myster-roca

[myster-roca]

Facade of Justice

The dim, flickering lights of the underground lair cast jagged shadows on the cold concrete walls. Valorion, hero of the Justice Force, hung suspended, his wrists bound by energy restraints that drained his strength.

His metallic spandex bodysuit, accented with gold and silver, clung tightly to his muscular form. A sleek cowl fully enveloped his scalp, leaving only his eyes, nose, and mouth exposed, while framing his chiseled jaw, adding to his air of intensity and mystery.

From the shadows, Darksteel emerged like a phantom, his dark coat sweeping behind him. As the ruthless leader of the notorious organization Midnight Shadow, his presence radiated danger. His movements were slow and deliberate, his sharp face framed by a high collar. Piercing green eyes glinted with quiet amusement as they lingered on Valorion's bound form

“You can’t win, Darksteel,” Valorion growled, his voice strained but steady. “Even if you kill me, another hero will rise.”

Darksteel’s cold smile faltered for an instant, and in a single swift motion, he drove his knee into Valorion’s groin. The impact sent a sharp, searing pain radiating through Valorion’s body, forcing a gasp from his lips as he doubled over, his bound wrists the only thing keeping him from collapsing. His body throbbed with the aftershock, vision blurring as he struggled to catch his breath.

Darksteel leaned in close, his voice low and venomous. “Kill you?” he whispered, almost playfully. “I don’t need to kill you to break you. By the time I’m done, you’ll beg to stay forgotten.”

He turned and walked away, the door sliding shut with a hiss. With a soft hiss, the door slid shut behind him, sealing Valorion alone in the crushing silence of the chamber.

Valorion clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus, to breathe. Yet that uneasy feeling remained—the nagging sensation that unseen eyes were still watching him.

Minutes stretched into an eternity, broken only by Valorion's ragged breathing. Suddenly, a muffled explosion shattered the quiet chamber. The wall crumbled inward, and through the smoke, a masked soldier in Midnight Shadow’s black uniform stepped in.

Valorion tensed, unsure if this was a new threat or another of Darksteel’s games.

The soldier strode purposefully toward a sleek panel embedded in the wall. His gloved hand hovered over a red glowing button, its metallic surface gleaming under the dim light.

“Trust me,” he muttered before slamming the button.

A sharp hiss filled the air as the energy restraints flickered and then disengaged with a burst of sparks.

Valorion staggered momentarily as his limbs were freed, the dull ache from prolonged captivity flooding back. Before he could steady himself, the soldier turned to him, his movements quick and deliberate.

“Come with me,” he urged, his voice low and distorted. “I’m getting you out.”

With no other choice, Valorion followed through the dark corridors. Faint alarms echoed as they reached the surface. They burst through the lair’s exit, only to find themselves at the edge of a steep cliff overlooking a fast-flowing river far below.

“We don’t have much time. We have to jump!” the soldier yelled, and before Valorion could react, they plunged into the icy torrent.

The current grabbed them instantly, pulling them downstream with violent force. Fighting the cold and the rushing water, they swam to the riverbank, emerging drenched and gasping for air. The soldier pointed to an old, abandoned warehouse in the distance, and without a word, they made their way toward it.

Inside the warehouse, the air was thick and damp. Water dripped from their soaked clothes, the cold clinging to their skin. “We need to get out of these clothes,” the soldier said, removing his mask to reveal his face.

He was young, in his early twenties, with intense brown eyes and a faint, troubled smile. His lean, athletic frame, broad shoulders, and narrow waist exuded strength. Wet hair clung to his forehead, giving him an air of both vulnerability and allure.

As he stripped away the remaining layers of his soaked uniform, his skin gleamed faintly in the dim light, revealing his body as the damp fabric pooled at his feet.

Valorion hesitated for a moment, then slowly pulled back his cowl mask, revealing his face. His bold features came into view: a sharp, chiseled jaw, a firm, resolute mouth, and tousled blonde hair that draped slightly over his forehead. His intense eyes, framed by thick brows, shone with an aura of concealed power.

As he peeled off the metallic spandex bodysuit, his physique emerged—broad shoulders, a powerful chest, and heavily defined muscles sculpted like stone. His thick cock, now freed from the tight confines of the bodysuit, hung between his strong thighs. The cold bit at his skin, but it was the soldier’s gaze that sent a deeper chill through him.

“What’s your name, boy?” Valorion asked, noticing the soldier’s lingering gaze.

“I’m... Ethan,” the soldier stammered, quickly looking away.

“Aren’t you one of Darksteel’s soldiers? Why did you help me escape?” Valorion pressed.

Ethan hesitated, then sat on a nearby crate. “I’ve watched you for a long time,” he confessed. “You inspired me, made me realize there’s more to life than following Darksteel’s orders.” His voice wavered. “I became a soldier for Midnight Shadow out of desperation. I had nothing. They promised me everything, but it was all a lie. Watching you fight gave me hope for change.”

Valorion’s expression softened. He placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, a rare warmth flickering in his eyes. “You’ve made the right choice, boy. But you’ll still have to face your past,” he said gently.

Ethan looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. “I know... I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking.

Valorion pulled him into a tight embrace. “It’s okay. We’ll face it together,” he whispered.

Ethan buried his face in Valorion’s chest, their bodies pressing together, skin against skin. He hugged Valorion around the waist and rested his head against his abs. Valorion’s cock was half-hard, and it was now nestled against the top of the soldier’s head.

“Forgive me,” the soldier whispered. “Forgive me for everything.”

Valorion stroked the back of the soldier’s head, his fingers running through his wet hair. “There’s nothing to forgive, boy,” he said gently. “You’re changing. That’s all anyone can ask.”

The soldier sobbed against him for a few moments, then slowly he looked up. His eyes, bright and warm, shone up at Valorion, his face only inches from Valorion’s hard cock.

Valorion felt his heart beating hard. It had been a long time since he’d felt so close to someone. As a superhero, he had to maintain a certain image, and that meant it was difficult to let people get close.

He was always in control, always had to be.

But here and now, in this abandoned warehouse, with this young soldier’s eyes looking up at him, he felt that control slipping away. He felt his pulse hammering against the soldier’s hand, his cock throbbing against the soldier’s forehead.

Ethan reached up with his hand, and slowly, gently, cupped the side of Valorion’s face. His thumb traced Valorion’s cheekbone, and his fingers curved around the back of his neck.

“Thank you,” the soldier murmured. “Thank you.”

Without hesitation, Ethan tilted his head and pressed his lips to Valorion’s. Valorion froze for a moment, caught off guard. The moment hung between them, heavy and charged. The warmth of Ethan’s body, the steady thrum of his heartbeat, and the intensity in his gaze ignited something deep within Valorion. The resistance melted away, replaced by a rush of desire. Slowly, he surrendered, pressing his lips back against Ethan’s.

The kiss deepened, and the tension between them dissolved into something raw and urgent. Valorion closed his eyes as he felt the soldier’s cock, hot and hard against his own. A low moan escaped his lips, mingling with the fervor of their embrace.

Valorion ran his hands over the soldier’s body, feeling the lean muscle of his shoulders, the hard swell of his chest, the ridges of his stomach. He reached around and grabbed his ass, and gave it a squeeze.

Their cocks brushed against each other, and Valorion couldn’t stifle the groan that escaped his lips. The soldier echoed him, pressing his tongue more firmly into Valorion’s mouth.

The soldier sighed, pressing his body against Valorion. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he moaned.

As their hands explored each other’s bodies, a sudden wave of dizziness swept over Valorion. His vision blurred, and the strength he had regained began to fade.

He pulled back, resting a hand on Ethan’s chest, his eyes growing heavy. In moments, the hero collapsed gently onto the cold floor, falling into a deep, heavy slumber.

Ethan stood over Valorion’s unconscious body, his expression shifting. His lips curled into a cold smile as he gazed down at the fallen hero. “I told you before,” he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. “I don’t need to kill you to break you.”

His fingers moved to the back of his neck, searching for a hidden seam. With a firm pull, the seam gave way, and the false flesh began to peel back with a soft, wet sound.

Piece by piece, Ethan’s face loosened, slipping off like a second skin. Beneath it, sharp cheekbones and cold, angular features emerged—pale skin and green eyes gleaming with wicked amusement, framed by stark white hair. The face that now stared back wasn’t Ethan’s at all. It was Darksteel.

He continued the process, running his hands over his chest as Ethan’s toned physique began to sag and distort. His fingers traced the hidden seam at the back of his neck, slipping beneath the skin-tight suit with a precise, deliberate motion. With a firm pull, the suit loosened, the synthetic skin giving way as Ethan's athletic frame unraveled, revealing the far more imposing figure beneath.

With each pull, Darksteel’s true form emerged—his broader, muscular shoulders pushing through. His thick arms flexed as he freed them from Ethan’s false limbs, pulling each finger from the synthetic hands. The soft, squelching sound of the suit separating from his skin filled the room, heightening the unsettling atmosphere.

The skin, the muscles—everything that had made Ethan seemed to fold and fall away like a snake shedding its skin. Darksteel grunted as the tight material peeled off, the strange mix of squelching and tearing echoing through the warehouse.

Ethan’s build vanished, replaced by Darksteel’s sculpted physique. His broader shoulders and defined chest rippled with taut muscles, each honed by years of discipline. As the bodysuit slipped lower, Darksteel’s lean waist and carved abdomen came into view, a striking contrast to Ethan’s softer, less defined form.

The most delicate part remained—the groin. The tightness there had been a constant reminder of the suit’s control, and as he carefully slid it over his hips, Darksteel winced at the almost overwhelming relief. His skin, now exposed to the cool air, tingled with liberation.

With one last pull, he freed himself from the legs of the suit, feeling the tension fade as it pooled at his feet. His real skin glistened with sweat, faint impressions left from where the suit had gripped him tightly.

Darksteel breathed deeply, running a hand over his exposed chest, relishing the sensation of being in his own skin again. His muscles ached from the suit’s pressure, but a strange satisfaction remained, a reminder of the power and allure the suit had granted. He stretched, the stiffness fading from his limbs as he moved freely, unbound—like a predator finally released from its cage.

As he stared at Valorion’s unconscious body on the ground, Darksteel’s cock began to throb with excitement. His eyes roamed over the hero’s muscular form, tracing every curve. Clearly, the hero was still under the effects of the Kiss of Delusion.

The Kiss of Delusion was one of Darksteel’s special powers, causing his victim to become dizzy and unconscious. While under its effects, the victim’s dreams transformed into illusions imagined by Darksteel, allowing him to torture his opponents with their worst nightmares.

However, for Valorion, there was no need for such illusions. Darksteel had already implanted the perfect fantasy into his mind—one that would surely drive him mad once he awoke from his deep slumber.

Darksteel slid his hands down to Valorion’s ass and grabbed both cheeks, spreading them apart so he could see the hero’s tight asshole. His dick was now so hard it felt like it was going to explode at any minute.

He took a deep breath, savoring the moment, then plunges his cock into Valorion’s asshole in a single, fluid motion. With a swift spasm, he released his seed, letting it surge deep into the hero’s body. The essence, laced with his own cells, now flowed through Valorion’s insides, poised to begin its work. Now, all he had to do was wait.

Within minutes, a small lump began to form on the hero’s back. This was another of Darksteel’s abilities— the Flesh Husk Generation. By claiming his victims through intimate domination, Darksteel could cultivate a perfect replica skinsuit of their body, known as a Flesh Husk. This power allowed him to mimic not only their appearance but also their abilities when worn.

The transformation began with the Seed, a pulsing mass that grew and reshaped itself over several minutes. Once fully matured, the skin could be easily peeled from the victim’s body.

Darksteel gripped the warm, pliant flesh and, with a smooth tug, detached it. He marveled as the skin shifted, forming an exact copy of Valorion’s powerful body—from the broad torso to the muscular legs and arms, down to the smallest details of fingers and toes.

His fingers traced the flawless pecs, gliding over the hard contours of the sculpted abs, feeling the raw strength beneath the surface. A dark thrill surged through him, making him harder as he imagined what it would feel like to wear it—this hollow shell, waiting to be filled.

Slowly, he stepped into the suit, his legs sliding into the cool, flesh-like material. The suit clung tightly to his calves and thighs, making his body feel heavier, more defined. It wrapped around him like a second skin, reshaping him with an intoxicating intensity. As he pulled it over his waist, his legs bulged with muscle, his calves tightening, and his thighs swelling with power.

A gasp escaped his lips as the suit enveloped his torso. His once-lean chest swelled, pecs inflating into rock-hard slabs. His breath quickened as he stared at his new form—heavy pecs and ridged abs, as if carved from marble. The tightness around his torso was exhilarating, every inch of him reborn into something unstoppable.

The suit wrapped around his arms, thickening them into powerful limbs. Darksteel flexed, watching veins ripple beneath the synthetic skin. His fingers tingled, overwhelmed by the surge of strength. He clenched his fist, feeling untamed power coursing through him. Every movement felt deliberate, controlled—his body amplified, perfected beyond its limits.

As the suit closed around his core, the tightening at his groin made him catch his breath. His cock, nestled in the sheath, shifted from discomfort to a deep, sensual pressure. A groan escaped as he adjusted, feeling the sheath conform perfectly to his body. The suit gripped every part of him, shaping him into the powerful being.

Finally, he reached for the mask. The face had a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and shimmering blonde hair. Darksteel held it for a moment, then, with a deep breath, pressed the mask against his own face.

The adhesive activated instantly, molding his features into those of the towering blonde hero. He touched his cheek, feeling the hardness of the jawline, the rough stubble, and the cool synthetic skin as it seamlessly fused with his own.

Darksteel stood still for a moment, letting the full weight of his transformation sink in. His breath remained steady, but his pulse pounded beneath the thick slabs of his new chest. He raised a hand to his pecs, lingering over the firm, unyielding surface. Every inch of his torso was taut, solid—the suit enhancing his form to its absolute peak.

He turned his arm slightly, admiring the way the muscles shifted and stretched, as though they were alive, ready to crush or lift anything in his path. His legs felt heavier beneath him, solid pillars of muscle wrapped in the tight, flesh-like suit.

Darksteel’s gaze then shifted to Valorion’s iconic uniform, now dry, gleaming in the low light. The metallic spandex clung to every curve and ridge, practically begging to be worn. Darksteel’s pulse quickened as he reached for it, imagining how the fabric would embrace his body, completing his metamorphosis.

With steady hands, Darksteel lifted the spandex suit, feeling its weight shift, the material almost alive in his grip. His heart raced as the zipper slid open with a soft click, echoing in the still room. He took a deep breath, anticipation buzzing through him.

Slowly, he slid one leg into the suit. The fabric wrapped tightly around his thick calf, conforming to his powerful form. It stretched smoothly over his thigh, sending a jolt of excitement through him as it gripped his body like a second skin. Every movement heightened his awareness, the suit accentuating the solid muscle underneath.

He slipped his other leg into the suit, feeling the material mold to every contour of his legs. It seemed to know him, every ridge and curve fitting perfectly, leaving no space between him and the sensation of strength. The tightness was exhilarating—every step, every flex felt amplified by the form-fitting fabric.

As the suit slid over his hips, his breath hitched. It clung snugly to his groin, shaping him with precision, making him feel not just powerful, but in control—dominant. Adjusting himself slightly, the suit sealed him inside the illusion of a superhero’s body, and the thrill coursed through his veins.

He glanced down, watching the spandex stretch over his broad chest, highlighting the massive pecs that rose and fell with his rapid breathing. It hugged his torso with a snugness that made him feel invincible.

Darksteel’s hands trembled as he pulled the suit higher, over his shoulders, the fabric wrapping his arms like liquid metal. His fingers slipped into the sleeves, and the spandex tightened around his biceps. He flexed, watching his muscles bulge under the tight material, every motion enhancing the power that surged through him.

Darksteel adjusted the cowl over his face, sealing the heroic visage as his own. The transformation was complete. He looked down upon Valorion's still and sleeping form with a sinister smile.

"Sleep well, hero," he whispered with a cold, victorious grin. "In your dreams, you may still save the world, but in reality, it's my turn to reshape it."

------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Valorion stirred awake, his senses slowly coming to life. The soft beeping of nearby machines filled his ears, and his body felt weighed down, aching from an unknown ordeal. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing a sterile, white room. The smell of antiseptic and the bright lights above made everything feel strange, unfamiliar. He blinked, adjusting to the harsh brightness, realizing he wasn’t in the warehouse anymore.

His breath hitched as he moved, his body bound not by his suit but by a stiff hospital gown. “Where am I?” he thought. He shifted slightly, his hand brushing against the cold metal railing of the bed.

Beside him, Ethan sat quietly, his eyes fixed on Valorion.

“You’re awake,” Ethan said softly, his voice calm. The young soldier was wearing a hospital gown too.

Valorion’s mind felt foggy, his memories jumbled. He glanced around at the machines, the sterile environment. A hospital? His heart quickened. “How did we get back?” he asked, his voice rough, cracking from disuse. “Back to the city?”

Ethan smiled faintly, but there was something guarded in his expression. “We were helped by some kind people,” he replied, his words vague. “They found us and brought us here. You’ve been unconscious for hours.”

Valorion frowned, his mind racing to remember. Flashes of their escape mixed with something more—something intimate. But his thoughts were fragmented, the details slipping away like sand between his fingers. He couldn’t tell if what he remembered was real or a fevered dream.

Before he could question Ethan further, the young soldier stood abruptly, his movements sharp. “You should rest more, Valorion. We can talk later,” Ethan said before swiftly exiting the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Valorion frowned, trying to recall what had happened. Flashes of their escape blurred with memories of something more intimate, something he wasn’t sure was real or imagined. His mind raced back to the moments before he blacked out—the feeling of Ethan’s body against his. Was it just a dream? He couldn’t tell.

Valorion lay still, his thoughts circled back to the blurry memories. Had they really shared those moments together? He let out a deep breath, closing his eyes, trying to recall the missing pieces. He wasn’t sure what was real anymore.

Suddenly, the door burst open again—this time with a chaotic surge of people. Reporters, armed with cameras and microphones, flooded into the room, bombarding him with questions.

“Valorion! Can you explain the viral video?” one reporter demanded, shoving a microphone toward him.

“Viral video?” Valorion repeated, a wave of unease washing over him.

“Yes! The footage of you and this guy named Ethan!” another reporter chimed in, holding up a phone that displayed a still image—an image of him and Ethan together in an unmistakably intimate moment.

The hero’s chest tightened as panic set in. A video of him with Ethan? He scanned the room in panic, searching for Ethan, but the soldier was gone. His pulse raced as the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. There’s a video of us? His hands gripped the bedsheets, his knuckles turning white. How could this be happening? How could anyone have recorded them?

Meanwhile, down the hospital’s quiet back corridors, Ethan moved calmly, his footsteps echoing softly in the otherwise empty hallway. He slipped into an unoccupied utility room, locking the door behind him. The dim light flickered overhead as he walked toward a small mirror on the wall.

His lips curled into a malicious grin as the memories of the warehouse flooded back:

After Valorion fell into a deep slumber, Darksteel called the real Ethan to come to the warehouse. Once there, Ethan was stripped of his uniform and had struggled against his captor. However, Darksteel, wearing Valorion’s muscular form, was far too strong. Ethan’s voice had cracked as he begged for mercy, but Darksteel silenced him, using the hero’s body to dominate him completely. Every moment was recorded as Darksteel, in Valorion’s skin, had taken his time fucking the young soldier. The sounds of Ethan’s desperation echoed in Darksteel’s mind even now, as he remembered how easily he had broken the man. After that event, he had the real Ethan confined in another secret lair with a reminder of who was truly in control.

With a cruel grin, Ethan—no, Darksteel—reached up and tugged at the tip of his nose. The synthetic skin loosened, and he carefully peeled it back, revealing his true face underneath. His sharp, angular features came into view, and his cold, green eyes gleamed with satisfaction as the mask of Ethan dangled from his hand.

He reached into a nearby bag and pulled out a full mask of a bearded man, rough around the edges. With practiced hands, he slipped the mask over his face, transforming into yet another persona. He checked his reflection, ensuring every detail was perfect.

Next, he pulled out an unremarkable outfit designed to help him blend into the crowd. He donned a plain gray hoodie, faded jeans, and worn sneakers. A baseball cap, pulled low over his eyes, completed the look. The beard, the weathered face, and the casual outfit—this disguise would let him disappear into the crowd, unnoticed.

Satisfied, he slipped the Ethan mask back into the bag and unlocked the door, stepping out into the hospital hallway. Nurses and staff passed him by without a second glance as he walked through the corridors, heading for the exit.

Outside, Darksteel blended effortlessly into the bustling city streets. He paused for a moment, looking up at Valorion’s hospital window from a distance. Through the glass, he could see the chaos inside—the flashing cameras, the reporters bombarding the hero with questions. A cold smirk played on his lips as he watched Valorion’s world unravel.

With everything going as planned, Darksteel's smile widened. He turned and walked away, vanishing into the crowd like a shadow.

But the game wasn’t over.

It had only just begun.

-- ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ---

Commissioned by: 9momored

"Thanks for reading! Feel free to DM me with suggestions or commission requests. Don’t forget to follow me on my other platforms for more updates and content!"

[myster-roca]

La Pelle del Diavolo: A Halloween Special

The night air in the hills of Tuscany was thick with the scent of earth and wild herbs, but a chill crept through the wind, slipping from the shadows cast by ancient oaks around the estate. Marco Romano, a seasoned thief, felt the familiar prickle of excitement as he approached the villa.

Dark whispers and superstitions tugged at the edges of his thoughts, but he pushed them aside. Danger was an old friend, and tonight, it had led him to the mysterious Villa Tenebra.

The locals had spoken of the villa’s hidden treasure in hushed tones over dark wine, only daring to mention it in shadowed corners of Florence’s oldest bars. It was a relic of myth, known as the Corpus Noctem, the key to immortal life. Marco had dismissed it as folklore at first, but the lure of such power was impossible to resist.

He had slipped into Villa Tenebra with the help of a map from a cryptic dealer in Florence—a strange man eager to be rid of it. The map was faded and worn, but it revealed something extraordinary: an old smugglers’ passage hidden in the villa’s foundations, built centuries ago to let noblemen move treasures in and out undetected.

The entrance to the passage lay hidden behind a statue in the villa’s overgrown gardens, its base concealing a narrow stone door. With a grunt, Marco pushed it open, revealing a winding staircase descending into the earth. The air was cool and damp, and each step echoed, punctuating the silence with a heavy, ominous beat.

At the bottom, the passage twisted into a dimly lit stone hallway. Shadows flickered on the walls, worn smooth by years of forgotten footsteps. Marco moved forward, his senses sharp, adrenaline building. The air was thick, carrying an old, metallic scent, as though it held memories of things long past.

A few meters down, he found himself in a corridor and saw something he had never encountered—a perfectly sculpted muscle suit that looked like leather, coated in wax, and painted red. The closer he got, the more he felt an odd pull, a magnetic force that made his skin tingle and his pulse intensify.

The suit looked like leather but felt too smooth, too alive. It beckoned to him.

“This is it. The Corpus Noctem. The Flesh of the Night,” he whispered, his voice thick with greed. “The key to youth and eternal life.”

His fingers hovered over the material, and as soon as he touched it, a rush of heat surged through him, like electricity flooding his veins. His fingertips tingled as he traced its sculpted lines. The sensation was intoxicating, almost erotic. His breath quickened, and an unfamiliar hunger stirred deep within him.

With the suit clutched in his arms, he moved quickly down the hall, rounding a corner, his breathing quickening as he felt its warmth intensify. The heat from the suit seemed to throb, mirroring his own pulse, sending waves of anticipation rippling through him.

He knew he couldn’t wait any longer—he needed it on his body, needed to feel it enveloping him.

Setting the suit down, he hurriedly removed his clothes, pulling off his sleek, dark outfit and kicking off his boots. His legs trembled as he reached for the red muscle suit once more, pressing himself against it and feeling heat spread through his body.

He removed his pants, standing completely naked before the suit, savoring the rich red sheen of the leather.

Without hesitation, he began to put it on. The moment it touched his skin, a wave of pleasure and power flooded his senses.

As he slid the suit further up his leg, he felt an incredible tightness around his calf, a strange, thrilling tension as though the suit were pulling at his muscles. And then, to his astonishment, he felt his calf muscle expand, swelling against the material as though infused with newfound strength.

He continued, slipping his other leg in, feeling the suit tighten around his thighs. The same sensation of growth surged through him, his quads and hamstrings expanding, hardening, becoming thicker, stronger.

Marco’s hands trembled as he pulled the suit up over his hips, feeling the snug embrace of the material. He slipped his arms into the sleeves, and as the suit enveloped his torso, a wave of heat exploded through his chest and back.

He watched in awe as his pecs rose, filling out, becoming solid and powerful, each muscle now perfectly defined. His shoulders broadened, the suit tightening around them, forcing them to grow, to harden, until they were as strong as stone.

His arousal surged as he ran his hands down to the calves and then up to the chest, pressing his palm against the sculpted abdomen. It felt perfect—hard, tight, like a muscular man was inside.

Eyes closed, he traced his hands over the biceps and around to the triceps, savoring every sensation.

“You shouldn’t have touched that.”

The thief spun around. An old man stood in the hallway, his silver hair gleaming in the dim light. On his right hand, a tarnished silver ring caught the faint glow, intricate symbols etched into its surface.

His eyes, sharp and full of something the thief couldn’t quite place, bore into him. The air between them crackled with tension.

“This is your treasure, old man?” the thief sneered, masking the tremor in his voice.

The old man stepped forward, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Treasure? No… it’s a curse. You should strip it off and leave while you still can. That suit… The Corpus Noctem… was never meant to be worn by anyone who values their soul.”

The thief chuckled darkly, reveling in the waves of pleasure and power coursing through him as the suit clung tighter, molding to his body like a second skin. “You’re just trying to scare me. It’s mine now.”

But then, something shifted. The warmth he’d felt before began to change, becoming suffocating, as though the suit itself was tightening around him, digging deeper into his flesh.

The initial rush of pleasure twisted into something unbearable, a heat that clawed at him from within.

His chest heaved as panic seized him. “What… what is happening?”

The old man’s gaze was steely, his voice soft yet filled with grim satisfaction. “You wanted to own the suit, to wield its power. But now, it owns you.”

The thief’s hands flew to the suit, trying to rip it off, but the material wouldn’t budge. Panic clawed at him as he realized the truth—this wasn’t just a myth or legend. This was real, and he had fallen for its trap.

“The suit was crafted centuries ago,” the old man continued, his voice soft yet laden with dark knowledge. “A coven of sorcerers, desperate for immortality, summoned an ancient demon—the Harrower of Flesh—who bound its essence into the hollow skin of a man, creating the Corpus Noctem. Whoever wore it would gain eternal youth and beauty, but at a cost: for each year they lived, they’d need to drain another’s essence, leaving behind a lifeless skinsuit. To bypass this, the wearer must cloak themselves in the flesh of another soul—only by donning this skin over the Corpus Noctem can one remain whole.”

The thief’s vision blurred as the suit constricted around him, merging deeper into his skin. His body tingled with a sensation that was equal parts pleasure and terror. It felt as if the suit were feeding on him, consuming his very essence.

The old man’s frail form shifted, and with deliberate slowness, he raised his hands to his face. He pulled it off, revealing a lifelike mask, and beneath it, a strikingly youthful, handsome face emerged—features sharp, jawline strong, eyes dark and piercing. Smirking, he removed his clothes piece by piece, casting off the disguise of age.

As the last layer fell, the old, fragile illusion was gone, replaced by a chiseled, muscular figure that looked as if it had been carved from marble. His back straightened, shoulders broad, and every inch of him radiated a powerful, youthful energy.

“You see, I was once like you,” the man said, his voice now rich and powerful. “I, too, was lured by the suit’s promises. But unlike you, I learned its secrets and made it my own. I’ve lived for centuries, wearing this skin, draining life from those foolish enough to fall into its grasp.”

The thief stumbled back, his body no longer his own. The suit tightened again, and he felt his skin loosen, as if separating from his bones, becoming pliable and empty. He was now little more than an outer shell waiting to be filled.

“You’ll be perfect,” the man murmured with a predatory smile. “I’ve been needing a new face. And your body… it will serve me well.”

The man reached down, his fingers trailing over the thief’s hollowed form, savoring the warmth and fresh pliability. He lifted the emptied skin carefully, feeling its readiness to be inhabited. Pausing, he slid a tarnished silver ring from his finger and set it gently on the floor beside him, a faint smile crossing his lips, as if the gesture held private, ritualistic meaning.

With a sigh of satisfaction, he began donning the suit, the thief’s former identity slipping over him like a glove. The skin conformed to him, tightening and sealing with a sensation that sent shivers through him—a seductive merging of flesh and power.

He ran his hands over his new form, relishing the strength beneath his fingers. This body was everything he’d hoped for—youthful, strong, and ready to endure another century. He reached down, rubbing his hands over Marco's abs, feeling the muscles tense beneath his touch. His hands drifted lower, gripping Marco's cock, heat radiating from it. Wrapping his hand around the shaft, he began to stroke.

“Do you like it?” he asked himself with a smile.

He began to laugh as he continued stroking, feeling Marco grow harder. On the verge of climax, he still sensed remnants of Marco's essence, and his smile grew even wider. Reaching up, he massaged his new face.

But he wasn’t done. He turned to the Corpus Noctem, lying on the floor like a crimson shadow. With practiced ease, he slipped it on, layer by layer, feeling it fuse with his stolen body, amplifying his strength, fortifying every fiber. The suit melded seamlessly, completing his transformation.

Reaching down, he retrieved the silver ring from the floor and slid it back onto his finger, a final touch that signified the bond. He looked into the grand mirror, admiring the flawless reflection. Turning sharply, he traced a hand along his new jawline, savoring the unfamiliar yet perfectly familiar contours. The face of a man he had consumed, a youth he had stolen, now belonged to him entirely.

With a slow exhale, he ran his hands over his abs, savoring each hard, sculpted ridge beneath his fingertips. The suit hugged every contour perfectly, every muscle honed, every line exact.

“Magnificent,” he whispered, his voice low with satisfaction, echoing through the empty hall like a dark promise. Only his faint laughter remained, drifting through Villa Tenebra’s silent halls, waiting for the next soul to fall prey to the Corpus Noctem.

--- ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ---

Would you like to expand this dark universe? Follow me to explore more content and updates: https://linktr.ee/mysteroca

[myster-roca]

Through Another's Eyes

The neon sign flickered in the distance, casting an eerie red glow that danced off the cracked asphalt of the motel’s desolate parking lot. The word "Vacancy" blinked in and out, barely clinging to life, much like the dilapidated building it was attached to. The wind carried the faint scent of dust and decay, whispering through the night, as if the very air was haunted.

Tim squinted through his cracked windshield, pulling his car into the far corner of the lot, enveloped in shadows. He sat there, his fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel, the ticking of the cooling engine echoing like a countdown.

His plan was simple: sneak in, steal anything worth a dime—cash, electronics, jewelry—and disappear before anyone noticed. It was the same routine he’d pulled dozens of times, but tonight, something felt different—off in a way he couldn't quite shake.

Still, he pushed the thought aside. He was dead broke, but that wasn’t anything new. He was used to surviving on scraps, drifting from town to town, picking pockets and breaking into places like this to scrape by. And now, he found himself here, in front of this run-down motel, a last-ditch effort to score enough cash to get him to the next nowhere town.

He wasn’t going through the front door. That was a rookie mistake. Tim needed to be smarter, stealthier.

He circled to the back of the building, crouching low as he spotted an old metal hatch. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in years, maybe an old laundry chute or some kind of service entrance, long forgotten.

The bolts were rusted, the metal cracked—an afterthought in this crumbling relic. Tim pulled a utility knife from his jacket, a tool that had gotten him out of many tight spots. He wedged it between the hatch and the wall, gritting his teeth as he applied steady pressure. One hinge snapped, then the other, until the hatch swung open just enough for him to slip through.

The space beyond was tight, suffocating, like the walls were closing in. Tim’s pulse hammered in his ears as he crawled through the hatch, the cold metal scraping his skin.

Every movement felt deliberate, the darkness pressing against him, thick and oppressive. His breath caught, the damp, stale air seeping into his lungs, choking him for a brief moment before he forced it down. This was it—just another job. Nothing he hadn’t handled before.

But something about this felt different.

Pushing deeper into the narrow passage, his fingers grazed the cold, grimy walls, his mind racing. Then he noticed them—small, foggy windows lining the walls, barely catching the faintest glints of light.

At first, they seemed like nothing, but as Tim’s eyes adjusted, a cold realization gripped him. One-way mirrors. They weren’t just glass—they were portals, hidden views into the motel rooms beyond.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. Each mirror offered a voyeuristic glimpse into the lives of the unsuspecting guests on the other side.

Tim paused at one of the windows, his breath stilling in his chest as he leaned closer, peering through the foggy glass. The room beyond looked unremarkable at first—a bed, a couple of chairs, an unused TV in the corner. But it wasn’t the room that caught his attention.

It was the two naked men inside.

They sat across from each other, a heavy silence hanging between them. The younger man, his sharp features framed by a dark undercut, exuded a kind of elegance that only comes with age and experience.

The other, a bit older, with lines etched into his weathered face, radiated a quiet, unshakable confidence. But beneath the calm exterior, Tim could sense it—something dark and unsettled lurking just beneath the surface.

Tim watched them intently, feeling a strange sensation stirring within him. There was something intimate about this, more than just a conversation between two men. He pressed closer to the glass, his pulse quickening as he eavesdropped on their words.

The older man broke the silence first, his voice quiet but laced with regret. “I’ve been thinking… about everything. All the years, all the things I didn’t do. The things I wanted to do but never did. And now… now it feels like it’s too late.”

The younger man listened, his expression softening as the older one continued.

“I spent my life chasing what was expected of me. The job, the family, the routine… but what I wanted, deep down, I kept pushing aside. I always told myself I’d get to it eventually. But time… it slips away. And now, here I am, wondering why I didn’t act sooner.”

Tim felt a tug in his chest as he listened, the rawness of the man’s words striking something deep inside him. Regret. The bitter weight of not following one’s true desires. He had felt that before, hadn’t he? The tension of living a life that didn’t quite match what he wanted. As he stood there, hidden behind the walls, something stirred—something dark and sensual, an unspoken yearning he’d kept buried.

The younger man leaned forward, his tone gentle. “It’s not too late, Dan,” he said softly. “We’re here now. And we can still do what we’ve always wanted. We can still be who we want to be.”

Dan’s eyes met Ron’s, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. “I’ve wasted so much time, Ron,” he said, his voice low, almost pained. “But now, here with you, I feel like I can finally be who I am. No more pretending.”

Tim felt his breath catch as the atmosphere shifted, the air heavy with something unspoken yet undeniable. The words exchanged between the two men weren’t just about regret anymore; they carried a charge, a raw sensuality that made Tim’s skin prickle. He knew he shouldn’t be watching, but he couldn’t look away. The intimacy in their conversation, the quiet longing in their voices, stirred something primal in him.

The younger man, Ron, stood and walked toward a black duffel bag on the floor. He unzipped it with practiced ease, pulling out two folded skinsuits.

Tim’s eyes widened. These weren’t costumes—they were realistic, eerily lifelike male body skinsuits. Each was crafted to mimic a sculpted male form, from the rich ebony tone of one to the leaner, more defined build of the other. The craftsmanship was impeccable, every muscle and contour disturbingly real.

“You really brought them,” the older man, Dan, said, his voice filled with awe.

Ron nodded. “We both want this. You deserve to feel it—to be who you’ve always imagined.”

Tim’s eyes locked onto the older man, whose trembling fingers skimmed over the muscular form of the suit. He traced the lines of biceps and abs that didn’t belong to him, his breath quickening as his touch grew bolder. Anticipation flickered in his eyes. "It… it feels real," he whispered, almost in disbelief.

"Of course it does," the younger man said, already preparing to step into his suit. "This isn't just about pretending; it's about becoming someone else entirely.

Tim's mouth felt dry as he watched the transformation unfold. Dan slipped into his suit, his expression a mix of fascination and excitement. With a deliberate step, he slid one leg inside, the material clinging to him as if alive.

As the synthetic suit stretched over his body, muscles rippled beneath, his frame thickening. His chest broadened, pecs standing proud, and abs carved into firm ridges. His arms swelled, veins pulsing, while his waist tapered.

His legs thickened with powerful thighs, and his calves bulged as they flexed. His face shifted, seamlessly molding into a square-jawed, rugged mask framed by a dense, dark beard. The older man had become a handsome hunk, exuding raw, masculine strength.

Ron followed, his lean physique transforming into a hulking form. His hair vanished beneath the suit, leaving him bald except for the dark beard framing his square jawline. His frame seemed to melt into the suit, which stretched and reshaped him completely. His chest broadened, and as the suit closed over his shoulders, his lean muscles swelled into a statuesque form.

His skin darkened to a smooth, flawless, rich tone. His once-slender arms were now sculpted with taut muscles, his legs strong and perfectly proportioned, a vision of masculine beauty. His hands touched his face, feeling his features change.

His jawline sharpened into chiseled perfection, framed by a neatly trimmed beard. His lips curved into a confident smirk, and his eyes gleamed with new confidence. The false black guy stared at his reflection, seeing a handsome, muscular model looking back.

The transformation was breathtaking. Both men stood chiseled, their bodies sculpted into ideal forms of masculinity.

They stood there for a moment, letting their new forms settle over them. The air was charged with something else now—desire, lust, an unspoken need. Ron's muscular figure reached out, fingertips tracing Dan's new broad chest, exploring the unfamiliar landscape.

"I’ve always wanted this," the new handsome hunk admitted, his eyes locked on the new black man as his hand drifted lower. "To feel like this. To be like this."

The black guy’s face softened as he cupped Dan's new crotch. "I know. And I want it, too."

Dan groaned as Ron squeezed him through the skin, the material clinging so tightly it left no mystery to the shape beneath. Tim felt himself stirring at the sight, his own arousal building in tandem with what was happening in front of him. He reached into his pants, fingers wrapping around his cock as he stroked himself. This was wrong—so wrong—but he couldn’t help it. The raw need that permeated the room, the forbidden nature of their attraction, the primal sense of watching something he shouldn’t—it was all too much.

Dan stepped forward, hands trailing down the black guy's arms, his fingers skimming the muscles bulging beneath the skin. Their lips met, a soft, hungry kiss that deepened as they wrapped their bodies around each other. They moved onto the bed, their hands exploring each other’s new forms, the friction of skin on skin sending a thrill through Tim’s own flesh.

“You feel so good, Ron.” Dan groaned into the other guy’s mouth as their hands continued to explore. “Everything about you…”

Ron pulled back, his beard scratching Dan’s chin. “You’re amazing too. I don’t know how much more of this foreplay I can take.”

Dan chuckled as he flipped Ron onto his back. The black muscled figure moaned as Dan’s hand gripped his dick, stroking him through the suit. He reached down, sliding a finger beneath the material to tease the tip of Ron’s dick. They kissed again, their bodies rolling on the bed as they rubbed against each other.

“I want to feel you inside me.” Ron gasped as Dan squeezed him harder. “Fuck me in this new body of mine.”

Dan grinned as he fumbled for something in the duffel bag. He returned with a bottle of lube, squirting a generous amount between his fingers. Ron hissed as Dan worked his hole, his skin tightening as he stretched him open.

When he felt ready, Ron rolled onto his stomach, looking back over his shoulder as he spread his legs. “I want you to take me, Dan,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need. “Show me what you’re working with.”

Dan slicked his cock and positioned himself behind Ron. He held the black muscled figure's hips, looking down at the inviting ass waiting for him. Tim’s fist tightened around his own dick as he watched, his breath hitching as Dan started to push inside. The false handsome hunk groaned as Ron took him in, his cock disappearing into that perfect ass, his balls slapping against Ron’s skin.

“Fuck, Dan. You feel so big.” Ron writhed beneath him, his body trembling. “Give it to me. Show me who I am.”

Dan began to thrust, his powerful hips driving into Ron’s ass. The younger man arched his back, crying out as Dan slammed into him, the skin of his suit tight and taut against the force of Dan’s cock.

“More,” Ron demanded, his hands clutching at the bedcovers. “Harder.”

Dan gave him more, his hips moving back-and-forth as he fucked the synthetic black man. Ron whimpered, his backside clenching around Dan’s cock with each thrust. Their skin slapped together, echoing through the room as they took each other hard and rough. Tim could feel himself building toward something, his cock aching as he watched their bodies strain together.

Ron pushed back into each thrust, meeting Dan stroke for stroke. Their grunts mingled in the air, thick with need and lust. It was like nothing Tim had ever seen before—two men lost in each other, completely consumed by desire. He’d always known he wanted things he shouldn’t, but this was something different. There was a primal sense of power in watching their bodies writhe together, their suits mimicking something real but not quite human. Something darker, wilder.

The air in the room seemed to grow hotter as their tempo quickened. Dan was close, his thrusts becoming rougher as he chased his orgasm. Ron moaned, his hand reaching down to jerk himself as Dan’s cock hit his prostate.

“Oh, fuck,” Dan growled through gritted teeth. “I’m going to come.”

“Do it,” Ron gasped, his fist moving faster. “Fill me up with your cum.”

Tim’s fingers tightened around his cock as Dan slammed into Ron, his body shuddering as he came deep inside the synthetic man’s ass. Ron cried out, feeling Dan’s cum flood him, his own cock shooting ropes of cum across the bed. Their bodies trembled together as they rode out the intensity of their orgasms, their cries filling the room, lost in the heat of the moment.

When they were spent, Dan pulled out of Ron’s ass and gently turned him onto his back. He leaned down, kissing the false black man passionately, their lips lingering as they savored the afterglow.

“You feel so good,” Dan moaned into the kiss. “So hot and tight. I can’t get enough.” His hand slid down to grip Ron’s cock, stroking him while their lips remained locked.

Ron moaned, arching into the touch. “I love feeling your cum inside me. It’s so hot.” His hands trailed up Dan’s back, tracing the muscles rippling beneath his skin. “Fuck, you feel amazing in this skin. All that muscle on you is incredible. I’ve always loved a big man.”

Dan laughed softly against his lips. “You’re not so bad yourself. I like this bald look on you.”

Ron groaned, rubbing his cock against the older man's muscular form. “I could do this all night, but we need to get ready for the club. It starts in thirty minutes.” He pulled back, his eyes gleaming as he looked at Dan. “And we’ll need to use new skinsuits.”

He reached for another duffel bag, unzipping it to reveal two new sets of skinsuits. Tim squinted at them, taking in every detail—the muscle definition, the skin tone, even the patterns of hair. These suits were just as realistic as the last ones, and he couldn’t wait to see how they would look on.

“Only these identities are allowed in the club. We have to wear them if we’re going to get in,” the young man in the black man's skin explained.

Dan hesitated, his hands running down his chest. “I don’t want to take this off,” he admitted. “I… like this one. I like who I am.”

Ron chuckled. “And you can still be him after tonight. But for now…” He pulled out the new suits, shaking them until they unfolded into life-sized replicas of human bodies. “Trust me, Dan, you’re gonna love it.”

“You always know how to convince me,” Dan said, taking one of the suits from Ron. “These will be fun,” he added, running his hands over the synthetic flesh.

The two men began to peel off their suits, tossing them aside like discarded skins, shedding the skins until they stood naked once more. Their real bodies were now exposed—nothing like the godlike figures they had transformed into earlier. With practiced ease, they slipped into the new suits, their faces lighting up as their new forms settled into place.

The older man’s new skin was smooth, hairless from the neck down, with muscles defined but not overly bulky. His cock was long and thick, his balls hanging heavy between his thighs. The younger man became a hulk, his frame broad and powerful, muscles sculpted to perfection. His cock was thicker this time, with his balls a heavy weight between his thighs.

They dressed quickly, pulling on leather pants and jackets, the fabric stretching tight over their new muscles. Dan flexed to test the fit, admiring his reflection, his eyes bright, lips curling into a smile.

“You ready?” Ron asked.

Dan nodded, adjusting his jacket. “Fuck yeah. Let’s do this.”

They kissed one last time before leaving the room, shutting the door behind them. Tim remained hidden,his heart pounding, adrenaline surging from what he had just witnessed. The idea of transformation, of becoming someone new, was intoxicating. It gnawed at him, primal and irresistible.

He waited, listening until their footsteps faded. Then, as he shifted, his foot knocked against the wall. He froze. The soft impact caused a tremor, and he noticed something—a brick in the wall wobbled slightly, as if it had come loose.

Curiosity overruled caution. Tim nudged the brick, and to his shock, the wall slid open, revealing a passage leading directly to the room he had just been watching.

It felt surreal, like a dream. But it was real. Without hesitation, he crawled through the gap, his heart racing as he emerged on the other side. The room was dim, the air heavy with an electric tension. His eyes were drawn immediately to the skinsuits lying discarded on the floor.

He stared down at them, a chill running through his body as he picked one up off the floor. As he brought it closer, his breath hitched at the uncanny sensation of touching something so real, yet so fake.

The texture was disturbingly lifelike, so much so that he could have sworn it was real flesh beneath his fingers. It felt almost criminal to hold it. He cradled the skinsuit in his arms, and the realization hit him like a wave. He could take one of these suits, wear it, and become someone else. A new face, a new identity—a new life.

He shoved the skinsuits into the duffel bag and slipped back into the hidden corridor, carefully closing the secret opening behind him, sealing the passage from view once again. He sprinted down the narrow hallway, not stopping until he reached his car and sped off into the darkness.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw the neon lights of the motel flicker out of sight, leaving him with the same thought as the two men earlier:

“We can still do what we’ve always wanted. We can still be who we want to be."

--- ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ---

"Thanks for reading! Your support means the world. Follow me to explore more content and updates:

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[myster-roca]

CityScapes: Residential Figure

[myster-roca]

Trying to experiment a way to publish some bodysuit comics in the tumblr platform and it has been challenging 🤣. Hopefully I can post it soon. For the meantime, you can check me out on other platforms.

[myster-roca]

The Catfish Incident

"Thanks for the energy drink, man," Jake said, cracking open his can of blue energy soda as we ambled down the dimly lit hallway back to our apartments. The gym members' party had left us both hot and sweaty, and I thought a refreshing drink would be the perfect cap to our evening.

"Yeah, no problem, bro. You owe me one next time!" I replied, although I was thinking something else entirely as I watched him guzzle his beverage.

He was tall, about six feet three inches, with a toned physique that would make anyone envious. His hair, the color of wheat, was slicked back with some kind of product, and he wore a tank top that hugged his chest tightly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and thick arms. His shorts were tight enough to show off his wide hips and well-defined ass.

Standing beside him, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of insecurity. While I was reasonably fit and steadily working towards what I hoped would be my ideal body, Jake's presence ignited a deeper yearning within me. It wasn’t just about having muscular broad shoulders and a confident stride—it was about embodying that effortless aura of masculinity, the kind of identity that defines an alpha male.

"Oh yeah, almost forgot—I need to head back to my apartment now," Jake said abruptly. "I have a little rendezvous tonight," he added, flashing a smile.

"Sounds like a plan. What time is your date?" I asked casually, pausing beside him.

“About an hour from now, so I should probably hit the showers first. Gotta freshen up and work out these guns again,” he laughed. Then, without warning, he raised his left arm above his head and flexed his bicep, staring intently into my eyes. “It’s been too long since they’ve seen any action.”

I felt myself blush uncontrollably at his words, but luckily Jake didn't see it, and he continued heading down the hallway.

"See you tomorrow, Dave!" he called out over his shoulder before disappearing through his apartment door.

Little did he know, I was well aware of who he was meeting tonight.

As I stepped into my apartment, the familiar walls and furnishings offered no comfort to the restless longing stirring within me.

Each well-placed book and neatly aligned chair seemed to echo the structured, unyielding life I had sculpted for myself—a life of discipline as a respected professor, always mindful of reputation and societal expectations.

With a sigh, I removed my glasses and set them aside on the table. The lenses caught the fading light of the day, scattering beams that danced across the blandness of my living space, teasing me with glimpses of brightness in my otherwise predictable world.

This simple act felt like peeling away the layers of a persona crafted over years.

It felt symbolic, like I was discarding a part of myself that was too familiar, too constricted by old fears and inhibitions. Tonight was not a night for the timid David hidden behind those lenses; it was a night for someone entirely new.

I pulled off my tank top, feeling the cool air hit my bare skin, followed by the soft cotton of my white gym shorts. Finally, I slid down my underwear and tossed them aside. I felt incredibly vulnerable, standing there nude with no one else around.

Across the room, my gaze then shifted to the bed, where the realistic bodysuit of a Latino model lay outstretched. The room lighting cast a bright hue over its meticulously detailed surface, accentuating each muscular contour and shadow, making it look almost alive. It wasn’t just a garment; it was a gateway to another existence.

As soon as I saw it, I couldn’t resist touching its smooth skin. I ran my fingers over its chest and arms, feeling the softness of its skin. Then I slid my hands down to its waist and squeezed its firm butt cheeks. It even had a built-in penis that was larger than my own, which gave me a sense of excitement.

"Alright," I muttered under my breath, "let’s get started."

I could feel my dick twitch as I reached down and grabbed hold of the slit at the back of the bodysuit. The suit itself was made of a special material that allowed for easy movement and flexibility. Slowly, I began pulling the two sides apart so that there would be enough room for me to get inside.

As I sat down in the chair, I began sliding my right leg into one of the muscular legs. They were tight but not uncomfortable. As I pulled them up over my thigh, I could feel the skin stretching slightly as it moved up my leg. This was going to be so fucking hot!

I continued moving my left leg into the second leg until both feet were on the ground. Next, I positioned my shaft to the built-in dick and slid my arms into the sleeves. My biceps bulged with each movement.

Standing up, I took a few steps forward, feeling the incredible strength of my legs against my skin. I flexed my arm, watching the veins pulsate under the surface. I couldn’t help but smile at my new, sexy body.

Finally, I put on the built-in mask that resembled the handsome face of a Latino model.

As I slid it over my head, I felt the soft material conform to the contours of my face.

Once the mask was fully secured, the ’Heddon’ app on my phone opened up.

In order for the bodysuit to work properly, it needed to be activated. I selected “Start Sealing” and watched as the screen filled with images of the process.

Suddenly, there was a click, and the suit began to seal shut around me. I felt the muscles of my legs begin to tingle as they fused with the suit.

My thighs and calves became more defined as the skin tightened around them. The same sensation spread across my chest and shoulders, making them bulge outward. My arms seemed to grow larger as the suit conformed to my muscles.

Within seconds, the transformation was complete, and the suit fully integrated with my body, leaving no trace of its presence. It was as if I had become one with this sexy, lifelike skin.

With a grin, I stepped towards the mirror, admiring my reflection. The face staring back at me was that of a young, fit Hispanic man with broad shoulders and narrow hips.

“Welcome back,” I whispered to myself as I looked in the mirror at my new reflection. “Diego.”

My jawline was strong and defined, giving me a masculine appearance. I flexed my biceps, showing off the definition in my arms.

I ran my hands over my hard chest, feeling the firmness beneath my fingers. Then, I squeezed my pecs, enjoying the way they rippled beneath my touch.

I let my hands travel down to the bulge between my legs, squeezing it gently. My cock throbbed with excitement as I imagined what it would feel like to fuck someone with this body.

I picked up my phone, opened a dating app and messaged Jake using the Diego profile. We’d chatted a little bit on the app a few weeks earlier, and he seemed really interested in meeting up.

“Hey sexy,” I typed into the chat window. “Want to see some pics?”

“Sure thing, stud,” Jake responded. “Whatcha got?”

I smiled as I sent him a couple of pictures of myself wearing different leather and latex outfits.

“That’s hot,” Jake wrote. “Do you think you can do something even hotter tonight?”

I grinned as I typed back, “Of course, baby. Anything for you.”

****************************************************

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a Reddit thread mentioning "Heddon: House of Transformation" — a service offering realistic bodysuits that promised an entirely new level of personal transformation. Intrigued yet skeptical, I clicked through.

The website was adorned with glossy images of transformations and detailed testimonials from users who spoke of life-altering experiences. Video demos showcased the suits’ incredible realism and functionality, portraying seamless transitions from person to suit.

Admittedly, the site and service were new, which did little to alleviate my skepticism. However, a promotional offer for first-time users—a significant discount on their first order—was enough to tip the scales.

Despite my initial doubts and the nagging thought that it could all be an elaborate scam, I decided to take the plunge with some disposable income I’ve set aside.

I ordered a customized bodysuit modeled after a muscular Latino—a physique and persona so starkly different from my own that it felt like it could only exist in fantasies.

When the package arrived, it included not just the bodysuit but also detailed instructions for using the accompanying "Heddon: House of Transformation" app.

The app, once downloaded, allowed me to control the bodysuit’s features, including the crucial sealing process which would integrate the suit seamlessly with my own body.

When I first donned my new Diego bodysuit a few nights ago, I created a fake profile on the dating app and got tons of messages but one message caught my attention— it was my gym buddy Jake.

“Hi there! You’re so hot and cute!” he wrote.

“Thank you! You’re pretty handsome yourself,” I responded.

We chatted for a bit, discussing our hobbies and interests. I told him that I was looking for someone to share my fetishes with, and that I loved wearing latex.

He responded quickly, saying that he was also interested in exploring his kinks and that he loved wearing leather and latex. Before long, we were messaging each other every night, sharing our deepest desires and fantasies.

A few days later, Jake asked me if I would be willing to come over to his apartment and have some fun. I agreed, excited to finally meet him in person.

“I’m so glad you’re coming over,” he wrote back. “I’ve been dying to meet you in person.”

“Me too,” I replied. “I can’t wait to see you.”

****************************************************

Now, here I am, standing outside Jake’s apartment door, feeling nervous and excited all at once. I knocked on Jake's door and soon heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The door swung open, revealing Jake standing there in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Diego! Come in!” he says, grinning at me. I follow him into the apartment, and he shuts the door behind us.

Jake leans against the door, studying my body. “Wow, you look amazing,” he says. “I never imagined you would actually look like this.”

“Thanks. It feels good to finally be able to meet you in person,” I reply. Jake smiles and directs me toward the living room. I remove my jacket, revealing my tight black muscle shirt and latex pants.

Jake’s eyes widen, and he lets out a low groan. “Damn, you’re fucking hot,” he says, running his hands along my chest. His hand then slides down my chest and over my crotch. “And you’re hard.”

“I am,” I whisper. “You make me feel so horny.”

We sit down on the couch, and Jake pours us some drinks. “So, tell me more about yourself,” he says. “What kind of stuff do you like doing?”

“Well, I love wearing leather and latex,” I say. “And I love playing different characters. Sometimes I dress up as a superhero, sometimes as a villain. It really depends on my mood.”

“That’s cool,” Jake says. “Me too. I love wearing my costumes, especially when I’m out with friends. It helps me let loose and have fun.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I say. “Sometimes it’s hard to be yourself when you’re around other people, but when you’re in your costume, you can let go and be whoever you want to be.”

“Exactly,” Jake says, smiling. “It’s like a whole new world opens up when you put on a costume.”

Jake leans closer, his eyes locked on mine. “And sometimes, they bring us closer to our true selves than we ever thought possible. Maybe because we feel safe behind the mask, we can express our true feelings.”

The air between us charges with an unspoken understanding. I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “Have you ever felt that way? Like you’ve discovered something real about yourself through a character?”

Jake nods slowly, his gaze intensifying. “More often than you might think. Sometimes, it’s only when I'm someone else that I can express what I really feel... what I really want.”

I watch as he removes his towel, revealing his hard cock. I gasp in pleasure as he strokes himself slowly, looking straight into my eyes. The moment hangs heavy between us, laden with unvoiced desires.

Then, impulsively, Jake closes the distance, his lips meeting mine in a passionate kiss that feels like the culmination of our shared revelations. Our tongues dance together, exploring each other's mouths, as I moan softly and my fingers thread through Jake's soft hair.

Jake breaks away from our fervent kiss, leaving me breathless and longing for more. With a sultry grin, he stands up and begins to undress me, one piece at a time.

My excitement grows as he pulls my tight latex shirt over my head, exposing my toned chest and chiseled abs. He trails his fingers down my torso, sending delicious tingles through my entire body.

As Jake continues to undress me, his touch becomes increasingly intimate and sensual. He caresses my skin, grazing his fingertips along my shoulders, arms, and sides. I lean into his touch, letting the warmth of his hands linger on my skin.

Finally, Jake reaches my pants and skillfully slips them down my legs, revealing my matching black briefs. He pauses for a moment, admiring the sight of me in my underwear, before slowly removing them as well. Standing before him completely naked, I feel exposed yet empowered by his admiration.

Jake's eyes sparkle with lust as he looks me up and down. "You're beautiful," he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

My heart races as he bends down to press his lips against my chest, trailing kisses down to my abdomen. His hands explore my body, massaging my muscles and stroking my skin. I close my eyes, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that wash over me.

Just as I start to drift into blissful oblivion, Jake abruptly stops. I open my eyes to find him looking intently into my eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

"What's wrong?" I ask, confused by the sudden pause.

"Come with me," he murmurs. "I have something I want to show you. It’s my private collection."

He then gestured to a door at the end of the hall. My heart pounded in my chest as I followed him into the room.

Entering, I gasped in surprise at the sight. Scattered all over the room were several realistic bodysuits, each one more impressive than the last.

While pretending to be amazed, I wondered if Jake realized I was wearing a fake body.

Jake grinned. "My job has its perks," he explained. "I'm a beta tester for 'Heddon', so I get access to their entire collection."

"This is amazing," I remarked, feigning ignorance. My hands ran over one of the suits. "What are these things and how do they work?"

"Don't pretend you don't know," Jake chuckled. "You may think you're fooling me, but you aren't."

He was right. Staring at him in disbelief, I asked, "What?... what do you mean?"

"It's not a secret," Jake replied. "These suits have a distinct smell, and I've gotten used to it. I know when someone is wearing one."

I sighed, knowing I couldn't deny it any longer. "Okay, fine," I admitted. "You caught me. But please, don't tell anyone else. This is just between us."

"Of course," Jake nodded. "I understand."

He reached out and touched the side of my fake face. "I don't care who you are or what you're doing. I like the idea of someone else being able to take on a new identity for a while."

"Thank you," I said, smiling. "But seriously, why are you showing me all of these suits?"

Jake shrugged. "Since you're wearing one, I thought of wearing one as well," he suggested. "Maybe we can have a little role-play fun."

He then picked up a bodysuit that resembled a tanned male model with long hair. "Do you think this fits the bill?" he asked, holding it up.

I smirked and touched the bodysuit Jake had chosen. "Let's find out, shall we?"

[myster-roca]

Teaser Trailer for the upcoming Desires and Deception chapters

... more male transformations, disguises, bodysuits, etc. + brand new stories that will tickle your imagination. What do you think will come next? What other stuff would you like to see?

You can read the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 2:

[myster-roca]

Desires and Deception: Snake Operation Part 1

The thunderous cheers of the crowd faded away as I pumped my fists and struck a final victorious pose. The gleaming trophy for first place felt heavy in my curled arm, the stage lights casting a sheen over every ridge and valley of muscle on my competition-ready physique.

It was a moment of triumph that sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, amplified by the electric atmosphere of the event. From the front row, I could see Giovanni Salvatore on his feet applauding, his gaze fixed intensely on me. The plan was working flawlessly.

As the crowd dispersed within the opulent hotel hall, their murmurs echoed like distant thunderclaps. Since the bodybuilding contest was over, I handed my trophy to a member of my staff for safekeeping.

Descending from the stage, I navigated through the thinning clusters of guests, making my way toward Giovanni. With a respectful nod and acknowledging the presence of his vigilant guards, I approached Giovanni for a conversation. The faint scent of smoke mingled with his perfume, teasing my senses.

"Mr. Salvatore, thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight. Your support means a lot," I said, my voice carrying an air of unwavering confidence.

"Leave us," he instructed his guards. With a subtle gesture, they retreated, granting us a semblance of privacy amid the crowd.

"Congratulations for winning, Derek. Your dedication to your passion is truly admirable," Giovanni remarked, his gaze fixed on mine.

"I can tell there's more to you than meets the eye. What's your story, if you don't mind me asking?"

The question hung in the air, stirring a mixture of nerves and excitement within me. The truth was, I wasn't actually Derek Steele, the fitness influencer and professional bodybuilder.

My real name is Alex, a specialized undercover agent tasked with taking down Giovanni's powerful crime empire.

Wearing a high-tech full body muscle suit that clung to me like a second skin, I matched Derek's physical appearance and exuded the confidence of someone who had elaborately planned this moment. Having trained rigorously for over a month, I captured Derek's personality and mastered his mannerisms perfectly to seduce Giovanni.

The real Derek is in our custody and wasn't even aware that I had assumed his identity for this dangerous assignment.

“I have many stories," I replied, my tone measured and calculated. "Some would say I'm a businessman, while others might call me a visionary.

Giovanni raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Visionary, eh? Do you have a business proposal for me?"

Before I had the chance to respond, Giovanni's hand made a swift move, targeting the bulge of my crotch under the shimmering fabric. Instinctively, I held back just in time, subtly shifting away from his advance while keeping my composure intact.

"Indeed, I do. But perhaps we should discuss it in a more... private setting."

"Of course," he replied smoothly. "Follow me to the penthouse. We can talk business there."

Giovanni and I made our way to the luxurious elevator together with Marco, Giovanni's most trusted bodyguard. The doors closed behind us, and we ascended towards an exclusive floor reserved for the Mafia boss, my heart racing with anticipation. 

Marco frisked me to ensure my safety at the suite.  Upon disembarking on the 47th floor, Marco guided us through a labyrinth of corridors until we stood before an imposing set of intricate glass doors. There, Marco left us alone before the entrance to the suite.

As Giovanni pushed the doors open, I was greeted by a stunning display of wealth. The interior was a masterclass in elegance and design, with opulent furnishings that whispered tales of far-flung travels and exquisite taste. 

"Make yourself comfortable, Derek," Giovanni said, gesturing towards the plush seating arrangements that adorned the room. "Would you care for a drink?"

I declined politely, my focus unwavering as his gaze locked onto the contours of my toned muscles.

Giovanni poured himself a drink, the clink of ice against glass punctuating the silence between us.

"Come, Derek," he said, his voice low and commanding. “Before we go further with this discussion...let me have a taste of that body first,” he continued, a smirk playing on his lips.

My pulse quickened at his words, a mixture of apprehension and determination lurking beneath the veneer of seduction.

Giovanni wasted no time in unbuckling his belt, allowing his pants to fall to his ankles. He then shed his navy blue blazer and removed his white polo shirt. The sight of his toned muscles beneath the fabric sent a ripple of awareness through me, reminding me of the dangerous game we were playing. 

With a nod and a carefully crafted smile, I watched as he walked confidently toward the master bedroom, leaving me to follow in his wake. 

The air thickened with anticipation as I crossed the threshold into the dimly lit bedroom. Giovanni was already lying on the bed, beckoning me over with a devilish smile when I entered. His eyes gleamed with a hunger that mirrored my own, but beneath the surface, I remained cool and composed, a master of deception playing my part to perfection.

“Strip and dance for me, Derek,” he purred, turning on the music.

I removed my glittered posing trunks, revealing my bare ass to Giovanni. He admired my physique with a hungry gaze — lingering on my rippled, broad arms, tracing the sculpted depth of my chest, and the tight contours of my chiseled abs. 

Then, he instructed me to strut around the room. Complying, I showcased my muscular form, swaying to the music, his eyes tracking every move I made.

Each step I took was meticulously calculated, every word crafted with deliberate care. To Giovanni, I was the willing prey, the unsuspecting victim ensnared by his seductive charms. 

He fancied himself as the hunter in this game, but little did he know, I was the one orchestrating the dance between predator and prey. Everything was unfolding exactly as planned.

"Dance for me like no one's watching," he said with his eyes fixated on my movements. I continued my performance with the feeling of excitement building inside me.

Caught in the thrill, I was abruptly stopped by Giovanni's command. "Let me have a closer look at your cock," he demanded, his attention fixated on my crotch. 

I hesitated momentarily but then turned around to reveal my aroused state.  In reality, it was a realistic prosthetic, designed to cover my own, its tip filled with a sedative resembling semen, poised to incapacitate him upon ingestion. The substance had begun to leak, and I needed to act quickly before it became noticeable.

“Oh, you're feeling excited, huh? You've got quite a nice cock there,” he remarked, his eyes gleaming with desire. I looked down, pretending to be flushed with embarrassment.

“I wanted to give you a treat,” I replied hesitantly, knowing that the plan was going as anticipated but also aware of the risks involved. As Giovanni continued to observe me, he noticed the clear liquid dripping from my erect cock. His eyes widened with surprise and amusement.

“Are you dripping precum? That's a lot,” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with delight.

“Yeah, it happens sometimes when I'm really horny,” I replied with a grin, knowing that the ruse was working. Giovanni was completely taken in by my charade.

"I want to taste it," he said with a wicked grin. Before I could say anything, he got on his knees and took my erect cock into his mouth, sucking it with undeniable enthusiasm.

He sucked with a hunger that was almost primal, his tongue swirling around the shaft as his lips engulfed the tip. I looked down at him, my heart pounding in my chest as I wondered if the sedative was taking effect. 

“Oh my god... you taste so good,” he mumbled, his words slightly slurred. 

To my surprise, Giovanni showed no signs of slowing down. In fact, he seemed to be more energized than before. 

Confused and somewhat panicked, I decided to just go with the flow and see where things led. The sedative continued to flow out of my artificial cock, dripping down Giovanni's chin and onto the floor.

I just remembered that I needed to ensure enough of the sedative had entered his bloodstream to knock him out, as the effect would take a while. So, I continued to thrust into him with full force.

He didn't seem to notice or care, lost in the pleasure of tasting my synthetic cum. After what seemed like an eternity of passionate sucking, Giovanni eventually released my cock from his mouth, allowing some of the cum to drip onto the floor. He wiped his mouth, then scooped up some of it and rubbed it onto his own throbbing erection.

“Lean forward and let me lick your ass,” he demanded with a hungry look in his eyes.

Playing along to continue the charade, I obliged, bending forward to offer myself to him. Giovanni, eager and impatient, quickly spread my cheeks and dove in, his face pressing against me. The sensation of his tongue, licking and nibbling at my entrance, sent shivers of pleasure through me.

"Mmmmm... this is so good," he murmured against me, his breath warm against my skin, his voice vibrating with savory pleasure.

The pleasure was overwhelming, causing me to moan and writhe. My entire body trembled on the edge of release. Giovanni, sensing how close I was, redoubled his efforts, his tongue dancing over my most sensitive spot with a precision that promised nothing but ecstasy.

After it was over and his whispers faded into silence, I stood up and turned to see the satisfied expression on Giovanni’s face. 

"Fuck, you taste so good, buddy," Giovanni said, his smile beaming with pleasure.

The way Giovanni looked at me, it was strange—his mannerisms, his choice of words, even his actions seemed off from the Giovanni I had meticulously researched for over a month. It was as if I was dealing with a completely different person. This realization sent a ripple of alarm through me; the sedative hadn't taken effect yet, and I found myself scrambling mentally for another way to keep this unfamiliar Giovanni engaged.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? You seem a bit... distant," Giovanni's voice, laced with concern, broke through my thoughts.

I shook my head, plastering a practiced smile on my face to dispel any doubts he might harbor. "No, I'm fine. Just a little tired from the competition, that's all," I lied, hoping my voice sounded more convincing than I felt.

"Well, we can always take things slow tonight. No need to rush," he replied, his smile disarming.

"Thanks, Mr. Salvatore," I said, offering a gesture of respect and a momentary mask for my racing thoughts.

"Just call me Daddy," he insisted, his eyes softening, reducing the distance between us.

"Of course, Daddy," I acquiesced, my heart pounding not just from fear but also from the adrenaline and the sheer awkwardness of the situation.

"Maybe this will help you relax," he said as he wrapped his arm around my neck and leaned closer for a kiss.

As our lips touched, I pressed on, letting the kiss deepen, letting myself get lost in the illusion of passion. For now, I had to keep up the act, to play the part of the willing participant.

At that moment, a sudden memory flashed through my mind. I recalled that medications administered through the rectal mucosa can result in faster absorption into the bloodstream. Suddenly, a brilliant idea struck me.

Without raising suspicion, I discreetly activated the hidden mechanism in my realistic prosthetic cock, releasing the backup sedative stored in its artificial balls. This action also caused my own erection to harden, and I made sure he could feel it growing firmer against his thigh as our bodies came closer together.

"Oh my god, your cock feels so fucking huge!" Giovanni exclaimed, his hand reaching down to grasp my shaft. "It's so much bigger than before when I sucked you." 

"That's because it wasn't quite ready when you sucked me earlier," I answered back, taking advantage of the opportunity to continue my charade.

Giovanni grinned widely, his hands stroking and gripping my throbbing member. His touch was electric, sending shivers down my spine. He slid lower until his fingers reached the base of my shaft, cupping my balls gently. With a smirk, he teased me further, "Do you want to fuck me again?"

My heart skipped a beat as this was exactly what I needed. My plan had worked perfectly. Nodding with feigned eagerness, I whispered, "Yes, please," in response.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Giovanni walked toward the bed, lay down backward, and spread his legs wide open. His thick, muscular thighs gleamed in the low light of the room. His powerful arms held his head steady while his hands rested on his hips, inviting me to come closer.

"Come here, buddy," he called out, his voice filled with anticipation, "Show me how badly you want this."

I obliged, moving closer to the edge of the bed and slowly lowering my body onto his, aligning our groins. With determination, I seized the waistband of Giovanni’s briefs and yanked them down. Then, I grabbed his legs and spread them apart, exposing his tight hole. I paused for a moment, allowing myself to take in the view. Taking a deep breath, I focused on the task at hand.

Giovanni moaned softly as I rubbed my tip against his entrance. "Go ahead," he urged me. "Give it to me. Fuck me real hard."

Then I felt something warm and sticky gush out of my dickhead. A small amount of liquid oozed out of the tip of my cock and dripped onto his hole. Perfect timing.

I thrust forward, pushing my shaft deep inside him. Giovanni gasped as I entered him. I began to move slowly at first, then gradually picked up speed. Our bodies moved in rhythmic harmony, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.

"Deeper, buddy, deeper. Fuck me harder," he urged, his breathing becoming heavier with every thrust.

I couldn't believe how good it felt to be inside him, the warmth and wetness of his insides enveloping me like a velvet glove. As I continued thrusting, I knew that with every stroke, more of the sedative would enter his body.

"Oh god, yeah! Fuck me harder!" Giovanni cried out, his breath coming in short pants. "Fill me up, fill me up with your hot seed!"

I increased the pace, slamming my hips into him with renewed vigor. I could feel my cock pulsing inside him, delivering the final dose of sedative directly into his bloodstream. With one last powerful thrust, I released a flood of liquid into his insides, ensuring that soon he would be rendered helpless by the sedative coursing through his veins.

As I withdrew my shaft from his body, I could see the dazed look in his eyes. He was already beginning to feel the effects of the sedative. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he would be completely under my control.

"Hey, let's switch positions," he suggested. "This time, I want to ride you."

I complied, lying down on the bed and spreading my legs wide open. Giovanni climbed on top of me, positioning himself between my legs. I watched as he straddled me, his strong hands holding my shoulders firmly.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice barely audible above the sound of our breathing.

I nodded, closing my eyes as he lowered himself onto me. I could feel his weight pressing down on me, his hot breath tickling my ear as he kissed along my jawline. I moaned softly, enjoying the sensation of being dominated by such a powerful man.

Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind. How do I know that this isn't some kind of trick? What if this isn't the real Giovanni? What if there's someone else controlling him right now? The possibility sent chills down my spine.

"Who are you?" I demanded, opening my eyes to stare at him.

Giovanni froze, his eyes widening in surprise. "What do you mean?" he stammered.

"You don't sound like him," I said, trying to maintain my composure despite the rising panic in my chest.

"How did you kno—" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Before he could say anything else, I pushed him away from me, rolling onto my side. I lunged towards him and grabbed his face, pulling at it forcefully. 

To my shock, what I believed to be his skin stretched and gave way under my fingers, revealing it to be a realistic mask. Beneath the mask was not the familiar features of Giovanni but a face that did not match the body, implying he was also wearing a realistic muscle suit.

As the full effect of the sedative took hold, the figure before me could no longer maintain his ruse. He slumped to the ground as his body surrendered and plunged into unconsciousness.

"What's going on? What the hell is this?" I muttered, examining the mask with a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Where's the real Giovanni?"

To be continued . . .

(For explicit version of this story, see link below:)

[myster-roca]

Teaser Trailer for the upcoming Desires and Deception chapters

... more male transformations, disguises, bodysuits, etc. + brand new stories that will tickle your imagination. What do you think will come next? What other stuff would you like to see?

You can read the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 2:

[myster-roca]

Behind the Scenes for "Desires and Deception"

Some pics and concepts that didn't make it to the first chapter (also due to limitations on the platform). Do you think they would fit better in an e-book or comic form?

Next chapter will be coming up soon.

The Protagonist reading His New Assignment.

Other angles of the Realistic Muscle Suit.

Muscle Undersuit before getting into the Realistic Muscle Bodysuit.

Applying the bald cap and retrofitting the Muscle Suit.

Applying the Prosthetic Chiseled Face of the Bodybuilder.

Character shots for documentation and for the look test.

Character shots during and after the muscle transformation.

Transformation Process concepts with other agents.

SPOILER WARNING!

Protagonist testing the artificial prosthetic cock (non-realistic version) needed for his mission.

Do you prefer to see more 'behind the scenes' pics?

[myster-roca]

Wow, they look great, what AI program?? Easy to use? I could really make better stories using pics like that.

I use a lot of AI sites to help improve the look but I mostly use lensgo.ai. It's quite easy to use but your prompts need to be very spcific if you want to maximize its potential. The images are not always what you would expect but they are mostly good. It used to be free but now is a paid service which I think they deserve since they generate really good images. I also use some faceswap and deepfake AI to make the look more accurate.

[myster-roca]

Law's Escape (story request from @elsastar1991)

Rain cascaded down the glass panes, a symphony of nature's turmoil that mirrored the storm within our sanctuary. I could hear the distant hum of the city beneath.

Jude Law is seated on the bed, appeared lost in contemplation, his eyes carrying the weight of a thousand thoughts.

"Ben, it's suffocating," Jude's voice broke the room's silence, his gaze fixed on the persistent downpour.

"Every move, every expression—they've stripped away my privacy. It's like I'm on display for the world to scrutinize."

His words resonated deeply, and I nodded in understanding."That's why we're doing this, Jude. To give you some space, even if it's only temporary."

I approached the sleek black case on the table — the key to his temporary freedom. Jude gazed at the object with a mixture of uneasiness and resolve.

I opened the case and couldn't help but marvel at the craftsmanship before me. The bodysuit was made of a high-tech material that mimicked the texture and appearance of human skin.

The mask, a masterpiece of realism that captured Jude Law's features with astonishing precision.

Stripping down to my underwear, I felt a strange vulnerability beneath Jude's gaze. "Ever worn something like this before?"

I chuckled, attempting to diffuse the tension. "Not exactly. Military gear, sure. But this is a whole different ballgame."

Unfolding the bodysuit, its texture both alien and familiar embraced me like a second skin.

The material, cool against my skin, adjusted with an intimacy that bordered on eerie. "Feels… intimate," I admitted, trying to articulate the peculiar dance between comfort and constraint.

The mask came next, settling over my face with a weight that carried more than just physical presence. As the features melded with mine, I felt a shift—an intimate convergence of identities.

Taking a moment to revel in the transformation, I couldn't resist a subtle flex, my fingers playing with the contours of my new pecs.

The bodysuit hugged every muscle, the realism becoming more tangible with each movement.

"How does it feel, Jude, seeing someone else wear your face?" I inquired, my voice slightly muffled by the mask.

Jude's eyes widened with a subtle mix of surprise and amusement dancing in their depths.

"Well, Ben, I must say, you wear it better than I do." His lips curled into a half-smile, the weariness etched in the lines of his expression momentarily lifted.

"I appreciate this more than you know," he continued, his gaze lingering on the transformed figure before him.

His eyes met mine, and a shared understanding passed between us. "It's a strange thing, having someone else wear your face. But it's temporary, a means to an end."

The weariness in his expression softened, replaced by a fleeting glimpse of gratitude.

"You're entrusting me with more than just a disguise, Jude," I remarked, my fingers gently tracing the edges of the mask. "This is your identity, your public face."

Jude placed a hand on my shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie. "It's a shared journey, Ben. You're carrying more than just a disguise; you're carrying a piece of my world."

Completing the ensemble with carefully chosen clothes to seal the illusion, I took a deep breath. The room buzzed with an energy that transcended the act of dressing up.

"Ready for this, Ben?" Jude asked, his eyes reflecting both apprehension and anticipation.

I nodded, the bodysuit and mask now familiar companions in this charade. "Yeah, I'll give them a performance they won't forget."

[myster-roca]

Desires and Deception: Full Undercover

"Your assignment: Assume the identity of a high-profile businessman and fitness guru with deep connections to the underworld elite.

Your objective: Infiltrate a high-stakes bodybuilding event where one of the underworld's most influential figures, deeply involved in a clandestine affair, is about to take center stage. A complete physical transformation is your only cover."

On the surface, his existence seems so different from mine. He's deeply entrenched in the world of luxury, surrounded by the glitter and glamour of the upper class.

I lead a life of shadows and secrecy, a chameleon in the backdrop of society. While he basks in the spotlight, I thrive in the darkness.

Yet, as I become more familiar with his life, I realize that beneath the facades, we're not so dissimilar. We both wear masks, albeit of different kinds.

He portrays an image of power and wealth, and I craft identities to delve into the hidden realms of espionage. We're both performers, navigating the stage of our own making, just on opposite sides of the curtain.

Within the covert operations division, our team constituted a rare breed, masters of disguise, each possessing an exceptional talent for the craft of metamorphosis.

We shared an unspoken bond born from the countless secrets we held and the trust we placed in one another.

The intricately crafted muscle suit lay before me like a silent partner in this clandestine masquerade. I'd done this countless times before, but the excitement and tension of the moment never ceased to grip me.

This moment brings a complex blend of emotions to my entire body.

There's the weight of responsibility, knowing that I must seamlessly become another person, thinking, speaking, and moving as they do.

But there's also the thrill of the challenge, the adrenaline rush that comes with immersing myself in a persona utterly distinct from my own.

As I slipped into the suit, the material stretched and molded to my physique. My hands found their way to the attached silicone gloves. The snug fit accentuated every contour, making me look more sculpted than ever.

My team of ingenious innovators had left no stone unturned to make the muscle suit as lifelike as humanly possible. Their unwavering dedication shone through in the meticulous attention to detail.

My pulse quickened with anticipation as the muscles subtly inflated, intensifying the illusion of strength and confidence.

With every stroke, the skilled hands erased my facial hair, and I could almost sense a new identity taking shape.

The skintone had been impeccably matched, with the paintwork skillfully blending the boundary between reality and artifice.

I marveled at their exceptional precision as they carefully placed the snow-white silicone prosthetic skin onto my scalp, deftly concealing the intricate details at the rear.

Each brushstroke they applied infused the blank canvas with a spectrum of shades and tones, gradually merging it with the flesh-colored muscle suit.

The cap clung to my scalp, obscuring any hint of my natural hair. Their unparalleled expertise accomplished an astounding feat, vanquishing visible seams and ensuring a flawless integration with the rest of the suit.

As I rose to my feet, I could feel the muscles discreetly swelling, enhancing my size and making me appear more imposing. Enthralled by this transformation, I locked my gaze onto the mirror, realizing that, except for my own face, the reflection before me resembled that of a complete stranger.

The next phase was even more unsettling. I couldn't help but feel vulnerable, yet excited, as I closed my eyes and immersed myself in embodying the fitness guru's charisma and unwavering drive for power.

Seated before the vanity, I felt the cool touch of silicone on my skin. With each prosthetic piece, I watched myself morph into the figure whose aura and allure I admired and now emulated.

My own features were vanishing, slowly replaced by the chiseled jawline, pronounced cheekbones, and the perfectly shaped nose.

Each adjustment, every little tweak, brought me closer to becoming the fitness influencer I needed to become.

The transformation has reached its halfway point, yet I can't shake the persistent unease that lingers within me. Something feels awry, lacking in authenticity.

This void echoes the emptiness I've felt in past impersonations. The team is well aware of this predicament, which motivated them to develop a new technology aimed at resolving the issue. Although they conducted numerous beta tests, this marks the first field trial.

I stood from my chair and began to don the silicone muscle pants, preparing myself for the next step.

The pants appeared remarkably sophisticated, quite different from the silicone muscle pants I had initially envisioned. Nevertheless, the team assured me that this unique design was intentional, tailored to fulfill its specific purpose.

As I settled into a sleek, state-of-the-art machine, they assured me that it would serve as the catalyst for the forthcoming comprehensive transformation. The team then delved into an explanation of the pants' fabric and the silicone prosthetic pieces they had attached, emphasizing their integration with nanites.

They elaborated on how these minuscule marvels were precisely programmed to discern the unique contours and characteristics of my body, thereby enabling the seamless fusion of the material with my own skin. This intricate process would ensure an astonishingly lifelike and untraceable metamorphosis.

The machine enclosed around my waist with a gentle yet firm embrace. I could feel its mechanisms hum to life as it began its work. A warm, viscous liquid began to flow from the machine's hidden nozzles, gently cascading down my legs and torso.

The sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was as if I were being submerged in a pool of liquid silk. I watched, my heart racing, as the substance encased my legs and torso. It was as if the nanites and the liquid skin were in perfect harmony, dancing a choreography that was breathtaking to experience.

The machine released me, and I fell forward, landing on my hands and knees. The ground was cold and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the heat that surged within me. As I struggled to regain my footing, I realized that I was sweating, my skin tingling with life.

My skin glistened with sweat as the nanites engulfed my whole body. My senses were on fire as the second skin adapted to the shape of my own body, molding itself to me with an almost sentient understanding. I could feel the air against my skin as I breathed deeply, savoring the newfound sensations.

I stood on my feet, and a tidal wave of power surged through my veins—a breathtaking rush of unearthed strength that sent shivers of exhilaration cascading down my spine. I was utterly captivated by the profound transformation I had undergone.

It was as though this second skin had reshaped the core of my existence. It was no longer just a disguise; it had become a part of my own being.

Overwhelmed by curiosity and newfound confidence, I couldn't resist the urge to explore my transformed physique.

As I flexed my thighs, I could feel their utmost solidity, the sensation of unyielding strength resonating through my body. My legs, once unassuming and lean, now bore the weight of sculpted power.

Running my hands across my chest, I felt the hard contours beneath my fingers, swelling with a sense of pride. My pectoral muscles were now pronounced and firm. I couldn't resist running my fingers over the chiseled ridges of my new washboard abs.

With each movement, I admired the pronounced biceps and triceps, each muscle responding to my command. Flexing my forearms, the veins stood out like a roadmap of my uncovered power.

I had truly become the living embodiment of the role I was about to play.

With the transformation complete, I am reborn in the shadows, ready to dance into the abyss of intrigue and danger, playing my part in a game where trust is a currency of uncertainty, and the truth remains veiled forever.

To Be Continued . . .

[myster-roca]

As the Night Sleeps

It's been a while since I made love with my partner. I was busy with my missions that I rarely had time for him. However, tonight, I'll give him the most unforgettable pleasure.

I'm excited as I enter the room and see him in his birthday suit. He smiles at me, thrilled with the idea of us spending the night in bed, even for a limited time.

Without hesitation, I pushed my naked body hard enough to send him crashing towards the bed.

"You're getting aggressive tonight. I'm gonna love this!" he grinned as he straddled his legs.

"No, not yet!" I said.

I positioned myself near his feet and started tickling them. He giggled as my hands made their way around his legs to his erect tool. My hands moved back and forth between his feet and his waist, sending an exciting sensation throughout his body.

He moaned when I knead his legs and grip his beloved manhood. The truth is I've always admired my partner's physique. I've always wanted to have his thick thighs, rock-hard abs, solid pecs, broad shoulders, and muscular forearms.

Don't get me wrong. I'm fit, but I still look skinny when compared to him.

I positioned myself on top of his body. After playing with his well-defined abs, I began rubbing my hands on his sturdy chest in a rotational motion. He's probably thinking that I'm giving him a massage.

He groaned and moaned as I couldn't stop myself from squeezing his chest and abs. It seems like he was enjoying the experience, though. Well, I have to do it since this part of the process needed for my surprise.

I gently caressed his right hand while sliding my way across his arm to his robust shoulder. The same goes with his other arm.

He was now looking confused, perhaps questioning why I'm doing this. I gently kissed his neck and pressed my left cheek to his right.

"Don't worry, babe. The climax is almost near," I assured him.

I wrapped my hands around his head and asked him to turn around. He is now in the position that I wanted him to be.

I massaged all over his strong back muscles and then spanked his bouncy ass with both hands.

"You know what, babe. I was feeling hot since you touched my feet earlier. It's like some sort of laser beam is strapped to your hands," he confessed.

"Shhh! Get ready for this!" I replied.

I aligned my dick and invaded his hole with an instant thrust. A sudden rush of electricity began to take over my lover's body, and I felt it on my belly too. His scream of pain and pleasure delighted me even more that I want to move to the next level.

Body Scanning 100% Complete . . .

-------------------------------------------------------

My body now stood still and emotionless in front of the bed, which worried my partner. He kept on staring at me like my soul was removed from my body.

Well, it's not really my actual body.

"Did you enjoy the experience?" I asked.

He was surprised to see the real me leaning at the door.

"But how ... how did you? did you?" he stammered.

"That's one of our prototype androids," I explained. "They serve as duplicates that we can remotely control at certain proximity. We often use them to avoid casualties on covert operations."

I then held a black mask and flexed the transparent suit that I was wearing.

"This mask allows me to control the android's body while the suit provides the sensation it acquires. You can say that even if I'm far, I can still touch and feel you. Whatever I say, the android does the same."

"I must admit, you got me fooled back there," he said. "I really thought it was you."

"Alright, let's continue with our fun," I exclaimed.

"I hope you do a better performance this time."

I laughed at his remarks.

"I was just getting started."

-------------------------------------------------------

I placed the mask over my head and commanded the android to lean down. I grasped my carbon copy's chubby ass and lights began to flicker through its mouth and eyes as its midsection inflates.

My partner drooled as I plunged my hands into my clone's anus and pulled out some sort of flesh-like material. It was something very familiar to him.

"No shit! Is that my face?" he asked.

I smiled and didn't say anything. As I pressed my partner's mask to my face, a warm feeling rushed in. I screamed as my face contorts to match the proportions of the mask. After a few minutes, I opened my eyes and saw my partner's jaw dropped. It was like he was staring at a mirror.

"So what do you think?" I asked.

"That's amazing!" he responded.

"The android also functions as a bodysuit manufacturing machine," I continued explaining. "The suit contains nanobots which allow me to merge seamlessly with the black material I'm wearing. Of course, I had to get detailed scans of your body first to create the perfect replica."

"You mean, what you did earlier was..."

"Yup! I was scanning your body."

I proceeded on pulling out the rest of my partner's figure from my clone's butthole. It was difficult at first, but things got easier as I expanded the hole.

I shouted as I finally managed to haul the heavy suit and laid it in front of him. He can't deny his arousal upon seeing the copy of his own body.

There was no opening on the bodysuit, but a slit began to form at the back the moment I held the suit in front of me. The suit stood on its own then openings at the arms, back, and legs began to appear.

I inserted myself into the suit, which started to compress itself, covering my entire body and perfectly merging into it. I knew the nanobots would work as expected.

I pinched my new brawny arms and jerked off my newly extended dick. My partner couldn't hide his excitement as he got down to touch my new body.

Suddenly someone slapped my partner's ass. He looked around and was shocked to see another version of himself.

"Right! I commanded the android to morph into you," I grinned.

My partner's eyes lighted up. I knew how much he loved to fuck himself but having a three-some takes the cake.

Tonight will be the night he would never forget.

[myster-roca]

Only The Best

"I'm sorry, Harold, but you are no longer the best version of yourself," Steve told the guy in front of him.

"Your recent performance was a disaster. I'm afraid we have to let you go."

Harold was infuriated with Steve's words but kept on holding back his anger. He stood up from his chair and quickly left Steve's office.

"At least that's now over," mumbled Steve.

Another person comes into the office of the blonde CEO. He was monitoring and listening to the whole situation from the outside.

"Wow! that was anti-climatic,” said the young Latino. “I was expecting him to destroy some of your stuff."

"You know he's not like that," Steve replied. "Are you not satisfied that you get to take over his position now, Julio?"

"Of course, I'm satisfied!" Julio smiled. "I appreciate all your help in making my dream a reality."

"To be honest, I don't know what to say right now. I ruined his career because of you... because you wanted to take his position."

"Oh please! Don't pin the guilt on me," Julio said as he approached Steve and stared him in the eyes. "We're both involved, and you know that I can do a better job than him."

Julio leaned on Steve and began touching his goatee.

"Don't you love me anymore?"

"I love you but ..."

"Stop! If you really love me, you'll do anything to keep me."

Julio then walked out the door.

"I'll see you tonight, my place," he last said.

After Julio left, Steve pondered further into his thoughts. He's afraid that Julio will expose their relationship to the public, which will destroy his life and reputation as CEO. He reluctantly grabbed his phone and sent a voice message.

"Hello Judy, I'm sorry, but I can't come home tonight. I'll see you tomorrow."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was past nine when Steve arrived in front of Julio's apartment.

"It took a while for you to show up," greeted Julio. "C'mon, I don't want to waste any more time."

Both men started stripping naked when they reached the bedroom. Julio grabbed a bottle of what appears to be lube and started pouring it on his erection.

"Do it harder this time," Steve commanded.

"With pleasure My King."

Steve began lying down on the bed, then closed his eyes. His legs are wide open, ready for the invasion of Julio's lubed schlong. In a few seconds, he felt Julio's skin touching his ass.

With every thrust that Julio performs on Steve's hole, the sound of pain and pleasure resonates around the room. Julio kept on pushing, then pulling, then started squeezing Steve's chest in line with every push.

A grin slowly emerges on Steve's face. He enjoys the experience as it helps him forget some of his dilemmas. The truth is, despite his success as CEO, Steve's relationship with his wife had gone sour. They rarely meet each other and would often fight on trivial matters. Luckily, Julio was there to fill the gap left by Judy.

"I have something to ask," Julio stopped and took a deep breath out of exhaustion.

"What is it?" Steve responded with a puzzled look.

"Would it be better if you leave your wife and live with me?"

Steve was baffled by Julio's question.

"You know I love you ... but I also love Judy."

"Is she worth it? I mean, you've been spending most of your time with me."

Steve got angry with Julio. He shrugged off Julio's advances and began picking up his clothes.

"Wait, don't go. The reason I'm asking you is because ugh..."

Steve watches in shock as Julio's body began to spasm violently. Julio screams as his hair grew longer and his skin color turned lighter. His pecs swelled to proportions the seemed impossible for a man. His facial hair disappeared, and his hips widened. His body began thinning while his beloved manhood receded till it changed into that of a woman's. Julio was not only transforming into a woman; he was also changing into someone familiar to Steve.

"Judy? ... but how did you?"

The weary-looking Judy is now on her knees, breathing heavily after that exhausting transformation.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I should've told you this long ago."

Judy gave the confused Steve a sober look.

"I knew you also had a thing for men, so I consulted a doctor to turn me into the person you desire," explained Judy as she stood up. "I did it so I can be closer to you. Whether it's Judy or Julio, I don't want our relationship to end."

Steve moved closer to Judy and gently caressed her face. He still had questions, but it didn't matter for now.

"I'm sorry, Judy. I should've been a better partner for you," he said. "All this time, I was in love with the same person."

"There's something else you need to know," smiled Judy. "I injected a serum into your body when I seized your hole earlier."

"What?"

Steve backed off as he witnessed Judy reached out to the back of her head and started ripping her skin apart. Her face was a mask, and the person behind it is another surprise.

"What? Harold? .... Am I dreaming?"

Before Steve can say another word, his whole body had become frozen. He dropped to the floor, and his vision began to blur until he saw nothing but darkness. He can still hear Harold's voice speaking to him.

"I know you can still hear me. You might be wondering why I did this to you," Harold said while fondling Steve's deflating body.

"I knew all along that you and Julio sabotaged my production to oust me out of the company. You allowed yourself to be manipulated just to hide your dirty little secret. You don't deserve your position, Steve."

Harold continues talking while he attempts to pull out of the Judy suit.

"Maybe you are also wondering why I had to go to such lengths just to exact my revenge." a devious grin formed in Harold's face. He gazed at Steve, now reduced into a pile of skin.

"Well, seeing that stupid look at your face was worth it."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A stream of light appeared at the right side of the bedroom. Suddenly, an iron maiden rose from the ground while a mysterious voice echoed in the background.

"I must say I'm impressed!"

The iron maiden split open then came out a silver-haired gentleman wearing a trench coat.

"I did not expect you to create a story out of the gender bender suit."

"I couldn't decide which one was better," Harold explained."That's why I asked you to combine his two lovers into one suit."

"What can you say about my creation?" asked the mysterious silver-haired man.

"I love the masculine counterpart, but morphing to the feminine side stiffens my body," Harold tossed aside the rest of the Judy skinsuit. "I experienced muscle cramps all over the transformation."

"Thank you for your feedback. I'm trying to perfect the elasticity of the 'black matter' material to prevent this problem in future products."

"Is there an easier way to don the bodysuit? It feels like an entire workout when I try to put it on."

The mysterious man tapped a few strange inscriptions on the iron maiden then pulls out what appears to be a black dildo with a hollow sheath.

"Try wearing this first," the man said as he gave it to Harold. "It's our new prototype."

Harold inserts the black object to his cock, and a bizarre ebony liquid started oozing out like a symbiote covering his entire body. It created some sort of black suit. Despite being shrouded with the dark liquid, Harold's sight remained clear.

The mysterious man then grabbed the deflated Steve and put his body on the iron maiden.

After the man tapped another set of characters, the iron maiden transformed into a translucent mirror. Steve's flattened body now appeared suspended to it.

"Go to the back of the mirror, then push your body into the suit."

Harold followed the man's instructions but was bewildered at what he saw.

"I don't see any opening at the back. How will get into the suit?"

"Don't worry!" the man assured. "The suit will merge automatically with your body as long as you position your body parts correctly."

Harold observed the suit's bubbly buttocks and positioned his erect member to go first. When his cock entered the suit's hole, the sensation felt like diving into a pile of goo.

He went deeper and soon found his thighs merging with the suit while he moans to the warm impact. His ass tightened while his chest and the rest of his feet integrate with the suit.

Harold then pushed his hands to make way to the suit's sleeves. He wiggled his fingers to adjust with the suit's attached gloves, and they fitted perfectly.

Lastly, he pushed his face to the back of the suit's head. Darkness engulfed his vision, but he kept on pressing forward. He continued groaning and inhaling the addictive aroma of the suit.

After several pushes and adjustments, he was able to pull out the entire bodysuit from the mirror.

When he opened his eyes, he couldn't stop himself from examining his bulging chest and sturdy muscles. His butt felt plump and firm. His extended dick is now more robust than ever.

"Thanks for all the help," said Harold.

"It's an honor, but don't forget our deal!" reminded the man.

"Of course, I’ll help expand your business empire while I live as Steve."

Harold studied his new body in the mirror and gave a slight smirk.

"For now, I'll focus on becoming the best version of myself."

[myster-roca]

Keeping A False Face

"Down! Get down and don't move!" shouted Diego while pointing a gun at me. He quickly locked my apartment door to make sure that I can't escape.

"No, please don't this!" I pleaded. "I'll give you anything you want just don't shoot me!"

"Too late! The boss wants you dead, and I'm taking over your place now."

As soon as my hand touches the ground, the robotic blow pipe I installed on the ceiling shoots a dart on Diego's neck. Unbeknownst to Diego, I was expecting him to do this after luring him to my apartment. He thought he can knock me out with one blow but I prepared something more sinister.

Diego now lies on the ground, paralyzed. Too bad it'll be over for him soon. It's clear that the boss no longer trusts Mr. Morales, so I should use a different persona.

The truth is I'm not really the fat, bald Mr. Morales. The real Mr. Morales died a few days ago. I'm just using a duplicate of his skin to pass as him.

I slowly approached Diego and touched his face. His eyes were evident of the paralyzing agent's potent. I gave a dirty smirk as my hand made its way down to his beefy chest.

"Soon this will be mine."

I quickly stripped his clothes, took off the doppelganger mask from the cabinet then placed it on Diego’s unconscious face. It was satisfying to watch the black liquid ooze from the mask and covered his entire body. This process will take a while to finish.

The doppelganger mask is an artifact that creates a skinsuit out of anyone who wears it. I've been using it to create skinsuits of people I want to impersonate. The skinsuits are very lifelike when worn, but their effect only lasts for a day. If not removed within 24 hours, the skin will begin to sag, which destroys the entire illusion.

Now it's time for me to take off the Morales suit.

I removed all my clothes and gently pressed my two hands into my face. I massaged my face eight times, and a slit began forming at the side of my neck. I used my fingers to widen the slit and started pulling down the opening of the neck-entry suit.

Stretching the neck to pull out my body was challenging. The suit appeared durable but felt hard as I squeezed out of it. I only relaxed when the breeze of fresh air entered my sweaty skin. After a few minutes, I managed to take off my legs from the lower half body component then placed it on the sofa for later use.

This skinsuit is divided into two components, the upper half is the facemask, and the lower half is the rest of the body. The mask was easy to remove, but at the same time, agonizing since it was intensely glued on my face. Once done, I placed it right next to the body.

At that time, the black liquid began returning to the doppelganger mask. The process is almost finished.

I retrieved the doppelganger mask and placed it on a mannequin with a featureless face. Another liquid seeps out of the mask, and this time, it's not black but flesh-colored.

The liquid covered the whole mannequin to form a muscular body. Hair began poking out on different sides, which made it look like a real person. In no time, I was staring at an exact replica of a Diego. His robust chest and rock-hard abs were every skinny guy's envy. The thought of possessing his body excited me even further. I removed the suit from the mannequin and examined it for the opening. One interesting fact about the doppelganger mask is that every skinsuit it creates has different entry points. The Morales suit's entry was through the neck while this one's at the back with a zipper on it.

I stretched out the back opening and slid my legs to conform to the muscular legs. My cock struggled a bit in fitting with the artificial one attached to the skinsuit as this one's larger. Nevertheless, I know this won't be a problem soon after donning the whole suit. I slipped the rest of my body into the light-skinned suit and went to the nearby mirror to study my new physique.

It's not perfect yet as I can still see the uneven skin tones near the eyes and the saggy parts of the skin. I looked like a slightly fatter version of Diego at this point.

The real magic happens right after I zipped up the back opening. I love this part of the transformation as the suit becomes tighter and carries an arousing sensation. The back zipper merged with the skin and left no trace, and the small cock I had now matched the synthetic dick.

My face began swelling and started to feel firmer as I stare at the mirror. I felt my body inside the suit started to contract and conform to the muscular pecs, ripped abs, and brawny arms.

Minutes later, I was no longer looking at an altered version of Diego. It was Diego's reflection himself.

It's time to execute the next phase of my plan. I know the rest of the henchmen will come to this apartment within an hour, so I wasted no time in putting the real Diego into the Morales suit. They will think he is the real Morales and will drown him in the nearby river. He won't be able to fight back due to the strong sedative I injected.

As for the boss, he won't expect that this new assistant will be his downfall. Revenge is sweet when your target comes unprepared.