, his gaze sweeping over them both, lingering on Samuel’s hairy chest, slick with sweat from the heat. “And I’m here to indulge. But first, I need a human vessel. A permanent home in this world.” 

His eyes locked onto Samuel, predatory and hungry. “You’ll do nicely.”

Samuel bolted for the door, his heart pounding, but Raul vanished in a blur, reappearing in front of him with a chuckle. “Now, now, where’s the fun in running?” 

Samuel skidded to a halt, fists raised, his voice shaking but defiant. “I’ll kick your ass back to whatever fucked-up hell you crawled out of!”

Raul laughed, a rich, throaty sound. “I admire that fire. It’ll taste divine.” 

Before Samuel could swing, Raul’s hand shot out, clawed fingers tangling in the jock’s curly mullet. Samuel froze, his body seizing as if struck by lightning. His eyes rolled back, turning milky white, and his limbs trembled violently, muscles twitching under his sweat-slicked skin. 

Raul threw his head back, moaning, “More! More! Give me more!” His voice was ecstatic, feeding off whatever he was pulling from Samuel.

Seconds later, the shaking stopped. Samuel’s fists dropped, his shoulders slumped, and his head lolled forward. His eyes returned to their normal green, but they were empty, unfocused, like windows to a vacant house. His jaw hung slack, a thin line of drool trickling down his chin, pooling on his hairy chest.

Colton, frozen in horror, choked out, “What did you do to him?”

Raul smirked, his voice suddenly shifting seamlessly into Samuel’s, complete with the faint Texan drawl. “I vacated the premises, bro. Flushed out all that pesky personality, memories, everything that made him… Samuel. He’s an empty vessel now, ready for me.” He winked, his expression so eerily Samuel that Colton’s stomach churned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got all his essence. I’ll slide right into his life, and no one will ever know.”

Colton tried to run, but his body wouldn’t move, his limbs locked as if bound by invisible chains. He could only scream, his voice hoarse. “Let us go, you freak!”

Raul wagged a finger, his voice back to its sultry timbre. “Oh, Colton, where’s the fun in that? Stay. Watch the show.”

He turned to Samuel’s mindless body, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Leaning close, he whispered into Samuel’s ear, words too soft and guttural to decipher, a low chant that seemed to vibrate through the air. 

Samuel’s body suddenly jerked to life, moving with a clumsy, puppet-like grace, as if strings were pulling him from within. His hands fumbled at his belt, fingers trembling as they unbuckled it, the leather sliding through the loops with a slow, deliberate rasp. His jeans fell to his ankles, followed by his boxers, the fabric catching briefly on his thick thighs before pooling on the floor. His cock sprang free, already half-hard, glistening with sweat in the humid air, the tip twitching as if responding to an unseen command.

Samuel’s face twisted into a vacant, perverse grin, his mouth slurring incoherent groans, “Uhh… nngh… f-feels…” His voice was thick, sluggish, barely forming words, each sound dripping with drool that spilled from his slack jaw, sliding down his chin and onto his hairy chest.

His hands moved mechanically, guided by Raul’s will, fingers grazing his nipples, pinching them until they hardened. His groans grew louder, more animalistic, “G-good… uhh… m-more…” His body shuddered with each touch, his muscles flexing involuntarily, sweat beading and rolling down his torso, catching in the coarse hair that spread across his pecs and trailed down to his navel.

Raul stepped closer, his presence radiating heat that made the air shimmer. He pressed his nose into the crook of Samuel’s neck, inhaling deeply, his long tongue flicking out to taste the salt of Samuel’s skin. 

“This flesh,” he murmured, his voice a low, reverent growl, “so ripe, so brimming with primal energy.”

His clawed fingers traced the contours of Samuel’s back, lingering on the curve of his spine, then sliding up to tangle in the damp curls of his mullet. He tugged gently, tilting Samuel’s head back, exposing the taut line of his throat. Samuel’s empty eyes stared at the ceiling, his mouth open, drool pooling and dripping in slow, viscous strands.

Raul’s hands roamed lower, skimming over Samuel’s hips, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin just above his groin. Samuel’s cock twitched, hardening fully, precum beading at the tip and sliding down the shaft, mixing with the sweat that coated his skin. Raul’s tail slithered forward, its tip curling around Samuel’s thigh, the smooth, warm surface brushing against his inner leg, teasingly close to his balls.

Samuel’s body reacted instinctively, his hips jerking forward, a slurred moan escaping his lips, “Nngh… s-so… gooood… uuuh…” His face contorted into a lewd grimace, his tongue lolling slightly, drool spilling onto his chest, glistening in the dim light.

The demon’s hands guided Samuel’s own, one wrapping around his cock, the other kneading his pecs, fingers digging into the muscle, tugging at the coarse hair. Raul moved with deliberate slowness, savoring every reaction, every twitch of Samuel’s mindless body. 

He leaned in, his lips brushing Samuel’s ear, whispering more incomprehensible words that made Samuel’s groans deepen, his voice a low, guttural, “F-fuuuck… nnngh… p-please…” The words were barely coherent, a string of slurred syllables driven by pure sensation, his body a puppet to Raul’s perverse control.

Across the room, a mirror reflected the scene, but Raul’s form was invisible. It was just Samuel, standing alone, his hand stroking his cock with slow, rhythmic motions, his face twisted into a perverse smirk that looked wrong, alien on his features. His hairy chest heaved with each breath, sweat and drool mixing into a slick sheen that caught the light.

Colton, paralyzed, could only watch, his pleas growing weaker, his voice cracking. “Stop it… please… that’s my best friend…”

Raul’s voice shifted back to Samuel’s, taunting, the Texan drawl dripping with mockery. “Yo, bro, check it out. Feels so fuckin’ good jerkin’ my fat cock. Look at it, man, fuckin’ throbbing.” 

He sped up the strokes, Samuel’s hips bucking in rhythm, the wet slapping of skin growing louder, more frantic. Samuel’s body was a perfect marionette, every movement dictated by Raul’s will, his thighs trembling, his cock leaking steadily now, precum dripping onto the floor in thick, glistening drops. 

His groans were a constant stream of slurred nonsense, “Uhh… f-feels… s-sooo… nngh… g-goood…” His eyes remained vacant, but his face twisted into expressions of raw, mindless pleasure, his mouth hanging open, drool pooling and spilling, his tongue flicking out instinctively.

Raul’s tail tightened around Samuel’s thigh, the tip brushing higher, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath his balls. Samuel’s body shuddered violently, his hips thrusting forward, his cock pulsing in his hand. Raul’s fingers slid down Samuel’s chest, tracing the lines of muscle, circling his navel, then dipping lower to cup his balls, rolling them gently in his palm. 

Samuel’s groans grew louder, more desperate, “M-more… uhh… f-fuuck… nngh… meee…” His voice was a broken record of pleasure, each sound punctuated by the wet slap of his hand on his cock, the slick sound filling the room like a perverse symphony.

Raul leaned back, his eyes gleaming with delight as he watched Samuel’s body writhe under his control. He pressed his chest against Samuel’s back, his red skin hot against the jock’s sweat-slicked flesh, guiding both of Samuel’s hands now—one stroking his cock, the other pinching and twisting his nipple. The demon’s long tongue slithered out, lapping at the sweat on Samuel’s neck, then trailing down to his shoulder, tasting the salt and musk with a low, satisfied moan. 

“This body is a fucking feast,” Raul purred, his voice vibrating against Samuel’s skin. “Every inch of it, pulsing with desire. I can’t wait to play with you forever.”

Samuel’s body responded with a shudder, his hips bucking harder, his cock throbbing in his hand. His face was a mask of mindless ecstasy, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth open in a constant stream of drool and slurred groans, “G-good… uughh… s-so… f-fuuuuck…”

His thighs trembled, his muscles flexing and relaxing in waves, his body entirely at the mercy of Raul’s touch. The demon’s tail slid higher, the tip brushing against Samuel’s cock, curling around the base and squeezing gently, eliciting another slurred moan, “Nngh… p-please… m-more…”

Raul’s grin widened, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Time for the finale, Samuel. Cum for me. Let me in.” 

He pressed himself fully against Samuel’s back, his red-skinned form aligning perfectly with the jock’s sweat-soaked body. Samuel’s face flushed red, his grin blissful and empty, his thighs spasming as his cock pulsed harder, the precum flowing freely now, coating his hand and dripping onto the floor. Raul’s hands tightened on Samuel’s, guiding the strokes with fierce intensity, the rhythm relentless, the wet slapping echoing through the room.

Then, with a devious chuckle, Raul began to merge with Samuel’s body. His red skin shimmered as he pressed himself into Samuel’s back, his form sinking into the jock’s flesh. The invasion was slow, deliberate, each inch of Raul’s body melding with Samuel’s, the sensation overwhelming. 

Samuel’s body convulsed violently, his eyes crossing, his hips thrusting wildly as if trying to escape the intrusion but unable to resist. His groans became a cacophony of slurred, incoherent sounds, “Nngh…yeees… f-fuuck… c-cum… uuhh… i-inside…” 

His cock throbbed, the tip swollen, and with a final, shuddering thrust, he erupted. Thick ropes of cum shot out, splattering his hairy chest, his face, and the mirror across the room. The orgasm was relentless, wave after wave, his body jerking with each pulse, cum mixing with the sweat and drool that coated him, his face twisted in blissful, mindless pleasure.

Raul’s tail was the last to disappear, slithering into Samuel’s back with a final, obscene wriggle. Samuel’s body arched, his head thrown back, a guttural scream tearing from his throat as the demon fully claimed him. His cock continued to spew, the cum pooling on the floor, streaking his thighs, and matting the hair on his chest. 

His body slumped briefly, jerking erratically, then straightened, standing tall as he took a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes rolled back, then snapped forward, no longer vacant but gleaming with a devious, unfamiliar light.

Colton, tears streaming down his face, whispered, “Sam?”

The figure turned, grinning. “Of course it’s me, bro. Your best friend since middle school.” 

The voice was wrong—Raul’s deep, sultry tone. He laughed, catching himself, and shifted back to Samuel’s voice, complete with the Texan drawl. “Whoops. Sorry, but Samuel’s gone now. His body and mind, however, are all mine to keep.” 

He stretched, flexing Samuel’s biceps, then buried his face in Samuel’s hairy armpit, inhaling deeply. “Fuck, this flesh is exquisite.” His tongue lapped at the sweat, a low moan escaping as he savored it.

He ran his hands over Samuel’s chest, smearing cum across the hair, then scooped some from the floor and licked it off his fingers, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

“This body’s a goddamn masterpiece,” he purred, flexing again, admiring the taut muscles. “Not as strong as my old form, but the sensations… worth it.”

Colton’s voice was barely a whisper. “W-What about me?”

The new Samuel sauntered over, grabbing Colton’s chin and licking the side of his face, tasting the salt of his tears and sweat. 

“Don’t worry, bro,” he said, his voice dripping with Samuel’s cadence. “My younger demon brother’s dying to try on some human flesh. You’ll make a fine vessel.” He grinned, the expression alien on Samuel’s face, a perverse mask hiding the demon within. “We’re gonna have so much fun with this world.”

Colton’s tears fell faster, licked away by the demon’s tongue. The room reeked of sweat, cum, and something darker, the air heavy with the consequences of their reckless theft. The tome lay forgotten on the table, its pages fluttering as if stirred by an unseen wind, a silent witness to the demonic desires now unleashed into the world.

The End & Beginning of the Lust Demon's Era...

[tf-evansblog]

Hopped Jock

You like what you see? I did too, that’s why I took it for myself. You see, this isn’t actually my body, I stole it.

I’m a body hopper, which basically means I can jump into peoples bodies and take control.

I’ve been alive for many many years now all because I jump into hot guys, like the one you see above, and live out the rest of their lives until I find someone else.

I quite like my new host, don’t you? Young, lean, muscular, and you should see what he’s packing downstairs!

No seriously, wanna see?

I might even fuck you with it if you’re lucky

[tf-evansblog]

"If you're going to go through with this, can you at least make me forget?"

Evan’s voice cracked as he stood in Jonah’s dim, incense-clouded apartment, his borrowed body hunched awkwardly under the low ceiling. It had been two weeks. Two weeks since the mirror ritual. Two weeks since the spell that was never meant to end like this.

Jonah didn’t meet his eyes. He couldn’t. He just kept busy at the altar in the corner—brass bowls, crystals, burnt herbs. All useless now.

“It wasn’t supposed to be permanent,” Jonah muttered, voice tight. “You were just supposed to—wear the disguise. Blend in. Gather info. Infiltrate that council cell and extract the identity key. You were supposed to come back.”

Evan laughed—dry and joyless. “Yeah? Tell that to my reflection.”

He gestured toward the cracked mirror propped up by duct tape and hope. The reflection that stared back was alien, and yet achingly familiar now. The greasy curls slicked back by habit. The deeply etched lines along a jaw that now bristled with five o’clock shadow twenty-four-seven. The monstrous, impossible mustache that twitched whenever he clenched his jaw, which was often these days.

His shirt—a permanent fixture, mustard yellow, slightly damp with sweat—gaped open halfway down his chest, where thick curls of hair spilled over like creeping vines. His eyes—once light, alert—were now deep-set, shadowed, and, worst of all, tired.

He'd done everything he could to reverse it. Followed every incantation Jonah scrawled for him. Drank teas. Meditated. Cleansed. But the magical threads of the transformation had fused too deeply.

“I don’t know what went wrong,” Jonah admitted finally. “The spell should have unraveled when you left the target zone. When the energy signature faded. But it’s... like the body anchored itself. And now it won’t let you go.”

Evan sat down hard on Jonah’s stained couch, rubbing his temples with trembling, calloused fingers.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered. “I’m losing track of when I showered last. I stink, Jonah. My neighbors flinch when they see me. The mail carrier avoids eye contact. I found a sticky note on my door that said ‘KEEP YOUR EYES TO YOURSELF.’”

He shuddered. “I’m becoming him. And the worst part is... he didn’t even exist before. This sleazy creep—Salvatore Ferrini—was conjured up by the spell. And now everyone just knows him. Like he’s been here for years. People wave. Girls give dirty looks. Some guy at the bar said ‘Hey Sal, you still owe me for that poker game.’”

Evan leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t even know what that means. I don’t know how to be him. But I can’t keep being me in this nightmare.”

Silence fell.

Jonah finally turned to face him. “You really want to forget? To stop fighting it?”

Evan nodded slowly. “I’d rather be a full creep than half of one.”

Jonah hesitated, then reached into a drawer and pulled out a small vial. Glowing blue. Cool to the touch. “This won’t turn you back. But it’ll finish what started. It’ll seal the identity. You’ll forget Evan. I’ll forget Evan. Sal will be all that’s left.”

Evan took it without hesitation. He unscrewed the lid, sniffed once. Peppermint and rot.

Then he drank.

It started slow.

Evan blinked once. His spine slackened. His breathing deepened. A layer of tension peeled away from his bones like dead skin. His jaw unclenched and then slowly began to jut forward, his lips pushing out slightly as his face settled into a more slouched, slack expression. He scratched under his collar, letting out a soft grunt of discomfort as he tugged at the sweat sticking his mustard shirt to his now-hairier chest.

Another blink.

Time stuttered.

His fingers thickened where they rested in his lap. The air in the apartment shifted, blurred—like a dream disintegrating at the edges. Jonah felt the change too—though he couldn’t say what was changing. Something in the room grew older, more cramped, as if gravity itself weighed heavier.

Evan blinked again. And didn’t come back.

The man in the room hunched forward with a grunt and scratched under his massive, bristling black mustache. His mouth hung half-open in thought, then curled into a smirk as he spoke:

“Eh... right. The drill. You said I could borrow it, yeah? Mine’s crapped out. Got a leak under the sink won’t fix itself.”

Jonah’s brow furrowed. He rubbed his temples, confused by the sudden wave of disorientation washing through his head.

Where was—

Sal Ferrini stood up, one hand on his lower back, groaning as he stretched his broad, unkempt shoulders beneath the stained yellow shirt. He wiped his fingers down the front, leaving faint smears of grease from somewhere unseen.

“Y’know, you should really do something about that stress, kid. I got a girl I call when the pipes get too tight—heh.” He winked, his mustache twitching as he chuckled at his own innuendo. “You want her number? Works cheap. Very... enthusiastic.”

Jonah grimaced automatically, taking a step back without thinking. His nose wrinkled—Sal always had this sweaty cologne and old tobacco aura around him. The man’s presence lingered in the room like a spill that wouldn’t wipe clean.

“No thanks, Sal,” Jonah muttered, already regretting answering the door a few minutes ago.

“Suit yourself,” Sal shrugged. “Don’t say I never offered.”

He turned toward the hallway, hand already reaching for the doorknob, but paused just before exiting. “Buzz me if you find that drill, huh? Doorbell’s busted, as usual.”

And with that, Sal Ferrini lumbered out, leaving behind a faint trail of body heat and something vaguely resembling cheap cologne.

Jonah stood in the center of the apartment for a long moment, rubbing his face like he could wipe off the lingering presence of his neighbor. The door clicked shut behind Sal with a final, unpleasant sound, leaving a stale silence in its wake.

He muttered to himself, “Why do I keep agreeing to help that guy?” though he couldn’t quite remember the first time Sal had ever come by. It felt like he’d always lived down the hall, always been that persistent, sleazy nuisance—a fixture of the building, like the broken buzzer and the weird stain in the lobby carpet.

--

Down in 3B, Sal Ferrini whistled a low, tuneless melody as he fiddled with the leaky pipe under his sink. Shirt open wide, he scratched his chest with a plumber’s wrench and sighed.

Something about today felt good.

Like he was finally himself.

[tf-evansblog]

Drowned in Lust

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

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

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

"His smell?" Terrence swallowed hard

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, Julian. It worked."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Julian’s eyes went wide. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A large hand landed on his ass, squeezing roughly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chase eyed him suspiciously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

[tf-evansblog]

“Oh yeahh! Now this is what I’m talking about!” The possessed hunk flexed his huge arms and walked onto the balcony of ‘his’ new flat. He stood overlooking the busy streey below in nothing but some tight undies. He loved the feeling of having such a big, strong fleshie body again, especially someone this attractive.

He cleared his throat until his voice was a perfect copy of Julien’s. A big smile crept across his face as he realized he could now perfectly imitate his sexy host’s mannerisms.

“Man, I could get used to this! Think our girlfriend will have any idea her boy Julien is actually possessed by a geeky white boy? Nah, I’m not gonna ruin your life dude, just enjoy myself. A secret grindr account never hurt anyone though!”

‘Julien’ walked back inside his flat and started to make a new account on his phone. “Oh and sorry bro, I’m totally a bottom too.”

[tf-evansblog]

I Wish I Was More Like Him

(Requested by @bodyswappingandshit)

Martins house was an absolute mess. It took some of his friends coming over the previous night and commenting on it for him to realise. So today he took it upon himself to do a bit of cleaning. He went through room after room, picking up rubbish and miscellaneous items that were strewn around. It was only when he was cleaning out the junk draws in his bedroom that Martin stumbled across something odd.

Inside one of those draws was what looked to be a small monkey statue or something. It didn’t look at all familiar though. He had absolutely zero memory of every seeing it before let alone storing it in his house. Yet here it was. Curiously Martin inspected the statue only to notice it had something strange written on the back.

“You have one wish courtesy of the chimpanzee. Just be aware of its trickery.”

It sounded like some poor attempt at a rhyme but the whole thing about a wish did peak Martin’s interest. He walked over to the window, statue in hand, only to see one of his neighbours Oscar chatting away to some passerby’s on the street. Oscar was a large bear of a man. Huge and burly standing at 6’3 with massive muscles packed under a padding of beefy fat. Much bigger and taller than Martin, that’s for sure. He buzzed his head bald but kept a thick beard which he trimmed regularly of course. He even had a huge strong gut from all the beers he drunk making him appear even bigger. Masses of fur covering a good amount of his body which was known to Martin due to the few times he’d seen Oscar shirtless in his front garden on those hot summer days, sweating buckets but still looking incredible nonetheless. A regular bear daddy for sure. One of whom Martin had the biggest crush on ever since he met the man.

In that moment he chuckled to himself as a wish then popped to mind. “I wish I was more like him” Martin muttered with an innocent smile. He laughed, knowing it was stupid. Of course it wasn't real. Right? Well he might’ve been a tad less sceptical had he noticed the statues eyes glowing for a split second after making his wish…

Afterwards Martin went back to cleaning, placing the statue on a desk in his bedroom for now. Everything seemed normal. He simply went about the rest of his day until the sun began to set and the world around him was beginning to go to bed. Though of course he couldn’t go to sleep before jacking off to some hot gay porn he found online first. Didn’t take him long to bust a satisfying load, just barely having enough energy left to clean himself up before drifting off to sleep

That night Martin’s dream was… strange to say the least. Well all dreams are strange but this one was clearer than most. At first it was all just your usual random dream stuff. People appearing and disappearing, rooms altering, teleporting back and forth. But then it was like he became lucid. Suddenly he in an unfamiliar bedroom. Red and white walls, a double bed with black sheets, a small bedside table with a couple books sat a top it. And across the room to his left was a mirror. He didn’t know what it was about the mirror that drew him closer but he approached it anyway until finally being able to look at his reflection. He jumped back in shock though as the face he was was not his own but rather Oscar’s!

The loud chime of his phone alarm slingshotted Martin back to reality, sitting up in a cold sweat. He couldn’t believe how real that last part felt. There wasn’t much time to dwell on it however as almost immediately he heard shouting coming from outside. Jumping out of bed and running to the window Martin saw non other than Oscar seemingly freaking out and trying to get people to talk to him but somehow nobody would acknowledge. Like they didn’t even know he was there. Even weirder though was how Oscar even looked a bit… translucent.

Martin rushed outside to see what was going on. He shouted to Oscar of who seemed incredibly relieved that someone could actually see him. As Martin got closer though, he found that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him earlier. Oscar actually was see through. Like a ghost almost. But then why was he able to see and hear Oscar when nobody else could?

The pair began freaking out a little, having absolutely no idea what was happening to Oscar, when Martin started getting a bunch of weird looks and stares. It must’ve looked like Martin was shouting and screaming at thin air. He awkwardly tried to play it off while shuffling towards Oscar’s house. The ghostly bear directed him towards a spare key hidden by the back door which Martin used to get inside.

They must’ve sat in the living room for at least an hour or more discussing how the hell this was even possible. How can a man just become a ghost over night? Why can Martin see him but nobody else can? How would they even go about explaining this without seeming insane? All these questions being thrown around with no answers to satisfy them. That is until…

“H-hey Martin… my feet feel weird and tingly.” Oscar stated looking down at his large translucent feet as they were wrapped in a strange buzzing sensation.

“Same here…” Martin replied, feeling something similar in his own feet.

Mere moments later there was a dim flash of light that encased Oscar’s feet. When is dissipated, the only thing left in place of his feet was now a ghostly mist. As a result he was now floating rather than standing. Of course the pair began to freak out once more until Martin began to grunt. The buzzing in his own feet turned to warm satisfying heat. They began twitching before feeling tighter inside his shoes. It was uncomfortable for a moment until his toes suddenly burst from the tips looking much bigger and hairier than before.

Martin was able to discard the remains of his ruined shoes to fully reveal his new size 14 feet. He wriggled them for a moment, inspecting them while not knowing what to think. The new size and shape of them feeling completely foreign to him.

“H-how!? How the fuck do you have my feet!?” Oscar bellowed in shock. Martin hadn’t even realised it at first but Oscar was right, they looked almost identical to what the bearish man’s feet had been before. Martin had no way of explaining it. He could only look down in bewilderment as he stood up on his new feet, stumbling a little at first before finding his balance. By then though the buzzing had started to return. Only now it was in their hands.

This time they had a better idea of what was happening and began to worry even more. It didn’t help though as, just like with his feet, Oscar’s hands vanished in dim ray of light before Martin’s grew hot again. His fingers growing longer and thicker while his palms grew meatier. And to top it off, more hair sprouted across the back of those larger hands. After that he believed it was over until black ink swirled along his left hand, creating a tattoo on the back identical to what Oscar had.

Then it hit them. Each part that Oscar lost was a part that Martin gained. But why?! What the hell was causing this. Oscar was having a full on meltdown by this point, worrying about which part was gonna go next or if he was just going to end up disappearing completely! Martin on the other hand suddenly came to a revelation. The statue. The wish he’d made yesterday. To become more like Oscar! And now he was turning into him! It was completely ridiculous but then again so was this entire situation and it was the only thing that made sense right now.

With no time to explain, Martin burst out the front door telling Oscar to follow him. They bolted across the front garden but by the time they got to the road, the tingling sensation flared up once more. Martin began to stumble in the centre of the road, completely losing his balance this time as his legs started to pulse and grow. Thick powerful thighs and quads blowing into proportion and aggressively ripping through his shorts. It was a miracle he didn’t fall flat on his face while his calves followed suit, growing longer, larger and stronger before a dusting of fur spread up his legs. The remains of his shorts stayed up thanks to his waist remaining the same for now, keeping his dignity in tact. Looking back though, as he expected, Oscar was now missing his legs with only a faint mist in their place.

Now even more panicked than before, Martin stumbled onto the sidewalk and into his own front garden, barely knowing how to move with these massive trunk sized legs. Swinging open the door to his house moments later and dashing inside as fast as he could with Oscar floating close behind him. He almost fell down the stairs twice because of his bigger feet but just about managed to make it to the top before scrambling into his bedroom.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Oscar bellowed, watching as Martin rooted through his stuff.

“There was this weird monkey… chimp statue thing that said I had a wish. I didn’t believe until now.” Martin exclaimed, throwing all sorts of miscellaneous items around trying to find said statue. “I wished that I could be more like you and now… this is happening! It’s the only reason I can think of but… WHERE THE HELL IS IT?!” He was certain he’d left the statue somewhere in his room last night but no matter how hard he looked, it was nowhere to be seen.

The search was interrupted as more changes began to take place. In an instant the rest of Oscar’s arms up to his shoulders disappeared, the energy then flowing inside Martin’s scrawny arms and signalling them to grow. And grow they did. Newfound strength filled his arms, stretching longer while thick muscle exploded along them giving birth to juicy, squeezable biceps with impressive triceps to match. His forearms did the same, those meaty hands no longer look out of place, before Martin let out one final grunt as his shoulders grew into huge boulders. To top it off, ink once again swirled around his left arm creating more tattoos unique to Oscar.

At this point he looked pretty ridiculous. Massive meaty arms and legs but still an average sized torso. On the other hand Martin was now nothing more than a floating head and torso with some faint smoke where his arms and legs should be. It was then that it dawned on Martin what was going to end up happening. He was just going to keep transforming until his entire body had become that of Oscar’s. He was getting what he wished for. To be more like his hot neighbour on an extreme level. He had so many mixed emotions when coming to this conclusion. On one hand the real Oscar seemed to be fading away piece by piece but on the other hand he was slowly gaining the body of his biggest jerk off fantasies. He felt bad for sure but he also couldn’t help but get turned on at the idea of becoming Oscar completely. Part of him didn’t want this to stop. However despite that he continued tearing his bedroom apart in search of the statue in hopes there would somehow be a way to reverse this.

“It doesn’t make any sense! I know I left it in this room! It’s like it just up and vanished! FUCK!” Martin slammed a fist into the bedroom door in anger, yelping in pain immediately after. Though as he rubbed his swore knuckles, he was surprised to see the huge dent he’d managed to put in his door. These new arms were powerful to say the least. Not that it was helping at all right now.

Martin leaned against the wall, scanning his eyes over his torn apart bedroom. It was no use. He was 100% certain that he never took it out of this room yet the statue was nowhere to be seen. With that being his only hope of stopping this, he started to give in and accept his fate. He could tell Oscar had done the same, a look of defeat in his eyes. They both simply sat in wait for the next transfer and it didn’t take long.

The buzzing sensation rippled through Martin’s groin, backside, chest and abdomen. Everything below his head that hadn’t already been changed. Then right on cue, a light surrounded Oscar once again, leaving only his head in its wake. Then the changes began. Martin’s hips, waist, chest and back all broadened quite dramatically before lengthening his upper body slightly, allowing him to stand at a firm 6’3 (A huge leap from his original height of 5’7). Moments later his ass began to inflate, becoming two powerful buns of steel before a layer of fuzz settled across them. He didn’t have much time to process that though as he couldn’t stop himself from moaning in delight while his cock started to expand. It felt somewhat similar to getting an erection as his cock grew longer and fatter yet it was still soft. It wouldn’t stay that way for long though as, while his balls started to heave and swell, all the excitement swiftly caused him to grow hard. Within moments Martin’s dick had grown to it’s full new size of an 11 inch uncut beer can. Who would’ve thought Oscar was hiding a monster like that!? He wanted so badly to grab and feel it but right now he was far to occupied with the rest of his transformation.

A deep grumbling sound erupted from Martin’s stomach when suddenly he lurched forwards. Years of drinking beers and scoffing big dinners filled his belly causing it to bloat outwards into a strong gut. His chest made sure not to be left behind though as two meaty slabs of muscle pushed themselves out into a thick set of pecs. More fur spread spread its way across his stomach and chest while his back filled out just a little bit more leaving only his neck. His traps enlarged before his Adam’s apple readjusted itself, his voice swiftly becoming deeper and deeper evident by his grunts through the process. Lastly that too thickened up making his head seem largely out of place.

“Oooooaahh fuuuuckkk” Martin groaned using Oscar’s voice. Hands beginning to explore each and every inch of his new body. Everything was so huge now. So much to move. So much to grab. So thick and heavy. So huge and powerful. Everything around him just looked so small in comparison now. It was literally a wet dream come true! Martin’s giant new cock continued to throb and pulse as he reached back and squeezed his new bear butt with satisfied moan. “This feels… FUCKING INCREDIBLE!” Martin exclaimed. His lust for this body had taken over completely, taking a firm grasp on his dick with a large hand and jerking it furiously. “I LOVE THESE HUGE MUSCLES, THIS MASSIVE GUT AND MY THICK NEW ASS! I FEEL SO FUCKING STRONG LIKE I COULD DESTROY ANYONE! I’M SUCH A BEAST!” Martin flexes an arm as he continues to jerk, loving how his biceps bulge.

Oscar is forced to watch in horror, not even being able to speak, as Martin goes into a mad frenzy of pure lust allowing himself to fall backwards onto the bed, it’s frame creaking heavily under his new weight. “YOU KNOW WHAT?! I’M GLAD I COULDN’T FIND THAT DUMB STATUE! I’M NEVER GONNA GIVE UP THIS SEXY BEAR BODY!” Martin continued to ramble, groping and flexing his body for everything it was worth. He took a great interest in the foreskin on his new monster dick. It was something he’d never had before but sensitivity of it was incredible. “JUST HURRY UP AND GIVE ME BEAUTIFUL BEARDED FACE OF YOURS SO I CAN BECOME THE NEW OSCAR!”

It was almost as if whatever had granted this wish was been listening in as seconds later, the tingling buzz returned seemingly one last time, spreading throughout their faces. Martin began to shout “YES! YES! GIVE IT TO ME!” as he watched the last piece of the real Oscar disappear in a ball of light, leaving only a smoky avatar in its place. Martin began to groan and murmur even more as his hair receded back into his scalp. His facial features started shifting around, some growing bigger, some smaller. His face rounded out a little as well to really fit that bear look before finally a thick full beard puffed out. “HAHAA YESSSS!” Martin roared as the changes concluded. Almost immediately he jumped off the bed. He had to see his reflection for himself.

Still tugging at his member, Martin barged past the smokey being that was once Oscar as he made his way back out into the upstairs hallway. He quickly caught sight of the wall mirror, rushing over to it only to see the handsome bearish reflection of his hot neighbour staring back at him. He began laughing out of pure joy, so happy and horny at the whole situation. “Hey there I’m Oscar. Nice to meet ya.” He practiced in the mirror, getting off on how he was able to perfectly imitate Oscar’s way of speaking. Martin was so consumed by desire that in that moment he couldn’t care less what had happened to the real Oscar. Only caring about how in love he was with this new form.

Before long Martin felt a familiar pressure building in his groin as his balls began the stir. He was getting closer and closer to having his first orgasm in this huge new body and he had no doubt the load would be just as huge. Just as he started to pick up the pace however, the buzzing sensation ignited once again across his entire being. “W-what?? I thought… it was done…” He mumbled. Across the hall from him, Oscar’s misty ghost had regained the same sensation. Neither of them had any idea what was to come next but they’d soon find out.

In an instant, Oscar’s smokey form is pulled towards Martin by an invisible force. Neither of them are able to stop it before Oscar is forced down Martin’s throat and inside his body. Martin could feel his mind filling up, gaining memory after memory in an instant. The whole process only took about 20 seconds before the whole of Oscar’s being was sucked inside. Suddenly Martin knew absolutely everything he’d ever need to know about Oscar and his life and upon realising this he became even more ecstatic than before. “FUCK YESSS! Now I can live out my new life PERFECTLY!” He exclaimed before grasping his cock once again, now slick with pre-cum.

He was like an animal at this point, desperately craving satisfaction. Even more pre-cum oozed from the tip of his cock, wetting his hand some more. This was it. He was right on the edge. Feeling the cum slowly rising through his shaft until… “I’M OSCAR NOW AND FOREVER!” He roared out before clenching his ass and shooting a hot blast of thick bear cum. Most of it splattered against the wall ahead of him while soaking his hand in the process. Some of it even managed to get up onto his stomach somehow. He made sure to keep pumping for a moment or two after though just to make sure he unloaded every drop before bring up his cum soaked hand and licking it clean. But then… the post nut clarity hit him.

What had he done? Had he just inadvertently killed Oscar!? Did he just stand there and jerk off while Oscar was erased from existence!?!? How was he gonna live with himself?! Martin was completely and utterly racked with guilt. He might not have meant for this to happen but still he felt responsible. Just then though, he heard a voice echoing inside his head. “Yeeeeaah so this might be a bit awkward…” it was none other than the real Oscar inside him somehow.

“O-Oscar?! Is that really you? You’re alive!?” Martin’s eyes grew wide with both bewilderment and relief.

“Well I mean… sort of. I can see, hear, feel and smell everything but I can’t actually…

Do anything. I can’t believe this is fucking happening.” Oscar didn’t sound quite as angry as one would expect him to be. More confused or frustrated maybe. He was probably just relieved to still be alive in a way and after realising that Martin truly didn’t mean for any of this to happen despite his lustful actions prior.

“Huh… well this is gonna take some getting used to.” Martin sighed

“You don’t say.”

***

About six months had passed since the wish. It was tough for Martin and Oscar to get used to their new situation at first. Never being alone and having to do absolutely everything together. Half the things Martin does getting criticised by Oscar, saying they were things he never would’ve done. But despite that they inevitably became friends. They kinda had to if they wanted to stay sane. After all it didn’t seem as though things were going back to normal anytime soon.

It’s worth noting that Martin was very surprised when he saw Oscar’s bedroom. It was completely identical to the one he’d seen in his dream the night before it all went down. Seems that dream triply was some sort of mystical foreshadowing.

The pair tried to work as a team most of the time and in a way some things ended up even better than before. For example Oscar had been a closeted gay man before, afraid of coming out. With Martin in the drivers seat however, they had no problem coming out to Oscar’s friends and family. Most of them accepting him with open arms. Then a few months after they even managed to find a boyfriend!

Sure, this wasn’t the most ideal situation for the two of them but in the end it worked out as best it could. As for the Chimpanzee Statue on the other hand, it had not long since turned up in the house of another unsuspecting civilian simply waiting to grant its next wish. That was none of Martin or Oscar’s concern though. For now they were just trying to enjoy a well deserved vacation.

———

Happy Pride Month everyone! I’m planning on starting “Unique Interrogation Part 2” to be released in a about a week so look forward to that. In the meantime I hope you all enjoy this hot tale I’ve cooked up - Wavell

[tf-evansblog]

New Bodies - Raul & Chad

“I still can’t believe you talked me into this, Chad” I said, shaking my head as I sipped on my whiskey and coke.

“I still can’t believe you agreed to it, honestly,” Chad said, laughing.

There was only 10 minutes left before the online polls closed - the polls that would effectively transform both Chad’s body and my body for an entire week. We had both spent the day together just lounging around the house. I made breakfast, we watched a couple movies, and over the last couple hours, we started doing our own things while chilling on the couch, clad in nothing but a hat and underwear. Chad was busy playing on his Playstation and I downloaded a couple music albums that had been out for a while, but I never got around to listening to.

I wouldn’t openly admit it to Chad, but I was nervous. I had no idea what the Internet had in store for us. I mean, what if they completely crossed us and put in completely dissatisfying bodies as a joke? Made me like, 50 years old, turned Chad into a child, and I’d have to take on a parental role for the week. I was not down for that whatsoever. So, I set down a few safety nets: We couldn’t get any younger than 18, and we couldn’t get older than 35. We would still be aware of who we were, and how we used to look. And finally, I made sure that reality would, as usual, shift around us and we’d be able to behave and live life like our new bodies had always looked that way.

But, a deal was a deal. This change was going to happen, whether I completely agreed with it or not.

“Call it a lapse of judgment,” I said, still drinking from my glass.

“Babe,” Chad said, pausing his game and turning to look at me. “Trust me, it won’t be that bad. It might even be fun. And we’ll be here for each other, to look after each other and take care of each other, even if things do go totally sour.”

Chad was right. Things would be fine. After all, the change was just for a week. I needed to swallow my pride, and let things fall into place, especially if this little experiment was going to make my man happy.

“Okay, Chad,” I said, exhaling. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just haven’t done anything like this before. I’m usually the one doing the transformations, not the person getting transformed in ways I didn’t exactly approve.”

“I get it,” Chad said. “It’ll definitely be an interesting experience for you. But it’ll be over before you know it!”

I nodded and glanced over at the clock on the wall. 23:57. In just a few moments, I was going to have to kiss this perfect body goodbye for seven days. I stood up and walked over to the full-length mirror. I quietly mourned over the physique I had carefully crafted over the past year, flexing and posing in numerous angles.

“Just a week,” I said, quietly.

“Getting one last look?” Chad said, walking up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I’m sure you’re going to be just as beautiful when this is all over,” Chad said, kissing my cheek.

Taking Chad’s hand, I walked us over to the middle of our living room.

“Okay, Chad,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “I only have a bit to explain this but, here goes nothing. My transformation will take place first. While I’m transforming, don’t try to touch my body or anything. Let the transformation completely finish first; I’ll let you know when that is. If the transformation feels like it’s being fought against or interrupted, there’s really no telling what could happen since I have set this to occur without my interaction.”

“Once my new body is finished, we’ll have a minute or two to talk before your change begins. Once you’re fully transformed, then we’ll be able to actually talk about what happened, explore our bodies, and see exactly what the online polls say and how people voted.”

“Okay, Raul,” Chad said, nodding. “I understand. I’m ready.”

I nodded in return, watching the second hand on the clock slowly creep towards…

Midnight.

“Fuck,” I said, extending my arms outwards to maintain my balance.

The room around me felt like it was spinning. I squinted my eyes, trying to focus on Chad, but my vision blurred beyond my control. My skin felt like it was heating up from the inside, stretching in every direction. I coughed as I struggled to catch my breath. Maybe letting this transformation occur on its own without my interaction was a mistake. I wasn’t able to pad the changes with serotonin or any kind of positive feeling. My body and DNA were changing, and I was helplessly along for the ride.

“Raul,” Chad said. “You’re definitely growing – getting taller, and buffer.”

Well that was a good sign at least. My fears of becoming a tiny, short Latino twink were eradicated from my mind. I guess the people online preferred me to look like a stud.

“God,” I said, holding my head. “I’m just warning you, Chad, that this transformation is not going to be as smooth as the ones I’ve done for you. It feels like I’m on the world’s fastest and bumpiest rollercoaster.”

I tried to see if Chad’s facial expression changed at all, but the attempt was futile. I could barely pay attention to what was going on with myself. Chad was right: I was getting bigger. I could feel myself inching further away from the ground and my weight increasing slowly.

But then a new sensation began. One I genuinely couldn’t put my finger on. I had definitely felt this before in the past, but it must have been a very long time since then because I couldn’t tell what was happening to my body.

“Chad?” I asked. “What’s happening now?”

“I’m…” Chad began. “I honestly can’t really tell. You’re not growing any more. But… something definitely is still changing.”

I closed my eyes, the dizziness finally getting the best of me. I fought to pinpoint words that would describe how I was feeling.

Shrinking? Tightening? Energized?

Nothing made any sense. I wasn’t losing muscle mass, nor fat content. My muscles weren’t getting any more toned. I was at a loss. But before I could continue to think, everything stopped. The sensation was gone and I no longer felt like the room was rotating. My body had finished changing.

“Oh shit,” Chad said.

“What is it?” I asked, opening my eyes.

“Well, your body’s done,” Chad said, with awe.

“Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat a bit. “I can tell.” I coughed. It felt like something was lodged in my throat. “But what are you cussing about?”

“I think I’ll just let you take a look for yourself, baby boy,” Chad said, slightly smirking and taking a seat on the couch.

“What?” I said, furrowing my eyebrows. I coughed again. Why did Chad call me that? He had never said anything like that before, especially considering we were the same… unless… No…

I hurriedly made my way to the mirror, my eyes widening. Chad chuckled as I finally got a look at myself.

“Fucking shit,” I said, my eyes widening. “I’m a fucking kid.”

I ran my hands over my body, tight with muscle, definitely more toned and built than my ideal body. But, the baby face I now possessed offset all that. I couldn’t be more than 18 years old now. Six years, vanished into thin air. And no amount of increased muscle or height would make me look anything other than a freshly graduated senior from high school.

The sensation I experienced finally made sense - the feeling of loss, but simultaneous energy. I was getting younger. I hadn’t regressed myself since I first received my magic specialization, back when I aged myself down into an elementary school kid, aged myself up into a middle-aged man, and back to my normal age.

“I’m a kid,” I repeated, still surprised I let this happen to me.

“Raul,” Chad said.

I turned around to face my now much older boyfriend, and leaned against the couch. I opened my mouth to speak, but was immediately blinded by a flash of light.

“Oh my god,” Chad said, laughing. “This is perfect.”

“Chad, what the fuck?” I said, finally realizing the higher timbre of my voice. “Did you really have to take my picture already? I’m barely processing that I agreed to let you all turn me into a boy again.”

“Aww, come on, Raul,” Chad said, putting his phone away. “You’re not a boy, you’re still a man. Just, a much younger man! And at least we’re the same height now!” He smiled, his eyes twinkling as if he could barely contain his laughter.

“Well, you better chill out and get ready for your transformation any second now,” I said, my tone dripping with annoyance. “I would get in the middle of the room if I were you.”

Just as Chad stood up, he doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Holy shit, Raul,” Chad said, gasping. “I didn’t think this would feel like this.”

“Babe, don’t move,” I said, letting my annoyance subside for a moment. “Only stand up when you feel like capable. You’re going to feel extremely warm and dizzy.”

I watched Chad, trying to level out my concern and let the transformation take place on its own. He was already expanding, both in girth and height. The abs underneath his clenched arms began to firm, becoming more prominent than before. His legs and torso stretched, increasing his height several inches. He appeared to be gaining a little weight too, fat wise, but that was difficult to notice because of the extra muscle tone. It balanced out a good amount. It would likely only ever become noticeable if Chad ever got bloated or skipped the gym for a couple days. He was becoming an even more built man.

“Am I getting bigger, Raul?” Chad asked, starting to straighten his posture.

“Yeah, you’re bulking up a bit,” I said, watching my man surpass 6 feet tall. “We have a bit of a height difference again.”

“Aw,” Chad said, sighing. “I was kind of hoping we’d be the same height at least.” He clenched his eyes tightly. “Shit, Raul, something else is happening. I don’t think I’m growing anymore.”

I surveyed Chad head to toe. I couldn’t sense any significant change. He definitely had stopped growing. But then I noticed his beard and body hair begin to retreat into his skin, leaving him smoother than I had ever seen him.

“I think you’re getting—”

“Wait,” Chad said. “I think it’s done. I don’t feel anything anymore.”

Chad hadn’t regressed much. I was thankful, but also mildly annoyed. He looked to be about 22, still four years my senior. If we were normal people, he’d just have finished his undergraduate studies, and I would barely be starting mine.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think you’re done.”

Chad opened his eyes, rubbing them in the process.

“Oh damn,” Chad said, flexing his arms. “I’m even bigger than before.” He looked over at me, smiling. “Can we go into the bedroom? I’d rather take a look at myself in there.”

I nodded and followed Chad into our bedroom. He really was big. I knew he likely only had 20 or so pounds on me, probably closer to 30, but it made me feel unrealistically small in comparison. I knew I was ripped, but our age gap made me feel a bit inferior.

“Whew,” Chad said, whistling at his reflection. “This is way more ripped than I ever wanted to be, but I’ll take it for now. I look hot as fuck.” Chad whipped out his phone, snapping a quick picture in the process. He looked up and removed his hat and began to analyze even further.

“I’m kind of bummed about the body hair, but it looks like I can still grow a beard if I let it happen. I think I’m a little younger though.”

“Yeah,” I said, standing next to Chad, our size difference becoming even more apparent. “Just a couple years though, I think. I’ll check when I check the laptop for the actual votes.

Grabbing my laptop from the charger, I sat on our bed and quickly logged into Tumblr. I felt the weight of the bed shift underneath me as Chad sat besides me.

“You’re seriously so cute, Raul,” Chad said, kissing my neck.

“Chad,” I said, attempting to keep my voice level. “I appreciate the compliment, but, if you haven’t noticed, I’m not too thrilled about being reduced to a teenager again.”

“Okay, okay, Raul,” Chad said, rubbing my leg. He knew better not to continue to tease me when I wasn’t in the mood.

“Well,” I said, sighing. “I was right. According to these votes and how I set the algorithm, I’d say I’m 18 again, 5 foot 10 inches, and 185 pounds. Some people wanted me to be older, and some even wanted me to chunk up a bit, but those votes were all negated by the overwhelming decision to make me younger and grow my muscles.”

I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. I was annoyed that I was regressed into a twunk, but I wouldn’t have been too happy to be a chubby 18 year old.

“And what about me?” Chad asked.

“You…” I began, clicking over to Chad’s poll. “… I’d say you’re 22 years old, 6 foot 2 inches and 205 pounds. You had nearly just as many votes, but the difference between age regression and progression was much tighter. Hence why you barely regressed.” I looked over at Chad and couldn’t help but chuckle to myself at his expression trying to read all the votes. Even underneath all the extra weight and height, he was still the same guy I fell in love with.

“You gained a little bit of fat,” I continued. “But honestly, you’re so built you can hardly tell. I’m sure you just have to flex your stomach a little harder if you want every ridge to show, and maybe eating a big meal would make your abs a little less noticeable. But, I wouldn’t trip over it. A minority of people wanted you to lose some muscle mass, but everyone seems to love your muscles so they voted for an overwhelming amount of muscle growth.”

I closed the laptop, and smiled softly at my boyfriend. This was definitely an experience. And it had barely begun. Sure, the transformations were finished. But we still had to live in these bodies for the next week. I could only imagine the encounters we’d have from strangers and hearing how differently we would be treated now that we looked totally different. Sure, reality was warped that this was how we always looked, but I’m sure we’d still get a lot of head turns as an even more obvious muscled-gay couple, especially with the subtle age difference.

“I know you’re mad you lost a few years,” Chad said, still rubbing my leg.

“Six years,” I said, correcting him.

“Yeah, six years,” Chad said. “I’m sorry. I really am! I would’ve thought they’d want you to be a muscle daddy or something, but I guess they were thinking more on the twinky side.”

“It’s fine,” I said, shrugging. I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit I thought the same thing. But Chad didn’t need to know that. “It’s just for a week. I’ll survive.”

“Exactly!” Chad said, smiling. “That’s the spirit. Thank you for even agreeing to do this. I’m sure we’ll have a lot of fun with these new bodies… we’ll get to explore in different ways, if you catch my drift.” Chad slid his hand higher up on my leg. “I’ve never been with a younger guy before.”

“And I’ve never been with an older man before,” I said, chuckling, still getting used to hearing my lighter voice. “So I guess this is a first for both of us.”

“Plus,” Chad continued. “I’m sure the people online will be happy with what they created. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

I nodded. This definitely was a successful start to this experiment. Sure, I wasn’t happy to not even be old enough to buy alcohol or drink alcohol anymore, but I guess things could have turned out worse.

“Now,” Chad said, sliding his hand into my briefs. “Let’s see if my baby boy feels a little more submissive in this body. Now that you’re… smaller than me, body wise, and age wise.”

I felt my breath hitch as Chad’s hand skirted dangerously close to my groin. Where was this personality shift coming from? Chad? Being dominant? Me… kind of enjoying it?

Shit. It had to be the reality shifting and me actually allowing the transformation to take place on its own. I didn’t think personality changes would be possible if I wasn’t directly involved in the initiation but it seemed like…

“Oh fuck, Chad,” I said, moaning as Chad licked the inside of my leg. I arched my back as he continued to tease me; in the same ways I had grown accustomed to teasing Chad. Except now, I was on the receiving end of things. And I loved it.

“This is going to be a fun week, Raul,” Chad said, pulling down my briefs.

–

Final transformation stats:

Raul: Age: 18 | Height: 5 foot 10 inches | Weight: 185

Chad: Age: 22 | Height: 6 foot 2 inches | Weight: 205

What do you guys think about Chad’s and I’s transformations? Shoot me a message or let’s chat a bit. Until next time!

[tf-evansblog]

Threaded

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

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

Threaded

Eli always had trouble fitting in, always too thin, too small. He was endlessly teased. He had tried several times to increase his musculature but it was useless, so much so that he ended up giving up with it, he resigned himself to the fact that he was like that, and that there was no way around it. That day he was at home, trying to see himself in the mirror without feeling that he was missing “something” in certain parts. 

- Mm... - the boy mumbled, lifting up his shirt, revealing his thin abdomen, without a hint of muscle or hair on it. 

He wanted to be different so badly, to be like the popular guys who always bothered him, to look different, more masculine, more everything. Just less like “him”, entirely him.

He continued looking at his reflection with sadness to finally pull down his shirt, his mind filled with different thoughts, mainly giving the reason to all those who bothered him, about him being a wimp, a spaghetti walking, a whole tangle of thoughts that broke when he heard the knock on the door. It was a dull, dry noise. Almost abrupt, so much so that it startled him for an instant, and then he went downstairs, there was no one else in the house, so it was his turn to open the door. Had someone ordered something? He opened the door to find a cardboard box lying there, even battered. 

- Damn delivery men - he muttered in annoyance to take it and close the door with his foot, advancing to the living room to open the package.

He perused the label, realizing that it had nothing on it but his name. He felt confused, in the extreme, he never asked for anything, how had that thing gotten there? Was it an advance gift? Did his parents forget to mention it, was it okay if he opened it? He carefully removed the tape that kept the box closed, slowly, as if a false move would cost him dearly. He was finally able to open the box to find a blue compression sleeveless T-shirt and a white cap. The shirt was large, a completely gigantic size for him who used to be extra small or even small. He felt that the whole thing was some kind of bad joke, it would look huge on him, and therefore, ridiculous. 

He was about to leave the garment lying around, but there was something about it? I didn't quite understand what it was. If the texture, the scent (because it had a very particular scent like... Sweat? No, it couldn't be. It was clean, it was new, why would it smell like that?) that inevitably reminded him of the locker room at his school. 

His heart was beating hesitantly, as if electricity was running out of his hands. He finally made up his mind by taking off his T-shirt and putting on the new one, as well as the white cap.  As he suspected, he looked huge, as if he was wearing a potato sack that wrapped around him from his neck to his knees. He muttered under his breath, annoyed.

He was about to take off his clothes when he felt a strange heat flooding him, it spread as if it were fire itself, intense, scorching and desperate.  Eli moaned, he tried not to scream until the pain was too much, it enveloped him completely, it was as if his skin was going to melt, but he began to feel something else in his feet. A strange pressure, annoying and inexplicable, as if his shoes were too small to contain his feet, he felt his toes tapping directly against the toe, anxious to come out like roots, his feet felt sweaty. He could hear perfectly how the shoe ripped, breaking, his feet spread out on the sides and upwards, they looked huge, Eli did not know what was happening, and did not even give him time to think about it when he felt that his legs also went through the same process of metamorphosis, it was almost as if lumps appeared in him, moving anxiously under his skin, rearranging and gathering to form thick layers of muscle, he felt his bones cracking, rearranging to add a good few inches to his height, although he also felt a (somewhat comforting) warmth in his hip.

He felt his buttocks increase in volume and girth, becoming obscenely large and round, his manhood also grew, he felt it widen and lengthen at the same time, which made him let out a long, wide moan, bringing his hands to such an area, feeling his balls likewise begin to thicken, filling with thick substance. Eli's eyes rolled in pleasure, panting low, the sensation whipped through the rest of his body: abdomen, arms, chest.

All exploding into muscles that made him moan uncomfortably, as good mounds filled the gaping hole in the t-shirt, and where at least two Eli's could have fit before, now there was only one moaning about how tight the clothes fit, his nipples hardened the more the fabric clung to him, he grunted also feeling his arms widen and form big biceps, huge as grapefruits, stinky and hairy. 

He experienced the hot sensation dissipate, until it returned with more force at a single point, which hurt worse than everything: His head. He felt as if everything, absolutely everything, was being broken.

His jaw, his cheekbones, his teeth, his ears and forehead. It was as if he was being restructured from scratch, acquiring a darker skin tone that wasn't there, followed by blacker and less curly hair like the one he used to possess. Eli shrieked, moving as best he could in the direction of the bathroom, bumping into walls and furniture, he could swear his moans were getting deeper and thicker, with a deep voice. 

He eventually made it to the bathroom, collapsing over the sink with heavy breathing, everything was spinning and his body was tingling. Slowly the sensation faded, without him noticing, new pants and shoes appeared in place of the previous ones, torn and lost in pieces. Now a tight-fitting pair of sweatpants cinched around his waist and smelly sneakers wrapped around his feet.

He looked up to meet a completely alien reflection: a tall, dark-haired boy with a pronounced jaw, prominent eyebrows and a natural charisma, wearing the same clothes as him. 

His heart pounding nervously, he raised a hand, moving it slowly from side to side, contemplating how that guy was doing exactly the same thing. 

He couldn't believe it. That was him, no one else but him! And shit, he was strong. He flexed his arms brazenly, watching them swell, to which he let out a laugh. 

No, the word wasn't strong, it was fiery. He shamelessly took off his T-shirt to toss it aside.

He took his pecs between his hands to glue them together, letting out a long gasp, he smiled contentedly, noting how heavy they were. With curiosity and some mischief, his fingers went to his new nipples to press them, which made him let out a shriek, with a stupid smile on his lips.

It was as if this body felt everything so much better, more intense, deeper, more delicious...

He cupped his manhood, rubbing it up and down, feeling it harden and stick against his pants, big and strong, like a tin can. It was a giant he kept in those legs, he tugged at it without much care, and it was like electricity running all at once, sparks flew as he tried to reason the extreme pleasure that now coursed through him. 

He placed one hand on his breastplate, and another left it down. Stroking hard, almost anxiously and desperately, his new thick hand wrapped in that masculinity, moving up and down as he squeezed his pec, enjoying the thickness. He continued with that mechanism by sheer inertia, feeling a stench flood the room, he lifted his armpit curiously, stamping his nose to plunge it against his hairs, all flooded with that strong aroma, stinky and rancid, which seemed now to enchant him. He grunted, squeezing harder, tightening his knuckles around the piece of flesh, feeling a sensation spread through his belly to the front, filling the whole room with his moans.

He ended up exploding with force all over the sink, filling everything with a viscous liquid, his chest rising and falling heavily, with those mounds of mass moving heavily. 

He didn't even bother to clean up, leaving everything in a mess and smelling too strong. He took off the rest of his clothes to move through the corridors of his house, technically it felt the same, it was the same from head to toe, although there was something different about it, an alien air... Eli didn't quite know what it was, until he looked at a familiar photograph.

His old appearance had been replaced by this new one. And so it was in all the photographs, it was as if he had been this guy since he was a child, there were trophies from different sports disciplines, awards, medals.

With his new nimble legs he climbed up to where his room was, finding a different one in its place.

It was more spacious, there were still the immense amount of books he had, his video games, but there were new things: a bigger bed, weights, a running machine and other sports stuff. There was a different, more... Stinky. 

Eli was always very tidy, almost obsessive about cleanliness, but now there were dirty clothes lying everywhere, with sweat stains and “other” stuff. He picked up what appeared to be a smelly gray T-shirt, sweaty and with a stale tinge to it. He wanted to put it aside, but felt an impulse just as strong as when he put on the blue compression T-shirt, so he pressed it hard against his nostrils, sucking in the stinking stench, full of sweat, he inhaled with need, letting everything fill with that penetrating odor. 

New memories began to appear in his mind. He was no longer called "Eli", it was a ridiculous nickname he had before, his name was Elias. He loved sports, exercising non-stop; he loved how others saw his body with hunger, especially guys, and it fascinated him. He wore tighter and shorter clothes on purpose so that men would eat him up with just a look, he also loved his stench, how stinky his sweat could be. He gasped against the fabric, feeling his brain being reset, fell onto his bed with a smile on his lips, laughing like a fool. He flexed his arms, carelessly, delighted by how the scent lingered in the air. 

He got up to put on that dirty T-shirt. In his mind there was almost no memory left of his life as Eli, but there was a strange desire to explore himself. He didn't quite understand where this feeling came from, as if he was discovering everything for the first time. But who cared?

He lifted his shirt up to his pectorals, leaving those mounds of flesh exposed to his own gaze, his hands moved to squeeze them with some force, a gasp escaped his lips, squeezing again.

- Mfh... - he smiled. Lifting the t-shirt higher and higher with a look somewhere between curious and amused. 

He was finally distracted when a notification on his cell phone snapped him out of his trance, even if he didn't already know it. Just as that realm changed completely, where before there were only a few followers, now hundreds of them were swirling around, eager to see what new clothes he would wear, how he would flex. Everything. 

There were even hundreds of messages in his inbox, some he ignored, others were quite eye-catching to him. 

Everything had changed in its entirety, reality itself had been altered, without him knowing or remembering. He checked his photo gallery to upload something new, something his followers would like.

He found the perfect photo, edited it a bit and finally uploaded it. In a matter of mere minutes she had at least a hundred likes, it was a success. And he was soaking in all that feeling.

He opened his closet, where before there were video game themed t-shirts, geeky stuff and small clothes, now there were tight, sporty, tiny but not in that sense. He changed his clothes to a tight sports shorts that emphasized his buttocks too much, making them look rounder and bigger than they already were, he even took one between his hands to shake it, enjoying how it shook violently, he smiled satisfied before giving it a thunderous slap.

- Shit, yeah.

He muttered to grab his stuff, he would go to the gym, he needed to sweat, to get impregnated with that scent. And come back with his hormones pumping, the apparent memories of him lying on the bed, panting, hands running all over his splendor, lit up his mind. He was about to go out into the world, in his new body, in his new life. All in the splendor of a new future (of which, he didn't even realize).

- Well, here we go.

----

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

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

---

[tf-evansblog]

He got pretty curious, when I admitted that it wasn't really his buddy anymore...

[tf-evansblog]

Building Each Other Up Pt. 3

Read Pt. 1 here and Pt. 2 here.

Shane’s POV

‘I'm not kidding, Mark. I wanna swap back,’ I angrily texted. I stared at the screen, waiting for the blue bubble to pop up and signal the message had gone through. Instead, my message popped up green with a little red circle saying ‘Not Delivered.’

“Fuck, did that asshole block me?” I muttered to myself, feeling a surge of anger.

It had been almost two weeks since Mark forced me out of my own body and into his, which meant he had been controlling my body full time for almost a month. At first, I thought I could handle it. And despite the bullshit he pulled, I wanted to trust him. But now, it was clear that he was enjoying my life a little too much.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising panic. It hadn't been the worst experience being in Mark’s body again. I had enjoyed indulging in some cheat foods and cigars I hadn’t been allowing myself, and I still managed to pull girls without much effort (I mean Mark was still a good looking guy). There was even a nostalgic element to being back in his body after so long.

But the bodybuilding competition was tomorrow. I had been working towards this for so long, and the thought of not competing in my own body was infuriating.

Grabbing my phone again, I tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. "Damn it, Mark! Answer your fucking phone!" I shouted, slamming it down on the counter.

"Okay, well, I guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands," I muttered to myself.

Mark had mentioned earlier this week that he needed to make more of the potion. He said it was a bit of an involved process, but with the competition coming up, he just didn't have the time. I knew better. I'd made the potion with him a few times, and while it was a bit complicated, it didn't take that long. Maybe two to three hours tops.

"Alright," I said to myself. "It doesn't seem like I'm getting any help from him, so I guess I'll just make some on my own."

After rummaging through the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen, I found everything I needed. I set up in the kitchen, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and frustration. As I started cooking, memories of the first time we made the potion together came flooding back. We were both so excited about getting me some gains back then.

Following the steps carefully, I mixed the ingredients, heating them just right on the stove. After about two and a half hours, I had a batch of the potion ready. It wasn’t quite the right color – a bit more greenish than usual – but I had followed all the steps correctly.

"Good enough," I said, pouring the potion into a vial.

I made my way over to my apartment, feeling a mixture of anxiety and determination. Mark had insisted we go about our routines as normally as possible to avoid raising suspicion, but I knew that if I was going to get my body back, I had to act quickly.

As I approached the door, I fished out the vial of potion from my pocket. "No sense in asking him to swap back if he’s been avoiding me," I muttered to myself. I took a deep breath and downed the potion in one go, the familiar bitter taste washing over my tongue.

I entered the key code and opened the door, my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear movement in the bedroom, the sound of my own footsteps pacing around. Mentally preparing myself, I quietly made my way towards the noise.

I run in there and dive into my back. Except, once inside, I realize immediately that something is wrong. I'm not in control. I'm just a passenger in this body. Panic sets in as I shout in my head, "Mark, you fucker, what did you do?" But there's no reply. Shit, he can't hear me.

I feel myself walk over to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. Except it isn't me. It's some random kid. Who the fuck is this, I think to myself.

Not only did I make the potion wrong, I jumped into some random guy. And who the hell is he? Why is he alone in my apartment? My mind races with confusion and dread.

I hear the door open again and watch as my old self – Mark in my body – walks into the room.

"Hey babe," he says, his voice filled with affection as he pulls me in for a tender kiss. I'm shocked, but I can't do anything to resist.

"How was the gym?" I hear my body ask, its voice sounding strangely detached from my own thoughts.

"Oh, great," Mark responds, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I think I'm in great shape for the competition." He flexes his muscles for emphasis. "But I'm still feeling a bit stressed," he adds, smirking at me seductively, walking to the bathroom and quickly indulging in some pump selfies.

I feel myself following him into the bathroom, my body moving on its own accord. I know what’s about to happen Panic sets in as I try to turn off my subconscious, but it's no use, I'm trapped.

I watch as my body turns on the water, and Mark looks at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Before we get in, I know how much you like my post-workout musk," he says with a smirk.

Despite my internal protests, I also feel a strange sense of anticipation. Mark pulls my head towards his armpit. I take a deep inhale and then begin to lick, finding it surprisingly tolerable. The taste is musky and slightly salty, but not as overpowering as I feared.

Once the shower is nice and steamy, we step in, enveloped in the warmth and the mist swirling around us. My new body takes the lead, its hands gliding over Mark’s – I mean my body’s – skin, caressing every curve and contour with the gentle pressure of the sudsy soap and the softness of the loofah. His muscles relax under my touch, and a contented sigh escapes his lips as I lavish attention on him.

Then, it's Mark's turn to return the favor. My body tries to make itself look as sexy as possible for him.

He turns me around, his touch sending shivers down my spine as he runs the loofah over my skin. I close my eyes, lost in the sensation of his hands caressing me, focusing on the way his fingers linger on my ass.

When he squeezes and playfully slaps my ass, I'm taken aback by the surge of arousal that washes over me. My heart races as I feel myself growing excited at his touch, unable to control the growing heat between my legs.

"Fuck," I feel my voice mutter, the intensity of the moment clearly overwhelming the guy in control of this body. If this didn’t fell so good, I would’ve realized that I’d never felt aroused by another guy when I had controlled Mark’s body

As Mark's hard cock pressed against my eager hole, a jolt of conflicting emotions surged through me. “I can’t be here for this,” I thought to myself, trying and failing again to retreat to my subconscious.

Then, finally, I felt the exhilarating sensation of him entering me.

Despite my initial resistance, a wave of unexpected pleasure washed over me, leaving me stunned by the intensity of the experience.

"Fuck," I thought, momentarily forgetting who I even actually was.

The sensation of being filled by my former cock was overwhelming. I find myself lost in the moment, my body eagerly responding to his every touch and thrust. I can’t deny the pleasure coursing through my veins as he drives into me.

As the pleasure builds to a crescendo, I feel myself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, my mind consumed by the raw intensity of the experience.

“Unghhhh Shane” I hear my voice moan uncontrollably.

That definitely got a reaction out of him. He starts thrusting into me even deeper.

“Wait,” I thought, “he’s not just enjoying this kids admittedly built body …  is he getting off on being me?”

“Fuck yeah, keep saying daddy’s name” he replies.

“Fuck me harder Shane,” I hear my voice beg.

Finally, with a guttural groan, Mark reaches his peak, his hot cum flooding into me, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body. I feel myself clenching around him, my own release echoing his as we both ride the waves of pleasure to completion.

As we catch our breath, Mark pulls away, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. Basking in the physical afterglow, I find myself struggling to come to terms with what just happened.

“That was another great one, babe. Your ass is so incredible,” he says, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

“Thanks, babe,” my body responds automatically, a smile forming on my lips as I lean in for another kiss under the warm cascade of water.

I had a million questions still racing around my head – “who is this kid”, “why can’t he hear me”, “how can I get my body back” – but one thought dominates above all others: When can I do that again?

To Be Continued ...