A Body Stealer Tale: Magic Hands

Blessing you all this Christmas with this transformative holy water excreted out from my body which will shed all your nerdiness and all those lame quality in yours and replace it with something much more fitting for you to hang around and join me in this quest for worshipping our own muscle and glory. Stay blessed, brother

Switch Up: La Liberación de Ethan

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: La Liberación de Ethan (Versión Español)

— ¿Y qué se supone que hagamos? – murmuré con Miles caminando a mi lado, pero él sólo tenía una sonrisa en sus labios, enorme y con los ojos abiertos. 

— ¡Esto es perfecto! ¡Es la invención del siglo! ¡Esto supera casi a la electricidad! – Miles estaba absorto en sus pensamientos, con aquella sonrisita sin siquiera poner atención a su entorno. Bufé molesto, avanzando aún a su lado por los pasillos. 

— ¿Tienes alguna idea de dónde encontrar a Blake? 

— ¡Steve Jobs estará retorciéndose en su tumba! 

Entrecerre los ojos, notando que claramente no me iba a poner atención. 

Por lo qué tome un pasillo a la derecha, no estaba seguro si Ruben estaría ahí, pero casi siempre lo estaba. ¿Qué había que perder?

Miles seguía parloteando a cada paso que dábamos, hasta terminar llegando al auditorio.

Un espacio un tanto oscuro, grande, el escenario al frente con una luz tenue que lo iluminaba, las butacas al frente. Al parecer no había nadie, estábamos por darnos la vuelta cuando escuché algo detrás del telón. 

— ¿No crees que nos metamos en problemas? – una voz familiar pero que no lograba reconocer sonó. 

— Estamos ensayando, ¿Cuál sería el problema? 

Y ahí estaba. La voz de Ruben, reconocí perfectamente el acento. 

Verás... Yo había estado enamorado de ese chico desde que entramos a la preparatoria, él era nuevo. Recién llegado de intercambio, con su sonrisa y su piel morena. 

Apenas intercambiabamos palabras en primer año, él solía ser casi un misterio, hablaba poco pero tenía un encanto peculiar. "Llama Latina" empezaron a decir por los pasillos; y cuándo entró al taller de teatro, fue cuando se volvió popular. 

El teatro pareció darle una confianza desmedida, lejos quedó aquel chico que poco hablaba y pareció ser suplantado por otro que se llenaba de amigos, se alimentaba casi de que las chicas (y algunos chicos) babearan por él mientras interpretaba a Romeo o una mierda teatral.

Y quedó aún más lejos de mi alcance de lo que ya estaba. Jamás he sabido si es gay, nunca ha tenido novia pero tal vez no está interesado en ello; ha habido miles de rumores de chicas que coquetearon con él y recibieron uno que otro beso, cita o incluso regalo, pero nada que se pueda confirmar. 

Del telón emergió él. Con una especie de atuendo vaquero, no sabía que obras estaban por estrenarse este mes, pero la forma en la que la camisola se aferraba a su pecho y sus brazos era todo un deleite.

— ¿Por qué venimos primero por él? – Miles murmuró con molestia.

— Porque no dejabas de alabarte a ti mismo, guarda silencio. 

Sólo soltó un bufido antes de quedarse quieto entre las sombras.  Continúe observando con atención lo que pasaba, del telón surgió otra figura: Alan. 

Miembro del club de teatro también, tal vez no tan destacado cómo era Ruben aunque tenía su encanto... 

La vibra de motociclista sin duda le ayudaba bastante.

Alan se colocó frente al moreno para acomodar ligeramente su traje.

— Aún así estamos ocupando el teatro sin preguntar.

— No seas llorón, la maestra Rivera se accidentó y se ausentará dos semanas, justo lo que tenemos para ensayar antes de la obra. Me da confianza usar el escenario.

— Pff... Cómo quieras, Hernández. 

Alan estaba a su lado en el escenario, repasaban líneas mientras Ruben se movía y el contrario lo checaba con guión en mano.

— Si planeas hacer algo, es momento de hacerlo – Miles murmuró. Ambos empezamos a bajar entre las butacas a paso lento, el corazón me latía a mil por segundo. 

— ¿Y cuál es el plan? Son dos.

— Nosotros también 

— No te ofendas pero no creo que puedas contra la fuerza de Alan y la ayuda de mi cuerpo.

Miles entrecerró los ojos. Después rebusco en su mochila con cuidado hasta sacar una soga, levante la ceja.

— No quiero juzgar tus gustos pero no creo que sea el mejor momento para eso

— No la traigo para eso, imbécil.  Es para inmovilizar tu cuerpo original y que no represente peligro antes de alejarnos de aquí.

Estaba por reclamar cuando Miles metió en mi boca quien sabe qué, me ató las manos y después los pies. 

Quedé sentado con el ceño fruncido, mirándolo con cierto enojo.

— Me lo agradecerás más tarde – Dijo, señalandome con el control y presionando el botón amarillo – Espero estés listo – señaló a Ruben posteriormente y dio clic en el botón verde.

De golpe, mis ojos se encontraron con la luz del escenario, a lo que tuve que cubrirme con un ligero gruñido de molestia. Hubo cierto silencio, aunque parecía escuchar murmullos, era cómo estar bajo el agua, sabía que sonaba algo a mi alrededor pero no podía distinguirlo.

— ¿Ruben?... – escuché por fin a Alan murmurar. Giré mi vista hacía él, y antes de que pudiera responder. Vi mi pecho. Bien formado ahora, amplio, grueso... Ni siquiera podía apartar la mirada de los dos gordos bultos que ahora se formaban en mi camisa – ¿Ruben, te encuentras bien?

Volvió a hablar.

— ¿Eh? Sí, sí. Todo en orden... – susurré, no podía apartar mi mirada de mi nuevo cuerpo. Olí la colonia de Ruben, más bien, mi nueva colonia. Tomaron todas las fuerzas del mundo para que no soltará un gemido, pero me estaba volviendo impaciente... Quería olerme como loco, tocarme. ¡Dios, quería ver lo que estaba tras esos pantalones! 

Silencio de nuevo.

— ¿Y bien? ¿No vas a volver a decir tus diálogos? 

— S-sí, claro. Y-yo... – murmuré. Era claro que no tenía nada, ni siquiera sabía de que trataba esa obra.

— Amigo, ¿estás seguro que no quieres ir a la enfermería? Te ves muy raro.

— No, no, para nada. 

— ¿Estás seguro? Creo que es importante que... – estaba acercándose suave hacía mí hasta que sus ojos giraron hacía blanco por un segundo, su expresión se tornó vacía y después pareció volver a la normalidad, parpadeo, me observó y después rodó los ojos con hastío – Carajo, pensé que nunca se iba a callar.

— ¿Alan? – pregunté confundido.

— No seas ridículo, soy yo – el aparente Alan bajó del escenario para caminar a oscuras, conmigo siguiéndolo. 

— ¿Miles? Pero, ¿Cómo?

— Hasta que al fin piensas, genio – Continuó avanzando hasta llegar a la zona donde antes estábamos, se agachó para recoger el control. A su lado, nuestros cuerpos originales se movían con molestia y confusión, tratando de hacer algo más allá de sólo estar atados.

— ¿Te... inmovilizaste a ti mismo? 

— Sí, sí, luego preguntas sobre ello.

Era extraño ver a Alan actuar de esa manera, si bien, no era extremadamente amable, tampoco era arrogante como solía ser Miles. Por lo qué ver a Alan con los hombros hacía atrás, la barbilla levantada y esa mirada de sabelotodo, era extraño. 

— ¿Y ahora qué? 

— ¡Cielos, Ethan! – volvió a subir al escenario – ¡Ocupa un poco el cerebro! Se notaba a leguas lo que querías hacer con el cuerpo de Ruben, hazlo. Ahora puedes.

Por un segundo dude en que hacer. Algo cohibido por la presencia de Miles, o del propio Ruben y Alan que se encontraban tratando de moverse. 

Estaba por simplemente salir huyendo, pero... Ya no soy aquel nerd escuálido, cobarde y perdedor, no. Ahora soy Ruben Hernández, el sexy latino con el que todos tienen fantasías mientras ven sus obras.

Flexione los brazos, sintiendo los bíceps gruesos y grandes ensancharse a través de la ropa, sonreí. Mis manos se posaron en mis pectorales para después apretarlos, mis sentidos parecieron tocar el cielo. Mi expresión se tornó en tonta mientras apretaba y jugueteaba más con los relieves. 

Me quité rápidamente la camisa, dejando a la vista mis abdominales. Levanté un poco el relieve de los pantalones para ver la masculinidad escondida del chico.

— ¡Es enorme! – dije emocionado. Se veía gruesa, morena y un tanto peluda, no me imaginaba que Ruben estuviera tan peludo de ahí abajo. 

Estaba a punto de volver a tocarme cuándo Miles tomó ventaja, tomándome de la cintura para apegarme a él y comenzar a besarme. En un inicio correspondí hasta después empujarlo cómo pude.

— ¡¿Qué te pasa, Miles?!

— Nah, mi nombre es Alan, amigo... – murmuró – Y no lo sé, creo que tengo necesidades hoy que perfectamente tu puedes solucionar.

Nos besamos con intensidad, sus manos rondando por todo mi cuerpo y mi piel. De inmediato se lanzó contra mi cuello para empezar a besarlo y lamerlo, mi cuerpo temblaba por reacción. 

— ¿No te gusta, Ruben?... – susurró para verme a los ojos

— Sí, sí me gusta – Respondí para tomarlo de las mejillas y estampar nuestros labios en un beso caótico. Era una maraña de besos descuidados, lenguas y saliva. 

Un ruido sonó desde la puerta, cómo si alguien estuviera a punto de entrar. De inmediato tomé a Miles para escondernos detrás del telón, no sería buena idea que nos encontrarán con dos tipos amarrados. 

Que al fin y al cabo, nadie haría nada si encontraban a "Miles" y "Ethan" en tal situación, no sería la primera vez que sucedía eso, no les harían caso en lo que dijeran, menos al acusar a dos chicos de teatro. Pero era mejor no dejar rastros.

Terminamos por salir por la parte detrás del auditorio, no sin antes tomar las mochilas y maletas que Ruben y Alan traían consigo. Terminamos en los vestidores del gimnasio, aparente vacíos.

— ¡Cielos amigo, eso fue genial! 

— Ni que lo digas – Miles dijo sentado. Con esos aires de superioridad

— Aunque... ¿Por qué me besaste?

— El cuerpo de Ruben es ardiente, además de que tenerte a ti dentro abre las puertas a muchas posibilidades.

— Pero, ¿no ibas a tomar a Blake?

— Sí

— ¿Y porque estas dentro de Alan?

— Porque es ardiente y necesitabas ayuda.

— ¿Lo hiciste por mí?

— Sí... Y me molesto un par de veces así que también por eso.

Tomó la maleta de Alan para abrirla. Su sonrisa se iluminó al ver el interior, comenzando a sacar ropa por montones. 

— ¿Qué haces?

— ¡Esto está lleno de ropa deportiva! – se llevó unos shorts a la cara, jadeando por el aroma. Seguramente estaban impregnados de sudor, de inmediato se levantó para empezar a quitarse lo que traía y cambiarse por un traje de compresión, de tonos oliva pero que dejaba todo a la vista. 

Ahueco su bulto, con una sonrisa satisfactoria. Después levantó sus axilas para empezar a olfatearse, lamió su piel, extasiado por su aroma y sabor. 

— ¿Vas a quedarte sólo ahí de pie? – había algo en su mirada... Que no sé cómo describirlo pero fue un encanto. 

Me quité también lo que traía para cambiarme, una playera deportiva sin mangas morada, algo suelta. Pero que dejaba a la vista desde mis brazos hasta parte de mis abdominales y mis pectorales. 

— Estás apestoso, Alan... – murmuré acortando la distancia entre ambos.

— ¿Y cuál es el problema, Hernández? – dijo con indiferencia. 

A lo que lo tomé con fuerza para apegarme contra él. Soltó un jadeo agudo qué me hizo levantar la ceja, él estaba un tanto apenado, pero a mí pareció encantarme. Cómo si algo se activará por primera vez en mí.

— Ven aquí.

De inmediato comencé a succionar y morder suavemente, lo que causó que él soltará un suspiro, lo tome con algo de fuerza mientras comenzaba a tocar sus glúteos.

— N-no... E-espera – Trató de murmurar – Y-yo quiero ser q-quien este arriba...

Solté una carcajada por el comentario.

Quería mucho a Miles, sin duda era mi mejor amigo además de Logan, pero esta era la oportunidad perfecta para tomar venganza por todas las veces dónde su arrogancia se interpuso.

Ni siquiera le respondí, con mi nueva fuerza me las arregle para bajarle de golpe aquel traje, sin duda se le veía fantástico, pero era estorboso para todo lo que deseaba hacer.

Me agache un poco para tener acceso a sus pectorales y el relieve en ellos, comenzando a succionarlos y mordisquearlos. La voz de Alan y sus jadeos resonaban por todo el lugar, ansioso por más. 

Fue entonces que noté el reflejo tras de nosotros, jamás pensé ver a estos dos haciendo algo así. Pero aquí estábamos.

Lo que me extasió aun más. 

Me despegué de repente, lo que dejó a Miles con una expresión entre lo torpe, lo caliente y lo desesperado. 

— No, no. De rodillas – dije autoritario. 

Él me observó con una mirada vidriada y de inmediato se tiro a cuatro patas. Yo sólo pude levantar mi playera para enseñarle mis abdominales. 

Ni siquiera tuve que ordenarle nada está vez, sólo se dedico a bajar el elástico para poner su boca en marcha. Lamiendo y succionando como desesperado, casi se escuchaba como un perro tomando agua. 

— Tu sabor... – murmuró, sacando un poco más la lengua – Sabe muy salado...

— ¿Te gusta? Lo dejé así especialmente para ti, Alan 

— Me encanta...

Y de inmediato se volvió a pegar contra mí. Duramos así por un buen rato, frotandonos como locos hasta que las cosas evolucionaron y todo terminó regado por el suelo del vestidor.

El golpear entre nuestras pieles y el sudor qué impregnaba el aire, no hacían más que aumentar el volumen de los choques.

— ¡Ah! – Miles casi aulló, la entrada de Alan se sentía tan apretada, lista para servirme. 

— ¿Te encanta, no? Imagina que así te tuviera durante la obra de teatro – gruñí – Qué toda la escuela supiera que el motociclista Alan Wood no es nada más que mi pertenencia.

Y di otro vaivén que tronó con fuerza, acompañado de un fuerte jadeo. 

— ¡Sí! ¡Sí! 

— ¿Lo quieres dentro, no?

— ¡Por favor sí, dámelo Ruben! ¡Por favor!

Y sin más. Termine derramando toda mi semilla en su interior, parecía que el cuerpo en el que ahora habitaba se había abstenido de estas cosas, porque terminé liberando montones de espesa sustancia. 

"Alan" sólo se quedó tirado sobre el banco con la respiración agitada y entrecortada, hecho un desastre entre su sudor y mi propia carga. 

Seguí explorando la ropa dentro del bolso de Ruben para cambiarme, olía igual de apestoso qué lo anterior, ¿pero a quién le importaba? El nuevo Ruben tenía muchas mejoras que estaba ansioso por mostrar al mundo. 

Miles terminó reincorporandose después de un rato, estaba a punto de limpiarse cuando lo detuve.

— Nah, así ponte la ropa.

— Qué divertido... – murmuró con sarcasmo, otra vez parecía ser él mismo – Estás loco si crees que te haré caso.

Intentó alcanzar una toalla pero se la arrebate de golpe.

— Te dije que no.

— ¿¡De qué mierda hablas, Ethan!?

— Ruben, querrás decir.

— ¡Dame la toalla para limpiarme!

Ni siquiera le respondí. Removí el interior del bolso de Alan hasta encontrar una remera deportiva negra que parecía ser lo que apestaba con más fuerza en la bolsa, además de unos shorts. 

— Pontelos. 

Me miró con furia, pero hasta él sabía que había perdido, por lo qué no tuvo más remedio que hacerme caso. 

Ambos salimos del lugar, Miles seguía molesto mientras avanzabamos por los pasillos. Se sentía fabuloso sentir las miradas de todos, sonrisas, incluso un casual "hey". ¡Al fin no éramos invisibles!

— Ya no estés molesto – dije bajo.

— Cierra la boca.

— Cómo si no te haya gustado.

— Me gustó. Pero ahora apesto...

— Ni siquiera vas a quedarte en ese cuerpo. Y dijiste que te molesto varias veces, ¿no?

Miles me observó por una fracción de segundo, cómo si hubiera descubierto la ecuación faltante para un problema. Una sonrisa burlona se dibujo en sus labios de inmediato.

Flexionó sus brazos, pareciendo presumir en público, enseñó sus axilas sudorosas y dejó de importarle todo lo que apestaba. Avanzando con una mezcla de orgullo y burla en sí mismo por los pasillos.

Algunas chicas lo miraron extrañadas, pero otros chicos... Casi babearon por él. 

Sacó su teléfono, rebusco en la galería de Alan alguna típica foto de las cuáles estaba plagado su Instagram. 

Y decidió subir una nueva publicación a todas sus redes con un simple texto:

《 Supongo que no sabes de lo que te estas perdiendo hasta que te dan duro. Lol, bye chicas, mi cuerpo sólo le pertenece a hombres apestosos y sedientos por mí 》

Su teléfono se volvió loco después de eso, pero prefirió ignorarlo.

Avanzamos hasta la biblioteca, dónde Logan seguía esperando.

O bueno, "Caleb". Sentado con los brazos flexionados de forma casual, olfateando y sonriendo cada vez que daba una bocanada más. 

Levantó la mirada para verme, sonriendo con satisfacción, al parecer ni se había dado cuenta de "Alan".

— Hey, guapo – me guiño el ojo, sonriendo. Aunque eso no duró mucho, ya que empezó a olfatear cómo si se tratara de un sabueso – ¿A qué huele?... Huele a... – du mirada se enfocó por fin en Alan – ¿Miles, eres tu?

— Ahorrátelo, Logan.

Se sentó frente a él. Si para mí olía fuerte el hedor, no me imaginaba la gloria en la que ahora se encontraba Logan.

— ¿No ibas a ser Blake? 

— Sí, es una parada de emergencia, aun sigue mi plan – murmuró malhumorado. 

— En fin... "Ethan" y "Miles" fueron llevados a dirección después de que los encontraron, al parecer podrían suspenderlos por "abuso de sustancias" después de que estaban delirando cosas ridículas – Logan sonrió con malicia. 

Por una parte me sentí mal acerca del destino de Ruben, él no me había hecho nada, sólo era mi crush. Pero no podía retractarme... 

— ¿Y "Logan"? – Miles preguntó.

— Ah, ese mantecoso – El nuevo Caleb se jacto con una risa – Está más dominado y torpe que nunca, casi hipnotizado, diría yo.

Me senté al lado de los chicos, era irreal pensar que apenas unas horas atrás éramos unos nerds perdedores, y ahora estábamos ocupando el lugar de chicos populares, musculosos y atractivos.

— ¿Y qué planeas hacer ahora, Miles? – me atreví a preguntarle. 

— Conseguir lo que es mío. 

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 tercera parte de "Switch Up", una nueva serie para el blog, ojalá les guste.

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

———

My brother's friend Billy

This is my brother's friend Billy. They have been friends since I can remember. And ever since I knew him, I was obsessed with him. I looked up to him, but I was always blown away how beautiful he was. It didn't matter that he and my brother bullied me. Whenever he touched me, I was in heaven.

Especially amazing was the moment I found out, how to shapeshift into other people. All I needed was one piece of clothing worn by that person and I would become them. At first it happened to me when I used my brother's shirt instead of mine accidentally. I immediately shifted into his exact copy. I was shocked, but curious to explore more. But someone was coming close to my room, so I quickly threw away his shirt, put on mine and waited for the changes to shift back.

And that's when my quest to get Billy's clothing started. But it was really hard to get clothes from someone who didn't live at our house.

One day our parents decided to visit grandparents for a weekend and leave us alone at the house. My brother obviously invited Billy and some girls. They invited me to join them too. I mostly spoke to the girls and from time to time checked if Billy did take of some piece of clothing.

They got drunk pretty soon and moved to my brother's bedroom. I waited outside the door for the moans to stop. After some time I decided to enter. It was dark and they were all sleeping already. God knows what they did together...

I checked for some underwear, shirt or something else that would be Billy's. Finally I found a sock. I grabbed it and carefully left the room.

I entered my room and locked the door, stripping myself, leaving only my underwear on. I sniffed the sock. It was dirty and slightly wet. This sock was on his beautiful foot! I was about to become my dreamy guy. The one I desired the most.

I took my dick in one hand and started jerking off. With my second hand, I clumsily tried to get it on. After a few unsuccesful attempts I managed to do it.

I felt the changes. I felt as my hair elonged into his. My face changing structure. My body enlarging, but my abs protruding. My legs became hairier.

My feet were finally his. I put his leg to my nose. What others would describe as a cheesy disgusting smell, I couldn't get enough of. It was so strong, manly and Billy! I look exactly like Billy!

As my hands explored my beautiful feet, my forearms brushed over the hairy legs. I continued to feel my big, full lips, my pointy nose. My hairy pits that I inhaled for a long time and licked even longer. I also tried to lick, make out and suck Billy's hot biceps, trying to do a hickey on it. Then my left hand gave more attention to the forming tent. I threw away the underwear binding me from the proper enjoyment.

I was now completely naked. Billy was naked in my bed! Or atleast his body. I started humping my bed and touching myself in the process. I felt so strong and horny.

I grabbed my phone to take some photos. I need to document this!

I did many shots of his body from above, close shots of his feet, his pits, his gorgeous dick, his ass.

I did shots that would be amazing for me to jerk off to in case I would have to give back his clothes

I loved his veiny arms. His nipples. His lean and tight body.

I felt more and more like Billy. I wanted to be with his body all the time. To smell his scent. To have him for myself.

When I took last photo of Billy's body on my bed, covered in a towel, there was a knock on the door.

I looked at the phone. It was morning already! "FUCK"

I took off Billy's sock and put on my own clothes, putting his sock in my pocket.

I opened the door.

"Hey, perv. Did you take Billy's sock? He can't find it anywhere, so I need to check if you did not jerk into it?"

"Fuck off. Of course I didn't take it. Didn't he leave it in the living room? You guys partied there pretty hard. Maybe he threw it somewhere"

They all went to look in the living room, which gave me chance to put his sock under my brother's pilllow.

They did not give up the search and eventualy found it, which made me a bit sad, because now I didn't have any clothing that would turn me to Billy.

I became obsessed with the photos I took when I was shifted into him. I jerked off to those photos every day like 5 times.

But something changed in me. When Billy came over, he played videogames with my brother or talk about girls. As I observed him move, laugh, fart and talk about fucking pussy, I felt disgusted. That's not the way he should be treating that body. I treated it better. He doesn't deserve it!

I realised I was not obsessed with Billy. I was obsessed with his body. Therefore I made a plan to make his body mine. I shapshifted into my brother, lured Billy into our house and took care of it.

Yeah, maybe there would be a less messy way to do that. Maybe I should have seen a therapist before all of this. Maybe leaving traces of my blood in my room and leaving my brothers fingerprints on the knife were a bit too much. But what was I suppose to do? My old body would be missing and I had to pin it on someone. And who better then the guy who spent the most time with Billy? He would definitely find out that I'm not the original Billy.

You can call me cold or heartless. But watching from my car as the police dragged away my ex-brother for possible murder of my old body was satisfying. I am now completely Billy and there is no one stopping me.

There is only one thing left. What should I do with Billy's dead body in my trunk?

In the underbelly of a city that thrived under the cloak of night, there was a tale that would chill even the most hardened of souls. It began in the confines of a maximum-security prison, where a man named Vincent, known for his cunning and ruthlessness, orchestrated his escape. Vincent was no ordinary criminal; he was a master of manipulation, with a mind as sharp as a razor's edge.

After his daring escape, Vincent found himself a fugitive, hunted by law enforcement and desperate for a new identity. He turned to the digital world, where anonymity was king. Using a stolen phone and a vague profile on Grindr, he crafted an allure that was irresistible. His target? An unsuspecting man named Luke, who was drawn in by Vincent's charm and the promise of an unforgettable night.

They met at an abandoned warehouse, the perfect lair for Vincent's dark intentions. The place was a relic of the city's industrial past, now a silent witness to Vincent's twisted plans. The air was thick with dust and the scent of rust, but Luke, blinded by desire, saw only the shadows as romantic dimness.

The encounter began with the usual dance of seduction, but Vincent's intentions were far from ordinary. With every touch, he was not just seeking physical connection; he was seeking possession, a way to merge his essence with another to evade capture forever. The act was brutal, a display of raw power and dark magic. Vincent's goal was not just to dominate physically but to merge his spirit with Luke’s, to become one with him in a way that transcended the physical.

As the night deepened, the warehouse echoed with the sounds of their encounter, a mix of pleasure and pain, of dominance and submission. Vincent's eyes, usually cold and calculating, now burned with an unholy fire. He whispered ancient words, words that should never be spoken, as he sought to bind his soul with Luke’s.

The ritual reached its climax, and in a moment that defied reality, Vincent seemed to dissolve into Luke, his body merging with the other man's in a way that was both horrifying and mesmerizing. When the deed was done, Luke was no longer just himself; he was a vessel, a new identity for Vincent, who had successfully escaped not just the prison but his own body.

After the possession, Vincent, now within Luke’s body, stood in front of a dusty mirror in the warehouse, admiring the new form he had taken. Luke’s body was a canvas of perfection in Vincent's eyes, a stark contrast to his previous rugged appearance. He ran his hands over the smooth, unmarred skin, feeling the strength in the muscles, the vitality that coursed through veins untouched by the harshness of prison life. This body was a prize, a new beginning, and Vincent reveled in the sensation of being someone else, someone unburdened by his past.

Curiosity about his new identity led him to Luke’s phone, which lay discarded on the floor. Unlocking it with a face that now belonged to him, Vincent delved into the digital life of his host. The phone opened up like a book, revealing Luke’s world. There were messages from friends, work mails, plans for meetups, and photos that painted a picture of a life filled with joy, travel, spice and connections.

Vincent scrolled through Luke’s social media, absorbing the personality, the likes, the dislikes, the history. He found family photos, a testament to a loving home, something Vincent had never truly known. There were reminders of birthdays, anniversaries, and simple joys like coffee with friends or a new art exhibit. Each piece of information was a puzzle piece in understanding who Luke was, and by extension, who Vincent would now pretend to be.

The next morning, the warehouse was empty, save for the lingering echo of what had transpired. Luke, or what was left of him, walked out into the daylight, a new man with Vincent's mind and memories. The city would never know of the dark magic that had been performed within its boundaries, but the legend of Vincent, the man who escaped not just prison but his own skin, would become a whispered tale among those who dared to delve into the city's darkest secrets.

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.

Hey babe, you won't believe what just happened! I've got the hottest fresh meat to share with you... so get ready! I found this guy, Dan, in the middle of a crowded gym, all sweaty and focused, lifting weights. He was looking so good, I just had to have him, you know?

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