Ghosts Like To Be Subs Too

Victim Of The Gym

The manager of the gym gave him the keys so he could get his workout done early in the morning. I also had a set of those keys. He’s my prisoner now. Soon, I’m going to inject him with the bodysuit serum. When I saw his hot young lean body, I knew I had to have him. I harvest so many of my victims from the gym. He is simply the latest addition to my collection.

Austin's Chronicles: Posesión-X

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.

Está es la primera historia de una serie de relatos llamados: Austin's Chronicles: Morphosis Heroes. Espero les guste, es sin duda algo que me emociona compartir con ustedes y empezar a trabajar en ello.

Austin's Chronicles: X-Possesion (Versión Español)

Austin era un chico con bastantes problemas en la academia Xavier, un inadaptado social que aún no conocía su poder. Cerebro lo había detectado desde hace meses como mutante pero no había aparecido rastro alguno de su mutación en todo ese tiempo.

Los demás estudiantes lo tomaban como un caso perdido y los maestros a veces le daban ciertos ánimos de no perder la esperanza, pero eso sólo lograba desesperar más al chico.

— Tranquilo – El profesor Scott le dijo tranquilamente al adolescente. Eran los únicos con aquella aula – Tu poder llegara tarde o temprano.

— Se está haciendo más tarde que temprano.

Murmuró el chico, flacucho. Todo un enclenque y sin nada de músculo.

— Debes de ser paciente, Austin.

— ¿¡Y de que me sirve ser paciente!? ¡Sólo veo como los demás se burlan de mí, como no encajo y me molestan! ¿¡Eso es ser paciente!?

El chico explotó en furia contra su profesor.

— Austin – Ciclope dijo en tono autoritario – Ya basta. Debes de ser más paciente, debes de...

— ¡No! ¡Ya estoy harto!

Y entonces pasó. Como una especie de ola de energía, algo salió del interior del chico, una clase de energía azul que encontró su camino hasta el pecho de Ciclope. Incrustandose en él.

— ¡Ugh! ¡Austin, tienes que detener esto!

— ¡N-no sé cómo! ¡N-no lo estoy controlando!

El chico dijo en pánico, Scott se sentía más y más débil. Mientras que Austin se sentía ligero, cómo si flotara.

— Uhh... – Un gemido torpe de Ciclope sonó, su expresión se volvió tonta – Austin...

Barrió las palabras hasta que de forma extraña el chico pareció levitar y salir disparado al pecho de su profesor, desvaneciendose en él. El cuerpo musculoso, envuelto en su traje azul ajustado, se movió violentamente.

Eso duro un rato hasta que finalmente pareció detenerse, sólo quedó la respiración agitada del hombre.

— ¿Qu‐qué carajos?... – Murmuró pesadamente antes de asustarse – ¡Ah! – el héroe miró detenidamente sus manos, absorto al encontrarse con aquellos guantes amarillos – Uh... Uh... Esto está mal.

Tragó saliva. Cualquiera que hubiera visto aquella escena, hubiera pensado que Cíclope había perdido la cabeza, pero había un único detalle: Ese no era Cíclope.

Ese era Austin.

El chico se sentía aturdido en aquel cuerpo. Sus manos se dirigieron lentamente a su nuevo pecho, comenzando a masajear sus músculos.

— ¡Ah! – terminó por encontrar sus nuevos pezones.

Algo que no sabía Austin era que el cuerpo de Scott Summers era extremadamente sensible. Volvió a tocar aquella área que no hizo más que sus piernas temblaran y soltará un gemido.

Continuó con aquella exploración, una mano en su pecho y la otra bajando en sus abdominales hasta terminar en su gordo bulto.

— Uf... Profesor... – murmuró para sí mismo, aunque una sonrisa traviesa se dibujo en sus labios – ¿Te gusta verme así, Austin?

Tomó nuevamente sus pectorales entre sus manos para sopesarlos. De inmediato se colocó contra la mesa, levantando su nuevos glúteos.

— ¿O cómo lo muevo? ¿Te gusta? – dijo meneando sus nuevos glúteos gordos – Permíteme enseñarte más – con ambas manos, azotó su trasero, soltando un fuerte quejido, pegando su pelvis contra la mesa y empezando a frotarse contra esta.

Austin estaba perdido en aquellas sensaciones, jadeando fuertemente. Parecía casi ansioso, comenzó a frotar su nueva entrada con su mano.

Soltó un suspiro ante la sensación del traje metiéndose lentamente en aquella zona. El chico se sentía como en la gloria mientras disfrutaba del cuerpo de Cíclope.

Flexionó sus nuevos brazos, totalmente emocionado al ver cómo se marcaban sus nuevos músculos por la tela azul, tensandose.

— Mfh. Veamos cómo huelo... – murmuró para meter su nariz en su axila, soltando un jadeo ante el hedor. Comenzando a oler como loco.

Ya no quedaba nada del respetable y heroico Cyclops, sólo un chico con hormonas a tope al mando.

Sin poderse contener más. El chico tomó con fuerza la parte frontal del traje, rasgandolo por completo para dejar expuesto su grande pecho y abdominales.

— Esto está estorbando...

Murmuró, deslizando más la tela hasta romper la parte del pantalón, dejando su nueva masculinidad a la vista.

El chico continuó atendiendose como loco, cómo si no hubiera un mañana.

Siendo un lío, entre tratar de tocar su pecho, explorarse, olerse o simplemente dejar correr su saliva por su nueva barbilla cómo si tuviera las neuronas fritas.

— ¡Ah, ah! ¡Soy Scott Summers y quiero que me controlen! ¡Ah!

Estaba frotándose su entrada, disfrutando de la sensación del guante contra sí. Hasta que escuchó el tronar de la puerta del salón, lento.

— ¿Profesor?...

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 historia de "Austin's Chronicles", si les gustó, déjenmelo saber en los comentarios, igual si tienen sugerencias de algunos héroes bajo el control de Austin.

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

———

NOT MY STORY. STORY IS ORIGINALLY FROM MALEBODYEXHIBITION.TUMBLR.COM WHICH DEACTIVATED YEARS AGO. REPOSTED FOR RECORD KEEPING PURPOSES

You planned to keep this one for two days. He was rather an interesting catch, entirely accidental. You initially took over his father, jumping into his ass crack while he was lifting a dumbbell for a deadlift. You took the body home, then explored it with your tongue, finding the trails of sweat he worked up during his training. You pumped his cock until you blew a load, then just strutted around his house free ballin’. You didn’t notice he son had come home until you was standing before you mouth agape.

You rushed to him and kissed him on the mouth, because you were his father and you just wanted to show him you loved him, plus you just didn’t care. This wasn’t your body and this wasn’t your house. You could do what you wanted, but when his son didn’t return the kiss and instead tried to push you off—and succeeded—you decided to just jump ship. You grabbed him by his waist, a small boy compared to his daddy. You tore off his workout shirt, a wife beater torn off at the midsection to show his belly button and abs—initially why you thought he would like being kissed—what straight male would wear something only bitches would flaunt? And you mount him like the stallion stud this body wanted to be by how much bitches this man has slain with his cock. You pump yourself into your son, his abs flexing and his ass tightening with each thrust into his virgin boy pussy. You’re sweating on him and he’s grunting and struggling to move under your weight, but you hold him in place with your muscular thighs as you begin pumping your seed into him. He smiles and begins to moan sensually—he was beginning to convert as you start to enter him from the dad’s dick into his ass. Soon your vision changes and you’re on all four as your new dad jackhammers your ass. You feel yourself cum onto your workout shorts and you hold your father’s hand which are wrapped around your chest. Soon your father falters and falls on top of you.

You fall to your side and he collapses into a puddle of his own sweat.

Man, you think, your ass is rekt’d. But it feels good. You feel cum ooze out and stain your underwear. This new body is perfect. It’s more muscular and tone than the dad, and the cock is larger by comparison. You almost feel bad for the father. Used for only an hour before being discarded as a suit of skin for a brand new model.

You decide fuck it. Maybe someone else will find the skin and get use out of being a hot dad for a day. But aside from that, his son will suffer the same fate. After two days, you plan to scrap this skin and find something new. Why not? Why be tied down as one hot guy when you can be a hundred?

Summer Shift- Around the Neighborhood

Alex:

Before the great shift, I was a middle aged single guy and all of my neighbors thought was I weird. But the shift put me into my neighbor’s sons body. And I have to say I’ve been living it up!

My neighbors son was one of the key players on the football team and damn the kid’s built. Just look at these muscles!

I probably flex them at least ten times a day.

I’ve spent my days mostly by my pool or making sure to keep this body in shape.

One of the best parts is that I no longer need to work! Well at least my works pretty easy. I’m now on onlyfans getting paid to show off these beautiful feet.

And a lot of my fans pay a nice premium just for some personal photos.

Before I was out of shape and pretty insecure. But now I’m hot and can’t wait to show off this bod.

Although the neighbors son is pretty pissed. I always catch him trying to get a glimpse of his old body. And I don’t mind giving him a show.

The other day I caught him rubbing his crotch while staring at me. But I don’t mind. How could you not lust after this?

I guess the Great Shift wasn’t terrible for everyone. I’m pretty happy!

Now if you can excuse me, I need to go jerk off my huge cock before I have my afternoon tan.

Don:

So My neighbor David and I ended up in each other’s son body while our son’s ended up in ours.

It’s an interesting situation around. Although both of our sons seem to love it. 

Lately, we’ve been sharing a house just to manage the boys easier. And it’s been difficult.

The hard part me is trying to control my adult teen while also dealing with teenage hormones. I really forgot what it’s like to be this horny all of the time.

The other day David walked in on me jerking off. In his sons body, how embarrassing!

It was a bit awkward for sure but he didn’t say anything—probably just trying to keep the peace.

Hopefully they will figure this whole thing out because I don’t know how I’m going to control myself. Oh god! I have another boner!

David:

After walking in on Don I knew all bets were off! I’ve been fighting the urge to jerk off myself.

But after seeing him with my sons dick in his hand I knew I needed some relief myself.

It’s odd being so much younger again and even more bizarre seeing Don’s son walk around in my body. The worst part is that I think Don’s son is gay and had a crush on me.

Now every time I see my former self I have to hide my boner.

I just hope neither of the boys noticed!

Don and David’s sons (Tyler and Andrew):

The Great Shift has been the best thing ever!

Not only did we both end up in each other’s dad’s bodies but both of them are too distracted by our bodies to pay any attention to what we’ve been doing.

Most of our summer has been exploring and getting to know our new selves. We even sleep in the same bed together which makes every night fun!

It’s a little weird messing around with my dads body at night. But it’s been some time since the Great Shift happened and I don’t even think about it that way anymore.

To me my dads body now belongs to Andrew.

Another cool part is that Andrew and I will sneak out to go to bars! And no one suspects a thing since were in adult bodies.

And before either of our dads wake up we always sneak back just in time.

Man, I love the Great Shift and I’m glad I get to go through it with my best friend.

Rivals Inside [ Parte Dos ]

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.

Rivals Inside: Parte Dos (Versión Español)

Me llamo Samuel, y no me siento satisfecho con la vida que llevo. No te confundas, sé que mi apariencia está por encima de lo que la mayoría de chicos quisiera llegar a ser, mi familia tiene una buena cantidad de dinero, tengo muchos seguidores en redes sociales y sin duda soy guapo.

Pero no soy feliz.

Cuando tenía trece años, me di cuenta de dos cosas; que tenía talento para la moda, y que me gustaba mi mejor amigo.

Siempre me sentí cómodo con Max a mi lado, e incluso protegido, a esa edad, él aun no era la masa de músculos qué es hoy en día. Pero sin duda si era hábil para golpear si alguien se atrevía a burlarse de mí. Y amaba nuestra amistad, pero no podía aguantar más llamar amigo a alguien que deseaba día y noche.

Así que cuando llegó ese verano... me propuse darle fin a todo ese lío. Sé perfectamente que pude haberle dicho lo que sentía, que podía haber tomado más alternativas.

Pero era adolescente, e hice lo que mejor creí en ese entonces (irónicamente, fue el peor error).

Me ocupe de dos cosas: mejorar mi guardarropa y mi físico. Tuve un glow up, si quieres decirlo así, de ser un chico con acné y ropa promedio, pasé a tener la piel tersa, bajar de peso y vestirme con estilo.

Y terminé diciéndole a Max que ya no quería ser su amigo. Y así... nuestra amistad llegó a su final. Preferí cortar todo lazo para ya no sentir que un sólo abrazo de él, me volviera loco.

Pero aunque ya no fuéramos amigos... él seguía gustándome con cada fibra de mi ser. Eso fue lo peor, me encantaba; y ahora no tenía nada. No me había dejado de gustar pero tampoco era mi amigo ya.

Me llene de amigos falsos, cada uno más superficial qué el anterior. Y se creo una especie de rivalidad con Max; en cada disciplina que ambos compitieramos, siempre sería una disputa sin fin, un duelo entre él y yo por ver quién vencía a quién.

En un inicio fue divertido... Pero se hacía cansado cada vez tener que mantener esa fachada. Aunque lo que me dolía, es que seguramente su odio hacía mí, si era real. Y cómo no se me ocurrió nada mejor. Pensé que la solución era empezar a tratarlo mal, si empezaba a ser hostil con él... Desaparecerían mis sentimientos por él. ¿No?

Error de nuevo, ahora no sólo le había rotó el corazón, sino que era un patán con él. Y me enfrasque en un círculo vicioso entre arrepentirme, volver a hacerlo para tratar de quitarme la sensación y darme cuenta de que seguía enamorado de él.

No me gustaba la música electrónica, el ritmo... sólo no me gustaba. Pero sabía que a Max sí, y pronto estaría el EDC. Uno de los mejores festivales de música electrónica.

Pensé en regalarle el boleto cómo una disculpa, pero cómo podrás notar, a veces no soy el mejor planeando cosas. Así que decidí ir al EDC con algunas amistades, y... Tratar de disculparme, incluso pensé en confesarle lo que sentía. ¿Qué más perdería? Ya no estaba en mi vida, ya no éramos amigos, desperdicie casi toda mi adolescencia en una rivalidad tonta con él. Ya no había más que perder.

Incluso escogí un outift que fuera algo que le pareciera lindo, quería verme bien para él. Pero mi actitud volvía a arruinar las cosas.

Era cómo un método de defensa qué se activaba cada vez que lo veía, y ahí estaba, acabando de llamarlo "gorila tonto"

— ¿No dices que te gusta? – Mi amiga Astrid murmuró detrás de mí.

De todos mis amigos superficiales, Astrid era la única que si era real, era una muy buena amiga, y claramente, la única persona a la que le había confiado mi secreto.

Aunque cómo cualquier persona, se sentía bastante confundida en mi técnica de coqueteo.

— Sí...

— ¿Por qué no le dices lo que sientes mejor?

— ¡Por qué no puedo! ¡Cada vez que lo veo, es cómo si se activará algo automático que me hace responderle así! – Me sentía frustrado conmigo mismo, suspiré. Antes de que ella pudiera responder algo, volví a hablar – Tsk... iré a caminar.

Avancé entre las carpas y los stands del concierto. Juro que vi a dos tipos meterse detrás de un conjunto de estas mientras trataban de mantener sus manos alejadas de ellos mismos.

Y seguí caminando, tratando de lidiar con mis emociones, hasta llegar a un punto alejado, apenas había gente.

— Hey... ¿tienes alguna moneda que te sobre? Me falta un poco de dinero para el transporte.

Un hombre me sacó el susto de mi vida al aparecer detrás mío, gire a verlo. Se veía como cualquier otra persona, con una camisa cualquiera... en sí, no se veía un mal tipo.

— Eh... Claro – rebusque un par de monedas en mi pantalón para darle al menos unas quince – no las necesito, quedátelas.

— Hombre, gracias – las guardó, yo apenas asentí y volví a quedarme en mis pensamientos, el silencio duró un rato, hasta que volvió a hablar – ¿Tienes un dilema, eh?

— ¿Se me nota tanto? – no sabia porque estaba hablando con él, pero tenía una vibra reconfortante.

— Un poco. Más bien la pregunta sería, ¿Quieres la respuesta?

— Sí – no dude en responder.

— ¿Por qué no intentas ponerte en sus zapatos? Tal vez así sea más fácil entenderlo, o abrirte con él.

Ni siquiera pensé mucho en porque él sabía mis problemas, sólo reflexione lo que decía.

— Tienes razón – sonreí reconfortado – gracias

— Nada que agradecer, amigo. Oh, mira – se palpó sus bolsillos para sacar una moneda, se veía muy brillante – al parecer si tenía una moneda extra, ten, gracias.

Y sin más, se marchó.Tome la moneda entre mis manos para acariciarla, había una sensación cálida en ella... Pero decidí volver con Astrid.

El resto de la noche había ido medianamente bien, el estruendo de la música no era de mi agrado, y la sensación de que mi oportunidad de hablar con Max se estaba desvaneciendo, hacía todo peor.

— Sam, tienes que ir a hablar ya con él – murmuró Astrid mientras trataba de reconfortarme.

— Lo sé. ¿Pero cómo? Sólo quisiera saber cómo...

Susurré. Fue entonces que sentí una especie de energía liberandose desde mi bolsillo, un calor. En un inicio era tenue, pero después comenzó a arder cómo el hierro.

Trate de decirle algo a Astrid pero todo a mi alrededor comenzaba a desvanecerse y tornarse en oscuro, sólo podía escuchar su voz angustiada que me llamaba. La oscuridad fue total hasta que de un momento a otro, cómo una subida vertiginosa, todo se llenó de colores, aromas y sonidos.

Parpadee un par de veces, tratando de adaptarme a un dolor de cabeza intenso, casi cómo si me hubieran dado con un ladrillo.

— Ugh... ¿Astrid? – miré hacía los lados, sin encontrar rastro de mi amiga. Aunque lo realmente confuso, fue notar mi voz; yo tenía una voz un tanto aguda, dulce. Pero ahora me encontré con un barítono completamente ajeno: profundo, masculino, grave. Bajé la mirada, encontrándome con dos grandes montículos de músculo qué se ocultaban a duras penas en un croptop. Me sentí distinto... Fuerte, grande. Poderoso.

Flexione mis nuevos brazos, sintiendo cómo se hinchaban, ¡cielos, casi era el tamaño de una pelota esa cosa!

Sonreí tontamente, empecé a picar con mi dedo mis nuevos pectorales, sintiendo como subía y bajaba la carne ante el empuje. Jamás había tenido músculos así, mi cuerpo estaba enfocado más en la estética, jamás en la fuerza.

Volví a levantar mi brazo, esta vez inhalando mi nuevo aroma. ¡Cielos, apestaba! Espera... Ese aroma. Lo podría reconocer en cualquier lado, ¡era el aroma de Max!

De inmediato saque su celular de uno de sus bolsillos para abrir la cámara, fue entonces que me encontré con su mirada a través del lente.

Su barba naciente... sus cejas pobladas, su tez oscura, cielos, sus músculos... Estaba dentro del cuerpo del chico que me había gustado toda la vida. Ahora tenía sus grandes músculos, su olor...

— Carajo...

Murmuré, ahuecando mis pantalones para sentir el enorme trozo de carne. Me imagine que Max estuviera bien dotado pero no imagine que así.

Algo con lo que también me estaba obsesionado, aun sin tocarlo, sólo con sentirlo... eran sus glúteos.

Podía sentir como se pegaba la tela a ellos, lo redondos que eran, o lo pesados que se sentían. Max sin duda había moldeado su cuerpo para ser casi perfecto.

— ¡Hola! ¿Quieres una cerveza? – un chico de repente se me acercó. Se veía lindo, aunque su apariencia se parecía a mi anterior yo.

— Eh... No, no, gracias. No tengo dinero

— Oh no, te estoy invitando. ¿Quieres?

Parpadee confundido. ¿Me estaba... coqueteando? Por una parte me sentía halagado, sin duda el cuerpo de Max era para morirse, cualquiera le pondría el ojo encima. Aunque eso me daba celos, quería que él fuera mío.

— Claro. ¿Puedo pedir más de una?

— Seguro, guapo.

Y en menos de diez minutos, estaba empinandome cerveza una tras otra. Pensé que el cuerpo de Max tendría una buena resistencia al alcohol. Otra vez estaba equivocado...

—————

— ¿¡Pero de qué hablas!? – Max dijo molesto en mi cuerpo – ¡Estás ebrio, Samuel!

Y no mentía, me sentía bastante mareado, pesado... Sé que no consideraba a Max como un deportista tonto, pero sin duda me sentía así.

— Te estoy siendo sincero... Mira, Max, yo...

— ¡Sam, ya basta! ¡Primero dejas de ser mi amigo, después me tratas mal, luego tu único objetivo es ganarme, y ahora nos intercambiaste de cuerpos! ¿¡Qué te pasa!?

— ¡Me gustas, Max! – finalmente salió de mi pecho, por fin lo había dicho – Me has gustado toda mi vida. Lamento no haberlo dicho antes, lo siento por tratarte mal, no sabía cómo decirte lo que sentía...

Él se quedó en silencio, sólo me miró fijamente por un rato con una mezcla de severidad y enojo. Aunque estuviera en mi cuerpo, su esencia seguía ahí, imponente.

Incluso se veía en sus ojos ese rastro de poder.

Bajé la mirada, sintiendo cómo las lágrimas estaban a punto de salir, cuando él se acercó para ponerse de puntas y besarme.

Abrí los ojos grandes, pero no dude ni un segundo en corresponder el beso.

— Idiota... – él murmuró – tú también me gustas.

— ¿Qué?

— Sí. Me gustabas cuando éramos adolescentes, aun antes de que cambiarás. Aunque debo admitir que no me quejo de cómo mejoraste tu cuerpo.

Sonrió, acariciando mi viejo abdomen.

— Oye, no toques – traté de detenerlo pero él me esquivo.

— Ah no, te estuviste toqueteando y oliendote a ti mismo, enfrente de todos. Creo que me lo debes.

Sonreí.

— Oye, tu cuerpo es ardiente... No me juzgues. Sólo mira estos músculos – flexione mis brazos con una risa tonta, lo que lo hizo rodar los ojos mientras sonreía.

— Deja de hacer eso, van a pensar que soy raro

— Vas a tenerme que dar algo más para convencerme de dejar de hacerlo.

Entonces volvió a besarme. Aunque ahora de una forma más intensa, podía sentir su lengua chocar contra la mía, sus manos rondando por todos mis músculos, aferre su cuerpo contra el mío. De inmediato lo levante para que se aferrara a mi cintura con sus piernas.

— Oye... – el murmuró contra mis labios.

— ¿Sí? – dije, queriendo volver a besarlo.

— ¿Cómo me habías dicho?... ¿Gorila deportista apestoso? – pareció burlarse, aunque de un momento a otro, se las arregló para empezar a oler mi axila, hundió su nariz, frotándose entre el sudor y el hedor, lo que hizo que sólo soltará un jadeo – ¿Sabes?... Siempre me ha gustado mi olor.

Sonrió, antes de volver a meter su cara para lamer y oler.

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 será mi nueva cuenta, espero les gusten las historias que vienen próximamente. Nos vemos en la próxima historia… ¿Quién sabe qué cuerpo ocuparás esta vez?

———

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?

The Academic Successor

Professor Harold Whitaker had long surpassed the boundaries of academia, delving into the arcane, forbidden arts that lay hidden in the forgotten tomes of the university’s basement. It was in one such text, a brittle manuscript bound in skin, that he discovered the secrets of astral projection and possession. In his failing years, his once-sharp mind now dulled by age, Harold had grown resentful of his waning physical strength and the relentless march of time that no man could outrun. But knowledge, he realized, offered a loophole.

Andrew was the professor’s favourite student, young, strong, and full of potential. A quiet, disciplined athlete, he excelled in both his studies and in his physical pursuits, the perfect vessel for Harold’s ambitions. The old professor’s plan had taken years to refine, every detail, every nuance of the incantation memorized and practiced in the stillness of his secluded study.

One night, when the moon hung heavy and full in the sky, Harold began the ritual. His ancient, brittle body collapsed on the dusty floor as his spirit tore free from its cage of flesh. The sensation was exhilarating—his soul no longer confined, free to roam the ether. He soared over the city, the dormitories, the sleeping students, until he found Andrew.

The boy slept soundly, oblivious to the force that hovered above him, a darkness that seeped through the walls of his consciousness. Harold waited, savoring the moment before he surged forward, flooding Andrew’s mind, his essence intertwining with the young man’s. There was a brief struggle, Andrew’s subconscious thrashing like a trapped animal, but Harold was relentless, pressing, squeezing, until finally, the resistance ebbed away.

When Andrew opened his eyes, it was Harold who looked out through them. He felt the strength in Andrew’s limbs, the taut muscles beneath smooth skin, the youth and vitality that had been lost to him for decades. He reveled in it, stretching, flexing his fingers, relishing the sensation of power coursing through this new body.

There was a moment of heady triumph, and then Harold—now Andrew—moved to the mirror. He took in the reflection: the boyish, chiseled features, the strong jawline, the eyes still glazed with the residue of sleep, but now with a sharper glint of intellect that was purely Harold’s. The sight filled him with a dark satisfaction.

He smirked at his reflection, flexing his new muscles. The reflection in the mirror was pure, raw potential—his to mold, his to control. The plan had worked. This body was his now, and with it, the promise of a second life, stronger and more virile than the last.

In a moment of vanity, Harold—Andrew—grabbed his phone, feeling the slick, cool glass in his hand, so unlike the heavy tomes and crumbling parchment he had been accustomed to. It was almost too easy, taking this body, this life, and making it his own. He raised the phone, aiming it at the mirror, at the image of youth and masculinity that now belonged to him. With a smirk, he captured the moment—a memento of his triumph over death, over time, over the constraints of his feeble, aging body.

He marveled at the picture on the screen. Andrew’s eyes—now his eyes—glinted with a knowing arrogance, a touch of mockery. The way he stood, arms behind his head, a casual display of power, was all Harold. He admired the sleek blue briefs, the way they hugged the boy’s—his—thighs, the powerful line of his legs, the way they showed off the musculature he had long envied.

Satisfied, he dropped the phone on the bed and stepped back to admire himself in the mirror once more. This was his body now. He ran a hand down his chest, over the tattoo—Andrew’s tattoo—and smiled, knowing the boy was screaming somewhere deep inside, unable to take back what had been so easily taken from him. Harold savored that thought, the helplessness of it all, as he flexed once more, feeling the power of his new flesh.

His gaze drifted down to the bulge in the blue briefs, the outline unmistakable, thick and substantial. A low, almost amused chuckle rumbled in his chest as he traced the outline with his fingers, the sensation both familiar and entirely new.

“Well, well, Andrew,” he murmured, the words dripping with both mockery and admiration. “You’ve been hiding quite the beast, haven’t you?”

He let his fingers linger, tracing the thick curve, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric. The way it responded to his touch was intoxicating, a powerful reminder of the youth, the virility he had reclaimed. Harold’s grin widened, more wicked now, as he watched his reflection, reveling in the mixture of Andrew’s athletic build and his own dark, twisted intellect.

“How did you manage to keep this under wraps?” he teased, his voice a low purr, dripping with false surprise. “I had no idea you were packing such a weapon.”

He gave a soft squeeze, feeling the heft, the undeniable presence. It was exhilarating, this new power, this potent masculinity that was his to command. Harold reveled in the irony, how this shy, disciplined boy had hidden something so primal, so raw, beneath that reserved exterior.

“You’ve been keeping secrets under those books and papers, Andrew,” he whispered to his reflection, his fingers tracing the shape again, more deliberately this time. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure it gets the attention it deserves.”

Harold’s eyes remained fixed on the reflection, the intensity of his gaze unyielding. The sight of Andrew’s body under his control, every muscle responding to his touch, sent a shiver of dark satisfaction down his spine. He watched the reflection with an almost obsessive focus, the way the chest rose and fell with each breath, how the abs tightened under the press of his hand.

He increased the pressure, his strokes becoming more deliberate, more intense. The fabric of the briefs stretched, outlining every inch of the hardness beneath. The sensation was overwhelming, a heady mix of power and pleasure that surged through him like a current, making his breath hitch.

His other hand roamed upwards, gliding over the sculpted contours of his chest, feeling the solid weight of muscle, the way the pectorals tensed under his fingertips. He traced the line of his abs, each ridge defined, sharp under the skin, the core of an athlete. It was intoxicating, the sheer physicality of it, the realization that this strength, this vitality, was all his now.

His hand slid lower, tracing the tight ridges of the abs, feeling the power coiled in the core, the promise of force and control. The intensity of his strokes increased, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through his new body. His eyes never wavered from the mirror, locked on the sight of his—Andrew’s—body responding to his every whim.

He could see the veins standing out on the forearm, the muscles flexing in response to the movement, the way the chest heaved as the pleasure built. It was all so perfectly aligned, the physical power of youth combined with the ruthless intellect of a man who had mastered the forbidden.

“Look at you,” Harold whispered to the reflection, his voice thick with both admiration and lust. “You were great as a student. But now… now you’re perfect... I’m perfect.”

The hand on his chest traced the sharp lines of his collarbone before sliding back down to meet the other, both hands now working in unison, increasing the intensity, feeding the growing heat that spread through his new body. His breath came faster, more ragged, the anticipation building with each stroke, each touch.

Goddamn, Andrew,” he whispered, his tone dark with both awe and twisted humor. “You’ve been sitting on this and pretending to be the quiet, unassuming student all this time?”

He squeezed again, feeling it throb in response, the fabric straining. There was a surge of triumph in Harold’s chest, a sick pleasure in knowing this was his now—his to explore, his to use. His eyes narrowed as they flicked back to the mirror, catching the incongruity of the reflection.

The thick, strong frame, the athletic build, the powerful presence, all undermined by one glaring detail: Harold’s old glasses perched on Andrew’s nose. It was a clash of identities, the young man’s face paired with the unmistakable mark of an aging scholar.

He snorted, unable to hold back the laugh that bubbled up. “Look at you, Andrew,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he continued to stroke. “A beast between the legs, and you still manage to look like a damn dork with these things on.”

With a deft movement, he pulled the glasses off, tossing them carelessly onto the bed. Without them, the reflection sharpened, Andrew’s features fully realized, leaving only this powerful, youthful body in its wake.

“Much better,” Harold murmured, admiring the image now, his hand still working through the fabric, slow and purposeful. “Now you look like what you really are, Andrew—a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And I’m going to enjoy every second of being inside this skin.”

Harold’s eyes blazed with possession, a dark hunger as he watched the reflection, every muscle in the young body straining, responding to the relentless pace he set. He could feel the power, the potential, the sheer force of what he had claimed, and it thrilled him to his core.

This was what he had worked for, what he had sacrificed for—this body, this life, this control. And as he pushed himself closer to the edge, he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he had no intention of ever letting it go.

"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