Possession: Revenge

The weight slammed down, the reverberation echoing through the gym. Kieran blinked, disoriented. One moment he was struggling with a measly 45 pounds on the bench press, the next… this. He looked down at his hands. Not his hands. These are thick, calloused, powerful. Veins snaked across his forearms like rivers on a map. He flexed, and a bicep the size of a melon bulged.

Panic fluttered in his chest, quickly overshadowed by an unfamiliar surge of confidence. He sits back up, pushing the weight away with ease. He looked around. The familiar, slightly depressing gym of the campus ini had seemingly undergone a subtle transformation. It's brighter, cleaner, and the air hummed with a different kind of energy – an energy of raw physicality.

Next to him, Daniel also sit back up with a groan that quickly morphed into a roar. He's doing the same thing - staring at his body with a mix of awe and confusion. But there's not much confusion in his eyes, more like… recognition?

"Did what?" Kieran asked, his own voice deeper, rougher than he remembered. It feels foreign in his throat. He feels like he's speaking through a megaphone.

"Dude," Daniel said, his voice a booming baritone that made Kieran jump. "Look at this! We finally did it!"

Daniel - no, Danny - flexed again, his chest rippling. "We finally look the part, man! All that work on the app... it paid off!"

App? What app? Kieran’s mind raced, trying to grasp what's happening. The last thing he remembered was messing around with that reality-bending app he found in some obscure forum. Chronivac, it said. He’d downloaded it on a whim, a late-night joke. It promised to alter reality based on user input, but he had dismissed it as some elaborate hoax. He had even drunkenly typed in his and Daniel's details and what kind of sick transformation it would be if they looked and behaved like two all-American douchebags, but he never thought this would actually happen!

Then, unexpectedly, the memories slamming into him like a tidal wave. Not memories of late-night coding sessions and rejected science fair projects. These are memories of packed frat parties, football victories, and… well, a lot of moaning and groaning from late night sexual conquests. Memories of being Kyle, the legendary party animal and Danny, the star quarterback

"Kyle, my man!" Danny clapped him on the back, nearly sending him sprawling. “Leg day next, yeah? Gotta keep these tree trunks strong.” He winked, and Kieran suddenly understood what Danny meant when he said ‘paid off’. Every woman in the gym are now looking at them, and not with the pity or disdain they were used to. No, these are looks of genuine… interest.

"Right, leg day," Kieran – no, Kyle – mumbled, trying to process the sheer audacity of what had happened. They are... them, but not them. He's still Kieran, with Kieran’s memories lurking beneath the surface, but he's also Kyle – a confident, charismatic jock with a life that seemed both incredibly appealing and terrifyingly shallow.

He feels this twinge of guilt for the life he left behind, the robotics club, the meticulously planned future. But that feeling quickly drowned out by a primal urge, a need to… dominate. It's in his blood, a fundamental part of this new, improved Kyle.

He stands up, his legs feeling impossibly strong. He looked over to Danny, this imposingly giant of a man is his best friend and also someone he really looked up to in terms of his dedication to the craft

"Let's do this," Danny said, a grin spreading across his face. Kyle sees his own reflection in the mirrored wall – messy long hair that he intended to let grow a bit more so it can become like a glorious lion mane, a chiseled jaw, and eyes that held a spark of raw, untamed energy. He smelled different too, a musky aroma that demanded attention and physique to back that up.. This is not Kieran anymore. This is Kyle Charmers, a fitting name for the charm he exudes with ease

They moved to the squat rack, drawing even more attention. A group of girls, dressed in tight leggings and sports bras, giggled and whispered as they passed. Kyle caught one of their eyes and give her a wink. She blushed and looked away, but Kyle sees the smile playing on her lips.

"See, man?" Danny said, loading plates onto the bar with effortless ease. "Chicks loves it and our bodies crave for this shit,:

Kyle swallowed, trying to reconcile the nerdy, insecure Kieran with the confident, almost arrogant Kyle. He still can sense the hum of the old Kieran in the back of his mind, the passion for circuits and code, the fear of social interaction. But the feeling is fading, replaced by the immediate, visceral thrill of being desired.

He stepped under the bar, feeling the weight settle across his traps. It's heavy, far heavier than anything he’d ever attempted before. But he didn't hesitate. He squatted, the muscles in his legs screaming in protest, but he pushed through, driven by a force he didn't understand but couldn't deny.

He stands up, the weight feeling almost light. He did it again, and again, until his legs burned and his lungs ached. Around him, the gym seemed to fade away. All that mattered was the weight, the burn, and the knowledge that he was stronger, better, more… him than he had ever been before.

After hours of intense workout, they're finally done. As they left the gym and walked towards the frat house, Kyle noticed a familiar figure sitting on a bench. It's Becca, the girl he had a crush on since freshman year. The girl who barely acknowledged his existence--- Kieran's existence. He stopped in front of her, casting a shadow over her.

Becca looked up, her eyes widening. A flush crept up her neck. "Kyle?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, Becks," he said, his voice a low rumble. He ran a hand through his messy hair, a gesture that felt both natural and incredibly calculated. "Long time no see."

Becca stammered, "Wow, you… you look different, Kyle,"

Kyle smirked. "Yeah, we grow up after all. And....well, some things change." He leaned closer as he purposefully flexed his body a bit, the musky aroma of sweat and testosterone he exudes filling her nostrils. "So, what are you up to tonight?" He whispered seductively, almost like a predator lulling his prey with sense of safety

Becca bites her lip, her eyes flickering between his face and his chest. "Nothing much," she said, her voice breathless.

"Perfect," Kyle said, taking her hand. "How about we change that?"

As he leads her away, he glanced back at Danny, who gave him a thumbs-up and a knowing grin. Kyle grinned back. This is it. This is the life they had always dreamed of. The life they had created.

When Jason, a fellow suiter told me about this guy I got quite excited, raving about his nice  beard and luscious equipment.

He had him for quite a while, turned him at a party when that guy passed out drunk, patiently waited until everyone was gone to turn him right there.

So my friend came over, leading me into the bedroom to pull out what he teased me a surprise, not knowing that it would be that guy.

My jaw literally drops when he pulled him out of a dufflebag.

"You definately didn't overexaggerate" I commented when his dangling, hollow yet already impressive junk was revealed before he carefully placed the hollow body onto my bed.

Slowly I stroke along the suit, spread infront of me on the bed, feeling his hollow dick, his hairy, nice torse, the chest, the slightly firmer nipples, the beard, leaning forward to feel his lips with mine, sliding in my tongue, imagining him kissing me as I would do once I slipped into his hull, once I became thi hunky daddy.

“He is stunning!” I marvel getting my hand under his junk, feeling it, 

“I wonder what this member have have been into upto now, literally” imagining it's size once it would be filled up again, filled up with me, my body, my pleasure, my excitement. 

“I sure had some good fun with this” Jason stated, joining my hand with his, leaning into a kiss.

"I can't wait to feel him on my body" I moaned, starting to undress me, getting off my shirt, opening up my pants, feeling the hollow skin in between, kissing Jason, feeling his hands all over me, taking the hull, holding it up for me with a smiling wink once I was naked, stepping closer to kiss him before I kiss those empty lips again, stroking along that body again before Jason turned him around, opening up his back, the entrance to yet another world of experiences.

Excitedly I lift my foot, sliding in, searching for the leg to get in, sitting on the bed to out the other foot in aswell like sliding into rubbery leggings.

As I stood up it is time for that member, and although my junk is pretty nice and fully pumped that massive tool of his still wraped over with quite some extra room. 

Excitedly we kissed again, feeling that hull around my tool, pulling up the suit to cover my torso, feeling the hairy skin over mine, loose still, before I slide in my arms into those manly limbs.

“I love his build!” I stated, imagining his strong arms, sliding in my fingers into his big hands, wiggle them, injoying the feeling. 

Then we kiss once again as the only thing left is that hairy face, dangling down my chest before I get it up, seeing those eyewhiles from the inside, the nose, the mouth with a little bit of the full beard visible, taking in a musky smell before I dive in, pulling that mask over my head, adjusting those wholes over my features, slightly damp, kinda warm, hugging my head beforeI feel yet another kiss through that loose mask while fingers search for the opening in my back, knowing, that once it is closed the suit would merge, transforming my body to that stunning build until I would be that guy, until it no longer would feel like a suit but my own body.

“Ahhhh…” I groan, hearing that new voice out of my throat, his throat“ this is perfect”...

Beneath Their Feet

The football bus was filled with the kind of energy you’d expect after a big game they had won—sweaty, cocky footballers sprawled out, joking around, and teasing each other. Their musky scent was everywhere, a mix of sweat and testosterone. They were so lost in messing around that none of them noticed their driver slightly convulsing in his seat, his eyes rolling back as the bus stopped at a red light. For a few seconds, his body shook in his seat, stopping just in time for the green light.

His face was completely blank now as he drove the bus. But he didn’t take the usual route this time. Instead, he turned down into a secluded parking lot. This time, the players noticed and started asking questions.

The bus doors hissed open, and that’s when a short, nerdy guy with messy hair and thick glasses stepped onto the bus, clutching a jar filled with what looked like tiny, buzzing insects. The jocks went silent, their laughter replaced by confused stares as the guy stopped, eyeing them all like he was sizing them up.

The bugs in the jar seemed to grow agitated, their wings buzzing furiously inside the glass. He grinned, enjoying the moment as his eyes scanned the sea of muscle and sweat before him. “I think they will do nicely,” he whispered to the bugs, then turned to the driver. “Close the doors now,” he ordered.

The driver obeyed, and as soon as the doors shut, the guy popped the lid open, releasing the creatures.

The buzzing grew louder as the bugs swarmed the bus. The footballers didn’t stand a chance. They swatted at them at first, some even ran towards the closed doors, but the bugs were too fast. One by one, they forced their way into the players’ ears, their needle-like legs digging in, burrowing deep into their brains. The jocks’ eyes rolled back, their hot athletic bodies convulsing and twitching as the aliens took full control. The nerd watched with a large grin as their bodies stiffened, then relaxed, their faces falling into blank, obedient expressions. They sat back in their seats as if nothing had happened.

The nerd spotted two cute jocks sitting in the front seats with their socked feet resting on the empty seats in front of them.

“Like our feet, you perv? Come here and take a taste,” the two jocks said in perfect unison.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He took the seat in front of them and leaned in close. The smell hit him first—sweat, dirt, that raw scent only athletes seemed to have. He licked slowly, his tongue running against their socks, wet with the day's sweat. He savored every second, every musky scent, as the jocks watched, smiling down at him.

He pulled off their socks and then feasted on their soles. He grabbed one foot from each jock and buried his face between them, inhaling deeply and passionately.

He pulled his face away and ordered them to worship each other's feet—and they did, making his cock throb harder under his pants.

But it wasn’t just them. The back of the bus, where the loudest and cockiest jocks usually gathered to mess around, was now full of grinning faces.

“Come lick my soles!” a hot Daddy wearing a Rolex watch called out, lifting his foot toward him.

“No, worship mine! They taste better,” another chimed in, propping his leg up over a seat, his toes wiggling, teasing the stranger.

“Bullshit, I’ve got the dirtiest feet,” a third one added, holding his foot up like it was a trophy—a challenge he knew the guy wouldn’t resist.

The nerd’s head spun with excitement. He crawled between the seats, eyes wide with lust, running his tongue over each jock’s foot that was offered to him. He savored their musk, the sweat, the pure masculinity of it all. The football players, now completely under the aliens' control, practically begged for the gay man's attention, pushing their feet toward his face.

Some even took off their shirts and flexed their bodies in a desperate attempt to have their feet worshiped by the gay stranger. He moved from one to the next, his face buried in their soles, overwhelmed by the strong musk each one had. The smell of their socks and the sound of their laughter as they watched him worship them was too much for him. He pulled down his pants and started using one of the players' feet to jerk himself off.

Before long, at his command, the whole team was naked and fucking each other in a depraved orgy. The nerd licked the jocks' sweaty muscles as they fucked their teammates, he worshiped their jock feet hanging in the air as they were being fucked.

The bus was his playground now, filled with jocks who had been transformed into mindless drones, ready and willing to give him whatever he wanted.

He decided to fuck the hot Daddy while burying his face in his long musky soles.

The nerd just loved taking over an entire bus of jocks—it was his favorite personal sport.

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.

The Tutor

I never imagined my first real experiment would be with Aiden Cruz.

A guy like him—intimidating at first glance, but surprisingly polite—wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I developed the serum. I always thought my first test subject would be some random thug, someone who deserved to have their mind turned into useless mush.

But Aiden? He was different And that’s exactly why I chose him.

It started with a simple tutoring gig. I was a nerdy college student just looking for a side hustle. Science was my thing, and I didn’t mind helping students out for extra cash, especially if they were willing to pay well.

Aiden was a criminology major, and he wasn’t exactly failing, but he needed help with his research paper. The guy was always in the gym, always training, always moving. He wasn’t the type to sit down and write for hours.

So when he found out I was available, he sent me a message.

“Bro, you do tutoring? Need help with this damn research paper. Got cash, just name your price.”

His messages were always short and to the point—just like what you'd expect him to be

That’s when I had the idea.

See, I’d been working on something—a neurological erasure serum. A drug designed to turn a person’s brain into a useless pile of goo while keeping their body fully functional. It started as a theoretical experiment, but curiosity got the best of me. I had finally perfected it.

But I needed a real test subject. Someone strong. Durable.

And Aiden?

He was perfect.

I told him I’d help, but I preferred tutoring at my place; quieter, fewer distractions. Aiden, being the chill guy he was, didn’t even question it.

“Cool, bro. I’ll swing by later.”

That was it. No hesitation. No suspicion.

I prepared everything—set up my laptop, cleaned my desk, and most importantly… spiked his protein shake.

Aiden was a fitness freak. I knew he wouldn’t turn down a supplement boost, so I made it look real—a proper protein mix, just laced with my serum.

When Aiden stepped into my place, I was immediately reminded of how casual yet intimidating he was.

He wore a simple sleeveless shirt and a jacket, thick enough to hint at the muscle underneath. But from a distance, he looked like a typical lean college guy, but up close?

You could tell.

he removed his jacket for his comfort, revealing his muscled arms. His arms were solid, veins lightly visible beneath his skin. His chest pushed against the fabric, and when he moved, his muscles shifted slightly, hinting at power.

He dropped his bag on my floor, glancing around. “Yo, nice place.”

I swallowed. “Uh, thanks.”

He pulled out a chair and sat down, stretching his arms with a sigh. “So, where do we start?”

I cleared my throat. “Uh, you said you’re working on a criminology research paper?”

“Yeah.” He scratched his head. “Shit’s boring as hell, bro. I’d rather be working out.”

I chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, I figured…”

We actually worked for a while. A couple of hours, even. I helped him structure his arguments, fix up citations, and even explained some of the theories he barely paid attention to in class.

At first, Aiden was restless. His knee bounced under the table, his fingers drummed against his notebook, and he sighed a lot.

But over time, he got into it.

I caught him nodding along, genuinely thinking about what I was saying. It was weird seeing him so focused.

At some point, Aiden leaned back, stretching his arms over his head with a grunt. “Damn, bro… it’s hot as hell in here.”

I blinked. “Uh, is it?”

Aiden fanned himself with his hand. “Shit, man, I dunno if it’s just me, but I’m sweating.”

I hadn’t really noticed—until he pointed it out. There was a sheen of sweat on his arms, making his skin glisten slightly.

Then, without hesitation, Aiden grabbed the hem of his compression shirt and pulled it off.

I swear, for a second, my brain just stopped working.

His torso was… something else.

Lean, yet solid. His pecs were well-defined, his abs sculpted, and his skin smooth except for a light dusting of hair near his lower abdomen.

He sighed in relief, tossing the shirt onto the back of his chair. “Much better.”

I forced myself to look away. “Uh, yeah. I guess it’s a little warm…”

Aiden stretched his arms again, then smirked. “Bet you don’t sweat much, huh? No offense, bro, but you look like you avoid the gym like the plague.”

I laughed nervously. “Y-Yeah, uh… working out isn’t really my thing.”

He grinned. “Man, you should try it. Bet you’d get some gains if you actually trained.”

That’s when the idea hit me.

I hesitated, then casually said, “Actually, I’ve been working on something. A… uh, smart supplement.”

Aiden raised a brow. “Smart supplement?”

I nodded quickly. “Yeah! It’s, uh… a performance enhancer. Helps with muscle recovery and, you know… focus.”

He hummed, thinking. “That so?”

I pulled out the protein shake, heart racing. “Wanna try it?”

Aiden gave it a skeptical look. “You made this?”

“Yeah! It’s just, um… experimental.”

Aiden snorted. “Bro, you tryna turn me into some test monkey?”

I chuckled awkwardly. “N-No! I mean, well, sort of… but not in a bad way! Just, you know, feedback and stuff.”

He sighed, then shrugged. “Eh, screw it. Why not?”

I held my breath as he grabbed the bottle, twisted off the cap, and took a long sip.

At first, nothing happened.

He smacked his lips. “Tastes… kinda weird.”

Then, slowly, his expression changed.

Aiden blinked.

His fingers twitched.

His broad shoulders stiffened.

His breathing hitched.

“Yo…” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “Why’s my head feel heavy…?”

I said nothing.

He exhaled sharply, shifting in his seat. “Bro, this shit hittin’ weird. What was in that?”

His words slurred.

His muscles twitched.

Then, before he could say another word—

His body seized.

Aiden jerked violently, knocking over his chair as he collapsed onto his knees. His hands clawed at his head, his breath turning ragged.

I backed away, eyes wide.

“It’s working…” I whispered.

A deep, wet gurgle left Aiden’s throat. His body convulsed, arms locking up in unnatural positions. Veins bulged, sweat dripping down his temples.

Then came the drool.

Thick, viscous strands leaked from his mouth, trailing down his chin. His lips trembled, his eyes rolling back as his body shook violently.

Then—

The goo.

A dark, gelatinous substance seeped from his ears, trailing down his jaw. His brain; his thoughts, his memories, his intelligence; was melting.

I clutched my chest, my breath shallow. Then Aiden twitched one last time before suddenly going still.

The moment Aiden’s body finally stopped convulsing, the room fell into an eerie silence. His muscular form lay sprawled out on the floor, his limbs twitching slightly as the last remnants of his former self faded away. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, his mouth slightly open with a thin trail of drool running down his cheek. The air was thick with a mix of sweat and something darker, something almost unnatural. My heart was still hammering in my chest, but as I took a shaky step toward him, a slow realization settled in—Aiden was mine now.

"Aiden…?" I murmured, kneeling beside him. No response, of course. His head lolled slightly, his lips parting as a low, guttural moan escaped. I watched in fascination, gently nudging his jaw up with my fingers. He was still warm, still breathing, but there was nothing behind those eyes. A shell. A body with no mind. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for his cheek, pressing against the firm flesh. He felt… real, solid, human. And yet, he wasn’t anymore.

I let out a breath, a mix of exhilaration and unease. "Alright, big guy. Let’s see if you can still move," I whispered to myself, grabbing his broad shoulders and shifting him upright. His muscles were stiff, resisting at first before going slack again. I adjusted my grip, sliding my hands down to his arms and lifting them up, forcing his entire body to follow. With a slow, deliberate motion, I pulled him into a standing position, his legs locking into place like a mannequin being propped up. His head bobbed forward, his lips parting as another sluggish moan slipped from his throat. "Nnngh… uhhn…"

I smirked. "Looks like you still got some sounds in you, huh?" I murmured, tilting his head side to side, watching how his body simply followed my guidance. No resistance. No understanding. Just pure, empty obedience.

I let my fingers trail over Aiden’s thick biceps, feeling the solid muscle beneath my touch. A chuckle escaped me as I pressed into the firmness, kneading and prodding at his arms like examining freshly sculpted marble. "You’re so stiff now… not like before," I murmured, running my hand down to his forearm, then back up to his delts. His muscles barely reacted, holding their shape without any sign of resistance or tension from within.

Aiden’s head wobbled slightly, his lips parting as another sluggish grunt rumbled from his throat. "Uhhhn… huhhh…" His eyes remained blank, completely uncomprehending of what was happening to him.

I pressed a finger into the center of his chest, feeling the warm, sweat-slicked flesh give slightly before bouncing back into place. "Damn, Aiden. You’re really just… nothing now?" I mused, squeezing at his pecs before running my fingers down his firm abdomen. He didn’t react, didn’t shift or acknowledge the attention. His body was there, but Aiden... the person he had been was long gone.

"Nnngh… huhhh…" he exhaled, his chest subtly rising and falling. His fingers twitched faintly at his sides, as though attempting to process the new posture, but no recognition flickered in his vacant eyes.

"Good boy," I murmured, admiring how effortlessly he stood now, completely under my guidance.

"Nngh… uhh…" His lips twitched as another sound rumbled from his throat, a low, clueless grunt. He blinked sluggishly, like his body was just now registering the concept of standing. I chuckled, patting his solid chest. "Now, let’s see how flexible you still are."

I took a step back, admiring how his muscles remained tense, as if locked in place. Slowly, I reached out and grasped his wrist, lifting his arm over his head. His bicep flexed naturally with the movement, the thick muscle taut beneath my fingertips. He made no attempt to resist or even acknowledge the action, only grunting softly as his arm moved. "Mmh… huhh…"

I smirked, giving his bicep a firm squeeze. "Damn, you’re really solid," I muttered, rubbing my fingers along the defined curve of his muscle. I leaned in, inhaling deeply against his exposed underarm. The scent hit me instantly—thick, masculine, heady with sweat. A shiver ran down my spine. "Hah… you smell strong, Aiden. Real strong." I murmured against his skin before dragging my tongue experimentally across the damp flesh. Salty. Musky. Perfect.

Aiden gave another mindless groan, his chest subtly rising and falling as I continued exploring his unresisting form. I trailed my hands down his torso, fingers mapping over every dip and ridge of his sculpted abs. The heat radiating from his body was intoxicating, his skin slick with the remnants of his former effort. My palms glided down to his waist, then back up to his pecs, tracing slow circles around the hardened muscle. Then, with deliberate slowness, my hands drifted lower, sliding down his abdomen, tracing the deep grooves leading toward his shorts. I pressed my palm against the bulge beneath, feeling the weight and heat radiating through the fabric. Aiden let out a sluggish moan, his hips shifting slightly in response to the touch.

"Mmmh… uhhn…" he exhaled, his fingers twitching faintly.

I chuckled, squeezing gently. "That’s a good boy," I murmured, my fingers grazing over the taut fabric of his crotch, testing his responsiveness. His body remained slack, obedient, a sculpted machine waiting for my guidance.

"Tell me, Aiden," I whispered, my fingers pressing firmly against the thick bulge beneath his shorts. "Who owns you now?" I traced slow, deliberate circles over the fabric, feeling the heat radiating from his body.

"Hnnnh… uhhn…" Aiden groaned, his lips parting as he tried to form words, but nothing coherent came out.

"That’s right," I murmured, leaning in close, my breath ghosting over his sweat-slicked skin. "You're mine. Completely mine. Say it. Say who owns you."

"Uhhn… y-you…" Aiden’s voice was weak, broken, the last remnants of his former self dissolving beneath my touch.

I smirked, dragging my fingers up his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles flexed instinctively under my control. "Good boy."

"Mmmh…" Aiden hummed blankly, his fingers twitching slightly as his arms dangled at his sides.

"Let’s get you to pose a little," I mused, grabbing his wrists and guiding his arms into a flexed position. His biceps bulged as I positioned them, his forearms coiling with dense muscle. His broad chest pushed outward, every inch of him sculpted into a perfect display of strength. His lips parted as a low, breathy moan escaped him.

"Uhhn…"

"Yeah, that’s it. Hold that for me." I stepped back, tilting my head as I examined him like an artist inspecting a sculpture. He was perfect. The raw definition of muscle, a body chiseled into peak form—and now completely under my control.

I reached forward again, pressing my fingers against his abdomen, feeling the tautness of his core. I leaned in once more, dragging my tongue along the edge of his obliques, tasting the salt and heat of his sweat. "So good…" I breathed, savoring every inch of my new creation.

Aiden let out another grunt, his muscles twitching slightly under my touch. He didn’t understand what was happening—he didn’t understand anything anymore. He was simply reacting to stimuli, a blank slate for me to shape and command.

"I let my fingers trace his rigid muscles, savoring the way his body barely responded beyond a sluggish twitch. "Tell me, Aiden," I whispered, my hands pressing firmly over his broad chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breath. "Who owns you again?"

"Uhhn… y-you…" Aiden groaned, his voice fragile, struggling to shape the words.

"That's right!" I smirked, trailing my hands down his abdomen, teasing along the sculpted ridges of his core. "You're mine. Forever. No more criminology, no more research. Just this. Just you, staying right here, as my perfect, obedient plaything. And tonight… tonight, we’re going to do something wild."

I grinned, stepping back to admire my masterpiece. His empty eyes stared ahead, waiting, unthinking.

============================

I woke up to the warmth of Aiden’s body beside me, his steady, rhythmic breathing filling the quiet room. A slow smile curled on my lips as I turned onto my side, drinking in the sight of my sleeping toy. His powerful chest rose and fell, his muscles relaxed, his expression blank and peaceful. It was real. He was real. And more importantly—he was mine.

The weight of my accomplishment settled in my chest, a thrill of satisfaction coursing through me. My little experiment had worked flawlessly, and now, Aiden was completely under my control. No thoughts, no resistance; just pure, obedient muscle, waiting for my every command. As I ran a hand over his thick arm, squeezing the bicep that I would soon make even bulkier, a deep sense of responsibility mixed with excitement settled in. Taking care of him, training him, growing him into the ultimate plaything—it was all up to me now. And I was more than ready to embrace it.

A Body Stealer Tale: A Walk At The Park

Me and my boyfriend were strolling through the desertic park at night while holding hands when a straight couple walked past us. Both of us immediately turned our heads, drawn to the sight of the hot man holding his girlfriend's hand. He was gorgeous—muscular, tall, and effortlessly charming in that way that made you stop and stare. My boyfriend stopped walking and gave me a knowing look. I grinned and nodded at him, giving him permission to do his thing. We didn’t have to say anything.

He gave me a quick peck on the lips before casually trailing behind the couple. I found a bench nearby and sat down, waiting for him to work his magic. The park was quiet and dark, kinda scary. But I tried not to think about that. After all, I didn’t have the kind of power my boyfriend had—the power to turn people into wearable bodysuits—to protect myself.

About fifteen minutes later I saw the hot muscular boyfriend striding confidently toward me. My heart skipped a beat as I took in the sight of him. His shirt was unbuttoned now, exposing his massive muscular pecs. His nipples were big and pink, practically begging for attention, and his smug smirk told me he knew exactly the effect he was having on me.

He sat besides me on the bench.

"Well, well," he drawled with his baritone voice. "I heard you're a hungry boy for Daddy's tits. Don’t worry, Daddy’s got the milkers. Go on, suck on my nipples."

I didn’t need to be told twice. I leaned forward like I was starving, my lips latching onto one of his thick nipples with primal hunger. I flickered his nipple with my tongue and he groaned low in his throat, closing his fingers through my hair to press me closer.

"Yeah, that’s it," he rumbled as he held me on his muscular arms. "Worship these pecs like a good boy."

I switched to his other nipple, flicking my tongue against it before sucking hard, and his reaction was immediate. I ran my hands over his pecs and squeezed them hard.

"What did you do with his girlfriend?" I asked between licks.

He chuckled darkly, pulling me away from his chest to look me in the eyes. "Don’t worry about her," he said, his tone teasing. "Let’s just say she’s out of the picture. Now, focus on what’s important: enjoying our new bodysuit." He then pulled me for a passionate kiss.

I glanced up at him, my boyfriend now fully in control of the hot guy’s body. This never gets boring no matter how many times he does it.

He started flexing his pecs in front of me, making them bounce hypnotically. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. "This one is going to look amazing in our collection. His pecs are so huge that we could just fold him and use them as pillows. Do you want to cum on his pecs before we go home?"

I didn’t respond with words. Instead, I told him to kneel in front of me and he obeyed. I pulled down my pants and started to furiously jerk off right there in the open, aiming my cock at his chest. It didn't took long and I came on his massive pecs, coating them with my seed, some even landed on his handsome face. I pressed the tip of the head on his nipple and we both laughed.

We walked out of the park hand in hand. His shirt was still open, proudly displaying his cum covered pecs.

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?

———

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.

Asuntos de Hermanos

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.

Brothers Issues (Versión Español)

Mi hermano mayor me era exasperante. Un tipo con más ego que cerebro, pero que tenía un cuerpo tan envidiable que reforzaba más su actitud petulante.

Las peleas en mi casa eran constantes, ¡El muy idiota dejaba regada su ropa y casi no se duchaba! Siempre estaba presumiendo de su "olor de hombre"; y claro, al ser el mayor, mis padres lo dejaban hacer lo que quisiera. Siempre se salía con la suya, y yo sólo podía morirme de envidia.

Mark era el hermano mayor mientras yo sólo me conformaba con las sobras, no creo ser poco atractivo, pero cuando comparas a un río con el mar, claramente va a ganar el mar.

Siempre se llevaba la atención de todos: profesores, familia, incluso mis ex novios; aunque él no fuera gay, siempre terminaban confesandome que lo que deseaban era estar cerca de él.

Y estaba harto.

Había estado perdido en Internet por al menos dos horas en la madrugada, sin ver nada interesante hasta que pareció llegar un correo.

"¿Quieres ser alguien más? Lee este correo"

Lo primero que hice fue cerrar el mensaje. Era ridículo, seguro era alguna especie de correo spam. Pero mientras más pasaba el tiempo, una extra curiosidad comenzaba a cosquillear en mí, hasta que no pude más.

Termine abriéndolo y leyéndolo. Traía una serie de instrucciones de cómo preparar un brebaje con ingredientes un tanto curiosos, pero que causaría qué dos personas cambiaran de cuerpo cuando lo bebieran.

Nuevamente creí que todo era una estupidez, cuando escuché algo chocar una y otra vez contra mi pared desde el cuarto de mi hermano, y los gritos emocionados de una chica que seguramente era su aventura de hoy, cómo casi todas las noches. Había llegado a mí límite.

A la mañana siguiente, me dedique a reunir todos los ingredientes, hasta finalmente llegar al último: Sudor de la otra persona.Pensé que sería difícil, pero recordé que mi hermano dejaba su ropa interior sudada por cualquier lugar de la casa. Aquella mañana, él estaba fuera, así que pensé que sería fácil escabullirme a su habitación para robar unos bóxer.

Apenas entrar a su habitación me había llenado las fosas nasales de un olor penetrante, todo el hedor de mi hermano era bastante fuerte. Parecía que no había limpiado su habitación en años y sólo olía a sudor y sus fluidos, apestaba...

Estaba revisando entre su ropa sucia cuando escuché el tronar de la madera de su puerta, la piel se me erizo, esperando un golpe. Pero mi hermano no estaba de pie en el marco, sino su mejor amigo: Theo.

— ¿Qué haces aquí, amigo?

Theo era un buen tipo, no sabía cómo era amigo de mi hermano. Su cabello rubio era sedoso, su sonrisa brillante... y estaba enamorado de él desde que tenía memoria.

No sabía si era porque él me trataba bien, porque era buena persona y amable, o todo junto. Pero cielos, sí que me volvía loco.

— N-nada. Estaba por recoger la ropa sucia de Mark.

— ¿Te está obligando de nuevo a lavar su ropa?Trague saliva en ese instante.

— Eh, sí, sí.

— Deja que te ayude.

Se acercó a mí para levantar el canasto y llevarlo al cuarto de lavado, mi corazón latía rápido.

No sabía si era porque temía que Mark llegara en cualquier momento y notará la ausencia de su ropa sudada, o si era por estar con Theo.

— Bueno, amigo, ahí está la ropa. Esperare a tu hermano en su cuarto, nos vemos.

Hizo un ademán con sus manos, desapareciendo. En cuánto se fue, me sumergí en el montón de ropa apestosa, tratando de encontrar lo más fresco posible. Agarre unos calzoncillos de color rojo, se sentían húmedos y apestosos, trate de no olerlos pero termine metiendolos en mi cara. Pronto sería ese mi olor...

Junte los demás ingredientes, lo prepare en un frasco y cuando exprimí su sudor para que cayera, juro que vi cómo si brillara...

Deje que reposara hasta la mañana siguiente. Sabía que mi hermano saldría a ejercitarse como de costumbre, por lo qué siempre preparaba su proteína para el gimnasio; antes de que saliera, abrí el vaso para verter la mitad del líquido y volver corriendo a mi habitación.

El resto del tiempo paso lento, no sabía si tomar el resto del brebaje, ¿y sí algo fallaba? ¿Y sí terminaba haciéndole algo malo a mi hermano?

Miles de preguntas me atormentaban, pero vislumbre el cuerpo de mi hermano... Alto, fornido, con sus axilas apestosas, sus piernas fuertes, cómo se hinchaban sus brazos o sus pectorales grandes. Todo eso podía ser mío, al fin ya no ser sólo el hermano enclenque, podría ser el gran Mark.

Terminé bebiendo todo el brebaje, hasta la última gota; por un instante no sentí nada, hasta que de repente sentí un retortijón acompañado de un intenso dolor y mareo, caí al suelo como un costal de papas, sintiendo que todo mi cuerpo temblaba y mi visión pasaba a negro.

En menos de un segundo, pude ver luz de nuevo. Sin embargo, algo se sintió extraño desde el momento que parpadee... tal vez era el aroma que ahora emanaba, el lugar dónde ahora me encontraba o el ruido de pesas y maquinaria deportiva siendo utilizada.

Baje la mirada, notando mi piel bronceada, mis gruesos pectorales y músculos, ¡Sí que estaba fuerte!

No pude evitar soltar una risa emocionada y soltar las pesas que mi hermano estaba cargando momentos atrás, casi parecía una colegiala con las emociones a flor de piel. Dejé de inmediato todo, caminando incierto hacia los baños o los vestidores. En cuanto vi mi nuevo reflejo, fue cómo sentir un subidón de adrenalina. ¡Estaba viendo el reflejo de mi hermano! Flexione sus brazos, disfrutando como se hinchaban mis brazos y mi pecho. ¡Cielos, sí!

Levante mi axila, comenzando a lamer y olfatear, disfrutando el aroma. Aferre mi nariz contra mi nueva axila peluda, jadeando con fuerza como desquiciado.

Acaricié cada centímetro de mi nueva piel, erizandome hasta el mínimo toque. Sonreí engreído.

— Oh sí, mi nombre es Mark... – murmuré, aprovechando para tocar el relieve de los pectorales de mi hermano, soltando un chillido por la sensibilidad – Soy el deportista estrella de mi preparatoria, todo un casanova – estaba amando cada segundo, ver como lo que decía, mi hermano hacía copia exacta de ello – Antes me gustaban las chicas pero ahora... No lo sé, bro. Creo que sólo me gustarán los chicos.

Estaba embriagado de poder. Terminé saliendo del gimnasio tras encontrar las cosas de mi hermano, ni siquiera me cambie, disfrute sentir cómo la ropa mojada se pegaba contra mi piel, el hedor qué desprendía mi cuerpo, incluso cómo me veían otros chicos.

Terminé por llegar a casa, no escuché ningún ruido, todo estaba en silencio. Sabía que mis padres estaban en el trabajo, así que subí las escaleras, directo a mi cuarto.

Me dio miedo encontrar a mi hermano en mi cuerpo, despierto. El corazón me latía a mil... pero cuando abrí la puerta, pude ver mi viejo cuerpo recostado en el suelo, dormido.

Sonreí, no pude evitar burlarme en mis adentros, incluso lo moví ligeramente para ver si reaccionaba.

— ¿Ya no eres tan fuerte, no, hermanito? – dije burlón.

Simplemente me di la vuelta, cerrando la puerta para ir al cuarto de mi hermano. Levanté mi axila, sonriente ante el aroma; ahora entendía porque él era adicto a oler así de mal.

Empecé a rebuscar entre su armario, empezando a probarme toda su ropa. Había algo excitante en ello que me ponía la piel de punta.

Me puse todo lo que estaba a la mano, playeras deportivas, shorts, jeans ajustados, chamarras de cuero. Era divertido, hasta que encontré en un cajón algo que hizo que mi nuevo miembro se pusiera firme al instante. Era un spandex deportivo mal oliente, era el uniforme de lucha de mi hermano. De golpe me quité la ropa para ponerme eso en su lugar, sonreí al verlo encajar perfectamente en mi cuerpo, todo en su lugar.

Mis gordas piernas enfrascadas en la tela ajustada, no dejando nada a la imaginación. Me senté en una silla que mi hermano tenía frente a su espejo, recargandome.

Amaba como me veía, levante su teléfono para empezar a tomarme fotos, dejando ver mis fuertes músculos, o mis axilas, incluso hice alguna que otra cara tonta.

Ahora era un deportista sin cerebro, ¿no? Ahueque con fuerza mi nueva masculinidad, aprovechando la fricción para volverme loco. Estaba moviendo mi mano con frenesí cuando alguien entró a la habitación, era Theo.

— ¡Mierda! – murmuré, cubriéndome. Él sólo levantó la ceja.

— ¿Qué haces? – preguntó sin darle mucha importancia.

— Nada, nada. No te esperaba – murmuré, tratando de evitar su mirada.

— Te dije ayer que vendría hoy, ¿te estas quedando sin neuronas de tanta proteína? – bromeo. Sentí una sensación cálida en mi estómago al escucharlo reír. – ¿Qué estás usando?

— Mi uniforme de lucha, ¿qué más? – trate de disminuir la extrañeza del momento, tenía que ser más como Mark – esto vuelve locas a las chicas, ¿no crees? – murmuré, flexionando mis brazos para él.

Theo soltó una risa amistosa, asintiendo.

— Claro, amigo.

Hablamos por un rato, en un inicio me tomó desprevenido pero cuánto más hablaba con él, sentía como los conocimientos y gustos de mi hermano se filtraban. De repente estaba hablando de sus materias, sus demás amigos, videojuegos que sólo él conocía, inclusive de que partidos tendrían lugar próximamente.

— Mark, ¿quieres ir a jugar videojuegos a mí casa? Compre algo nuevo y podemos ir a probarlo.

— Seguro, bro – sentía naturalidad en cada paso y cada frase. Me cambie la ropa para que pudiéramos ir sin verme ridículo, eso sería para después – déjame avisarle al molesto de mi hermano.

Terminé caminando hacía mí vieja habitación, aun seguía recostado mi cuerpo en el suelo. Salí junto con Theo, caminando por la calle y disfrutando del sol.

— A veces eres muy duro con él.

— ¿Con quién? – dije algo confundido.

— Con tu hermano menor, recuerdo cuando te llevabas bien con él.

Sentí algo de culpabilidad por lo que me hizo recordar, hubo un tiempo donde Mark era protector conmigo, y siempre me la pasaba con él y Theo, hasta que... Vaya, no sé que habrá pasado.

— Es un perdedor.

— A mí me cae bien, es muy agradable.

Sonreí para mis adentros al escuchar a mi crush decir tal cosa. Terminamos por llegar a su casa, al parecer no había nadie. Subimos al cuarto de Theo dónde jugamos por al menos dos horas, la tarde pasó rápido; seguimos hablando de temas triviales pero no podía evitar mirarlo de vez en cuando.

Sentía una conexión con él, natural por la amistad de mi hermano con Theo, pero había algo que también se filtraba de mí, que me gustaba. Cómo se reía, o su cabello caía en su frente, su piel, rayos, rayos...

— ¡Vamos, amigo. Te estoy pateando el trasero! – Pude ver cómo mi personaje terminaba por ser vencido, me quedé callado, sólo escuchando su risa, lo cuál lo confundió, se giró a mirarme. – Mark... ¿Estás bien?

Y no pude aguantar más.

Me acerqué para besarlo suave, me dio miedo que no me correspondiera, pero de inmediato comenzó a besarme de regreso.

Fue un caos de besos, mis manos vagaban con torpeza por sus cabellos.

— Cielos, Mark...

— ¿No te gusta?...

— Me encanta, amigo...

Terminamos besándonos como locos. Había muchas preguntas en mí, ¿Entonces Theo era gay? ¿Siempre sintió algo por Mark? ¿Está era la relación que tenían? ¿Qué estaba pasando aquí?

Pero entre más besos me daba, menos me importaba. En cuestión de simples segundos otra vez estábamos besándonos con intensidad y pasión. Tenía todo lo que quería, el cuerpo que me merecía, al chico de mis sueños... Al fin todo estaba en su lugar.

Theo se subió sobre mí, aun besándome, incluso de forma tierna.

— ¿Quieres que te atienda bien, grandote?

Susurró en un tono que jamás pensé escucharlo hablar. Acarició mi pecho y después mis abdominales.

— Theo...Murmuré.

— Shh...

De inmediato me acallo. Y cielos...

Si que sabía usar su boca, mis ojos rodaron a blanco de sólo sentir cómo una y otra vez actuaba con avidez. Estuve perdido en la sensación hasta que pude sentir cómo mi nuevo teléfono vibraba como loco, preferí ignorarlo, pero no paraba de tener notificaciones.

De mala gana levante el teléfono, sólo para ver notificaciones de mi antiguo número. Al parecer mi hermano ya había despertado, había un sin fin de mensajes:

"¿¡Qué fue lo que hiciste, enano!? ¿¡En dónde estás!?"

Y más mensajes de él, completamente histérico, aunque hubo uno en particular que hizo que trazara una sonrisa amplia en mi rostro:

"¿¡Estás con Theo!? ¡Aléjate de mi mejor amigo!"

De inmediato active la cámara para enviarle unas fotos. Lo cuál lo enfureció más.

Estaba por soltar la carcajada cuando escuché cómo el teléfono de Theo empezó a sonar.

— Mfh... Espera un momento – se reincorporo y tomó su teléfono para revisar quien llamaba – Qué raro, tu hermano me está llamando.

— No le contestes – traté de sonar natural.

Pero Theo pareció ignorarme, le contestó y no sólo eso, lo puso en altavoz.

— ¿Bueno?

Hubo un silencio, hasta que Mark terminó por explotar con mi voz chillona.

— ¡Theo, soy Mark! ¡El idiota de mi hermano hizo algo y ahora estoy en su cuerpo! ¡Ese imbécil está usando mi cuerpo, tienes que hacer algo!

Theo me miró de manera extraña, con el ceño fruncido, ni siquiera pude mantenerle la mirada.

— ¡¿No escuchaste, Theo?! ¡Ese que está contigo no soy yo! ¡Tienes que hacer algo!

Supongo que la suerte había durado sólo unos segundos, ahora Theo me rechazaría o incluso me odiaría.

— Lo sé, Mark – Levanté rápido la mirada, pude ver al chico de mis sueños con un perfil frío, pero no para mí exactamente – Y me gusta que sea así.

Mi antigua voz sonó histérica y molesta por el altavoz hasta que Theo cortó la llamada.

— ¿Entonces... Lo sabes?

— Sí, lo sé.

— ¿Fui muy obvio?...

— Un poco, pero en realidad no fue por eso.

Sin previo aviso volvió a besarme.

— Pero Theo...

— ¿Quién crees que te envío el correo?

Soltó una risa para besarme con intensidad, tuve que contenerme para no besarlo por horas o poner mis manos en su cuerpo.

— ¿Por qué?

— Porque te he visto, amigo – sonrió, entonces me di cuenta que siempre ocupo el apodo con el que solía llamarme – Sé como me miras, sé lo mucho que te gustó. Y aunque sentía algo similar, no podía corresponderte, te veía como mi hermano pequeño, se sentía... mal. Sin embargo, el cuerpo de tu hermano, sin duda podía meterme con él una infinidad de veces.

Acarició mis abdominales suave.

— ¿Entonces te gusta que sea Mark?

— Me encanta. La pinta de deportista tonto te sienta bien.

Tomó mis pectorales para sopesarlos, después sin aviso se lanzó contra mis axilas para lamer y oler como un loco.

Al cabo de semanas, termine adaptándome a la vida de mi hermano a la perfección. Seguí practicando sus deportes, mejore sus calificaciones, me llevaba bien con sus amigos... El único cambio fue cuando "él" se declaró abiertamente gay, mis padres tuvieron que aceptarlo y mi hermano menor... Bueno, no tiene más opción que ver cómo meto a mi lindo novio, anteriormente mejor amigo, a mi habitación toda las noches.

———

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?

———

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?