Switch Up: La Venganza De Logan

Switch Up: La Venganza de Logan

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

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

Switch Up: La Venganza de Logan [ Versión Español ]

— Al diablo, dámelo.

Murmuré tomando el control de su mano, examinándolo por un segundo.

— Ten cuidado, no lo tomes tan fuerte, Logan – Miles dijo un tanto nervioso, aunque tenía razón, el control era como la mayor invención del siglo XXI.

Pero estaba emocionado. No había dicho nada sobre haber estado en el cuerpo de Ethan, ¡pero cielos! Si no me había quitado la ropa en ese momento había sido por mero respeto a mí amigo.

Pero quería claramente quería ver cómo era tener el pecho delgado, o un cuerpo esbelto. Siempre había deseado ser distinto, lejos de... El típico estereotipo de un chico nerd: gordo, con granos en la cara, poco atractivo.

Yo también quería más. Tal cómo Ethan había dicho, deseaba tener algo más que esto.

— ¿Y ahora qué piensas hacer? – Ethan dijo un poco nervioso.

— Cazar... Cómo dijo Miles.

A todos les pareció extraño que escogiera a Caleb. Tenían razón en que era desagradable, y justo por eso era que se había convertido en mi objetivo. Estaba harto de sus risas, sus comentarios burlones sobre mí peso, una vez incluso había eructado en mi rostro.

Sabía que era un idiota, un patán, que casi no se ponía desodorante y que usaba su cerebro al mínimo. Sabía que había mejores cuerpos, pero quería venganza.

— ¿Y necesitas ayuda?

Ethan siempre era el que más se preocupaba por los otros, con una personalidad cálida y un gran corazón. Yo era un poco más reservado, callado y apenas asomándome de los cómics, Miles... Bueno, era Miles.

— No.

Pero algo que pocas veces demostraba a mis amigos, era la parte oscura en mí.

Una parte extremadamente vengativa y rencorosa, que estaba dispuesta a todo con tal de ver pagar a Caleb Hawks.

— Logan, ¿Estás seguro de qu-?

— Miles, ¿Cómo tengo que usarlo?

— Sólo apunta con la antena a dónde quieras que sea el primer cuerpo, luego presiona el botón amarillo. Al final, apunta al segundo cuerpo, botón verde, y eso es todo.

— ¿Y qué pasa si él se da cuenta del cambio?

Miles se quedó pensativo.

— Hay una función pero aun no está terminada, tendría que...

— Dame opciones seguras.

— Taclealo.

Trague saliva.

En parte sabía que era una muy mala idea todo. Ir solo, apuntarle a mi bravucón con un control, esperando a que no me golpeara antes.

Pensé en pedirles ayuda, fuera a ambos o cualquiera, Ethan podría quedarse en las sombras y sólo encargarse de apuntar y presionar botones.

Pero quería hacer cosas que sólo mi compañía podía autorizar.

— ¿Y qué pasará con el control?

— El control se quedará en la mano de tu cuerpo original, dudo que se las ingenie para saber cómo funciona, pero debes de recuperarlo cuanto antes.

Asentí, cómo si repasara mentalmente los pasos para completar la "misión".

— Hecho.

Me giré de inmediato, saliendo de la biblioteca para empezar a caminar por el resto de la preparatoria.

No tenía ni idea de dónde podía estar Caleb, ¿clases? ¿En práctica? Era cómo buscar una aguja en un pajar. Sí, era mi acosador; pero parecía que él tenía siempre el don de encontrarme.

Decidí salir con rumbo al gimnasio, apenas había personas en tal zona a esa hora, los demás estaban en clases, supongo.

Escuché el sonido de pesas, los bufidos de alguien, y finalmente... Estaba ahí. Caleb estaba levantando una pesa, flexionando sus brazos con el ceño fruncido, había sudor en todo su cuerpo. Estaba concentrado en sus ejercicios hasta que pudo verme por el reflejo del espejo.

— ¡Ahí estás, mantecoso! – dejó caer las pesas, con su expresión estúpida de siempre, aquella sonrisa petulante – ¿Qué haces aquí? ¿Por fin estás pensando en dejar de ser así de pesado?

Mi mano temblaba mientras lo veía acercarse más y más. La rabia hervía por todo mi cuerpo. Apunte con rapidez su cuerpo para presionar el botón amarillo, a lo que él sonrió confundido, más que nada burlón.

— ¿Y eso? ¿Es uno de tus gustos nerd?

Apreté la mandíbula, se estaba acercando, lento pero constante. Estaba a nada de lanzarse por el.

Se quedó quieto. Pero sabía que sólo era una trampa, de inmediato se abalanzó contra mí pero rápidamente voltee el control hacía mí, apunte y presione el botón verde.

De un momento a otro, observé mi viejo cuerpo. Y no pude evitar sonreír con satisfacción.

Mi antiguo rostro formó una expresión confusa propio del tonto de Caleb, y antes de que pudiera hacer algo, le arrebate el control.

— ¿¡Qué carajos!?

Observó sus nuevas manos gordas. A lo que de inmediato corrí con el control hacía los vestidores.

Me sentía poderoso. No, poderoso era poco, ¡me sentía grandioso! Con mis nuevas piernas fuertes avance a zancadas hasta terminar en la puerta del baño, y de inmediato la azote para poner seguro.

Giré hacía el espejo, para encontrarme directamente con el reflejo de Caleb, o mejor dicho: Mi nuevo reflejo.

Momentos atrás él sólo entrenaba con una gorra y unos pantalones, siempre era descuidado con esas cosas. Usando cualquier ropa para entrenar, siempre dejando todo impregnado con su hedor.

Me quedé congelado por un momento, hasta que una sonrisa engreída se formó en mi rostro. Levanté mi axila para empezar a oler mi nuevo aroma, sonriendo ante ello; totalmente extasiado por ello.

Acaricié mis abdominales, dejando escapar una risilla al no sentir mi antigua barriga, sólo una serie de músculos firmes. Seguí escuchando como Caleb tocaba la puerta como loco, pero eso era lo que menos importaba.

Mis manos se dirigieron a mis pectorales, y en cuánto acaricié el relieve en ellos, fue cómo ver estrellas. Una expresión entre confusión y éxtasis se formó en mi rostro, a lo que volví a tocar esa zona una y otra vez. Un gesto tonto, casi idiota, un tanto propio del antiguo Caleb apareció en mí.

¡Pero lo que fue mejor fue sentir lo que Caleb ocultaba en sus pantalones! Pude sentir la rigidez, cómo crecía hasta abultarse y pegarse de forma incómoda contra sus pantalones, rogando por ser liberado.

Saque su teléfono, lo desbloquee con su huella, empezando a tomarme fotos con distintas poses y caras. Algunas de perfil, enseñando sus abdominales o resaltando sus pectorales, otras con una expresión burlona, o con una seria.

Pero lo que más me encantó, fue sacar la lengua, rodar los ojos y hacer que se viera aun más tonto de lo que ya era. ¡Tenía el destino de Caleb en la palma de mi mano! Podía arruinar su reputación tanto cómo quisiera, volverme loco de poder. ¡Todo!

Pero entonces volvió a tocar la puerta con insistencia, y no quería sólo hacerle ver a la lejanía todo lo que estaba dispuesto a cometer, no. Quería que lo experimentará en carne y hueso.

Escondí el control en una parte del lavabo del baño, y abrí la puerta para jalarlo dentro con algo de fuerza. Mi antiguo cuerpo sin duda era un tanto pesado, pero ni eso me detendría ahora.

— ¡¿Qué demonios hiciste?! – Caleb se sacudió como un gusano en mi brazo, pero ni así solté el agarre.

— ¿Qué no es obvio, mantecoso? – me encargue de hacer extremo énfasis en aquella última palabra, quería romperlo.

— ¡No me llames así, perra! ¡Tú no sabes lo que soy capaz de hac-!

— ¿Qué serías capaz de hacer, Logan – Apreté el agarre contra mi vieja playera de videojuegos – Porque te recuerdo que ese es tu nombre ahora, tú eres Logan, y yo soy Caleb Hawks.

Sus ojos transmitieron terror, negando.

— ¡N-no!

— Sí – sonreí con pura maldad – Pero no te preocupes, creo que ya me canse de molestarte como solía hacerlo, creo que se me ha ocurrido una mucho mejor forma de utilizarte.

Lo tomé de los cabellos con fuerza, levanté mi axila y de golpe lo presioné contra ella. El antiguo Caleb soltó un quejido, y nuevamente trató de escapar, pero no. Lo haría pagar, cientos y cientos de días de que me molestara no quedarían en el olvido.

Frote su nariz de arriba a abajo contra mi piel húmeda y maloliente, mi mano agarrada de su nuca. Por un rato luchó hasta que pareció irse rindiendo poco a poco.

Sólo se escuchaban sus jadeos, su respiración entrecortada y cómo empezaba a lamer.

— ¡Cielos, parece que alguien tiene hambre!

No respondió, sólo trago saliva antes de volver a meter de lleno su rostro en mi nueva axila sudada y apestosa.

Sonreí satisfecho, jugando con él por un rato. Era más que gratificante tenerlo en la palma de mi mano, en control de cada cosa que hacía.

— ¿Te encanta, no? – Él estaba de rodillas, con el rostro sonrojado mientras jadeaba por aire, un par de hilos de saliva escapaban de sus labios mientras mi nueva masculinidad estaba al aire – Adoras qué este cuerpo ahora esté en manos de alguien que sí lo merece, ¿no?

Era como si su cerebro estuviera hecho papilla, apenas asintió antes de que lo volviera a tomar por la nuca para que me atendiera nuevamente.

Estuvimos en el vestidor por al menos dos horas, hasta que terminó con chorros y chorros de materia espumosa en su boca. ¡Al parecer Caleb también tenía baldes y baldes de néctar en sus nueces!

— ¿Quién eres ahora? – Lo tome del cabello con fuerza, lo que lo hizo jadear. La imagen era más que satisfactoria, desordenado, lleno de sustancia blanca y pegajosa, con el rostro sonrojado.

— M-me llamo L-Logan...

Sonreí.

— Qué bueno que haya quedado claro, mantecoso.

Lo solté. Me coloque una chamarra de mezclilla qué él anteriormente usaba, y nuevamente saqué mi teléfono para tomarme fotos, revelando mi nuevo cuerpo.

Se sentía asombroso, cambiar con Ethan había sido sólo un peldaño de toda la escalinata de placer que me estaba dando ser Caleb. Me quité el zapato, subiendo mi pie contra el lavabo para tomar una nueva foto.

Extrañamente... en mi viejo cuerpo jamás había tenido ese "gusto" por los pies, me parecía un tanto extraño, pero ahora... no podía apartar la mirada de mi pie.

Me acerqué como pude para olfatearlo, y fue cómo la gloria... Volví a oler, notando aromas dónde antes no los notaba, y sintiendo un gran interés por mi propio aroma.

Cómo apestaban mis axilas, o mis bolas. El aroma de mis pies... Todo mi cuerpo en realidad, era cómo un elixir. Jamás había sentido algo así, más bien. Jamás había olido algo tan... perfecto.

Entonces lo entendí.

Caleb tenía hiperosemia; un trastorno que le hacía oler los aromas aún más fuerte de lo que eran. Él estaba tan obsesionado por su mal olor porque para él olía bien.

— ¿Así qué ese era tu secreto? ¿Qué hueles tan bien para ti, que no te importa que los otros sientan asco? – sonreí, volviendo a oler mi axila – Ahora te entiendo... Huelo tan bien.

Él sólo me miró como un cachorro hipnotizado, a lo que sonreí sin más.

— Creo que ya me divertí bastante contigo. Pero ya me aburrí, así que nos vemos, perdedor.

Solté una risa para salir de los vestuarios, no sin antes recoger el control. Empecé a caminar por los pasillos de la escuela, justo era cambio de clases, así que los pasillos estaban bastante concurridos.

Levanté mi barbilla, saque el pecho y avance con confianza. No me importaba no traer playera, apestar a sudor, incluso podía oler a aquel líquido blanquecino que había vertido por montones en "Logan", yo olía como la gloria. ¡Yo era asombroso!

Terminé llegando a la biblioteca. Pensé que ya no estarían mis amigos, pero ahí estaban, Ethan estaba recostado en la mesa, al parecer harto; Miles seguía haciendo anotaciones.

Avance hacía ellos, ni siquiera me vieron venir cuando tomé a Miles por detrás para tomar su cabello. Cómo Caleb solía molestar a todos los nerds de la escuela.

— ¡Suéltame! – Trató de moverse mientras yo sólo sonreía. Ethan se despertó con angustia mientras nos miraba.

— ¿Qué pasa, nerds? Su amigo el gordo quiso hacerme algo extraño con un artilugio suyo, ¿qué tenían en mente al tratar de hacerme algo así?

La expresión de Ethan se volvió casi de terror. A lo que termine soltando una risa, afloje el agarre de Miles para sacar el control.

— Debieron haber visto sus caras.

Me senté en una silla cercana, colocando mis manos detrás de mi nuca e inclinandome hacía atrás.

— ¿Logan?... – Ethan murmuró confundido. Miles sólo tosió mientras me fulminaba con la mirada.

— No, ahora dime Caleb – dije mientras volvía a esbozar una sonrisa egocéntrica. Mire hacia la mesa, tomando uno de mis cómics para hojearlo. Quería asegurarme de que aun conservaba mi gusto por los cómics, y así era. Lo hojee un rato esperando una respuesta, aunque sólo hubo silencio – ¿No dirán nada?

— ¿¡Qué se siente!? – Miles fue el primero en hablar. Se precipitó rápido hacía mí, listo para hacer cientos de preguntas – ¿Cómo fue, dónde está el antiguo Caleb?

— Se siente increíble – Acaricié mi pecho con arrogancia, después flexione mi brazo frente a ellos para ensanchar mi bicep. Finalmente me acerqué a mi axila para lamerla – Es sentir un sinfín de experiencias nuevas, y sobre el nuevo Logan... Espero que no lo encuentren en los vestidores o su reputación quedará sepultada para siempre.

Reí profundamente. Miles y Ethan sólo me miraron con admiración, aunque en parte sabía que también era con deseo, a lo que flexione ambos brazos para ensanchar mi pecho y grandes brazos.

— Soy cómo un superhéroe. ¿No? – Hubo silencio nuevamente, sólo me miraban absortos – Vamos, chicos. Dejen de babear y mejor encuentren con quién podemos jugar.

Les señalé el control a mitad de la mesa, a lo que ellos se levantaron con prisa para salir casi corriendo de la biblioteca. Me quedé solo con una sonrisa burlona en el rostro.

Me levanté de igual forma. Para caminar al baño, aún no había terminado de explorar todo este cuerpo...

Entré al baño para empezar a quitarme lo que tenía encima, sólo quedando en calzoncillos. Me encantaba como la tela se aferraba a las piernas musculosas y gordas de Caleb, todo su esfuerzo ahora era mío.

Sus músculos, su hedor, su ropa, su teléfono. Todo, todo era mío y sólo mío.

Saqué el móvil para volver a tomarme fotos, pronto estarían por todas sus redes sociales.

Su feed en Instagram estaría pronto lleno de chicos sin playera, adiós a todas esas chicas en bikini, no. Ahora estaría lleno de chicos musculosos, o twinks ansiosos por estar a mis pies.

¡Era ahora un puto dios! Con los pies malolientes, las axilas apestosas y todo el cuerpo con aroma a almizcle. Olía asombroso... Y aun mejor, podía actuar tan tonto cómo el antiguo Caleb. Aunque con la gran diferencia de que yo explotaría al máximo ser un "himbo" tonto y apestoso.

A los chicos sin duda les va a encantar.

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

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

———

Switch Up: Primer Nivel

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.

———

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?

———

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perlita-2003

3 months ago

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?

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perlita-2003

6 months ago

Poolside Harvest

I found this Ebony specimen lounging by the pool. It was so sunny that day, I could fill my own skin burning. I needed to acquire something with more melanin. He fit the bill perfectly. I love the way his tattoos pour over his skin. There’s nothing like a racial change to make you feel like a new man. I think his black skin will serve me well.

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perlita-2003

2 months ago

Spinoff: The Man That Lost Everything

The finale. Read the previous part here

"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!"

"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

"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

"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?"

"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,"

"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,"

"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?

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?"

"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

"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.......

"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---"

"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,"

---

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perlita-2003

2 months ago

Switch Up: First Level

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

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

Swith Up: First Level (English Version)

My name is Ethan, I'm going to finish high school in a few months and I feel like I didn't live that experience like I was supposed to. I always hung out with my two usual friends, didn't go to parties, didn't even have my first kiss, I hung out in the shadows, like a ghost.

With nothing in particular to be remembered, a zero to the left.

Very different from other guys at my school: popular, muscular, handsome, a hit at parties. I envied them.

I wanted to be one of them with all my might.

To go beyond being a shadow that blended in with the wall in the hallways, to be like one of those big jocks, popular guys, even those “badass” looking guys who seemed to be all the rage because of that.

— This sucks - I muttered in the library, accompanied by my friends: Logan and Miles.

Logan was a chubby guy, with a few pimples on his face and a comic geek, just at that moment he seemed engrossed in everything as he had his head hidden inside a new hero tome.

— Being in the library? - Miles asked. Thin, pale and with thick glasses that made his eyes look like binoculars, he was a genius, although he had a strange hissing sound every time he spoke.

— Yeah, what about the parties? It's high school, we should be doing other things than being confined to a library like rats.

— We're not popular for that sort of thing - Logan mused, barely peeking his head out of his reading.

— Plus no one notices us - Miles complemented, making what appeared to be doodles in his notebook.

— And doesn't that frustrate you? Don't you wish that we could have more? To have more experiences, more fun, guys at our feet.

Something I forgot to mention, all three of us are gay.

— And does it help to imagine that?… You're not going to change anything by yearning for more - Logan whispered in a pessimistic tone.

I sighed, I knew he was right. I just kept quiet, with a silence between the three of us until Miles stood up suddenly, a smile on his lips.

— Eureka! - he shouted with the notebook in hand, a loud ‘Shhh’ was heard from the librarian, to which he sat back down, but without erasing that smile.

— Do you feel good? - I asked. To which he interrupted me, speaking quickly because of his excitement.

— Better than ever, I've been feeling what you describe for three years now, it's been trial after trial, failed experiments trying to find a way to get it, but I finally got it.

— What the hell are you talking about?

— This! - he held out his notebook, showing me the contents on it. What I saw as scribbles before, now made sense: they were blueprints. There was a detailed outline of some kind of rectangular box, with formulas, calculations and other symbols that I couldn't quite understand.

— A… box?

— It is a remote control. Or so it seems - he detailed, pointing to the schematic - it is a bioelectric control, it is designed to launch a double signal that exchanges neural pulses between two individuals and-

— In English, Miles.

— It is a control that would allow consciousness to be switched between two bodies.

I thought about what he was saying. But it was impossible, wasn't it? What he was describing sounded perfectly like something from science fiction movies.

— But you'd still have to assemble it, design the parts, the wiring…

— No - he said, rummaging in his backpack to pull out a small remote control, it looked like something from a garage. With two buttons: one green and one yellow - I just had to complete some calculations.

On one side, it seemed to have a knob, around it were different numbers. Miles lifted the lid to move a couple of wires or join them together, then closed it and moved the knob, looking for a frequency, I guess.

— Still, I don't think it's something possible, I mean…. I believe in you, dude, no doubt you are a genius but I think this kind of thing is beyond….

— Your mental capabilities, Miles - and out of nowhere, the speaker seemed to be Logan. With the only detail, that it wasn't really Logan, it was me.

I found myself looking at cartoons, heroes saving the world and things my friend was reading earlier. I felt heavier, but there was something weird about it all too… I felt a different weight in my pants.

I spread my legs a little, feeling something thick fall against the chair - damn, Logan sure had something hidden between his chubby legs!

I looked up warily, finding my reflection checking my pecs. He looked at them curiously, running his hands over the flat surface as he smiled.

— Were you saying something, Ethan? - Miles said with a smirk on his lips. I looked at my new hands, completely surprised by the experience. They were very different from mine, a little more pigment on them, bigger and bulkier, with small, stubby fingers. It certainly wasn't the best body but there was something about me that sent a load of blood down there. And yes, “it” was big.

— Did you just use us as guinea pigs? - My old voice rang out, it was strange to “see” me there, clearly it was me, my same face, clothes, complexion, absolutely it was all me. But the stance, the body language, the way he spoke… it was definitely Logan.

— It was a risk he was willing to take for us, besides. I had already calculated the dangers, nothing would have happened.

— And why didn't you try it on yourself?

— And what my conscience would have ended up in the air who knows where? No thanks.

I felt a little annoyance towards Miles. But all that was… spectacular. If it had worked on us, then anything could. I could been any athlete! A class rep, one of those artsy kids or the welcoming committee, a teacher, some sexy parent. Whoever!

— And now?…

— First let me try something - Miles pointed at each of us again, first at Logan, pressing the yellow button, and finally at me, pressing the green button.

I didn't feel anything. It was just from one moment to the next watching me and the other, watching Logan. I touched my body again, feeling a little more relief at finding my correct measurements. There was one detail though, my manhood was undoubtedly stiff, almost rock hard.

I looked at Logan in confusion, to which he just shrugged his shoulders.

— It was exciting to lose almost all my weight in less than a second, sorry.

There was silence between us again. Not because of discomfort, but because of all that this implied.

— And now?

— Now you choose what to do, of course - Miles settled back in his seat, almost looking like some kind of CEO proposing a new business strategy - To continue in our bodies and the miserable life we lead, or find some body we like.

There was a bit of silence. And the first to break it was Logan.

— Let's do it.

— Great, I'm glad you're both joining me in this - a smile loaded with confidence emerged from Miles - I think we have the plan, but now the million dollar question remains. Who?

There were at least three hundred of guys in the entire high school, all grades, all clubs. Tall, muscular, thin, stocky, exchange, local, wealthy, middle class. It was like walking into a buffet.

— Do you have someone in mind for you…?

— Oh, yeah, sure. Blake Jones.

— Fuck, are you kidding?! The major captain of the sports team? - Logan was unduly surprised.

Although I partly understood. Blake was good at almost every sport, he'd been the captain of at least 4 different disciplines, king of the prom, made almost every girl nervous, teachers and moms included. He was like a god walking on earth, his plan felt like taking the body of Hercules.

— Who else? - Miles raised his eyebrow, as if the question was silly - I want him, I want that greatness.

There was something in his gaze that chilled my skin, though I understood the sentiment... Miles had been in the shadows of many things just because of his looks and the way he spoke, it was clear he wanted the perfect “vehicle” to go with his brain.

— So… I want Caleb Hawks - Logan said.

Miles let out a laugh.

— Don't make it up, it's a joke, right? - But Logan was silent - The brainless guy in school with the worst smell of all, is it for real?

Miles was right, Caleb was known for his idiocy, his bad smell and for being relatively “unpleasant”. There was something about him that could be striking, he admitted, though he didn't quite know what that something was.

— Can it or can't it? - Logan said seriously.

— Yes, yes. It's your decision, chill, man - Miles said. To which it seemed to calm down Logan, so he went back to hiding behind his comic book - And you, Ethan, who will be your prize?

My mind was working like crazy, going through all the grades, all the sports and art clubs, student associations, exchange programs, teachers? It was an endless menu of options. But then I thought of him: Ruben Hernandez.

Part of the art committee, good actor, influencer and with attributes to die for, despite not being part of any sports team, he certainly had a perfect body.

— Ruben.

— The Latino?

— Will you also give me a but?

— Not at all, I'm just surprised at your choices, folks. I thought you would pick captains and jocks, but I respect your choices.

Logan looked up, finally closing the comic book.

— So when do we start?

— Easy. Everyone hunts for what they want.

Then Miles extended the control to us, waiting for whoever would take it first.

To be continued.

----

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

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages.

This is the first part of “Switch Up”, a new series for the blog, I hope you like it, I know this first episode was a little short, but the next ones will certainly be longer to follow the whole adventure of Ethan and his friends.

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

----

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perlita-2003

4 months ago

The great shift: son to dad

𝗘𝗫𝗣𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧: This story contains explicit content and themes of possession, mind control and body swapping, with a sensual and erotic approach. If this type of content is not to your liking or you are not old enough, we recommend that you do not continue.

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

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

𝗦𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗮𝗱: (English version)

My name is David. And I hate my life…

High school is a misery. Abuse from bullies, infuriating subjects and the list could go on. I was fed up. I wasn't happy, and I wanted my life to change.

Besides having my father, he certainly wasn't much help. My father was masculine, successful, womanizing and handsome. I had had so many wet dreams about him even though I didn't want to admit it out loud, but he certainly sucked at trying to connect with me. Every complaint about being bullied was only accompanied by, “You need to learn to stand up for yourself, you're already a man.” And other things like, “If I were you.” It was infuriating.

He was popular in high school, the best at sports, adored by the girls and every boy's friend. I'm just a puny, video game-addicted geek that jocks love to occupy as their punching bag.

And that day had gotten off to a bad start.

— So you won't give me your money? - Aaron, the dumbest jock in the whole high school, was about to sink my head in the toilet.

— I told you I don't have any! Get off me!

I tried to move in vain. I could smell the aroma, causing me nothing but nausea. I closed my eyes tightly, expecting at any moment to crash into the water.

However, I heard a crash. Some kind of energy ran through me from head to toe, leaving me in darkness for a few seconds. Before returning to reality.

I opened my eyes in fright, finding myself in a completely different environment from where I was just seconds before. I was now in a strangely familiar office. Wait, is this my dad's office?

I looked down to find something even more different than the environment, my legs were on a table. But I was no longer wearing my old clothes, now I was wearing a formal suit, polished dress shoes.

I looked exactly how my dad had dressed today. I stood up quickly. At least I had grown about 18 inches taller, everything looked lower. I felt heavy and… strangely powerful. I began to feel my new body. And I was more than delighted: his thick muscles, his hairy pecs, his huge biceps. The smell of his cologne… it was all mine, that body I had fantasized about so many times was finally mine. God… how good the tight pants felt. Everything was showing. I dared to massage the contour above the pants, letting out a deep moan.

What had happened was called “The Great Shift,” a phenomenon around the world that caused body changes here and there.

Obese people ended up in the bodies of bodybuilders, unemployed people in movie stars, adult film stars in Catholic people, young people in adult bodies and the list could go on.

Clearly some more benefited than others. And I can say with absolute certainty that I hit a jackpot.

Just look at these biceps! I could spend hours and hours smelling my new musk, I love it when it meets my cologne… I smell like an alpha male.

Or just look at this big, fat chest. God, my pecs are huge now!

There's nothing left of the skinny geek I used to be. I still love video games and play them whenever I can, although I've moved on to other priorities.

And if you're wondering about my father. I have to tell you that he is now my son, who knew he would end up in my old body? Now he has to deal with adolescence again and having that pathetic body, which by the way… seems to influence him too much.

He doesn't know it, but I've found him sniffing my boxers on the sly or my sweaty clothes. Or I've even seen him watching gay stuff, apparently he now acts on the instincts of my old body. But this body?

Nah, the days of womanizing are in the past. Now I enjoy something much better: absolute control of men. I love to see how they kneel before me, surrendered, waiting for my approval. The way they sigh when I let them get close, when they inhale my scent and gaze adoringly at me. Hearing how my mere presence makes them obedient, how their voices tremble as they call me 'daddy', ready for anything. Because now, I make the rules.

My father's closet changed in its entirety. Gone were those boring suits, now he always tried to make shirts fit me as tight as possible, with leather gloves and tight dress pants. Or even suspenders, see how well they highlight my pecs, perfect for my full chest to show off.

I love my new body, hairy, strong, powerful, with a strong scent, its big muscles… Everything was big.

Arms that were marked with every flex and a pair of huge pectorals… I did get my lottery ticket when I ended up in my father's body.

And you know what the best part is? The fate of my bully Aaron. Poor, dumb, hapless Aaron….

My dad had an assistant named Justin. He was a skinny guy, blond, very cute if I'm being honest, and best of all… he was gay. And that's exactly where Aaron ended up. At first he thought about quitting, but after The Great Shift, the work environment became more than chaotic. So he had no choice but to stay.

At first the relationship remained very professional. Until I guess the same thing happened to him that happened to my father, I could see him staring at my arms or my pecs, how he seemed to always be watching me or hovering to get my attention. The great Aaron had been reduced to a guy begging for his boss's attention.

So one day I took pity on him.

— Aaron.

— Yes?

— I think it's time to talk about the way you see me, it's not appropriate.

— What the hell are you saying? - and there was a vestige of his old personality, but I would take care of burying it.

— Careful with your words, I remind you that I am no longer David. And you are not Aaron. I'm your boss now, and you're my assistant.

— Fuck you, Davi! - and before he could finish the word. I slapped him in the face.

— I told you I'm not David anymore. Now get down on the floor.

He stood still for a few seconds, until his instincts finally gave way, dropping to his knees on the floor.

— That's it. That's the way I like it - I muttered to take a seat in one of the armchairs in my office, with a smug smile - Now… I think my shoes are dirty, would you mind running your tongue over them to clean them?

He froze, his face was red. I didn't know whether from anger or embarrassment.

— I said I want you to clean my shoes.

Without holding back any longer, he approached them to start licking them, at first with disgust, until he seemed to become eager to lick. At that moment I pushed my foot away, which caused him to moan.

— What is your name? - I muttered, sternly.

— M-my name is Aaron…

— No. Your name is Justin.

— B-but that's not my name.

— Say it.

I looked at him with superiority. I could feel his morals, and the vestiges of his past life, finally going down the drain.

— M-my name is Ju-Justin.

— That's right, Justin. And now you must obey your boss. Lame.

And from then on there was no vestige of the straight jock Aaron used to be, now there was only Justin, a gay assistant who used to please his boss in his spare time.

------

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm not an English speaker, so I used a translator to bring it to your language (apologies if the wording is a bit weird). If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it. I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments.

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

-------

117 notes View Post

perlita-2003

3 months ago

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.

324 notes View Post

perlita-2003

3 months ago

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.

Since You Love It When People Expanded Your Storyline, Please Allow Me To Entertain You About Cas Because

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.

396 notes View Post

perlita-2003

3 months ago