male-meat-suit

[male-meat-suit]

More Than a Costume

It was supposed to be just a one-time gag. At least, that was what Jake told himself when he first bought the bodysuit. And maybe he did believe it at first. He’d buy the bodysuit, wear it, and show up at his friend’s costume party for cheap laughs. Jake was certainly the talk of the party when he showed up with an all-new identity. After all, who could’ve expected that the lanky white guy would come looking like a genuine Latino with tattoos and a goatee? The bodysuit was so realistic that people didn’t believe him when he said he was actually just Jake wearing a costume. It even earned him 1st place in the costume contest, too!

Once the costume party was over, Jake didn’t know what to do with the bodysuit. He couldn’t return it now that it was used, and after spending $100 on it, Jake didn’t feel right about just throwing it out after only wearing it once. So he decided it would just remain hanging at the back of his closet until the occasion called for it. But as time passed, Jake found himself wanting to wear it again. No matter what he did, his mind wandered back to the Latino bodysuit. It was almost like it was subliminally calling out for him, begging him to wear it again. Jake tried to resist its call, but then he gave into the temptation one night. 

Jake took out the bodysuit from the depths of his closet and held it in his hands. The rubbery suit felt cool against his fingertips. When he first bought the suit, Jake was shocked by how lifelike the synthetic skin looked and felt. Even after some time, he was still thoroughly impressed by it. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, Jake zipped down the zipper on the back of the bodysuit and stretched the opening wide. Jake stuck his leg down the leg of the costume then did the same with the other as he began to pull up the suit to his waist. The sensation of his flaccid dick slipping into the bodysuit’s much girthier cock made goosebumps run up his spine as the cold, rubbery skin touched and wrapped around his warm groin. A shivering moan escaped Jake’s lips as his junked settled into the bodysuit like a snug jockstrap cup. 

Jake was much skinnier than the bodysuit, making for a loose fit as he continued putting it on. He stuck his arms into the sleeves of the bodysuit. His thin fingers slipped into the suit’s burly hands. He brought the suit up to his shoulders, then threw the head of the costume over his face like a helmet. Jake bounced around with glee once he had the suit completely on. The suit hung loosely over his face, chest, and other spots around his body like baggy clothes. Although it was clearly much too big for his small body frame, Jake wasn’t worried. All it took was a few minutes for his body heat to “activate” the bodysuit and bring it to life. He took a deep breath as he felt the oversized bodysuit shift and adjust to his size until it was a perfect fit. What was once a cold, lifeless suit made out of synthetic skin transformed into a living, breathing person like any other once Jake put it on. So long as he kept his lips shut, nobody would ever be able to tell there was a white man controlling this synthetic Latino body. 

“Mmm… ¡mi nuevo cuerpo se siente magnífico!” Jake purred as he ran his forefinger through his scruffy facial. He massaged his neck as he spoke with his new, thick Puerto Rican accent. As someone with a relatively high-pitched voice and couldn’t grow anything beyond peach fuzz, Jake was jealous of other men who had the masculine features he always found attractive. 

He took a look at his handsome new face in the mirror and winked at himself. Jake felt right at home in his new skin and identity. As he donned the multiple piercings that came with his purchase before heading out for a night of fun as Rodrigo, Jake had no idea what putting on the bodysuit for a second time would do to his psyche. Bodysuits were addicting to wear. They made every physical sensation stronger, including and especially pleasure. That was a lesson that Jake would have to learn the hard way as he continued living as Rodrigo for days on end, refusing to take it off as he had fully convinced himself that he was always a Latino man and not some rubber bodysuit.

[male-meat-suit]

The Distance

Ethan and Damian had been together for three years, but now, with work pulling them in different directions, they found themselves living in different cities. Their daily routine had shifted to frequent texts, video calls, and, most importantly, selfies. It was their way of keeping the spark alive, seeing each other's faces and bodies in playful, intimate snapshots that reminded them of what they were missing. Ethan would send his soft, understated poses, while Damian, being bolder, would send selfies with his arms flexed or behind his head, a look of pride in his eyes.

The long distance had been tough, though. No matter how many selfies they shared, Ethan found it hard not to miss the way Damian felt in his arms, his stocky build, and that familiar, rugged scent.

One day, as Ethan came home from work, he saw a package waiting at his doorstep. It was from Damian. The note inside was brief but personal: "Hope this gift helps you remember me every time you use it."

Curiosity piqued, Ethan opened the package. Inside was something unexpected—a full-body suit. But not just any suit. As he lifted it out of the box, he realized it was Damian. The suit was designed to look exactly like Damian’s body—broad shoulders, muscular arms, and even a beard that seemed too real to be synthetic. Ethan was speechless. The texture was eerily similar to Damian’s skin, the build felt right, and even the scent lingered.

Ethan chuckled to himself, already knowing what Damian had in mind. His hands shook slightly as he pulled the suit closer, feeling the weight of it. The inner lining was smooth and cool against his skin. Slowly, he stepped into it, starting with his legs. The suit stretched over his slender thighs, bulking them up as they matched Damian's muscular shape. He worked it over his hips and torso, each part of his body now transforming into a replica of Damian's stocky, powerful form.

As Ethan slid his arms into the suit, he noticed the muscles in the suit pressing against his skin, filling out the fabric. His arms were suddenly thick and toned, just like Damian’s. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and paused. It was surreal. There, staring back at him, was the image of Damian—his broad shoulders, chest, and arms. The detail in the suit was incredible, down to the faint scars and freckles that Ethan had memorized from running his hands over Damian’s body.

Then came the final step—the mask. Ethan lifted it up, hesitating for a moment before pulling it over his head. It fit snugly, but not uncomfortably. His curly hair disappeared under the mask, replaced by Damian's shorter, thick hair. The mustache Ethan once wore was now replaced with Damian's full beard. Ethan blinked, adjusting to the feeling of the suit completely enveloping him.

He turned back to the mirror. He was Damian. From the stocky, muscular build to the confident glint in his eyes. Ethan flexed his new biceps, mirroring the pose Damian often sent in his selfies—the one where he raised his arms above his head, flexing with an exaggerated, almost douchey face. He struck another pose, this time hands on his hips, chest puffed out, just as Damian would. It was bizarre, yet oddly comforting. For the first time in months, Ethan felt like Damian was right there with him.

He grabbed his phone and started snapping selfies, imitating every pose Damian had sent him over the past few months. Flexing, smirking, even that goofy pose where he held his arms behind his head, showing off his muscular frame with a cocky smile. Ethan couldn't help but laugh, sending the photos back to Damian with a simple message: "How did I do?"

Ethan stared at the last selfie he had just taken, flexing in the exact way Damian always did. It felt bizarrely natural—like he could embody Damian perfectly now that he had the suit on. As the thought sank in, an idea crept into his mind. What if he went out for the night as Damian? He’d been feeling the distance for months, missing not just Damian’s body but his presence—the way he carried himself, the easy confidence, the way his laugh could fill a room. Maybe this was his chance to feel close to him in a way he hadn’t since they’d been apart. A solo date—as Damian. Ethan looked into the mirror again, adjusting the collar of the shirt he was now wearing over the suit. The fabric clung to Damian’s muscular build, which Ethan was now wearing like a second skin. He rolled his shoulders back, mimicking Damian’s usual swagger. Ethan knew Damian's mannerisms by heart—the way he always took long strides, head slightly tilted back, a subtle grin on his face as if he were in on a private joke the world hadn’t caught onto yet. With a smirk, Ethan grabbed Damian’s favorite jacket—a leather one that added to his tough exterior—and slipped it over his shoulders. "Alright," he muttered to himself, adjusting his voice to match Damian's deep, rumbling tone. "Let’s see what this feels like." He stepped outside, the evening air cool against the suit, but he felt warm—strangely invigorated. The town felt different from this new perspective. Ethan made his way down the street toward a small bar that he and Damian had always loved, a spot they used to frequent for casual dates. He walked with a bit of Damian’s usual swagger, head held high, hands in his pockets, exuding confidence in every step. His body moved like Damian’s now, with the natural ease and slight cockiness that came from years of being in the body of someone who knew exactly how to draw attention. He arrived at the bar, and the moment he stepped inside, he noticed the glances. He hadn’t fully expected it, but people were looking. Damian had always turned heads wherever he went, and now he was the one drawing those looks. Ethan felt a jolt of excitement—being in Damian’s skin was empowering. He slid up to the bar, leaning casually against it, and gave the bartender a nod. “What can I get you?” the bartender asked, giving him the kind of glance Damian often got—one of appreciation, or maybe even slight intimidation. “Whiskey,” Ethan said, his voice deep and gruff like Damian’s. It felt strange, but thrilling, to speak like this.

As Ethan nursed his whiskey, leaning casually against the bar like Damian always did, he felt a sense of ease wash over him. For the first time since Damian had sent the suit, he wasn’t just wearing it—he was Damian. The muscles, the swagger, the attitude... It all felt right. But then the test came, a test Ethan hadn't anticipated.

“Damian?” a voice called from behind him.

Ethan stiffened, his heart skipping a beat. Slowly, he turned around, locking eyes with a tall, athletic man wearing a friendly grin. It was Tyler, one of Damian’s old friends. Ethan’s mind raced. They had met once, briefly, but Ethan doubted Tyler would recognize him now, not with the suit on. But Tyler knew Damian—his speech patterns, his mannerisms. If Ethan wasn’t convincing enough, the jig would be up in an instant.

“Hey, man!” Tyler approached, clasping Ethan on the shoulder in a familiar way. “Haven’t seen you around in a minute. Thought you moved out of town.”

Ethan forced a smirk, pulling on Damian’s casual, confident tone. “Nah, just been busy with work. You know how it is.”

Tyler laughed. “Same old Damian. You still hitting the gym every morning, huh? Don’t know how you keep this bulk on with that schedule of yours.”

Ethan flexed his arm slightly, mimicking the way Damian always responded to compliments about his build. “Gotta keep up the routine, man,” he replied with a cocky grin, trying to mirror Damian’s playful energy.

Tyler nodded approvingly and ordered a drink. The conversation continued, but Ethan was hyper-aware of every word, every gesture. He mimicked Damian’s relaxed, yet confident posture, nodding when Tyler talked about their shared gym sessions, even throwing in some gym lingo that he remembered from Damian. Ethan felt the tension rise with every interaction, but Tyler didn’t seem to notice anything off.

“So, what’re you doing here tonight, man?” Tyler asked, taking a sip of his beer. “Thought you were more of a date-night guy when you came to this place.”

Ethan swallowed, maintaining his Damian-like composure. “Ah, you know, just thought I’d fly solo tonight. Needed a break, some time to clear my head.”

Tyler gave him a knowing look. “Right, right. Well, don’t go too long without seeing your man. You’re a lucky bastard, and you know it.”

Ethan laughed, playing along, though it was a bittersweet reminder of Damian’s absence. Tyler clinked his glass against Ethan’s and the two shared a few more laughs, but soon, Tyler’s phone buzzed.

“Gotta run,” Tyler said, giving Ethan a quick pat on the back. “Good catching up, bro. Let’s hit the gym next time you’re free.”

“Yeah, man. Sounds good,” Ethan replied, waving Tyler off.

As Tyler left the bar, Ethan exhaled a long, relieved breath. He had passed. Tyler didn’t suspect a thing. He had impersonated Damian perfectly—his voice, his mannerisms, even the subtle way he moved and spoke. For a brief moment, Ethan wasn’t just wearing Damian’s skin; he was Damian in every sense of the word. It was exhilarating, nerve-wracking, and, oddly, comforting all at once.

Ethan took a sip of his whiskey, the adrenaline still rushing through him. The thrill of having to embody Damian so perfectly left him almost giddy. As he looked around the bar one last time, he realized how easy it had been. He had seamlessly slipped into Damian’s life, impersonating him so convincingly that even Damian’s friend couldn’t tell the difference.

A grin tugged at Ethan’s lips. The suit wasn’t just a way to feel close to Damian—it was a tool, a way to become him whenever Ethan wanted. The possibilities were endless, and for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel the sting of distance between them.

He sent one final selfie to Damian that night, a stoic look on his face, striking a classic Damian pose—arms up, flexing. Along with the photo, he sent a simple message: I think I’ll be putting this suit to good use babe.

[male-meat-suit]

Jesse Santana and Tomas Brand in Lucas Entertainment’s Enduring Daddy’s Discipline

[male-meat-suit]

My dad worked for a startup tech company, and his office was always filled with intriguing gadgets. Today, I couldn't resist the temptation to snoop around a bit.

Among the array of gadgets scattered across his desk, one particular device caught my eye. It was sleek and compact, unlike anything I had ever seen before. With curiosity piqued, I picked it up, turning it over in my hands.

Without much thought, I brought the device to my face and clicked on it. Instantly, a strange sensation washed over me, and before I could comprehend what was happening, my face began to contort and shift. In a matter of seconds, my features morphed into an uncanny resemblance of my dad's.

Panic surged through me as I stumbled backward, dropping the device in shock. What had I done? How was this even possible?

Just then, the office door swung open, and my dad walked in, his eyes flicking over to where I stood frozen in disbelief.

"Oh, hey Dad," I managed to stammer out, my voice sounding strangely like his own. "Didn't know you were home."

My dad's brow furrowed. I struggled to find the right words to explain the bizarre turn of events, but before I could, the device on the floor began to emit a soft glow, drawing our attention.

With a trembling hand, my dad picked it up, inspecting it closely. "This is one of our latest prototypes," he said slowly, realization dawning on his face. "It's a shape-shifting device we've been working on, but it's not supposed to be activated yet. How did you...?"

I could only shrug helplessly, still reeling from the surreal experience. It seemed that by sheer accident, I had stumbled upon a groundbreaking piece of technology.

I blinked in disbelief as he transformed into an exact replica of me, complete with my features and mannerisms. His smile, now mirrored on my own face.

"Wait, what?" I stammered, still trying to process the sudden turn of events.

"It'll be fun, don't you think?" my dad, now wearing my appearance, chuckled, his voice sounding strangely familiar coming from my own lips. "We can switch roles for a bit. You can see what it's like to work, and I can... well, I'm not sure what I'll do, but it'll be an adventure!"

I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here we were, facing a situation that seemed straight out of a science fiction movie, and yet, my dad was treating it like a game.

"Alright, let's do it," I said, giving in to the absurdity of the moment. "But we have to promise not to mess anything up too badly."

My dad, or rather, the replica of him that now wore my face, grinned in agreement. "Deal," he said, extending his hand for a shake.

[male-meat-suit]

Hercules and Hades

Hercules should've known to think about what he was agreeing to when he made that deal. Now Hades will have his way at Mount Olympus, and all Hercules can do is watch. ☁️🏛☁️

[male-meat-suit]

Body Hopper Files: The Executive

After my last random experience of inhabiting the body of a young fast food worker named Mateo, I couldn't help but admit that my current host was a refreshing change. Living life as Mateo wasn’t so terrible, with his nightly shifts at the restaurant and his casual hookups with attractive guys he met on dating apps. But as always, my time in his body came to an abrupt end.

As I felt myself slipping away from him, it was like the sudden drop of an elevator before I found myself in a completely diffrent body, living a whole new life...

I opened my eyes to find myself in a luxurious office building, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit - far different from Mateo's fast food uniform! I could feel the brisk office air conditioning on my neck and noticed an expensive, heavy watch clasped around my wrist. In my pocket was the latest smartphone in a luxurious leather case. This man definitely had some good taste! Using his face as the password, I unlocked the phone and switched to the camera.

In the reflection, I saw a mature yet well-groomed face with a white beard and impeccably styled silver hair. It was evident that this man took great care of his appearance and had the means to maintain it. The scent of his high-end cologne wafted up to me and I could feel the quality of the clothes against my skin. This was certainly a step up from Mateo's life!

"Mr. Jenkins," a cheerful voice called out behind me. Drawing on the man's memories, I realized that was now my name - Michael Jenkins - and the person addressing me was my executive assistant James. And according to Michael's memories, I was...the Vice President of Special Projects. Not too shabby for this guy! "The call with the regional manager team will be starting in 20 minutes, will you be joining?"

I smoothly tucked away my phone and cleared my throat before adjusting my tie, fully embodying the confident persona of a top-level corporate executive.

I couldn't help but notice that James was quite attractive. Fresh out of college and eager to please, I recalled from Michael's memories that the two of us had occasionally hooked up in the office. Well, now that I was in control, I definitely planned on taking advantage of that!

"Yes, James, please inform the team that I will be joining...and since I have about 20 minutes free until then..." I gave a sly wink and ran a well-manicured hand along the sizable bulge in my suit pants. "Yes, sir!" James knew exactly what to do, pulling me into an empty office and quickly closing the blinds.

----- ----- ----- Original story and AI Illustration by @bodyhopper-files

[male-meat-suit]

"Finally, this body belongs to me."

A.I. Illustrations by @bodyhopper-files. Generated with Midjourney V6, text prompt.

[male-meat-suit]

“You see, this is why you keep your shit clean,” explained Bruce to... well, Bruce but in some weak ass freshman’s body. “You keep your shit clean, you wipe down your sweat after using the machines, you don’t leave your cum soaked jocks lying around in locker rooms, or else guys like me are gonna have plenty of access to your DNA. I mean, I just used your cum soaked jock for fun, I literally could’ve found traces of your DNA all over this fucking place!”

Former-Bruce sat in on the bench flabbergasted. It was late enough and he thought he was the only one in the gym. One minute he was alone doing bench presses and then suddenly he could feel his entire body weaken and shrink, as though he was deflating, nearly killing him as his newly weak body struggled to rack the weights before they crushed him. He felt coolness between his legs and saw his package recede and flatten the front of his gym shorts his face contorted into one not his own. The next minute he was sitting up and catching his breath as he watched the string bean nerd he made fun of earlier saunter over. Former-Bruce had made fun of the nerd earlier, asking him why he was wearing such an oversized, cringy, nerdy shirt with the sides cut out, that kind of fashion was reserved for jocks like him. His fashion choices started to make sense very soon.

With each step, he grew taller and taller, did little stretches as his body inflated and hardened all over, adjusted his gait as Bruce saw movement in his shorts which must’ve been his cock and balls bursting larger in size and rounding out his package. Finally, he contorted and twitched his face a little as his jawbones grew sharper and more pronounced and his features got insanely sexier and blemish-free.

“Wh-Why...” Former-Bruce asked weakly.

“Why you? No particular reason,” Bruce answered. He paused for a second then laughed out loud, “Come on bro, what kind of question is that? I mean, look at you!” He struck a pose with his beefy arms and felt himself up. “I’d be an idiot not to! Plus, you’re Bruce fucking Langfield, desire and envy of every guy and girl on campus. Seriously, how do college quarterbacks do what y’all do and still keep your faces this sexy?” He stopped and laughed a little.

“I don’t know why I’m lecturing you, I honestly should be thanking you. How often am I gonna have the opportunity to get access to such prime DNA if dumbasses like you didn’t just leave their shit lying around?”

Former-Bruce felt dizzy, he didn’t know if it was from the sudden and drastic changes in his body or the sheer impossibility of what was happening.

“H-H-How....”

“How did I do it?” new Bruce interrupted, picking up the weights Former-Bruce was using minutes before.

“Well,” he started pumping the bar with the multiple large weights attached. His body was already exhibiting an impressive pump, but his arms swelled considerably as he flexed. He continued with rhythmic breaths, “I come from a family with, let’s say ancient abilities. Weird stuff, good stuff. But it has some bullshit age barrier.” He had done about 20 reps so far and was only just beginning to break a sweat.

“Makes sense, though...” he remarked seemingly to himself with exerted breaths, “Can’t have a bunch of young dummies running around, hulking out with every turn on they get.” He racked the weights with several pants. He was sporting a throbbing hard-on from the exertion and general rush of his new body. He could see Former-Bruce staring at his boner, and he gripped onto the shaft over the gym shorts. “Seriously, bro, wanna suck it? I know you’re thinking ‘no homo,’ but bro this is you! How often are you gonna get that chance?!” he asked excitedly, but Former-Bruce just weakly slowly shook his head with revulsion in his eyes. Bruce shrugged his massive shoulders, “Suit yourself!”

“Anyways, gotta be 18 to get it. Good for me, I hit lucky 18 just 12 hours ago. Hate that it took till college, but college offers such splendid options, such as yourself.” He stood in thought panting, “Well, I guess I should start saying myself! Aww bro, I’m gonna have so much fuckin’ fun stepping into your life. Plus I’ll have access to so much high quality DNA with a tight bod like this...”

Bruce felt up his washboard abs and cupped his heaving muscle tits, pinching his nipple. Former-Bruce, summoning what little strength he had, thought for a moment, and formulated a solution: “Y-yeah, but now I’m y-you dumbass...... I-I’ll just find out how you did w-whatever you did and get my-myself back.... fucker..”

“Oooh, Brucie! I’m sorry bud, but did you think our bloodline would last this long without a failsafe? Nah, bro, ancient blood’s still in here with me. It’s here,” he popped two huge bicep poses again, “...aaaand here,” and bounced his pecs with a little grin, “...aaaand here,” he turned around and flexed his glutes, which bounced against the fabric stretched taut across his ass, “...aaaand, best of all, here.” He slowly reached into the gym shorts and flopped out his still-hard cock, pumping it a little with a slight moan. The gym shorts fell to his feet and he stood before Former-Bruce exposed. The grin sank from his face and he stared at Former-Bruce with intensity, “Which reminds me...”

In a matter of seconds, Bruce jumped onto the bench, straddled Former-Bruce, grabbed him by both sides of his head, plunged his hard cock into Former-Bruce’s mouth, and began bucking wildly. Rhythmic choking sounds and wet slaps sounded through the empty gym and Bruce grunted with each thrust. “Sorry, Brucie! Another failsafe!” he shouted into the ceiling of the gym. He gritted his teeth and intensified his thrusts until he fired a hot, thick load directly down Former-Bruce’s throat. He didn’t even have the option to swallow, as it felt like his stomach was being forcefully filled from the source. Bruce dismounted from atop the bench with an exhausted sigh and, with his hands still gripping both sides of Former-Bruce’s face, he planted a comical smooch on Former-Bruce’s freshly fucked mouth. “Aww, bro, I think you’re gonna like this part.”

Bruce stood back with his arms crossed as Former-Bruce sat panting weakly, his mouth lazily hanging open. Former-Bruce rolled his eyes back as his body began gradually sinking down, down, down, down, his extremities pulling in on themselves. By the time he was hunched over on the bench, impossibly small, his features began to disappear and his body finally collapsed in on itself. Finally, he fell to the floor with a soft thud.

Bruce stood grinning over the new jockstrap with his hands on his hips. He bent over and picked up the fresh, white jock.

“Not bad work!” he said to himself as he stretched the elastic of the jock in front of him. He lowered the jock, stepped into the legs, and shimmied the fabric up his hairy, toned legs. He let the elastic *snap* against the top of his ass and his thighs, and scooped his package into the pouch. It formed an obscenely large bulge in his silhouette.

He admired the size and heft of his package in the new jock in a nearby mirror, flexed his massive muscles all over, and gave himself a wink. He scooped up his gym shorts off the ground, slung them over his meaty shoulder, and made his way to the exit.

[male-meat-suit]

When I told my father-in-law that I would leave my body to him on the condition that he didn't turn me into a leather-daddy, I should have noticed the signs when he agreed so quickly and changed the subject. Now, 4 days later I woke up with a headache, in a different room and completely naked. When I turn on my phone, there is a recorded message: Thank you for the suit, son-in-law. By the way, in good time, "Daddy." Your onlyfans account is doing great. Just in case I have left the door open, so in a while I will return to what will be my new body. Thank you for your sacrifice.

[male-meat-suit]

so cocky and demanding

[male-meat-suit]

ghostly possession

Ooh this fleshie should be fun! This guy knows how to dress for success! And check out the package and ass, Hubba hubba!!! Can’t wait to get my hands on my new package!

[male-meat-suit]

FWUMPH! “You’re gonna be a tight fit leather boy! I don’t normally squeeze myself into fleshies your size unless I gotta reason! But the way you fit that tight ass of yours in those chaps really set me over the edge. I just gotta know how those things feel hugging OUR cub body together!”

The overweight ghost of a middle-aged man slowly squeezed his way into Carter’s mouth. Carter stood paralyzed as he felt the ghost fill up his body and start to expand it in order to fit.

It started with his thighs. He could feel the ectoplasm seep into his muscles and stood in horror as he felt his legs thicken and push his pants to their max. It didn’t help that perfect ass had done the same thing. It wasn’t long before his arms followed suit and ballooned out like a bodybuilder’s biceps. Finally, Carter could feel his slim stomach start to fill with the ghost’s oversized beer belly. Carter could feel his leather shirt stretch out to contain his new bear body. It wasn’t long before he blacked out entirely, too terrified to even look at his new form.

“OooOOoh! Damn! Not what I was expecting baby! But we look even better like this!” Carter said with a new, older voice and a giant smile on his bearded face. “We might need some new clothes buddy. I don’t think these are gonna hold our new bear bod.”

Carter started rubbing his new leather-clad bubble butt and feeling up his beer belly. “Or we could chance it of course! As long as we don’t bend over too much we might be safe!” Carter giggled in his otherwordly voice.

“Hey Carter, what the fuck are you doing out here man?” A man said as he approached his possessed friend. “Whoa! What happened to you?!”

Carter grew a devilish smile and lunged at his new friend and started to make out. He loved feeling his friend’s bearded lips and reached around to grope his friend’s ass. Carter’s huge boner pressed against his leather pants as he made out. The friend was too turned on to even make sense of the situation.

“Fuck you taste good fleshie! I don’t think I’m ever gonna leave you!”

[male-meat-suit]

As soon as the hat was secured on his head, it was over for him. The programming took hold immediately; he wasn’t very bright to begin with. Dumbing him down was an easy and efficient addition to our ranks.

What was his name again? I forgot. He’s already forgotten, too. Names aren’t exactly a priority right now, with the mind-numbing pulses coming from the hat, reaching deep into his brain. The waves of pleasure being fired into his fried brain make him hornier and hornier until all he can think about is how helplessly horny he is, and how being so hard makes him feel like such a dumb jock, such a dude, a bro just trying to find the nearest thing to fuck. It’s overwhelming to him at first, but he quickly adapts.

And now he’s ours. We’re spreading the Dumb Jock gospel now, brother. I think he wants to fuck you. Look at how he’s looking at you. He’ll definitely convert you in the process of topping you, slipping the cap on your head before he cums, and then you can be one of us too. You ready, bro?

[male-meat-suit]

Come here, little man. Feel this chest. That’s it, rub your hands over my pecs. Go ahead. Pinch the nipple. Feel the strength. This is all gonna be yours soon. We’re gonna train you. Make you huge. Make you strong. You’re gonna get massive like me.

You feel it? Yeah, you do. You feel your body getting big. Muscles getting huge. You’re bulking up. Every moment you touch me, you’re growing bigger, stronger, dumber.

Oh yeah, dumber. You’re losing your old life. Your old memories are gone. You’re a muscle beast. You’re thick and huge and strong. You don’t need smarts. You’re dumb.

Mmm, that’s it. Look at you, growing big like me. Swelling up nice and strong. Hairy, manly, huge. Go ahead and flex, bro. That’s right. Feel your strength. Get used to your new body. You’re huge now, bro, you’re like me. You’re one of us. You’re one of the muscle beasts. We made you one of our own. Now it’s your turn to transform a bro of your own.

Get more stories of transformation, power, and control: https://amzn.to/2zuzn1M

[male-meat-suit]

They said it's so off-putting to see bunch of scrawny nerds lighting on big rolled cigar. Not to mention the fact that we actually choked by the thick smoke created by it as we never even smoke anything before. But guess they eventually shut their mouth and did not protest any longer when we finally take over these corn-fed asshole bodies and enjoyed cigar with a lung that can handle it. We're alphas after all, this is the type of shit we do

[male-meat-suit]

This story is so so good

[male-meat-suit]

Grandson

I felt incredible as I walked through that park. I close my eyes for a bit. I enjoy the smells, the breeze on my face, and the suns’ rays warming up my bare chest. It was a small moment in time, perfect in every single way. I then look at my surroundings and noticed some girls looking at me. My shaft immediately got hard. It has been a while since I have some action. But now looking like this, with the body of Corey, I am certain that there is nothing that will stop me.

Corey was always my favorite grandson. We have so much in common. We both love sports, working out and have the same type of humor. I knew that the boy always admired me. He respected me and wanted to follow my steps. I was the one that initiated him on his fitness journey, I was the one that convinced him to study law. The only thing that I was never able to convince him was taking the habit of smoking. Understandable as that brought my demise. Sure, he was crushed when I was diagnosed with lung cancer, and he cried a lot when the doctors told him that I have less than 6 months in this world. I try to endure and accept my reality. However, I wanted to live… I couldn’t accept my fate. I know that I did something horrible, Corey cried so much when I use that stone to switch our bodies. He definitely felt betrayed. However, in part this was his fault. He was too perfect. Of my 12 grandkids, his life was the only one that I felt it was worth living. Of 12 grandkids, he had the only life that met my high bar. I left him dying on that hospital and, since then, I have been enjoying being a young stud. I light the cigar and felt the smoke filling my lungs. This body is not used to it, but with time it will get used. Do I fear that I could get lung cancer again. Yes, however I still have this stone. So, if this life ends like my last one, I could always take over the flesh of my next beloved grandson.