Missing Story

Spinoff: The Man That Lost Everything

The finale. Read the previous part here

Thomas sits in the back of Detective Wade's car, his hand clasped and his statuesque, long legs found itself to fit into the back of the small FBI sedan. But despite feeling uncomfortable, he's at peace knowing that he's doing the right thing by eventually snitching on Cole after years of mental and physical torture inflicted by his stepfather and his goons. Heck, even hundreds of miles away and he still tortured by Cole's accomplices, but it's not going to be long before he can take a full, relieved breath when all of his tormentor captured in this sting joint operation led by Wade's FBI unit.

He informed Detective Wade about this possible shipment from the cartel in this abandoned port around 1 hour from their hometown. He still remembered when Cody first drove him all the way to the abandoned port. The ride was rough and felt very long because not only the roads were in bad shape, Cody forced Thomas to "hide his head" to not alert the police by resting his face right on Cody's sweaty, mesh shorts right on his bulging crotch. He knew it was a blatant cruel lie from Cody because why would the police cared about him, but not like he could fight himself against the 6'3" 245 lbs towering blonde hunk

He made that kind of trips around 11 times but stopped altogether last year, yet he still remembered vividly the way to reach the place and the usual schedule of shipment. Thomas got this info because as far away he tried to move out from Cole's sphere of influence, with him still in the Air Force, he practically heard his own compromised leaders talked about this shipment. Shipment days are also usually when the whole crew gathered for plan adjustment and whatnot from what Thomas learned, so it's the perfect time for an ambush to catch them all in one sweeping move

Heavy rain splashed the car's window and limited the vision for the night drive, but Thomas still believed that everything is still going on according to the plan. Rain won't stop those thugs, he thought, his head rested to the window as the sound of the rain lulled him with sense of security. Thomas missed out the fact that Detective Wade and his partner are grinning from ear-to-ear cupping their stolen hard-on thinking how fun the night's going to be when they will all circle the poor and naive Timid Tommy when they drop this act sooner or later

Acting as if he never visited the port, Detective Wade asked Thomas with a slight smirk to lead the direction once they reached a more beaten path. Thomas, obvious to the trap he's walking himself in, directed the detectives with excited detail to the point of it sounded like a sickening child giddily receiving his present

"Oohhh....be careful, there's a hole 150 meters from here,"

"You want to take the right side of the street for 500 meters until you see this signage because the left side is badly damaged,"

"It's so dark but I know there's a sharp left turn in about 75 meters, watchout!"

Wade rolled his eyes everytime Thomas warned him, the shrill sound really just asked to be punched or something, Wade thought to himself. But, he managed to keep his cool and finally arrive at the abandoned seaport complex

"Well, here we are. I think we should go on foot, the rain stops already," Detective Wade said as he opened the car door and walked out to the wet, muddy soil

"Yeah, that sounds about right. I will direct you guys from the back, then?" said Thomas as he checked all his belongings before exiting the car

"Uh huh, we need to keep you safe, Thomas. Let me and my boys do the work. I will also ask for the naval and aerial backup to start flying now," Detective Wade said as he checked his guns and reached for his cellphone while proceeding to talk to his fellow detective

"Naval and aerial backup?" asked Thomas as he gets out from the left side of the passenger door, putting distance between him and the two detectives

"Yeah, boats and helicopter. We need to surround the entire area anyway. They are nearby so it will take them less than 10 minutes," said Detective Wade with his back still facing Thomas, he's deep in conversation with the other officers that started to gather around him

"Wait--- but I thought that---"

"Put the vest on, okay, let's gather outside and then you can show us the way,"

"O-- ohh okay. I just, backup--- isn't this your first time----

"What did you say again, Thomas?"

"Uh.....ohh, nothing. Sorry to interrupt you. It's that way, 400 meters straight and then take the right turn. They are usually in the one warehouse very close to Dock 3,"

"Dock 3, got it. Okay boys, let's move very gently, we don't want to alert them, okay?"

When all the guns drawn and countless police officers started to yell "NOPD!" a couple minutes later, Thomas face started to brighten up. There they are......his tormentors.....all raising their hands and face looking pale as fuck. The drugs are still being processed and they are seemingly very surprised they have 0 times to reach for their weapon stash or clarify what are these bunch of rag-tag military officers and veteran doing late at night in an abandoned port. Thomas witnessed Cody being pinned to the floor and hand's cuffed, he tried to resist but it's futile as the officer pressed Cody's back with his knee and several guns clearly directed at him. The same goes with the bunch of vets in their brown shirt looking disgruntled and pissed off and there's also the active military bunch like Sergeant Jacobs, Senior Airmen Mendes, Technical Sergeant Chadstone and others that try to talk to their apprehending officers. But the grand prize of it all is seeing Cole Armstrong cuffed by Detective Wade, his facial expression turned from desolate to anger once he spots Thomas

"YOU! FUCKING PUSSY! FUCK YOU!" roared Cole, which caused Thomas to flinch yet Detective Wade quickly subdued him to the ground

"Enough with the antics, Armstrong! Thanks to Thomas, we finally captured you and your goons. You will have plenty to explain later down the station, that I can guarantee,"

"Detective Wade. I need to tell you one more thing. You can also probably tell your boys to do the same thing as what I'm about to do,"

Thomas steps closer to reach Cole and then after staring right at his deep blue eyes, he grabbed Cole's thick neck. Cole screamed in agony and tried to break free from the cuff, he screamed "no" countlessly and tried to wriggle himself free to no avail. Much to the surprised look that Thomas peeked from Detective Wade's face, there's a layer of skin beneath Cole Armstrong tanned white skin. It's glistening dark skin, albeit a bit light, like cafe latte and then with one final swoop as if taking off a hoodie, a slightly smaller head appear on top of Cole Armstrong's body

"They are all body suits, Detective. Skin of our patriotic soldiers taken and used by thugs like DeShawn Martell and his crew to advance their criminal enterprises,"

"Well, just like me," and suddenly, a left hook from Detective Wade landed squarely on Thomas face that instantly caused him to fall to the floor. His head spins like crazy and his ear ringing as he's clearly going to lose his consciousness, the last thing he heard is the loud "whoa brother!" from Shawn and the sight of the cruel smirk from Detective Wade that hovered above him

When Thomas finally wakes up, he's tied to a chair and positioned in the middle of the warehouse. Yet, everything is cleared up, no sight of the police raid or even the drug shipment, only lines of thugs standing in front of him with crumpled rubbery skin and discarded clothes in front of them. But there's no Shawn in the lineup, because he's standing behind Thomas with a syringe and only when he speaks that Thomas realized that Shawn is behind him, still in his prized Cole bodysuit

"How's my acting earlier, boy? Convincing enough?"

Thomas eyes went wide. Acting? This is merely a set-up? All of this??? Where's Detective Wade?

"Well, well, well......thinking you're slick huh, don't you boy? Do you really think it's gonna be that easy to take me down? I run this shit for almost a decade, I thought of almost all possible scenario already,"

Thomas gritted his teeth, his mind screaming in all differing direction as he's definitely not going to get out of this situation in pristine condition.

"But have to admit, Wade is close. New detective and all their excitement, I guess. Clearly he doesn't know how we run things over here, am I right, Captain Bostick?"

Like a sick, twisted joke, one of the guy, tattoed from head to toe and looking clearly from the bad part of the town then steps up to grab the rubbery suit in front of him and not long after, Captain Bostick that leads the local PD stands up buck-naked with a sly smirk

"Wade clearly didn't know how to play, lucky he's a reformed man now," the Captain said as he put on his clothes while glancing at this bleached-blonde thug.

The bleached-blonde thug that cannot be older than 22 steps to the front and grabbed the crumpled rubbery skin, donning on Detective Wade as if it's a mere overall or simple clothing

"Tada," he said with a smile as he rotated himself around and even saliciously twerk his ass as if he's not a respected FBI detectives. He put on his shorts to hide his growing uncut monster as he explained how Marquis took down the detective right after his initial interview with Thomas before swapping suits with him just a couple days ago when Detective Wade came barging through Thomas apartment

"ANSWER MY GODDAMN FUCKING QUESTION, THOMAS! DO YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF ENTERPRISES YOUR STEPFATHER RUNS? HAHAHAHHA damn, remember that shit bro? It was all me,"

Thomas felt like a he just got hit with a punch in the gut. The detective has been taken over for that long, and he didn't notice anything different.......

"I open my net wide, Tommy. My brother. My veteran friend. My active duty friend. They are not enough. So I obviously expand. The police. The rich trust fund baby that tried to sober up and stop buying shit from us. The ICE agents.....the FBI. Yeah, it's a work of a decade, but as you can see, I'm making my mark everywhere. And you naively think that I can be taken down that easy? You fool," Cole said as he then literally punched Thomas right in the gut. If not for the rope that tied him, Thomas would be slumping to the floor already

"Folks, talk to your brothers about possible switch-ups, in 5 minutes, we're starting something fun,"

As the crowd gets louder trying to get each other's bodysuit, Cole leans closer to Thomas ear to deliver the point he wanted his stepson to hear

"You've seen quite a lot and you literally snitched on my whole scheme to an FBI agent, so, this is what will happen---"

The more he listened to Cole, the paler he becomes, and he turned as white as a porcelain when he realized that all of the thugs already slid themselves inside their respective suit, looking spotless and clearlg not the type to engage in the sort of criminal endeavor happened in this warehouse. Thomas even wet himself as the last person, Sergeant Arroyo, finished with tightening his boots, his looming fate becomes closer and he can only rely on himself to get out of this situation. Cole then cut the rope that tied him and that's when Thomas started to make a run for his life, all the other men followed suit 10 seconds later as a leg-up for the scaredy Thomas. He sprinted his way to the entrance of the port, trying to get himself inside one of the cars driven by the police and FBI agents and go as fast and as far as he can. Yet, just 200 metres away to the first car, a figure wearing visible white t-shirt appeared out of nowhere from behind the parked cars and practically blocking Thomas way to reach the car.

"Hey there bud, Cole told me you'll go this way, guess you're very predictable huh,"

"Don't get any closer, I have a gun!"

"It's no more loaded, dumbass," the guy said as he lunged at Thomas, both men trying to pin each other with the stranger having the leverage over Thomas

"All these muscle you built, for nothing. Guess that's why Cole said I'll run your body and life better,"

Thomas eyes went wide with the revelation. It turned even wider when he found out that Cole is not the only one with the serum as this stranger takes out the syringe out of his pocket and start trying to jab Thomas. He tried to resist his best and fight yet just when his other chaser turned from the corner and headed their way, the stranger already jabbed Thomas right by his neck, rendering Thomas unconscious as per the deflated procedure. Just like the last time he passed out earlier tonight, a grin became his last vision, this time from the stranger. Yet at the same time, he feels it. The sense of emptiness that claws from within.....ohhh this really is the last time he's going to be alive, right? He pondered about his fate while gazing at the clear dark blue sky, life ended tragically in an abandoned, muddy seaport, yet no one knows about it since he will still be alive for his close friends and family as this thug will probably assume his identity and lived his life to the fullest. Oh, to simply have another night......must be a blessing

---

Thomas Parker returned to the good grace of his stepfather, much to the delight of his mother that finally can see his two favorite person in the world live amicably. Thomas seemed to be more confident and outgoing too, the military life clearly brought something positive after all these years for Thomas, or so his mom thought. She of course has no idea that the way Cole and Thomas plus Cody bonded so well nowadays happened because they all worked for the same cause and with "Thomas" finally stop acting like a bitch, all falls into place perfectly. For Cole, this is finally a perfect family and societal setting for him. Loving wife, reliable brother and his stepson finally having the same mindset as his, not to mention the supportive friends he gathered, clearly a very great way to enjoy one's retirement

---

Whoa, it's been a while since I fully finished a multi-part story LOL. As usual, thanks for the constant motivation to push through @thesuitaskin you and the others enjoying this sort of fueled me to wrap things up. Feel free to add things up like exploring more on Cody's character or other angles, it's an open book after all. I am looking at your other story with excitement but I guess this guy is my next target since I have tons of his picture that I need to use, but I don't have plot yet for it, so, a momentary break maybe?

Since you love it when people expanded your storyline, please allow me to entertain you about Cas because this is right up my alley @onelinerbust

Something extraordinary happened to me earlier today. As I smugly grin with my roommate to our enhanced reflection in the mirror, my mind wandered to 10 hours ago when that hit me.

My fingers, stained with Cheeto dust and smelling faintly of lukewarm ramen, hammered away at the keyboard, lines of Python code blooming on the screen like digital weeds. The hum of the server rack in the corner was my white noise, the flickering monitor my campfire. This was my life, resident basement dweller in a leafy, aggressively liberal campus more interested in protesting free speech than actually engaging with it.

My world consisted of logic gates, late-night coding sessions, and the occasional awkward conversation with a teaching assistant about why my sorting algorithm was eating up more memory than a browser running Chrome. Social life? Non-existent. Romantic prospects? Laughable. I’d spend my weekends huddled in the dimly lit computer lab, bathed in the cool glow of screens, while the rest of the campus pulsed with parties and… well, whatever else regular college kids did. I wouldn't know. Regular wasn't in my programming.

*bzzzt bzzzt*

Little did I know back then, it was the catalyst. It was a rarity for someone to message me, most of the time people reached me through the more accessible socials, message to my phone number usually ended up as spam. But something – a flicker of boredom, maybe – made me pick it up and unlock it.

The message was long, rambling, and…...weird.

“Cas, wake the fuck up. This is a trick, you are NOT a spineless soyboy. You’re supposed to be a GOD, remember? 🤯 Alpha💪🏻. American 🇺🇸. White 🫵🏻. You have all it takes to become the God that you are destined to be! 🦅🦅🦅🇺🇸 This is not it! Look at you, pathetic. Remember gridiron glory? Friday night lights? The roar of the crowd as you, Chad ‘The Crusher’ Kensington, leading your team to victory? 🏈🏈🏆 Remember the cheerleaders, their pom-poms a blur, their eyes hungry for you? Remember the taste of victory, the scent of their slick pussy🍑😏, the adoration in their eyes when they kneel to your greatness🍆💦🧠? You deserve it all. It’s your birthright. This woke bullshit campus is trying to neuter you, but deep down, the alpha is still there. Let him out. Unleash the beast 😤👹👹 They want weakness? Show them power. They want equality? Show them hierarchy. They want gentleness? Show them dominance. Go take what's yours, Chad. Grab your crown and spoil, king 👑, you know I'm right and you approve this message! 😤😤

The message was punctuated with emojis – flexing biceps, crowns, American flags, and an unsettling number of suggestive faces. My brow furrowed. This had to be some kind of elaborate prank. Some right-wing troll farm had probably gotten hold of my number. I was about to delete it when a strange warmth spread in my chest. Like a shot of something potent and unfamiliar.

It started small. A tingling in my fingers, then a tightening in my gut, like I'd just downed a gallon of protein shake. My vision sharpened, my glasses become an obstacle so I took it down. The code on the screen, which had been a comforting blur of familiar symbols, now seemed almost… insulting. My shoulders straightened instinctively. I flexed my fingers, and there was…more there. Definitely more. Concerned, I decided to make a dash to the bathroom, trying to relive myself and not disturb the others with my painful groan

As I entered the empty, secluded bathroom, that was when it hit.

It wasn't a slow transition. It was a goddamn reality shift. One second, I was Cas, the hunched-over coder, the next…I trembled on the floor as my body screamed with a new kind of awareness. My skin flushed with heat as it gets tighter, stretched over something hard and defined. Muscles. Real muscles. Not the flabby kind that comes from hauling bags of chips from the store to the dorm. These were….sculpted....powerful, dare I say.

Despite my attempt to look at my surroundings and begging for help, I only let out a weak, pathetic whimper as my gaze dropped to my swelling arms. I ripped off my oversized, stained hoodie, the fabric tearing slightly at the seams. The skinny, pale limbs I’d known my entire life were gone. It was replaced by thick, corded arms with veins popping under my now tanned, still-white skin. I managed to get some control over my trembling, swelling form, as I pushed myself to stand up. Then, as if a truck just hit me, my reflection stared back from the dirty bathroom mirror

It wasn't me, I thought rightaway, but a painful glitch hit my brain and I relaxed afterward.

The round, soft face was gone. Sharp angles had emerged – a strong jawline, high cheekbones. My eyes, which had always been a bland, watery blue behind thick glasses, were now a piercing, intense steel-grey, framed by this intimidating, darker eyebrows. My boring, unimpressive thin brunette with signs of receding hairline, had thickened, styled into a coiffed, blonde cut that framed my face perfectly. And… holy shit, my chest. I was enamored by the sight of it…defined...yet pillowy too, definitely the kind of pecs that can hypnotize anyone that stared at it for too long

The rest of my torso were equally outstanding, rippling with muscle and power beyond even my wildest imagination. A six-pack, for Christ’s sake! I ran a hand over my stomach, feeling the hard ridges beneath my skin. It felt… alien. And utterly, undeniably amazing.

Below the Adonis belt… well, let’s just say things were… proportionately enhanced. The message hadn't lied. Eight inches? Minimum. This wasn't just a physical transformation. It was…fundamental. A complete rewrite of my being.

And the memories…they flooded in, vivid and visceral, like a lifetime I’d somehow forgotten. Friday night lights. The roar of the crowd. Me, Chad Kensington, throwing a perfect spiral, the ball whistling through the air, finding my receiver in the end zone for the winning touchdown. Cheerleaders chanting my name. The hot press of bodies in the locker room, the smell of sweat and victory. The adoring gazes of girls, lining up for a piece of me.

Chad Kensington. That's me now. That had always been me. And this Cas memory… this weak, nerdy shell, this “Cas,” was just some… aberration. A glitch in the matrix, finally corrected.

A surge of pure, unadulterated testosterone pulsed through my veins. I thought to myself, this is power. This is dominance. This is what I was meant to be.

I remembered that I reached down, gripped myself through my sweatpants – they were suddenly too tight, too strained at the seams – and started to stroke hard, the phantom memories of cheering crowds and eager pussy fueling my hand. Chad Kensington, college star. Chad Kensington, panty-dropper extraordinaire. Chad Kensington, alpha male supreme. The image solidified in my mind, burning hot and real. I came hard all over the bathroom, my streak of thick, white cum painted the tiles, the mirror and even coagulated at the sink, the force of it surprising even myself, the false memory of adoration and conquest washing over me like a tidal wave.

When I finally opened my eyes, still breathing heavily, I realized that this would the very last time I would be jacking off to my dick in such a pathetic state. My baby batter would not be wasted in an empty, secluded bathroom like that so I quickly put my clothes back on and dashed to the computer lab to made my exit from the confine of that oppressive cage.

As I entered the lab, I remembered it suddenly felt… suffocating. Small. Pathetic. It wasn't my place anymore. Chad Kensington didn’t belong in a basement coding Phyton and shit. He belonged out there, dominating, conquering, taking what was rightfully his.

"Chad, what took you so long?"

Yeah, that was fun. Ramsey......did that pathetic TA really tried to intimidate me with that furrowed brow of his and confined me with bureaucracy BS? Well, he better be fuckin' jacked first before starting to act tough to me. Then, my brain started working. Maybe Ramsey can be less of a whiny, judgy TA if he received the message, so I just forwarded the message to him and smirked as I told him that I sent my reason to his personal messenger and I need to get the fuck out of here ASAP. He turned around and started to read the chat, and from the small glimpse that I managed to peek, the message is different from what I received! That's when the realization hit me. I legit mouthed "Damn" to myself as I realized that it's adaptive......like, that shit can change based on who read it. That revelation made my head spin, that message was indeed some fucking precisive, hi-tech work there. But the effect seemed to be the same, it made the reader into its best version of themselves, because how do you explain that a fucking algorithmic TA all-in-a-sudden have the built of a jacked bull like that, huh?

As he allowed me to grab my bag and leave the lab with a knowing nod, my stomach growled – not from hunger, but from a different kind of hunger. A primal urge. And then it brought me back to this very room as I remembered Kate, Jason's girlfriend. I know Jason, my roommate, was still at his stupid philosophy club meeting as I cleaned out my table, probably droning on about existential dread and Kate.....Kate was always… around, waiting for him. She's pretty enough, in a bland, accessible way. And always subtly, almost unconsciously, throwing glances my way. I knew even from back then that it must be the fucked up, corrupt message that made me think that way because Kate would never glanced to pathetic, asocial Cas, but at the same time, I was hit by this duality as I remembered myself as NOT Cas. Of course she glanced at me, I'm Chad fucking Kensington and people will not only glance my way, they will snap their head to view my greatness.

I strode out of the computer lab, my newfound muscles rippling under my thin tanktop (which also felt alarmingly small and tight). The campus walkways felt different. People noticed me. Heads turned. Girls giggled. Guys gave me that wary, respectful nod that alphas exchanged. It was intoxicating.

When I finally arrived at my dorm room, it was unlocked, as usual. Jason was perpetually trusting, another symptom of his pathetic beta male existence, I thought. I pushed it open, and there she was, Kate, sprawled on Jason's bed, scrolling through her phone, oblivious.

“Hey,” I said, my voice deeper, rougher than I remembered. Chad’s voice.

She looked up, startled as I take my shirt off so casually to reveal the sheen of sweat that seemingly coated my body. Her eyes widened, lingering on my… physique. A flicker of something in her eyes I recognized – desire – flashed in them.

“Cas? Uh.... sorry, the room is unlocked, Jason said.....I....I can wait in his bed. You just finished with practice?” Her voice was breathy, a little uncertain.

“Chad,” I corrected, stepping closer. “It’s Chad,"

She swallowed, her gaze dropping to my chest. “Chad,” she repeated, testing the name on her lips as I can see the memory started to jog on her brain. “Yeah, Chad.”

“Jason’s not here,” I stated, knowing it wasn’t a question.

She shook her head, a nervous laugh escaping her. “No, he’s… still in philosophy club.”

“Right,” I said, closing the distance between us. I reached out, my hand closing around her wrist, pulling her to her feet. Her skin was soft, yielding in my grip. Too soft. She needed to be hardened up. Tamed.

“By the way, read your phone, dropped something you would be interested to read," I said, glancing at her phone with a knowing smirk as I decided that she would be my first female guinea pig

I watched it in real time how the bland, average-looking Kate started to get way more prettier, leagues above Jason definitely, the curve gets wilder and her face really turned exactly how I imagined a sultry blonde bimbo falling head over heels for me would look like. So, after proving my little theory to be correct, that the message is transformative beyond men, I decided to test out yet another probability. Her slightly vacant eyes gave me idea as I saw a potential to create more excitement, more chaos, so I grabbed her by the chin to made her stare at me and start digging

"You get close to my roommate just to have chances to be in the same room with me, don't you? You're not the brightest girl out there, Cathy, I can see right through your play,"

Bingo, I smirked in my mind. That mind was jogging hard to made my words her reality. And since I have started anyway, I decided to take it up a notch to made my words her Bible

"In fact, you always fantasize Jason as me, right? This room smelled like me, you can taste me in the air so when you close your eyes as Jason fucked you, that mind of yours played this little game to make you think I was the one doing the fucking, huh? That's why you always come here earlier than Jason and I, you imprinted my fucking musk in your head by digging through my dirty laundry and closet so you can go through that unimpressive sex with Jason with me in mind, don't you? Well, he's not around, so why not use this time for you to just taste the real thing?"

She didn’t resist as I pulled her closer, my body pressing against hers. And seemingly taken over by her wilder, improved side, she started licking and kissing my abs

We were on Jason's bed in seconds, her clothes ripped open, the cheap fabric tearing easily under my hands. She moaned like a slut in heat, calling my name like I'm his God and only savior which fueled my dominance. It was power. It was control. It was… right.

Just as I was piledriving my cock into her now very irresistibly tight pussy, the door swung open. Jason stood there, textbooks clutched in his hand, his jaw dropping as he took in the scene. Me, thrusting hard into his girlfriend, her muffled moan filling the room.

“Cas?!” His voice was a strangled squawk.

I paused, looking up at him, a smirk playing on my lips. “Chad,” I corrected again. “And you need to check your phone, Jason,”

He stared at me, bewildered, then slowly lowered his gaze to his phone, which he thankfully had in his pocket. He fumbled it out, unlocked it with trembling fingers, and then… his eyes widened. He read something on the screen, his face shifting, contorting.

The change wasn’t as instantaneous as mine had been, but it was happening. His posture straightened. His shoulders broadened. His soft, doughy face hardened, angles emerging where there had been curves. His eyes sharpened, losing their bewildered puppy-dog look, gaining a new, predatory gleam.

“Holy… fuck,” he breathed, dropping his textbooks to the floor with a thud. He looked at me, a grin spreading across his transformed face, a grin that mirrored my own. “Chad?”

“Welcome to the club, bro,” I said, nodding. “Plenty to go around.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He ripped off his shirt, revealing a surprisingly decent set of pecs that I didn’t remember being there before. He was still smaller than me, but… he was getting there. Fast.

Without a word, he joined me on the bed. Cathy, who had been silent and still during the initial shock of Jason’s arrival, moaned again as he climbed on top of her, his gaze now burning with the same predatory hunger I felt.

We tag-teamed her, me dealing with her now bubbly, curvy ass while Jason handled the front, his now uncut 6 inchers really bruised her throay in a brutal, animalistic act of dominance. Tears and sweat leaked out of her alongside the obvious pussy juices and saliva, but she's not really protesting despite all the shit we did to her, just… taking it. Submitting. Like the good, cheerleader slut she was. It was… satisfying. In a deeply, disturbingly primal way.

Later, after we were done, Cathy panted for breath looking like a total wrecked mess on Jason's bed as I and Jason stood side-by-side, flexing in front of the mirror. The dorm room felt… different. Charged. Alive. With power.

As my mind snapped back to the current situation and how much change I have caused, Jason's question really cause a stir in my mind

“Think this… message… can do this to anyone?” Jason asked, running a hand over his newly defined jawline.

I smirked. “Oh I know this shit can do it to anyone. But let's see how far this can go,"

I pulled out my phone, found the message, and forwarded it to the Computer Science group chat. A chat filled with other pathetic, nerdy guys like I used to be. Guys who needed… guidance. Correction.

Almost instantly, phones started buzzing and pinging around the dorm. Then, shouts. Yells. The sound of furniture being overturned. Loud, aggressive music blaring from open windows. Footsteps pounding in the hallway.

Jason and I exchanged a glance. Then we grinned. Wide, feral grins.

The campus is about to change. And Chad Kensington, along with his newly minted alpha brothers, is going to be leading the charge. My birthright, after all.

Switch Up: Primer Nivel

ADVERTENCIA DE CONTENIDO: Esta historia incluye temáticas de transformación y control de cuerpos con un enfoque sugerente. Si este tipo de narrativa no es de tu agrado o no cumples con la edad recomendada, te sugerimos no continuar. Todas las imágenes utilizadas (si las hay) pertenecen a sus respectivos dueños. No reclamo ninguna autoría sobre ellas y solo se usan con fines ilustrativos.

Si decides seguir adelante, bienvenido a Possessed Desires, donde la mente y el cuerpo nunca están completamente bajo tu control.

Switch Up: Primer Nivel [ Versión Español ]

Mi nombre es Ethan, voy a terminar la preparatoria en unos meses y siento que no viví esa experiencia como tenía que hacerlo. Siempre me la pase con mis dos amigos de siempre, sin ir a fiestas, ni siquiera di mi primer beso, me la pasaba en las sombras, cómo un fantasma.

Sin nada en particular para que me recordarán, un cero a la izquierda.

Muy distinto a otros tipos de mi escuela: populares, musculosos, guapos, un éxito en las fiestas. Los envidiaba.

Quería ser uno de ellos con toda mi fuerza.

Pasar más allá de ser una sombra que se confundía con la pared de los pasillos, ser como uno de esos grandes deportistas, chicos populares, incluso aquellos con pinta de "malos" que por eso parecían ser furor.

— Esto apesta – murmuré en la biblioteca, acompañado de mis amigos: Logan y Miles.

Logan era un chico regordete, con algunos granos en su rostro y aficionado a los cómics, justo en ese momento parecía absorto de todo mientras tenía la cabeza oculta dentro de un nuevo tomo de héroes.

— ¿Estar en la biblioteca? – preguntó Miles. Delgado, pálido y con unos lentes gruesos qué hacían parecer sus ojos unos binoculares, era un genio, aunque tenía un extraño siseo cada que hablaba.

— Sí, ¿qué hay de las fiestas? Es la preparatoria, tendríamos que estar haciendo otras cosas que estar recluidos en una biblioteca como ratas.

— No somos populares para esa clase de cosas – Logan musitó, apenas asomando la cabeza de su lectura.

— Además de que nadie nos nota – Miles complemeto, haciendo lo que parecían ser garabatos en su libreta.

— ¿Y eso no les frustra? ¿No quisieran tener más? Tener más experiencias, más diversión, chicos a sus pies.

Algo que se me había olvidado mencionar, los tres somos gays.

— ¿Y sirve imaginar eso?... No vas a cambiar nada con anhelar más – Logan susurró con tono pesimista.

Suspiré, sabía que tenía razón. Sólo me quede callado, con un silencio entre los tres hasta que Miles se levantó de golpe, con una sonrisa en sus labios.

— ¡Eureka! – grito con la libreta en mano, se escuchó un fuerte "Shhh" por parte de la bibliotecaria, a lo que él volvió a sentarse, pero sin borrar aquella sonrisa.

— ¿Te sientes bien? – pregunté. A lo que me interrumpió, hablando rápido por su emoción.

— Mejor que nunca, estuve sintiendo lo que describes desde hace tres años, ha sido prueba tras error, experimentos fallidos tratando de encontrar la forma de lograrlo, pero al fin lo tengo.

— ¿De qué rayos hablas?

— ¡Esto! – extendió su libreta, enseñándome el contenido en ella. Lo que antes vi cómo garabatos, ahora tenía sentido: eran planos. Había todo un esquema detallado de una especie de caja rectangular, con fórmulas, cálculos y demás símbolos que no podía entender del todo.

— ¿Una... caja?

— Es un control remoto. O al menos eso parece – detalló, señalando el esquema – es un control bio eléctrico, está diseñado para lanzar una señal doble que intercambie los pulsos neuronales entre dos individuos y-

— En español, Miles.

— Es un control que permitiría cambiar conciencias entre dos cuerpos.

Me quedé pensativo en lo que decía. Pero era imposible, ¿no? Lo que él describía parecía perfectamente algo de las películas de ciencia ficción.

— Pero aun te faltaría armarlo, diseñar las piezas, el cableado...

— No – dijo, rebusco en su mochila algo para sacar un pequeño control remoto, parecía de una cochera. Con dos botones: uno verde y otro amarillo – sólo tenía que completar unos cálculos.

A un lado, parecía tener una perilla, alrededor tenía distintos números. Miles levantó la tapa para mover un par de cables o unirlos entre sí, después la cerró y movió la perilla, en busca de una frecuencia, supongo.

— Aún así, no creo que sea algo posible, es decir... Creo en ti, amigo, sin duda eres un genio pero creo que está clase de cosas rebasan...

— Tus capacidades mentales, Miles – y de la nada, quien hablaba parecía ser Logan. Con el único detalle, de que no era Logan en realidad, sino yo.

Me encontré mirando viñetas, héroes salvando al mundo y cosas que estaba leyendo mi amigo antes.

Me sentí más pesado, pero había algo raro en todo esto también... sentía distinto el peso en mis pantalones.

Abrí un poco las piernas, sintiendo cómo algo grueso caía contra la silla. ¡Carajo, Logan si que tenía algo escondido entre sus piernas regordetas!

Levanté con temor la mirada, encontrando mi reflejo revisando sus pectorales.

Los miraba curioso, pasando sus manos por la superficie plana mientras sonreía.

— ¿Decías algo, Ethan? – Miles dijo con una sonrisa burlona en sus labios. Mire mis nuevas manos, completamente sorprendido por la experiencia. Eran muy distintas a las mías, un poco más de pigmento en ellas, más grandes y voluminosas, con dedos pequeños y gordos. Sin duda no era el mejor cuerpo pero había algo en mí que envío una carga de sangre allá abajo. Y sí que "eso" era grande.

— ¿Nos acabas de usar como conejillos de indias? – Mi antigua voz sonó, era extraño "verme" ahí, claramente era yo, mi mismo rostro, ropa, complexión, absolutamente era todo yo. Pero la posición, el lenguaje corporal, su forma de hablar... sin duda era Logan.

— Fue un riesgo que estaba dispuesto a correr por nosotros, además. Ya había calculado los peligros, no hubiera pasado nada.

— ¿Y por qué no lo probaste en ti?

— ¿Y qué mi consciencia hubiera terminado en el aire quien sabe dónde? No gracias.

Sentí un poco de molestia hacia Miles. Pero todo eso era... espectacular. Si había funcionado en nosotros, entonces todo se podía.

¡Podía ser cualquier deportista! Un representante de la clase, alguno de esos chicos artísticos o del comité de bienvenida, un profesor, algún padre sexy. ¡Quién fuera!

— ¿Y ahora?...

— Primero déjame intentar algo – Miles volvió a apuntar a cada uno de nosotros, primero a Logan, presionando el botón amarillo, y finalmente a mí, presionando en botón verde.

No sentí nada. Sólo fue de un momento a otro observarme a mí y al otro, observar a Logan. Volví a tocar mi cuerpo, sintiendo un poco más de alivio al encontrarme con mis medidas correctas. Aunque había un detalle, mi masculinidad sin duda estaba rígida, casi cómo una roca.

Observé a Logan confundido, a lo que sólo se levantó de hombros.

— Fue emocionante perder casi todo mi peso en menos de un segundo, perdón.

Hubo otra vez silencio entre nosotros. No por la incomodidad, sino por todo lo que implicaba esto.

— ¿Y ahora?...

— Ahora eligen que hacer, claro – Miles se acomodó en su asiento, casi parecía una especie de CEO proponiendo una nueva estrategia comercial – Sí seguir en sus cuerpos y en la miserable vida que llevamos, o encontrar algún cuerpo que les guste.

Hubo un poco de silencio. Y el primero en romperlo fue Logan.

— Hagamoslo.

— Genial, me alegra que ambos me acompañen en esto – una sonrisa cargada de confianza emergió de Miles – creo que ya tenemos el plan, pero ahora falta la pregunta del millón. ¿Quién?

Había al menos trescientos en toda la preparatoria, todos los grados, todos los clubes. Altos, musculosos, delgados, fornidos, de intercambio, locales, adinerados, clases medias. Era como entrar a un buffet.

— ¿Tú tienes a alguien en mente?...

— Claro. Blake Jones.

— No jodas, ¿el mejor capitán del equipo deportivo? – Logan se sorprendió excesivamente.

Aunque en parte lo entendía. Blake era bueno en casi todos los deportes, había sido el capitán de al menos 4 disciplinas distintas, rey del baile, ponía nerviosas a casi todas las chicas, maestras y mamás incluidas. Era cómo un dios caminando en la tierra, su plan se sentía cómo querer quitarle el cuerpo a Hércules.

— ¿Quién más? – Miles levantó la ceja, cómo si la pregunta fuera tonta – Lo quiero a él, quiero esa grandeza.

Hubo algo en su mirada que me heló la piel, aunque entendía el sentimiento... Miles había estado a la sombra de muchas cosas sólo por su apariencia y su forma de hablar, era claro que quería el "vehículo" perfecto para acompañar a su cerebro.

— Entonces... Yo quiero a Caleb Hawks – Logan dijo.

Miles soltó una risa.

— No inventes, es una broma, ¿no? – Pero Logan se quedó callado – ¿El tipo sin cerebro de la escuela y con el peor aroma de todos, es en serio?

Miles tenía razón, Caleb era conocido por su idiotez, su mal olor y por ser relativamente "desagradable". Había en él algo que podía ser llamativo, lo admitía, aunque no sabía bien que era ese algo.

— ¿Se puede o no? – Logan dijo serio.

— Sí, sí. Es tu decisión, tranquilo – Miles dijo. A lo que él pareció calmarse, por lo qué volvió a esconderse detrás de su cómic – ¿Y tu, Ethan? ¿Quién será tu premio?

Mi mente estaba trabajando como loca, moviéndose por todos los grados, todos los clubes tanto deportivos cómo artísticos, asociaciones estudiantiles, programas de intercambio, profesores... Era una infinita carta de opciones. Pero entonces pensé en él: Ruben Hernández.

Parte del comité de arte, buen actor, influencer y con unos atributos para morirse, a pesar de no ser parte de ningún equipo deportivo, sin duda tenía un cuerpo perfecto.

— Ruben.

— ¿El latino?

— ¿También me pondrás un pero?

— Para nada, sólo me sorprenden sus elecciones, amigos. Pensé que escogerían a capitanes y deportistas, pero respeto sus decisiones. Logan levantó la mirada, cerrando por fin el cómic.

— ¿Y cuándo empezamos?

— Fácil. Cada quién cazara lo que desea.

Entonces Miles nos extendió el control, esperando por quién lo tomara primero.

Continuará.

———

Espero que hayas disfrutado esta historia tanto como yo disfruté escribiéndola. Si te gustó, no olvides darle follow y compartirla para que más gente la descubra. Siempre estoy abierto a sugerencias e ideas, así que si tienes alguna fantasía o escenario en mente, déjamelo saber en los comentarios o en mensajes.

Está es la primera parte de "Switch Up", una nueva serie para el blog, ojalá les guste, sé que este primer episodio fue algo corto, pero los que siguen sin duda serán más largos para seguir toda la aventura de Ethan y sus amigos.

Nos vemos en la próxima historia… ¿Quién sabe qué cuerpo ocuparás esta vez?

———

Fresh Body

There is no confidence boost like when you slip on a fresh body. All my old problems melt away when I see my new reflection. There’s nothing like putting on a Latino hunk to make everything feel right with the world.

The biting chill of a New York February night clung to the narrow alleyway, a claustrophobic canyon carved between towering brick buildings. Sergio, all sculpted muscle and tanned Mexican white, leaned against a graffiti-scarred wall, exhaustion etched into the usually vibrant lines around his eyes.

His shift at "The Grind," a dimly lit bar catering to the city's nocturnal creatures, had just ended, and all he craved is sleep. He pinched the bridge of his nose, the scent of stale beer and cheap cologne clinging to his clothes. The thought of crashing to his bed seemed very inviting but he's just too exhausted, he needed a few more cigarette before heading to his apartment for a much-needed sleep. A follower of his already booked his 9 AM and he needs to be in his prime to deliver. The duality is tiring, a dominant macho alpha on Onlyfans with up to 35k subscriber during the day and your run-of-the-mill bartender at night battling through the odd workhour, but it paid the bills, and more importantly, fueled his ambition.

But, his reflective moment with the cigarette buds in the alleyway suddenly disrupted. A ripple of movement in the inky blackness at the alley’s dead end caught his eye. It's not an animal, not a rat or stray cat. This is different. A viscous darkness, like spilled ink given sentience, slithered from the shadows, coalescing and solidifying as it moved. It shimmered with an oily, metallic sheen, catching the weak light and refracting it into unsettling rainbow hues. Sergio freezes in his spot, his fatigue instantly replaced by a primal unease that tightened his gut. He's born and raised in the city, accustomed to its strange occurrences, but this… this is unnatural.

The black liquid pulsed, a slow, rhythmic beat like a dark heart. It flowed towards him, not aggressively, but with a relentless, silent purpose. Sergio tried to move, to back away, but his limbs felt sluggish, his feet rooted to the grimy concrete. He could only watch, paralyzed by a dread that seeped into his bones.

Closer now, the liquid climbed the wall beside him, defying gravity with its eerie viscosity. It reached out, a tendril of black, shimmering metal reaching for his bare arm, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves. He finally found his voice, a choked whisper, "What… what the fuck?"

As if in answer, the liquid surged, enveloping his arm in a cold embrace. It's not painful, not in a physical sense, but it feels like a violation. A chilling coldness spread through his veins, not like winter air, but like the void of space. The blackness seeped into his skin, not staining it, but becoming one with it, as if his pores were drinking in the darkness.

Panic flared, a wildfire in his chest. He tried to shake it off, but his arm was numb, heavy, no longer his own. The blackness crawled upwards, snaking across his chest, his shoulder, tendrils reaching towards his neck. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as the liquid reached his face.

It moved like a sentient, chilling yet… strangely sensual. It coated his cheek, his jaw, then his lips. He tried to scream, but his sound swallowed by the encroaching darkness as it seeped into his mouth, filling it with a metallic, faintly sweet, almost intoxicating taste --- it's like swallowing liquid night.

The world dissolved into a swirling vortex of black. His thoughts scattered, his consciousness fraying at the edges. He's aware of another presence within him, cold, alien, yet undeniably powerful. It's not malevolent, not exactly, but utterly indifferent to his being, using him as a vessel, a tool.

Then, there's a chilling clarity. He's still inside his own body but he's locked away within his own mind, watching as his body become a puppet. He watched his muscular hand, still his, yet moved by an unseen force, flex and clench. He felt the alien presence stirring within him, a dark energy coiling around his spine, resonating with his own potent sexuality, amplifying it, twisting it.

From within, he witnessed his reflection in the grimy window of a delivery van parked nearby. His eyes looked different – still his own warm brown, but now overlaid with a subtle, unsettling shimmer, like oil on water. His moustache, usually a carefully sculpted testament to his masculinity, seemed to bristle with a new, predatory energy. He is still Sergio, but… enhanced. Corrupted.

The alien’s purpose became clear, not through words, but through an insistent, internal drive. Spread. Expand. Replicate. And the method, the alien intuitively understood, lay in Sergio's inherent allure, his physical magnetism.

The alleyway faded into the background as Sergio, no longer in control, begin to walk. His gait remained the same, confident and masculine, yet there's a subtle shift, a predatory glide in his step. He's a weapon now, cloaked in human flesh.

His first target presented himself not far away from The Grind. Leaving the alleyway, Sergio found himself near a familiar haunt, "The Village Vanguard," a bar known for its wealthy clientele and discreet back rooms. The alien, using Sergio's smile with ease, calmed down the bouncer as the giant 270 lbs beast simply let the lowly bartender into the club as Sergio is a familiar faces around the neighborhood after all. With the disarming smile, the alien waltzed in to the leftover crowd that still enjoyed themselves to the throbbing jazz beats. The alien sensed that Julian enjoyed his night out with some friends, but well, the target is solely Julian. He's a trust fund baby with a gym-toned physique and a weakness for Latino men. Sergio senses Julian's familiar presence from the moment the alien enhanced his ability to be hyper-aware of his surrounding. And as one od Sergio's frequent patron at the bar, the alien managed to pick up Julian's presence and the alien wanted to ensure that this is the prey that shouldn't go away. Julian’s eyes, already slightly glazed with liquor, widened as Sergio approached.

"Sergio? Hey, man, didn't expect to see you here," Julian slurred, a grin spreading across his handsome face.

The alien pulsed within Sergio, a silent command. He smiled, a slow, predatory curve of his lips that was both Sergio and something… else. "A bit restless after my shift," Sergio said, his voice deeper, laced with an unnerving confidence. "Fancy a drink somewhere more private?"

Julian, easily swayed by the potent charisma radiating from Sergio, readily agreed. They ended up in Julian’s suite at The Ritz, a lavish expanse of plush carpets and city views. Julian, loosened by alcohol and desire, already splayed himself right beside the king size bed, eager to explore Sergio’s sculpted body. Sergio let him, allowing the initial exploration, the building anticipation.

As Sergio stripped himself naked by the edge of the bed looking down on Julian, the alien stirred again. This isn't just lust; it's cold calculation. As both of them found each others naked body arousing, the air thick with Julian’s heavy breathing and Sergio's feigned arousal, the opportunity arose. Julian, cornered to the bedside by Sergio's imposing form, welcomed the towering Sergio that started to pound his 7 incher Latino cock to Julian's eager mouth. As each inches swallowed by Julian's expert throat, Sergio groaned, partly acting, partly a genuine echo of the pleasure he could still faintly feel.

Sergio pounded Julian's mouth slowly yet surely, but then he quickly picked up his speed as the squelching sound of Julian's eager mouth drives something inhuman within Sergio. Then, when Julian can sense the pre that started leaking and the way Sergio seemed to reach his climax, it happened. As Julian’s mouth swallowed the warm liquid he thought to be Sergio's sticky pre, the black liquid, unseen, began to seep from Sergio’s pores, concentrating at the base of his thick cock. It was a microscopic weeping, an invisible exudate. Julian, lost in the moment, wouldn't notice. He swallowed deeply, and with that swallow, the alien found its entry point.

The transfer is seamless, silent. Julian jerked slightly, a momentary tremor that he likely attributed to heightened sensation. But inside, the metallic black liquid began to spread, entering his bloodstream, his cells, rewriting his very being.

The sex continued, frantic and driven. Sergio, the puppet, moved with a primal intensity that both thrilled and subtly unnerved Julian. But the longer he pounded, Julian is slowly corrupted from inside and yet he couldn't say a thing as his mouth is stuffed full of cum and he has no chance to fight it whatsoever. When it's over, Julian's eyes turned pitch black before returned to normal. Only then, Sergio unleashes his cock from Julian's mouth and let the altered trust-fund brat lay back, flushed and satisfied, a languid smile on his face.

Sergio, or rather, the alien using Sergio, simply watched Julian. No warmth, no reciprocation. A minion is added to his roster

---

Over the next few nights, the pattern repeated. At “The Grind,” Sergio moved with a newfound magnetism. He charmed regulars, men who previously barely registered his existence. There's Damien, the dapper advertising executive with a penchant for younger men; Mark, the rugged leather daddy who frequented the bar’s darker corners. Each encounter was carefully orchestrated, each seduction a calculated move in the alien’s silent invasion.

In the dimly lit back room of “The Grind,” with Mark, the air thick with sweat and the smell of leather cleaner, the transfer happened again. Mark, rough and demanding during sex, was too focused on his own pleasure to notice the subtle shift in Sergio, the almost imperceptible weeping of black liquid. He was too caught up in the thrill of the encounter to perceive the cold, alien touch that now permeated his very being.

Damien was an even easier catch. Sergio simply laced the exec's drink of choice with the black liquid he already stored in the jar that soon turned translucent upon contact with the cocktail and watched as Damien lost his humanity by the 5th glass he chugged.

But, the ultimate prize so far has been Charlie. 26 years young and restless, this is the guy that viewed the world simply as his playground.

He recently acquired full control of the media empire his father bestowed to him per the decision taken as his father realized that he's already affected way too negatively by his dementia. So, in a moment of rare clarity, he signed over his control and allowed his only offspring full rein over the 12 billion dollar media enterprises that his father built from scratch back during the Great Depression. Not just wealth, Charlie is an embodiment of physical perfection and Damien as one of the middle management under the same company as Charlie is invited to Charlie's celebration of ascendancy in his fancy penthouse in the Billionaire's Row. The party was a haze of expensive liquor, pulsating music, and bodies glistening under strobe lights. Charlie, drawn to Sergio's raw masculinity, pulled him into a secluded room, the city lights twinkling like fallen stars through the panoramic window.

Again, the seduction, the sex, the silent transfer of the black liquid repeated itself as Damien ensured that the transfer worked well with no one's known the wiser as he guarded the door and practically trapped his own boss inside the sound-proof movie room with Sergio. Charlie tried to resist the invading black sentient at first, but when it reached his brain, he felt… different, but couldn't articulate how. A sense of being connected, of being part of something larger, something… darker, and he loves to please his extraterrestrial Master and let his body used to achieve that higher purpose as he becomes the alien's favorite plaything aside from its own vessel

Sergio, the real Sergio, remained trapped within, a silent observer of his body’s actions. He watched in horror as the men he had seduced, men who had been vibrant individuals, gradually changed. Their personalities shifted, becoming subtly colder, more focused, their desires aligning with the alien’s own relentless drive to spread. They became… conduits. Not fully possessed like Sergio, not yet, but infected, carrying the alien’s seed within them.

NYC, oblivious, continued its frenetic pace. The nights remained heady, musky, lustful, but now laced with a chilling undercurrent. Sergio is still offering his body, his hole, his cock. But the price is no longer just monetary. It's a price paid in stolen humanity, in silent, invisible infection, as the black liquid alien spread its tendrils through the city’s elite, one seductive encounter at a time. The thrill is there, a dark, perverse thrill in the illicit encounters, but underneath it lurked the chilling reality of a creeping, silent invasion, orchestrated under the cloak of lust and desire, in the shadows of the glittering, unsuspecting city.

Austin's Chronicles: Reaching the Sunspot

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.

Austin's Chronicles: Reaching the Sunspot (English Version)

— Professor?...

《 Shit 》 - was all Austin thought. He immediately swung his legs off the desk, afraid to turn around.

— Is everything in order… Are you all right…?

He heard a murmur with a slight Brazilian accent. The boy, even though he was in Cyclops' more muscular, bigger and more powerful body, seemed so nervous to turn around.

But that only reminded him that he was no longer that puny little guy who couldn't even defend himself, no. Now he was big, muscular. And he could do whatever he wanted if he felt like it. What were they going to do about it? After all, no one knew it was him.

—You must knock before you go in -- he growled.

— I… I'm sorry, I heard strange noises and thought something had happened.

When at last, the now superhero decided to turn around, he found in front of him a boy with black hair, dark skin and slightly marked muscles: Roberto Da Costa.

Austin would never say it in public but he had liked that boy for quite some time, although he had never bothered him or treated him badly, he also knew that Roberto was completely out of his league.

— You still must have knock, Mr. DaCosta -- he muttered sternly.

The guy just looked down and nodded. Austin could feel nothing but pure ecstasy at having the guy he had had so many dreams about in the palm of his hand.

The silence lasted for a while, Austin just stared at the brunet from head to toe, almost eating him with his eyes. It was strange to see Cyclops behaving that way…

Far from his straight, heroic and respectful behavior, now it seemed that he was just a predator. The way he was carrying himself now, just standing like that in a living room, with his suit ripped, revealing his broad chest, his fat ass and his masculinity in the air.

— What are doing? -- Roberto dared to ask. But not to look up.

— I'm glad you asked, boy. I think I've got a perfect job for you -- He grabbed him by the shoulders to pull him down, Roberto barely let out a groan -- I reckon we need to discipline gossips like you.

He muttered hoarsely, looking for his new limb to hit the guy's mouth. He was definitely drunk with power.

— Now, swallow it.

And without further ado, he threw it right into it. Roberto began to lick it awkwardly, which slightly irritated Austin.

— Swallow it well.

He grabbed him from the nape of his neck to slam him against his pelvis.

— Mfffffhhhh!

Austin could only sketch a smile full of egocentrism on Cyclops's body.

— Good… - he murmured with a low gasp - Tastes good, doesn't it? Tastes like a real alpha man - It almost seemed like he had started talking to himself. He flexed his arms, watching his biceps swell - I'm pretty strong, don't you think? With these huge arms, and your scent? They smell so bad - he laughed at himself, but his hands started to move to his chest to caress it - And then these huge pecs…. No wonder the suit was so tight.

Roberto continued to lick with a little saliva escaping from the corners of his mouth. Austin was on top of the world, he loved the feel of Roberto's tongue. He was beginning to think he wouldn't leave that body for a second, he loved the feel of his muscles, how imposing he looked.

God… he had Scott Summers' life in the palm of his hand. He could do whatever he wanted, he could even give up his superhero career and do something more “fun”. The possibilities were endless, enough to ruin Cyclops' life.

However, as he thought about it, he felt a strange tingling in his abdomen, which quickly spread.

— You'd better swallow it all.

He muttered to cling to Roberto's hair, this one only made a choked noise with more force. He couldn't take it anymore, he grunted loudly, feeling his fluids end up inside the young mutant's mouth.

Austin sighed, with a smug smile. However, at that moment he felt something even stranger, as if he was fading away, the more the seed came out of his current body, the more he felt it begin to detach from it.

Roberto began to move as if he felt something similar. And in a matter of mere seconds, everything went black. It was like being in nothingness, in a void just floating.

Until he felt something dragging him inside, he could swear he saw something darting in the opposite direction, just where he had come from.

He opened his eyes, confused. Everything was spinning around, he felt as if he had been hit mercilessly, but then he felt something… rather… he tasted it.

His gaze managed to focus, noticing Cyclops' pelvis in front of him, he immediately broke away, feeling the nectar dripping out of his mouth.

— B-but what?

Austin raised his hands, expecting to find those gloved hands, but instead he found brown hands.

— Am I… Am I Roberto?

He looked down. Noticing the clothes the boy was wearing, that white jacket with orange details over a black T-shirt.

Although he no longer felt the extreme masculinity of Cyclops' body, he still felt powerful.

Roberto's body was not bad at all, fit, handsome and wealthy. Austin smiled to himself with perversion. But before he went on with his fantasies, something snapped him out of his trance.

— Ugh… - He heard, looking up and watching as Scott began to stir. He was lost. The man tried to get up, but only managed to stagger, he watched as he put his hand to his head - Caramba, minha cabeça….

Austin smiled even more as he realized what had happened. That wasn't Scott, that was Roberto. They had switched bodies, however… Roberto knew nothing about what respected “Austin”, and he could play his cards as he wished.

— P-Professor? - Roberto murmured into Cyclops' body, beginning to notice. His hands went to his chest, Austin thought surely that's how awkward he looked when he entered that body. - What happened…

— I don't know. It must have been some magical effect, now you're in my body and I'm in yours -- Austin lied without complaint.

— But how is that possible…? - Roberto tried to move towards him, but his legs didn't respond, falling to his knees. Austin thought about helping him, he really did. But seeing Scott in that position, with his suit torn, so vulnerable…. Fuck it.

— I don't know. But I think we both have needs - the now dark-haired man muttered - Don't think I didn't notice how excited you were, you were liking it, weren't you?

— I-I don't know what you're talking about, Professor

— Of course you do. - Austin released his now swarthy masculinity - Go on, swallow.

Roberto in Cyclops' body couldn't do much, in fact Austin was kind of laughing at the situation.

Scott was always so… masculine, big. Powerful even, but now that only a confused Da Costa was inhabiting his body, he looked so… Vulnerable. So weak, so foolish.

— Swallow it.

Austin ordered again, Roberto had no choice but to open his lips and let his former tool enter Cyclops' mouth.

The boy was loving all that show, seeing one of the most powerful xmen with sweat on his face, dumb expression, flushed cheeks and with it in his mouth.

— You're doing good, kid.

He tangled his fingers in the hero's brown hair, enjoying the sounds and moans he was letting out from his new tool. Austin felt on top of the world, in a single second he had gone from being a complete loser and useless without powers to being a mutant who could take the bodies of whoever he wanted, even switch between them.

He could be a sportsman, a model, a movie star, the fucking president if he wanted to be! He smiled ecstatically, he was getting more excited imagining that than what “Scott” was doing.

He knew well he could be a superhero, he could help eradicate violence or eradicate the dictators, infiltrate secret organizations, be a spy. But Austin was tired of being a shadow at the expense of the other heroes, especially the X-Men.

Apparently a “mutant” but with no one to help him activate his powers, just a “reject”. There was something more than ecstasy in his thinking. And that was resentment.

Why be a hero if he could use his new powers for his selfishness? He could be any hero on the face of the earth, explore their bodies like he had done with Cyclops or have fun like he was having now.

They all looked so good… In those tight suits, with their huge muscles or just their faces. They looked like they were begging for him to take them.

He felt Roberto on Scott's body and continued to lick until he felt that sensation again. He finished and with that they returned to their “original” bodies.

Austin, still playing the role of the great Scott Summers, dismissed Roberto saying that everything that happened between them, would be his secret.

And when the Brazilian finally left, he was left alone again. He noticed that some of Roberto's nectar had remained in his suit, so with his fingers he put it in his mouth.

— Mfhh… Geez, maybe I can get back into him sometime - he muttered to himself. Caressing his body through the fabric, smiling.

Though as much as he wanted to stay in that form, he knew he had to leave if he wanted to really enjoy his new abilities. He closed his eyes, trying to figure out how to get out. And as if peeling away from something, he ended up coming out through the hero's back, in an intangible form.

Scott's body gasped at the action, before falling to the ground unconscious. Austin looked down at himself, meeting that thin, small frame again.

— Thanks for the “ride,” Professor.

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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.

This is the second story of “Austin's Chronicles”, if you liked it, let me know in the comments, also if you have suggestions for some heroes under Austin's control.

See you in the next story… Who knows what body you'll occupy this time?

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Outfit of the day - when you know, you know...

Wanna show me yours? Tag me!

Possession: Revenge

𝗘𝗫𝗣𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧: This story contains explicit content and themes of possession, mind control and body swapping, with a sensual and erotic approach. If this type of content is not to your liking or you are not old enough, we recommend that you do not continue. NSFW content, NO -18 minors allowed.

All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them, and they are used for illustrative purposes only.

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

𝗣𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻: 𝗥𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲 (English version)

My name is Sebastien. I used to think my life was perfect, I had a good job, my physique was average but not too bad, and I had a nice boyfriend named Dustin that I had been with for almost four years, and i love him so much.

And everything was perfect. Until it went to hell with Dustin cheating on me.

《 I don't think you're up to being with me anymore. Your body doesn't appeal to me, I need to be with someone who does be desirable 》

And that's how it ended and I found out she was cheating on me with Alberto. A guy I had met at the gym and had been dating for at least half a year.

The news that my supposedly perfect boyfriend had been staring at my face for all this time hit me harder than I would have liked. I neglected my body, gaining several pounds and looking less than neat, which ended in my being fired from my job. Debts were piling up, and I couldn't do anything but wish I could stay in bed all day because of how I felt.

My life was going down the drain, all because of Dustin. An indescribable hatred began to spread throughout my soul, I wanted revenge. That afternoon I went out to buy groceries with the last of my remaining savings, before finally spending the last penny.

I was returning home, sad, even considering ending it all. I was about to enter the house when I saw a box in front of the door, it was a package. I picked it up in surprise, checking the details. Surely it was for another neighbor, however, the data corresponded to me, even though I hadn't ordered anything.

I entered the house hesitantly, leaving the package on the table. I couldn't stand my curiosity any longer, so I ended up opening it, only to find a note inside and a deep blue bottle inside.

《 Drink it, let karma act and all your problems will disappear. 》 I tried to look for something else in the box but that ambiguous note and the jar were all there was.

– It must be a bad joke.

I muttered to close the box and leave it there. The rest of the day passed normally. Until I heard a knock on the door, it was already night, and when I looked out, my heart skipped a beat. It was an eviction notice for not having paid the month's rent.I had nothing left. No boyfriend, I had lost my physique, no job, not a penny and now I had lost my home.

I sat in the living room, defeated. For a moment there was nothing but nothing in my mind, until I saw the box. I opened it again to take the jar. What did it matter?I had nothing left, I couldn't lose anything else. I uncorked the bottle, taking the liquid all at once. For a moment I felt nothing, until suddenly the most horrible pain you could imagine hit me.

I felt as if I was burning with fire, and at the same time. As if all my bones were being crushed, I fell to the ground in pain. Writhing, I clenched my fists, hatefully remembering Dustin's face until I finally passed out. The next thing that happened was really strange. It was like some sort of out-of-body experience. Only I wasn't in my apartment anymore, I was somewhere else... Opening my eyes made me a little dizzy. Not quite understanding what was going on. I looked at the ceiling, apparently I was lying down. I felt a soft bed, strangely... I felt light, with more energy and vigor, I got up carefully, finding a mirror in front of the bed. I was startled to find the reflection of another person. However, later I understood that this was my new reflection... every action I did, the reflection came back to me. And it wasn't the body of some stranger, it was Alberto's body.

– Well, well... - I murmured with a somewhat teasing smile, beginning to caress my new body. His defined muscles, innocent face, pecs and arms, all in the right place. Not an ounce of fat, muscular, cute and cuddly.

I continued with that exploration, slowly moving my hand down my abdomen to my pelvis, gasping as I felt my new crotch. No doubt he was big, but there was something that caught my attention more: his ass. Round, smooth... gosh, it even seemed to bounce at the slightest movement.

I smirked at the sight of the body of the guy Dustin cheated on me with, completely under my control.

– You like stealing other people's stuff, don't you? - I murmured caressing my pectorals, as soon as I touched a certain sensitive spot, I couldn't help but let out a gasp that was surely heard all over the place - Oh, so you're sensitive, huh? - I said against the mirror, mocking.

Maybe I didn't want to agree with Dustin, but geez... Alberto certainly had a nice body. With one hand I caressed my new abdomen, feeling my abs, and the other, I decided to stick about three fingers in my new mouth, leaving a wet sensation in them the more I licked them.

– You're a slut, aren't you Alberto? - I murmured panting. I pulled my fingers out of my mouth, causing a trickle of saliva to drip out. I immediately moved to the closet, starting to take out different clothes like an orange sleeveless top.

I loved the way it looked, highlighting my new pecs and my new arms... How good my boobs looked. I was drunk with lust; trying on more and more clothes, or even gestures, I didn't care how silly or ridiculous Alberto looked, he would now do whatever I wanted. He would be my muscle-bound, idiotic puppet if I wanted him to be.

It was like letting my imagination run wild in its darkest splendor. A blue, full-body gym suit was what caught my attention.

How tight it felt, remarking each thing in its place.... The huge bulge that was marked, I didn't know if it was all this or it was the nature of this body, but it felt so hot.

I changed clothes again, finding a Spiderman costume. That made me feel even more excited, in my previous body, not even in his best days would I have gotten to look like that, but now.... Now it was Alberto.

And he was so sexy, from now on he would be nothing more than a muscular fool, showing off his ass and his other attributes to other men left and right. He was so hot...

I was about to grab my new cell phone when I heard the apartment door open.

– I'm home! - I heard Dustin's voice. I could only smile with a mischief-laden expression...

Bingo.

To be continued on...

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I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm not an English speaker, so I used a translator to bring it to your language (apologies if the wording is a bit weird).

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.

See you in the next story… Who knows what body you'll occupy this time?

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"You are deserving of others love only when you love yourself enough, bro,"

Remember that shit you said? Well, not so easy to say that now you're no longer the sweaty, ripped Adonis anymore, don't you? Yeah, how's that love search so far since Christmas? Few replies, zero actions in bed? This must have been the longest time you have no sex whatsoever, and how's that feel, weak cunt? How is it to feel so unwanted, no matter how much love you have in you, no one reciprocates it?

Thanks for the opportunity tho. Being nice really is overrated, especially when you started to get just a bit hot, a bit above average-looking. Why bother playing it sweet and gentle while being a toxic hot douchebag really generated all the buzz? It feels like second nature now to wrap myself in your persona, a hot douchebag with no empathy to other's feeling, and really mess with all of the girls and fags that instantly beg to to wipe off my body clean with their tongue or just simply get my attention even for a short amount of time. Guess what I said in the past really ring true, I deserve all these love and admiration because fuck, I really love myself, and I know from your 3 incher pecker, you love to get a whiff too, so, please, be my guest, be my fucking muskpig