#Secure Installation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hauntedestheart · 6 months ago

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Security Footage - Body Swaps (Part 2)

A continuation of the story started here- fair warning, this is a long one

The instant Andy realized the swap was starting he retreated to his own room, managing to stumble there even as he felt his muscles withering and his bones shifting inside of him, and he locked the door behind him so Trevor couldn't follow. Andy knew that his boyfriend just wanted to be helpful but these changes were often more uncomfortable than he liked to let on, and he preferred to shield his sweet little guy from as much of the messiness as he could.

Besides that, he always preferred to have a moment to himself to take stock of the changes he'd be stuck with for the duration of the latest swap and this... this was gonna be a rough one.

Andy stared in the mirror and a pudgy old white guy stared back- he knew his dad would lecture him about calling someone in their early fifties "old" but since Andy had been about half that age a few hours ago, he sure as hell was gonna be overdramatic about it. He was bald at 23! That wasn't fair.

He ran his hands over his smooth head and shuddered, which made him even more disturbed because his belly wobbled with him when he moved- his abs would never do that to him. Experimentally he lifted his arm up and tried to flex, but the flesh on his arm just hung downwards instead of rising up like he was used to. It didn't seem like this guy had even looked at a gym in years! Andy didn't understand how some people were able to live without muscles, and he sorely wanted his back.

He tried in vain to make his pecs bounce but the masses on his current chest were sagging fat rather than trained pectorals so they just sat there- it was a strange experience because his brain knew the command to make it happen, knew where the muscles were supposed to be, but the body just wouldn't respond. None of the bodies he switched into could ever make their chest move and he was sick of it, sick of having the things that he worked for taken away from him. Call it vanity or whatever but his physicality had been a core part of his identity ever since he was a kid and he didn't want to be away from it for a second, let alone let somebody else have it.

But the worst part of getting a new body was always checking out the oh-so-important organ that no amount of working out would change, something he had to actually lift up his gut to see this time, and the sight of the wrinkly cock and balls now hanging between his mushy thighs made him want to cry. Size wasn't everything, Andy knew that, but he also wasn't going to lie and pretend that being well hung wasn't a ton of fun, so going from packing the kind of equipment that made other guys jealous to a well below average penis was just... emasculating.

And to top it all off, his knees were killing him.

Andy now kept clothing in a variety of sizes in his closet for occasions like this and he shuffled through them robotically, grimacing when he realized that he was probably going to need the largest sizes to accommodate the waistline he was stuck with. He settled on a pair of sweatpants with an elastic waistband and an XL cotton tee that still rode up slightly and exposed a hint of a hairy belly, and he hated how he looked but at least he felt marginally better once his borrowed body was covered up.

"Can I come in?" Trevor called from the hallway, and Andy hesitated. His natural instinct whenever this shit happened was to hide away in shame, to not let Trevor see him like this, but he knew he needed his boyfriend's help to fix things so he swallowed his pride and unlocked the door.

Trevor slipped into the room almost shyly, keeping his eyes on the floor for a moment, before working up the courage to look at what he would be stuck with as a boyfriend for the time being. One thing Andy admired about Trevor was his poker face- he was very controlled with his emotions, especially compared to the way Andy expressed his feelings with his entire physicality -but despite his placid expression Andy couldn't imagine he was feeling anything other than disgust at the body before him.

"You hate it," Andy's shoulders slumped and he allowed himself to collapse backwards onto his bed like a sack of potatoes, wincing at the whine that the springs gave beneath his weight. He stared blankly at the ceiling and sighed. "I'm a gross old man now and you're never gonna be attracted to me again."

"No, it's just-" Trevor stumbled over his words for a moment as he thought of the best way to phrase things, biting his lip and quirking his head to the side. "It's just the clothes I think, I'm not used to seeing a guy like that in athleisure. You look like you should be wearing a suit or something. That's all."

He waited for a response but Andy didn't say anything, he just kept staring up at the ceiling with his arms spread out like he wanted his hands as far away from his new body as possible, and Trevor's heart broke a little. Admittedly the man Andy had swapped with was... not exactly Trevor's type, but that didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was Andy inside, Trevor's boyfriend who he loved for more than just his body, so he got over himself and laid on the bed next to his now-middle-aged boyfriend.

He rested his head on Andy's temporary chest and the position was a strange sort of parody of the beginning of the evening, as if someone had taken a snapshot of the young couple lying together and used photoshop to replace the golden skinned hunk with a pasty dad bod, but when Trevor closed his eyes it didn't matter what they looked like. As long as he could feel Andy's heart beating, then they could be together.

"I know this is hard for you but you don't have to worry, we'll fix this," Trevor whispered soothingly, and he pressed a kiss into the side of Andy's chin. "We always do. You'll be back to your stupidly pretty self in no time, okay?"

Andy grumbled something incoherent and likely whiney, but he wrapped his arms around Trevor and pulled the skinny young man closer to his side again, which helped both of them relax a bit.

"At least I know who this guy is, he's my classics professor," Andy finally said, and he shuddered uncomfortably. "It's so fucked up to think that I was just sitting there in class while he was watching me, thinking about how he was gonna steal my body."

"Well, it's always nice to have a lead," Trevor mused, half-formed plans already springing into his mind. He nudged Andy on the side. "And he's local too. Remember that time the guy you swapped with lived on a boat? That was a hassle."

"Don't remind me," Andy gave a small chuckle, his laugh hitting the same cadence even with a different voice box. "I got my body back with sunburn on my ass because he kept sunbathing nude, I could barely sit down for a week."

Trevor smiled at the memory of the week Andy spent awkwardly shuffling around. "I'm aware, I was the one who had to rub aloe on your butt twice a day."

"Don't act like you didn't love that," Andy turned his neck to try to playfully bat his head against Trevor but he hissed with pain as he pulled a muscle he didn't realize would be stiff. He rubbed his fingers into his neck and groaned. "Honestly I don't even blame this guy for swapping with me, I feel so gross right now."

"It could be worse?" Trevor offered a weak smile, but his boyfriend remained unamused.

"Could be better too," Andy grumbled, and he glared down at his crotch (which he couldn't even see thanks to his new gut). "You know, just once, I'd like to get a new body and find out my dick is bigger. Is that too much to ask?"

"I mean... kinda?" Trevor rolled his eyes- he'd never cease to find it amusing what a size queen his boyfriend was. "Andy, if your dick gets any bigger you're gonna hurt somebody. The rest of us make do with perfectly normal sized genitalia, maybe it'll do you some good to spend some time living like us common men live."

Andy raised his eyebrow and shot his boyfriend some major side eye. "First off, you know I love your dick and would gladly take it any day over this one," he paused in his rant to bury his face in Trevor's hair for a moment a plant a kiss there. "But more importantly, let me point out that you benefit from my big dick more than anyone, Trev, so you can act cute about it but until we fix this you're the one getting screwed by this thing." He bounced his hips up and down, watching as Trevor's eyes were drawn to his diminished manhood, and he smirked. His hand snaked down and tweaked Trevor's butt. "You're not so above it all- your cute little ass has been spoiled so I know you'll be missing my big guy in no time."

"Hey, I top sometimes!" Trevor protested- weakly, but he protested nonetheless. Being a twink didn't mean he was always the bottom, especially since it would be a shame to waste an ass like Andy's. "You like it when I fuck you. Maybe this is my moment to take over as the big man in the relationship!"

"Oh yeah? You're gonna go top full time?" Andy scoffed and rolled over on the bed, lifting himself up on his hands and knees (despite the way his joints protested) and putting Professor Smith's less-than-impressive buttocks on full display. He twisted his face into an exaggerated smolder and wiggled his hips at Trevor like a challenge. "Doesn't this look so sexy? Have fun going to town on this guy."

Trevor stared at the shapeless expanse of wrinkled flesh Andy was presenting to him and his mind drifted back to his boyfriend's real ass, that toned bubble of perfection that some old man was running around doing god knows what with. He loved his boyfriend for more than just his body of course, but if he had the option of which butt he wanted to sleep next to at night... well there was no contest really.

"Point taken," he admitted with a sigh, holding back a laugh as he watched Andy (still unused to how out-of-shape his new body was) struggle to stand up from the kneeling position he'd placed him in.

Still, always proud when he could get one over on Trevor, Andy smirked and puffed his chest out- a behavioral tic that looked far less impressive now that his chest was sagging man boobs rather than bulging pecs, but it made Trevor's heart swell to see a glimmer of his boyfriend's usual confidence back. Trevor sprang up to his feet as well and smacked Andy on his non-existent behind.

"Now get your flat ass moving so we can get your body back."

🔀

Valencia Street, three blocks west of the college campus, had a nickname: Party Avenue.

Contrary to popular belief, Fraternity Row was actually fairly tame due to the intense restrictions imposed by the school's charter onto affiliated groups- but private residences were not bound by the same rules, so students seeking debauchery had gradually clustered in close proximity until Party Avenue was born. Each weekend, once classes were released, the houses lit up and the students... cut loose.

While school administration vehemently denied the existence of any sort of underage drinking or illegal debauchery anywhere near their campus, faculty were firmly advised (for no particular reason) to stay away from that block on the weekends or risk liability. As such, the street had attained a sort of mythos amongst the teachers of the school as a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah that swallowed their students on the weekend and spat them back out on Monday for class with a hangover.

Such Earthly delights were denied to the professors... but fortunately Bernard Smith was not a professor anymore, he was a twenty-something college student named Andy. And Andy was ready to have some fun on Friday night.

Walking down Party Avenue while flashing lights spilled from windows and muffled music filled the air felt almost illegal to Professor Smith, but cloaked behind his new face none of the passing students gave him a second glance (save for the occasional double take from someone struck by his looks). The older man felt like he'd become one of the explorers he'd studied in grad school, boldly venturing into new territory in search of treasure- except the treasure he was on the hunt for was far more precious than dusty gold or ancient artifacts. No, he was on the lookout for something... fresher.

"Hi there ladies," he winked at a group of passing girls, who glanced him up and down erupted into pleased giggles as they waved back at him.

Bernard continued his journey with a spring in his step that came from feeling like a complete and total stud; thus far, being a hot young man was intoxicating. All of his aches and pains were gone and replaced with a boundless energy that fizzed through his veins and made him feel like he could lift a house and run for miles with it, but he resisted the urge and instead took things nice and slow. There was no rush, and he wanted to enjoy the first night of the rest of his life in this new body. No sense in skipping to dessert, he wanted to enjoy the full five course feast first.

His new cock seemed to disagree with him, perking up eagerly at the sight of every young woman they passed and trying its damndest to tear through his dress pants to get to her, but Bernard could hardly be upset about having such a virile set of tools at his disposal. He'd had more erections in the past hour with Andy's body than he'd had in the past year with his old one!

A stranger to this area without any clue where to go, the professor treated his new penis almost like a compass pointing the way towards the true North that was the pleasure he sought. He didn't know where it was, but he'd know it when he found it.

"Andy?" someone called out as he rounded a corner.

Bernard didn't think much of that and continued walking, ignoring as the voice repeated the name several times, and it wasn't until a boy ran across the street waving his arms and pointing at him that the professor realized that he was the Andy being addressed.

"Andy Douglass?" the young man asked, clearly very excited to see the boy who's body Bernard had stolen, and without asking he greeted Bernard with a one armed hug and a clap on the back. "My man! Remember me? It's Kirk! Long time no see!"

The older man resisted the urge to grimace and pulled away, taking a moment to assess the young man. "Kirk" was a tall, muscular black boy (though not as tall or muscular as Bernard's current body was, he noted proudly) with a relaxed attitude, a devil-may-care smile, and dim eyes- carbon copies of this exact student had filtered through Professor Smith's classroom for years, another brainless jock who only cared about drinking and screwing. He despised the type.

The most notable thing about Kirk was that instead of clothes, he was wearing a stereotypical "bedsheet toga-" one which the professor knew looked nothing like the genuine article would, and he was deeply unimpressed. Still, because this was his life now, he figured he should play nice.

"Oh yes, Kirk! Yes, it's me, Andy," Bernard cleared his throat and prepared to drop into character- he wasn't an old college professor anymore, this was his peer now. He had to talk to him in a language he understood. "Whazzup bro, how are you hanging this evening?"

"I'm chillin', I'm chillin'. Just out with the boys-" Kirk pointed across the street to a gaggle of equally cliche college students, all clad in similar sheet outfits, and they all waved and hollered over at Bernard. The old man gave them a half-hearted wave, barely concealing his disgust, and returned his attention to the one in front of him, who was still staring at him with those dumb eyes of his. "Man, it's crazy to see you out on a Friday night. You kinda disappeared once you started dating that guy- what was his name, Trent? The little guy. How's he doing?"

"Guy?" Now that caught Bernard's attention.

Andy Douglass was dating a boy? he marveled to himself. That would certainly explain why the young man had never flirted with any of the girls from class. The professor had half-suspected that a stud like that must have a girl back home but he would never have guessed about a boy because Andy just seemed so... manly. Subconsciously, the body snatcher reached up and rubbed a finger over the stubble that adorned his strong jaw, arm muscles battling for space with his shoulder, and he shook his head in disbelief. Kids today and their experiments.

Fortunately the many erections Bernard had gotten in this body from glancing at passing girls assured him he was still a staunch heterosexual, but the reveal had still thrown him for a loop. Thank goodness he'd taken this body, lest the women on campus be deprived of its assets!

Realizing that Kirk was still staring at him with a confused look on his face, Bernard cleared his throat (which rumbled rich and low) and responded.

"Oh yes, him. We won't be seeing much more of him anymore, I've turned over a new leaf- turned out the whole boys thing wasn't for me," he shrugged and threw a rueful smile on his face. "Actually, I'm out tonight on the prowl for some female companionship, if you catch my drift."

"Shit, it didn't work out?" Surprise actually brought a bit of life into Kirk's dull eyes as he shook his head sadly. "Sorry man, but hey, it's his loss. He's a fucking dumbass if he let a catch like you go," Kirk turned his head and spat into the street, then looked sidelong at Bernard with a smirk. "But it sounds like what you need to get over him is to get your dick wet."

"Indeed," Bernard agreed heartily, though the crude expression did make him cringe internally, and he spoke more truth than Kirk would understand. "It's been far too long since I've been in the arms of a woman and I'm starving for a screw."

His dick was hard once again just at the mere thought of being with a woman and he had to reach down to adjust himself before the bulge in his pants got too obscene- Kirk watched him struggle with his endowment and gave a laugh.

"Well if I remember anything about Andy, you're not gonna have to go begging for your rebound," the young man scanned Andy's body up and down and gave a whistle of appreciation. "Damn dude, you're looking swole!"

"Swole?" Bernard patted at his face, feeling for swelling. "Where?"

"Everywhere, man, the gym's really paying off," Kirk reached forward and grabbed one of Andy's biceps, giving the firm muscle a squeeze. "The ladies are gonna take one look at those pythons and their panties'll come flying off."

"Oh," Bernard thought. "It's a compliment."

"Yes, I've got quite a remarkable body, don't I?" Bernard muttered, and unable to resist showing off a bit, he made his bicep jump under Kirk's hand. One of his hands flew up and carded through the meadow of locks on top of his head, and he beamed with a mouth full of white teeth. "All of these muscles, this stunning face, and I've got hair! I'm a modern day Adonis."

Rather than being put off by his friend's sudden vanity, Kirk seemed excited by it, actually clapping his hands together and giving a holler in a show of appreciation. Bernard was starting to like him a bit more.

"Hell yeah, dude! Hashtag love yourself, king," he cheered, but then he paused and cocked his head to the side like a dog. "But what's up with the fit though? You're dressed like you're going to a job interview."

Professor Smith looked down at his clothes: a tight red button up dress shirt that hugged his arms (unbuttoned so it would billow open every now and then and allow for a glimpse of his pectorals) with a matching blue tie and some smart dress pants. Admittedly, the dress pants were a bit snug around the rear end (Bernard was half-worried he would burst the seams before the night was up), but otherwise it was a perfectly respectable way to dress for an evening on the town.

Young people have no sense of class, Bernard thought to himself as he eyed Kirk's wrinkled sheet toga.

"I don't know what you mean, I'm dressed to impress," Bernard said defensively, shaking his arms out and adjusting his cuffs a bit. He glared pointedly at Kirk's excuse for an outfit. "Besides, I think it's very rich of you to critique my smart attire when you're literally wrapped in a bedsheet."

"Oh, you like that?" Kirk stuck his tongue out and struck a pose like he was modelling the unsightly garment. "Lee scored an invite to a kegger some some business students are throwing and it's Greek themed, so I'm dressed like fucking Julius Caesar."

Professor Smith grimaced. "Caesar was Roman."

"Whatever," Kirk rolled his eyes and waved his hand as if to say same difference, and Bernard was half-tempted to argue before remembering that he wasn't a professor anymore and the ignorance of young men like this was no longer his responsibility. The thought brightened him up considerably, and he was a good mood when Kirk spoke next. "Anyways, this party sounds like it's gonna be lit! You should tag along, we haven't partied together in forever. I can be your wingman for tonight, help you bag the hottest chicks."

And that- Bernard thought that was the smartest thing Kirk had said all evening. Now he had a destination, a party invite, and a handy translator who could help him disguise his complete lack of knowledge of the drivel that kids today passed off as slang. It didn't matter that listening to Kirk talk made him want to tear his new hair out, he'd be leaving him for the company of a woman soon enough!

Besides, he thought as he looked over at the gaggle of unwashed college jocks who would be his companions for the evening, it would do these men some good to see how a real man conducts himself. Perhaps they might learn something from him- though if the grades Professor Smith had been giving out in his classes were any indication, the chances of that were slim.

🔀

Trevor had a separate Instagram page exclusively devoted to following the biggest party animals on campus- not because he cared, but because they were useful. As inane as these peoples' compulsive need to broadcast their behavior to the world was, it also meant that their accounts were a treasure trove of information on where the best parties were and who was at them. All Trevor had to do when Andy got swapped was fire up the app and scan the sea of photos/videos for a glimpse of his pretty face... or more frequently, his ass, which the people who stole his body often left that hanging out and drew cameras to it like nothing else.

"Thank god we live in a surveillance state," Trevor remarked dryly as he picked his way through the crowded living room of the random house party they'd tracked Professor Smith to.

"Speak for yourself," Andy replied, wincing when he looked back at the photo they'd found of his body posing with a drink in one hand and a girl hanging from the other. "It's not your picture floating around on the web."

Seeing pictures like this was always surreal for Andy because it was like getting a glimpse into an alternate reality, one where he'd gone down an different path and become a mindless party animal. The type of guy who pounded down beers, screamed obnoxiously loud, and spent every night with a different girl- visually, he fit the stereotype perfectly, but that wasn't who he wanted to be. Unfortunately, since other people often ran around with his face, he didn't really get a choice in what people thought of him.

While he still enjoyed going out with friends, he was past his party boy days, so a random rager like this on the outskirts of campus wasn't really his scene anymore. Still, at least he was more used to the loud music and crowded hallways than poor Trevor, who seemed to be having an awful time.

"I hate how crowded this place is!" Trevor rose up on his toes and tried to peek over the crowd, grunting in frustration as his eyes roamed a wall of college students' backs. "Why are there people so many people here? Don't they have lives?"

Andy snorted as he watched his petite boyfriend struggling, and it was so cute he wanted to pull him close and give him a kiss, but he resisted the urge to do so when he still looked like their professor. He accidentally made eye contact with a student, who gave him a bewildered look, and he awkwardly averted his eyes. Andy sighed- he was used to people eyeing him up at parties but usually it was because they were checking him out, not because they were confused why he was there.

He returned his attention to Trevor, who was still laser focused on their mission, and quickened his pace so he wouldn't be left behind (doing his best to ignore the way that his fat wobbled as he moved).

"You know Trev," he remarked, glancing around the lively soiree at the smiling faces and dancing bodies. "Speaking as a reformed party boy, I think most people would describe going out and having a good time on a Friday night as 'a life.'"

"Yes, well," the smaller boy huffed and gave a little hop to try to get a bit more height to search the room for glimpses of brown skin and muscles. "They should do it quieter."

Then, as if to spite Trevor's request, the clue they were looking for came in the form of someone being loud.

A group of voices chanting "Andy! Andy! Andy!" echoed over the din of the party, and the boyfriends exchanged a nervous glance before rushing off to find the source of the noise. They traced the shouts out into the (spacious) backyard of the house where a group of clearly drunk guys wrapped in bedsheet togas surrounded a large keg of beer, all of them losing their minds with glee as they pushed a familiar face forwards towards the metal barrel.

There was a brief moment of relief when the boyfriends saw that they had finally located Andy's body, but it was quickly replaced by anger and frustration as they examined the state that said body was in.

Professor Smith seemed to have made himself comfortable in the hunky body he'd stolen: the man was clad only in a bedsheet loosely wrapped around his form (in some approximation of a toga) which hung off of his shoulder and put the rippling muscles of his upper body on clear display. Lipstick stains showing where kisses had been were smudged across the exposed skin, crime scenes in the shiny layer of sweat that coated him, and a blue necktie was tied sideways around his head like he had jumped off the screen of some '80s movie.

If the way he was stumbling around tipsily was any indication, he had been drinking, and as he leaned forwards and grabbed on to the keg with a dopey grin on his face, it seemed he intended to drink some more.

"Oh fuck," Andy groaned, hiding his face behind his hands in shame. Not a fucking keg stand. "Trev, he's making me look like a douche!"

With too much confidence for someone who had only had that body for a few hours, Professor Smith leaped off the ground and jackknifed his legs up into the air, powerful muscles straining as he pulled himself into a handstand position atop the keg. (For a moment, Andy regretted all the time he spent working on core strength- but in his defense, he didn't know that it would be used for this!) Two guys slipped behind him, each one grabbing a leg, and they held him in position as someone else slipped the nozzle of the keg into his mouth.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!" the partygoers chanted, and Andy and Trevor watched in horror as someone turned the faucet and the man in Andy's body began to suck down a copious amount of alcohol.

The boys holding his legs shook him back and forth encouragingly and the sheet toga (which had been tangled around his legs and barely hanging on) slipped down and revealed that Bernard was wearing nothing underneath except his borrowed birthday suit. The reveal of Andy's massive cock, hanging high above the crowd like it was sent from heaven itself, drew another round of cheers from the crowd, and every girl in attendance began whispering to each other. Trevor frowned, feeling a bit jealous for no real reason.

"What the fuck?" Andy's annoyingly white face flushed beet red as he watched his privates swinging around in the air- just because he was proud of his equipment didn't mean he wanted everyone to see it! Fortunately his face was shoved into a barrel and it was rather dark outside so any footage would be blurry, but still, the number of phones he saw pointed at his naked body made him cringe. "Why is my dick hanging out? He was definitely wearing clothes in the photo we saw earlier, what the fuck happened to them?"

"Guess he decided he didn't need them looking like that," Trevor mused, unimpressed by the professor's lack of imagination in how he would use Andy's body. The boy was so used to seeing other people parading around naked as his boyfriend that his perspective on the scene was almost clinical- though he did take a moment to admire the way that the perky butt Andy worked so hard for jutted out nicely when his legs were in the air. "You look good upside down."

"Oh no you don't," Andy slapped his hands over Trevor's eyes, glaring over at himself territorially. "No sexualizing my body until I'm back inside it."

One of the boys holding Professor Smith up gave his ass a smack, allowing everyone a front row seat to what Andy's juicy butt looked like when it jiggled, and he and his partner lowered the stud to the ground. The professor stumbled a bit, a small amount of beer dribbling out of his still full mouth before he managed to swallow the rest of his drink, then he shook his head and let out a huge belch that echoed out into the night.

His companions (for some reason) let out a huge cheer at that and swarmed around him, and emboldened by their attention, Professor Smith threw his head back and let out a roar. As the other boys chanted Andy's name he pounded on his chest like a gorilla, his fists making meaty thwacks as they shook his toned pecs, and it seemed for a moment that he was on the verge of turning into a literal party animal.

The real Andy was growing progressively madder and madder at the spectacle, but before he could do anything, he felt someone tap him on his shoulder. Barely managing to keep a lid on his rage, he turned and was faced with a young woman he vaguely recognized from class staring up at him with confusion.

"Professor Smith?" the girl asked, eyeing him with a mix of surprsie and suspicion. "Are you allowed to be at a student party?"

"No, I'm not," Andy hissed through gritted teeth, whipping his head around to glare over at the impostor wearing his face. "Let me go fix that."

And then he stormed off without another word, leaving the poor student standing there looking bewildered and most likely wondering if she should call someone. Trevor just shrugged at her and hurried away after his irate boyfriend.

🔀

Meanwhile, Bernard Smith was having the best night of his life.

As a teacher, he'd absolutely hated college boys like Kirk. They were loud, obnoxious, and only seemed to care about when the next party was. But now that he was one of them? They were his best bros!

Now that the barrier of age and profession was gone, he found that he had a lot in common with them: just like them, he loved drinking and kissing hot girls. And in light of the recent breakup that Bernard had manufactured, the horde of college boys had been very eager to reacquaint "Andy" with the party-goer lifestyle, guiding him around the festivities all evening and always making sure he had a drink in his hand and a girl on his arm.

And the girls... the girls were glorious.

After years of staring at pretty young college girls from the front of the classroom, the professor was finally allowed to touch them, and he had gone positively wild with the privilege. All evening long he had been gorging himself on forbidden fruit, making great use of Andy's incredible sex appeal to seduce every girl that crossed his path. He'd become a regular Casanova, barely able to get started kissing one girl with one girl before another caught his eye and whisked him away for a make out session of her own.

Getting to grab a barely-legal girl's breasts without her screaming for help was incredibly hot, but the thing Bernard found the most erotic was the way the girls worshipped the peaks and valleys of his rock hard body. Still getting a feel for what his new body was capable of, he'd yet to bed any of them, but if the power in his hips as he ground his huge cock into their thighs and the ease with which he hoisted girls up and pinned them to the wall was any indication, he was in for a borderline spiritual experience when he finally decided to go there.

He wasn't reliving his youth- this was better than his youth! In his youth he hadn't been a hot hung hunk with no cares except which of the girls surrounding him he'd be taking home at the end of the night... that is, if he settled for just one. Perhaps he'd even invite all of them!

The notion was impossibly greedy but well, tonight was a night for indulgence, wasn't it?

His new body was a wonder- he half-suspected he had enough in his loins to satisfy all of these girls and then some. The amount of alcohol he'd imbibed would have made his old cock into a limp noodle and made his liver cry out for help, but as the beer sloshed around in the guts hidden behind his new six pack, all he felt was a pleasant buzz and an easy looseness to his limbs. This body had even made drinking better!

His current healthy cock was still fully operational, something comically obvious at a glance thanks to the sizeable tent in the front of his sheet toga that bounced with every movement he made. The idea of walking around with such an obvious erection would have been mortifying just yesterday, but his new body had allowed him to shed his inhibitions as freely as he had shed his clothes and now he wanted everyone to see that he had a big fat boner. He was damn proud of the thing!

That was the greatest thing that he'd stolen from Andy: confidence. The knowledge that everyone wanted to see him, and that finally, he was someone worth looking at. (Although the penis was great too.)

He shivered as he felt a cool breeze waft across his balls- he'd long ago ditched his formal wear in favor of one of the simple togas that the other boys around him were wearing. At first he'd thought they'd all looked ridiculous, but the more he drank, the better the idea sounded. What was he all buttoned up for? Why had he bothered stealing the body of a young man if he was still going to behave like he was old? He'd discarded those stuffy old clothes in a corner somewhere and proudly joined the ranks of the toga clad college boys.

When in Rome, he thought to himself, not even caring that he'd just conflated the Greek and Roman empires (something he'd failed many a student for).

Besides allowing him to fit in with his new "bros," the bastardized toga also displayed his body perfectly and allowed plenty of places for girls to rub their hands over his bulging muscles- a convenience several were taking advantage of right now.

A blonde on his left and a brunette on his right... he was in heaven.

"You're so big," purred the brown haired girl as she rubbed at his belly- focusing mainly on his six pack, but every so often her hand "accidentally" brushed against the head of his cock. "I love big guys like you."

"Oh yeah? You like what you see?" he clenched his stomach, causing his abs to flex beneath her hand, and she cooed in delight. A glance down at her dark brown bosoms peeking out the top of her barely-there shirt made him pretty happy too.

"I love it," she grabbed her shoulder and tugged him down so she could whisper in his ear. "And I'd love to see more."

A shiver ran down Bernard's back all the way down to his cock, and a small wet spot appeared in the front of his sheet toga. He brushed off the girl who was on his other side (who pouted as she stomped away) and grabbed the other girl by her waist, yanking her close and crashing their lips together. His tongue thrust into her mouth and the two shared a long, deep kiss for a moment before he pulled back.

"Say, how old are you?" he asked, and she looked at him strangely.

"Twenty-four," she said. "Why, am I too old for you?"

Bernard let out a moan of lust and pounced on her, sending the two tumbling to the ground right there on the patio for everyone to see, and his gaggle of new buddies erupted into cheers. He paused in his make out session and looked up so he could shoot his boys a cocky smile, but froze when he saw a familiar face storming towards him.

"Get off of her you thief!" the real Andy bellowed, shoving his way through a group of guys to glower down at the body snatcher currently misusing his body, and the party goers around him erupted into chatter.

The version of "himself" on the floor had frozen in place, staring up the real Andy with an expression of shock on his face, and the girl beneath him (oblivious to the interruption) was still sucking on his neck. The sight of his body in such an X-rated position scandalized Andy (what exactly was this guy's plan, fuck a girl on the lawn in front of a crowd?) but as he glanced around at the attentive crowd, he knew that getting seen being manhandled by a professor would be worse, so he held himself back and clenched his fists by his side as he waited for the thief to respond.

A moment later, the thief snapped out of his stupor and an evil looking grin appeared split his face.

"What the fuck are you talking about old man?" Bernard responded, injecting venom into those last two words, and he rolled his hips and ground his crotch into the girl beneath him (who squeaked with delight). "I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to enjoy myself."

"Yo, aren't you a professor here?" Kirk piped up, glancing between the two with confusion. He grabbed the man he thought to be Professor Smith by the shoulder and gripped him tightly. "Andy, is this guy bothering you?"

Not fucking Kirk, Andy thought. The two had lived in the same dorm freshman year and crossed paths out a lot back in his party days, but Andy had begun avoiding the guy for being annoying as hell and partying too hard. But it looks like the "new" Andy had become fast friends with Kirk, and was picking up some of his bad habits. This guy is the worst.

"Step the fuck off dude," he groaned, shoving Kirk on the shoulder, and (caught off-guard) the boy stumbled back into his posse without much resistance. The group erupted into nondescript hollering, shaking fists angrily, and Trevor decided to step in while everyone else was distracted.

The sight of his boyfriend's body being used to make out with another girl filled him with hatred, but he channeled that into a cold, calculating rage chilled the air between him and body snatcher as Trevor leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Actually I think you'll want to hear what we have to say, Andy," Trevor hissed the name out through gritted teeth, and it made the hairs on the back of the thief's next stand up. "Somewhere private. There are some things I think you'll want to hear about that involve the 'project' you were working on."

There was a hint of steel in Trevor's voice that compelled Bernard to listen to the strange boy, and undercurrent of a threat that was just intriguing enough that the professor reluctantly pulled himself away from the embrace of the girl in his arms and rose up to his feet.

His abandoned partner scrambled to her feet and grabbed his hand, staring at him with disbelief. "You're leaving?"

Bernard turned to look at the beautiful young woman and grinned, yanking her closer and crashing their mouths together for a deep kiss that lasted about fifteen seconds too long- but he was staring into his old body's eyes the whole time, savoring the rage he saw on the face of the former Andy, who was powerless to stop him. He pulled away and smacked her on the ass for good measure.

"Don't worry sweet cheeks, I'll be right back," he winked. "I don't plan on going anywhere."

🔀

The three retreated into the house (Bernard shouting some weak excuse to his new friends that they were all too drunk to care about anyways) and made their way down a random hallway, pushing open doors to reveal packed tableaus until they found a bedroom that was only occupied by a single couple making out on the bed.

"Out, we need to deal with something," Trevor commanded them, and the pair were so confused by the sudden appearance of the mismatched trio that they obeyed without question, zipping up their pants and brushing past Professor Smith in Andy's body as he strutted confidently through the doorway.

Although he'd agreed to go off with them, Bernard wasn't worried at all about Andy and the other boy; actually he was feeling quite cocky. After all, he was the smart one here and he held all the cards... and he knew just how to remind these two kids who was the alpha in this situation.

Bernard casually let his "sheet toga" slip to the floor to stand butt naked, shamelessly flaunting the beautiful new body that was now his in front of its previous owner, and he flung himself onto the bed with the ease of a man in his early twenties. He leaned against the bedframe and crossed his arms behind his head, his powerful biceps displayed proudly, and made sure to spread his thick legs so that his opponents could have a clear view of the prize-worthy cock and balls he possessed. He had no doubt he made quite a sight, and just to rub salt in the wound he looked straight at the real Andy and made a big show of scanning his former body up and down. His eyes lingered pointedly on its bald head and sagging gut, and an ugly smile split his handsome face as he locked on to his watery old eyes.

"How can I help you Professor Smith and-" he glanced over at Andy's smaller brown-skinned companion and sneered. "And you must be my ex-boyfriend. Trent, was it?"

"Trevor," the boy muttered, boldly holding eye contact with the body snatcher rather than giving in to his intimidation tactics, but Bernard wasn't phased. His new body outclassed Trevor's in every aspect- if anything, he was just surprised that a hunk like Andy had chosen to settle down with a boy like that.

"You're rather scrawny, aren't you?" he remarked, looking down at his pecs as he gave them an exaggerated flex, then back up at Trevor with a pitying smile on his face. "No wonder I broke up with you when I have a body that looks like this."

Incensed by the attack on his boyfriend, Andy shoved himself between the two and glared down at the body snatcher lounging on the bed with all the rage he could muster. Getting a view of himself from the outside always gave him a shocking perspective on how other people saw him- his gorgeous body with its smooth caramel skin and carefully sculpted muscles (his workout routine was hitting right) sprawled out long and large was an impressive sight, but when he looked at his face and saw the sheer malice radiating from the soul hiding behind those eyes, it sent chills down his spine. He was sure that he'd never looked like that.

"You don't have shit actually," Andy shouted, mustering up his courage and jabbing a finger accusingly at Professor Smith, and the man wearing his face laughed at him. "You just stole my body!"

"Excellent deduction skills Mr. Douglass," Bernard sneered, rolling his eyes sarcastically. "What gave it away? Was it the back pains? The baldness? The skin color? Or maybe..." the professor reached down between his legs and took Andy's girthy member in his hands, shaking its length back and forth with a devious grin on his face. "Maybe it was that little limp thing between your legs that you're stuck with now."

From the way his old face grew pinched and red, Bernard knew he'd struck a nerve with that one. The memory of what his old cock was like was still fresh in his mind and he didn't envy Andy one bit- or the little boyfriend, for that matter.

"Regardless of what it was that sparked the epiphany your juvenile pea brain," he continued, hammering the nail in a bit further just to enjoy the look of shame on the formerly young man's face. "Maybe if you'd applied some of those skills to your classwork you'd be getting an A! You should be thanking me- stealing my body was the only way you were going to get a degree."

"Shut up," Andy snapped, desperately wishing that he still had his own body so he could do that thing where he puffed himself up and made himself look scary to get an edge in an argument. As it was, all the weight he had to throw around was fat. "I'm not gonna take shit from some old body snatcher- and stop touching my dick!"

Although the professor obviously wasn't turned on by the sight of his disgusting old body, he couldn't deny the sick sense of pleasure he got from toying with his new cock while maintaining eye contact with its real owner, and his manhood just grew more intimidating every second. The mind games were working- the way the body snatcher rolled it around in his hands so lecherously was disturbing to Andy and set him a bit off-balance.

Andy's dick, not caring at all that it was being used for evil, flopped around looking happy and heavy in the thief's hands and engorged itself with more blood.

Traitor, Andy though spitefully. What was the point of having a big dick if it wasn't on your side?

"From what I've heard, you don't seem to mind when another man touches your dick!" Bernard taunted, malice bubbling up from deep within him. He knew it was something of a playground insult, but he was far past the Rubicon at this point and might as well play dirty.

The professor glanced at Andy's boyfriend and shuddered at the thought of the big dick in his hands being used to pleasure the scrawny young man- or worse, the little fellow mounting Andy's sturdy frame and jamming his own prick into the annoyingly bouncy ass Bernard currently possessed. Not while I'm in charge, he thought to himself.

"I'm a liberal, of course, I don't have anything against gay people, but I must say it seems like such a shame that you were wasting this incredible body on men. A masculine form like this deserves to know the love of a good woman! Preferably a new one every night," Bernard smirked and slid his hands down to cup his balls, gently rolling the heavy orbs around in his fingers. "Hell, maybe even two or three! I'll bet I'm plenty virile now, I can handle it."

"First of all, I'm not gay, I'm bi, I've been with girls before," Andy protested, then he shook his head in disbelief. "Second of all, do you even hear yourself? You just want to steal my body so you can use it to be a manwhore? That's so fucked up!"

"Youth is wasted on the young," Bernard tsked the boy sadly. "Trust me, after a few days in that body you'll come to regret not indulging in life's pleasures while you could."

"Oh I can't wait to fuck a woman with this thing- I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop fucking women with this thing! I tell you kids, it's a dream come true," Bernard grinned from ear to ear, not a trace of shame on his face, and rolled his broad shoulders to feel his muscles stretch. "I could take this pretty face and this big dick out into that party right now and any girl would be on her knees for me in an instant. The young women of the world should be thanking me for liberating this body."

Andy fought the urge to gag (how was this old guy so gross?) and crossed his arms in an attempt to look stern. "Yeah, well, I don't think those girls out there would be happy to find out that the guy they're grinding on is actually old enough to be their grandfather."

"Grandfather?" Bernard gasped. "I'm fifty three, I'm not that old you dunderhead!" Then a devious smile crossed his handsome face and he ran a finger over his jawline, appreciating the smooth, tight skin. "Besides, I believe you're the old one actually. I'm currently what, twenty six years old?"

"I'm twenty-three," Andy corrected him with a harumph. "Jackass."

"Just twenty-three?" Bernard was genuinely surprised by that, and he looked down at Andy's well-developed muscles with a new appreciation. At twenty three years old Bernard had been out of breath when he climbed the stairs, yet in the same amount of years Andy had sculpted himself into a Greek statue. "What are they putting in the food these days? You've got an incredible body for your age, I was right to steal it."

"See!" Andy exclaimed triumphantly. "How do you think you can steal my life when you don't even know how old I am? Do you even know where I live? What my major is? What my family is like?" Andy shook his head. "You'll never be able to pull this off."

"Pish posh," the professor waved his hands back and forth and turned his nose up, a distinctly old school gesture that looked out of place on Andy's form. "I know you've got a handsome face and a nice body, that's all that matters. As long as I've got all this-" he placed his hands on Andy's heavy pecs and heaved the meat up and down for emphasis. "Everything will work itself out."

"Oh yeah? Well all that didn't just happen overnight," Andy snapped, and he put his hands to the sagging manboobs his current body had and heaved them in a mocking parody of what Bernard had just done with his body. "Something tells me you aren't exactly familiar with the gym, do you even know what it takes to build up a body like that? I give it two months before you've wrecked my body!"

"Please, how hard can it be to pick heavy things up and put them down again? I have a PHD, I think I can figure it out," Bernard rolled his eyes, then teased his fingers up and down the ridges of his abs tauntingly. "Besides, you've already given me the base, all I have to do is maintain it. Rest assured that your six pack is safe with me..." he rolled his body to the side slightly so his butt was exposed, and he glared down at it. "Although I'll be happy to let this ridiculous rump of yours go."

"My 'rump?' Ridiculous?" Andy gasped, both hands flying to his mouth with shock. He didn't care how shallow it sounded but his bubble butt was one of his prized possessions- big, shapely, and with the perfect combination of firmness and bounce -so hearing the older man disrespect it like that was borderline blasphemy. "My ass is legendary on campus. Do you have any idea how many squats I had to hit to get a dump truck like that?"

A dump truck? Bernard shook his head. Kids today and their slang.

"No, I don't know how much time you wasted doing squats, and I don't intend to find out either," Bernard frowned at the globes of flesh jutting out of his lower half like they had done something to offend to him. "Honestly, you kids today and your obsession with having big butts should be studied. There's nothing manly about looking like the seams of your pants are going to burst!" Then he reached back and grabbed at one of his cheeks, squeezing it violently in his hands and giving the muscle a rough shake. "And why does it move like this? I'm sick of it bouncing around all the time! No, I think you'll look much better without this thing."

"Okay, that is IT," Andy bellowed, bending forwards and slamming his fists down on the mattress dramatically- to angry to care about how he tweaked his back in the process. "You can steal my face, take my life, make me look like an idiot- but when you come for my ass, it's personal." He pointed at the body snatcher and glared with every ounce of authority he had in him. "You need to get out of my body now, or else."

"Or else what?" Professor Smith sneered. He pushed himself off the bed and drew himself up to Andy's impressive 6'2'' (his new body had about six inches on his old body- and also was four inches taller), spreading his shoulders and puffing his chest out so he looked like a sturdy mountain of muscles. He leered down at Andy with a wolfish grin. "And what are you going to do about it?"

"I'll-" Andy paused, came up short for an answer, then turned to his boyfriend. "Trev, tell him what we're gonna do."

"Are you two done bickering?" Trevor asked, sounding mildly amused. He stepped up to stand side by side with his boyfriend, subtly twining their hands together to show support, and looked up into the professor's eyes. "Because if you are, I'd like to get to the part where you two switch back to your real bodies."

Professor Smith threw his head back and laughed. "Switch back? Why on Earth would I go back to being an old man when I could be this?" He flexed dramatically like a body builder, once again flaunting his strapping young body, and Trevor rolled his eyes.

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you," the twink said flatly, unimpressed by the older man's posturing despite how big Andy's body made him look. "You've pulled off a good trick but it won't last forever, there's a way to reverse any spell."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Professor Smith said, looking all too smug. "I translated that spell myself from an archaic hieroglyphic script- I'm the only one on the planet who knows how it works and I'm not keen to give up that secret any time soon."

"Interesting theory," Trevor nodded, glancing down and picking at his fingernails for a moment before looking back up with a knowing glint in his eye. "Well here's my take- you left your shit lying out back at your house and I'm pretty sure what you translated was just a variation of an older Sumerian ritual that I am familiar with. And that's how I know," he paused for dramatic effect, and Andy grinned in anticipation. "That you didn't translate the whole thing."

He slipped his backpack off of his shoulder and began rifling through it, but Professor Smith was more concerned with other matters.

"Wait, my house?" he interrupted, a bit taken aback by that detail. "How did you get into my house?"

"Threw a rock through your window," Andy said with a shit eating grin. "Also I carved a dick into the side of your car."

"You WHAT?" Bernard bellowed, so enraged that he reached forwards and shoved Andy back- but though the boy stumbled, he didn't stop smiling. "I'm going to call the cops!"

"And tell them what?" Andy chuckled, glad that he finally had the upper hand over the body snatcher. "All of your neighbors saw 'you' do it- right before you mooned them, by the way." He turned tail and patted at his nonexistent behind. "Bet they would have preferred to see my ass instead of yours."

"Anyways," Trevor interjected before Professor Smith could say anything else, and he held up a long red wax candle he'd produced from his bag. "If you had done your due diligence with your translations of this spell you'd be aware that it's anchored to the lifespan of this candle here, which means that if I just-" Trevor turned the candle sideways and pushed on both ends, snapping it in half effortlessly. "-then you'll both revert back to normal."

A pulse of energy ripped through the room as the spell unwove itself and the change back was instantaneous- the professor's borrowed body practically exploded with fat, the shocked thief letting out a cry as his massive arms sagged and his tight six pack was swallowed up by a bulbous gut. The jock butt which he had been so rude to deflated like a beach ball and the second it was gone Bernard suddenly realized what a fool he'd been to not appreciate the damn thing. He was filled with despair as he felt the delicious power he'd borrowed abandon him as his stolen muscles melted away leaving him back in the pale and unimpressive body he'd been neglecting for years.

To make things even worse, the absurd amount of alcohol he'd consumed as a massive twenty three year old had stayed with him and his fifty three year old stomach was already revolting.

Worst of all he was still butt naked, and no longer had anything to be proud of.

Trevor averted his eyes from this process- he had no interest in looking at Professor Smith's body now that his boyfriend wasn't stuck inside of it. Instead he looked at Andy as his body snapped back to its true form and returned to him the physique that he'd worked so hard on, which was a much more pleasant sight.

The boy was grinning from ear to ear as his facial features morphed, returning him to his handsome visage, and the wrinkles all across his body faded away as his skin returned to its healthy light brown shade. Hair began to sprout from the top of his head, and Andy breathed out a sigh of relief as he ran his fingers through the wooly strands.

Okay good, he thought to himself. I could not pull off bald.

The transformation to his body was equally dramatic, his rotund form retreating as his frame reclaimed its rightful height and muscle. Andy was glowing with excitement to be a twenty three year old hunk again, Trevor couldn't help but feel a tingle of arousal as he watched his boyfriend shimmy out of the oversized clothes he'd been using to cover Professor Smith's old body to expose his sexy real form instead.

"Oh thank fuck, I'm back to me again!" Andy cheered, hands roaming his body as he took stock of the changes. He needed to make sure that everything was returned to him just the way he'd left it. Pecs, abs, biceps, his beautiful ass- a sudden tug of gravity between his legs confirmed that his dick had reclaimed its former glory as well. A huge smile cracked his face as he stared down, twisting himself back and forth to admire his lovingly sculpted body. "Oh, I fucking missed this!"

"But- that's supposed to be mine!" Professor Smith whined, his own hands pressed in front of his privates to preserve some measure of dignity as he watched Andy caressing the body that had been his less than a minute ago. Already he missed the intoxicating feeling of strength that came with those muscles, and (as he shifted awkwardly on the balls of his feet) the confidence that came with having a big cock.

Trevor rolled his eyes and pulled some spare clothes from his backpack to toss to his boyfriend, who caught them effortlessly and began to dress himself.

"Don't be stupid, you know it's not," the smaller boy snapped at Professor Smith, snatching up the oversized clothes Andy had discarded and waving them at the older man like they were a weapon. "And don't even think about trying to mess with occult dealings again or else I'll use some of the tricks I've learned and turn you into an actual pig- since you seem so intent on acting like one."

The professor, feeling much less bold now that he was a middle aged man again, widened his eyes in fear. "You can do that?"

Andy, now dressed in some basketball shorts and a snug t-shirt, slung an arm across Trevor's shoulder and smiled down at his boyfriend affectionately. "Trev can do anything."

"Thank you Andy..." Trevor muttered, his cheeks flushing dark brown for a moment, before he cleared his throat and returned his attention to the would-be body snatcher in front of them. He jabbed a finger at Bernard, getting a small thrill at the way the bigger man flinched. "So here's what happens now: you will delete any records you have of this ritual and pretend like this never happened. Andy will not be going back to your class, but he will be getting an A for the semester. Do we have an understanding?"

"And if I refuse?" Professor Smith ventured, his bluster betrayed by the way his voice shook. Trevor and Andy exchanged a look.

"Then we release the videos we made while Andy was in your body of you doing some very inappropriate and possibly illegal things and you never work again," Trevor said flatly, and Andy gave a devious chuckle.

"Oh and it was some weird shit," the young man taunted. He crossed his arms menacingly- being switched out of his body always reminded him to appreciate the benefits that came with the presence of his own hulking form. "Only seemed fair since you were making an asshole out of yourself with my body that I did it with yours."

Trevor continued. "But if you say yes right now, we'll be nice and give you the clothes Andy walked out in so you don't get fired for being naked at a student's party. Doesn't that sound fair?"

Professor Smith looked down at his naked body let out a small noise from the back of his throat when he finally processed just how bad the situation was for him. Stumbling out without clothes on wasn't an option- if he were still in Andy's body it wouldn't be a problem (hell, people would probably thank him for the free show) but as an over-the-hill professor surrounded by a bunch of students they'd slap him in handcuffs before he could get a word out. He'd be lucky if all he lost was his job.

His eyes darted between the two boys like a rat cornered by two cats, and his eyes landed mournfully on the swell of Andy's pectoral muscles as they pressed through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"So I can't have just one night in his body?" Bernard pleaded, one last desperate time. "Just one, I promise! Or even just an hour! Please, I didn't get to fuck anybody! Hell, I can pay you!"

"Oh hey that's an idea," Andy turned to his boyfriend and grinned mischievously. "Should we make him give us money too?"

Trevor shook his head. "Just the compliance will be fine. And you accept the terms of our deal, right?"

"Alright, you two win!" Professor Smith threw his hands in the air, exposing his shriveled cock, and Andy and Trevor averted their eyes. "No more magic just... can I please have some clothes?"

🔀

The two boys, eager to get things over with, threw the clothes in Bernard's face (along with a promise from Trevor that he would be in touch and Bernard better hold up his end of the deal) and then made their exit, literally slamming the door on the whole ordeal behind them. The dip leaned against the wall of the hallway and caught their breath, staring out at the throngs of bodies and multicolored lights of the still-raging party, and then the two of them burst out laughing.

Andy's entire body was shaking and he clutched at his (once again tight) belly, nearly doubled over with laughter, and then he sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm himself down a bit. The small shoulder bounces that Trevor always did when he was laughing were starting to fade, and Andy smiled.

"God that guy was a douche," he said, jamming his thumb back towards the room, and Trevor nodded in agreement.

"Tell me about it," he snorted, then he glanced sidelong at Andy. "Was I that bad when I was in your body?"

"Nah," Andy sniffed dismissively, then he took advantage of his reclaimed height and leaned over to peer down at Trevor with a lopsided grin. "When you did it, it was hot."

The expression on Andy's face was so damn goofy that Trevor almost wanted to laugh and flick him in the forehead, but instead the sight just melted his heart. There was a carefree ease to Andy that no one else could match- that was his body and his alone, and the fact that he wanted to use it to be with Trevor (of all people) still felt like a miracle.

"It's good to have you back," the lovestruck boy whispered, not sure if he would even be audible above the din of the party, but from the way Andy's face softened he must have heard it.

"All thanks to you, Trev," Andy murmured back, rubbing at the back of his neck somewhat nervously. He was finding it hard to look into Trevor's chocolate eyes without feeling like a fool so instead he trained his eyes on the floor, grateful that he once again had a complexion that would hide his blush somewhat. "You were incredible in there, I'm so- I'm so lucky to have you. I would have been screwed if you weren't here so, thanks dude."

"Hey, you know I'd do anything for you," Trevor tucked a strand of his floppy hair behind his ear and placed his hand on Andy's shoulder, relishing the familiar feeling of his boyfriend's sturdy form under his fingers once again. "I'm just glad that you're you again. Nobody else can wear that body like you can."

Andy reached his hand up and grabbed onto Trevor's, squeezing it tight with all the love in his body, and the two boys took a moment to bask in the wave of relief that came with successfully surviving another snatch. Trevor studied Andy's face, that beautiful face that everyone wanted for themselves, and he almost leaned in for a kiss- but then he glanced sidelong at the throngs of people watching them and decided against it.

"Anyways, let's get out of here," Trevor sniffed at the air, his nose wrinkling at the smell of sweat, sugar, and weed that wafted through the cramped space. "This party sucks."

"Oh this party's ass," Andy agreed, glancing over at the crowd with a mysterious glint in his eye. "But we gotta do one thing before we go."

Eager to show off a bit now that he was young and strong again, Andy bent at his supple knees and swept Trevor's legs out from under him, catching the unsuspecting boy in midair and effortlessly hoisting him up into a bridal carry. His boyfriend was an easy, comfortable weight in his arms, and Andy grinned- this was why he went to the gym. Those muscles weren't just for show!

"Andy!" Trevor squeaked out, grabbing on to Andy's thick neck for stability. He wasn't worried that Andy was going to drop him, but he was worried about what people would think if they saw them like this. "Put me down, asshole!"

"No can do cinnamon stick," Andy teased, pulling Trevor close for a second so he could plant a kiss on his forehead. "Everybody at this party has spent all night watching 'me' run around trying to bang chicks- I think we'd better remind them all that I'm taken. And now that I've got these big old arms of mine back," he hefted up Trevor up and down a few times, like he was pumping iron at the gym, and the twink's stomach swooped. "I think I'm gonna use them to carry you past all of these people back to our apartment so we can watch that damn movie. Would you be down for that?"

Now, Trevor wasn't really one to show off- in fact, he tended to be on the shy side -but swaddled in the arms of his hunky boyfriend (reclining on top of giant biceps like they were pillows, because his life was a fairy tale) he couldn't find it in himself to feel any shame about nodding yes.

And besides, with the way their lives went, the two of them should try to enjoy Andy's body while they still had it.

#male body swap #Series: Security #this turned out so long T_T this is over 12k words #I got sooo indulgent here and just kept adding stuff #I promise the next installment will be more concise

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almondcroissantsandink · 1 year ago

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those two vigilantes ruining your local pub are actually a wannabe businessman and his father's very capable butler!

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clowningaroundmars · 4 months ago

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Hobie1610 pt. 2

after god knows how long (months tho tbh), i am happy to present: hobie1610 part dos! In this installment, we see how Miles eventually rounds right back to Hobie Jones to apologize after pt. 1's gigantic blunder

hope y'all enjoy! :)

>pt. 1 here<

>pt. 3 here<

It was several weeks into the first semester-- with winter just right around the corner-- before Miles finally got around to confronting the little Hobie Problem that he had.

Being laden with pounds upon pounds of assignments to get done before the holidays and then trying to keep up with Spiderman duties on top of it all, managing his parents’ overwhelming expectations once again, and trying to survive as a teenager in general forced his first day blunder onto the back burner for much longer than Miles would have liked.

Sure, his anxiety is a bitch sometimes, and it holds him back from directly addressing a lot of issues in his life, but Rio didn’t raise any neanderthal. Miles knew that when he messed up, he messed up.

Problem is, every time he’s tempted to just reach a hand out to his dimension’s Hobie Br-- Jones, pat his shoulder lightly, pull him into a corner somewhere during lunch maybe, and finally man up and apologize… that’s when some crook starts some problems downtown, or some mad scientist finally snaps somewhere and starts to wreak havoc with crazy gadgets a bit too unnervingly close to his neighborhood.

Or Miles gets back to his dorm room and sees that he has an assignment due the very next day that he hasn’t even had the chance to hop on yet, because of aforementioned crooks and mad scientists.

It was all driving him crazy.

And so now here he was, up on a rooftop in the middle of a chilly fall day, hanging out with his inter-dimensional besties (who he lightheartedly calls the Spider Squad but he hasn’t quite brought that up to them yet).

They were on a lunch break after pummeling and restraining some prisoners-- who somehow got out of the Raft-- that tried to make their way across the Brooklyn Bridge. Miles sure appreciated the help, which was one of the many positives of letting Hobie Brown make dimension watches for everyone, mostly so they could all help another Spider shoulder the burdens that usually befell them.

But the teens-- being teens, of course-- also used their watches to just pop into an open portal and hang out with each other as often as they could. Who could blame them? Being a superhero and a kid was overwhelming most of the time. Sometimes they needed a listening ear or a supportive shoulder to cry on every now and then, and getting the opportunity to chill and explore a whole new world for them was always a thrill.

(Miles himself could never deny the excitement of getting to go to Mumbattan for shopping trips every so often, either.)

So with all of that in mind it was tempting to, after seeing the long and lanky punk Spiderman climb through his own multi-colored portal, ask Hobie if he could go back to New London with him. He needed to get something off of his chest.

Hobie, languidly as ever, hikes a skinny shoulder up in a nonchalant shrug and goes “ye’ sure, mate. Somethin’ up, or?”

Pavitr leans forward from his conversation with Gwen-- the little snoop, goddamnit-- and swallows a particularly big bite of his sandwich. “Oooooh, Miles and Hobie? Alone, in New London? Wow!” He elbows Gwen, who shakes her head and snorts into her bottled juice.

Miles puffs up. “Hey, it’s not like that! We just need to talk. In private. Nothing’s wrong, I uh… I just need some advice. That’s all!”

Hobie’s grin is full of teeth. “Waidaminnit. Miles Morales... Thee Great Miles Morales, needin’ my advice? Interesting!” His freeform locs bob and wiggle teasingly with every movement of his head.

Feeling put on the spot, Miles pouts as he picks at some lint on his spider suit and finishes off his soda as quickly as he can manage.

Gwen, bless her heart, notices his discomfort and scooches closer to him on the rooftop ledge. “… Is everything alright, by the way? It isn’t anything bad, is it?”

Miles glances at her before returning his gaze to the concrete several stories below. “Uhm, nah. Nah, it’s… y’know, it’s just more inter-dimensional weirdness. But I’m sure I can fix it. I think,”

He then shoots her a grateful smile for her considerate check-in, and pulls his mask back down over the lower half of his face. Gwen understands this as his “I’ll be back for another check-in later,” behavior and simply nods back. She knows not to push him.

“Well,” Hobie unfolds himself from his position on some scaffolding on the side of building, straightening himself up to his full height and stretching, “I’m all finished, then. Prob'ly not a good idea to go swingin’ on full stomachs, though. Let’s take a quick walk before headin’ home, yeah?”

Miles grabs Hobie’s hand and helps him hoist himself up over the ledge, and the teens all gather their trash into one plastic bag together. They chatter and slip their masks on as they casually walk down the side of the half-constructed building, finally touching down onto the concrete alleyways and relishing the quiet of an empty block before heading to the congested streets of downtown Brooklyn.

They all eventually bid each other their farewells after a few quick photo ops from excited New Yorkers, but of course not before Pavitr leans into Miles’ ear conspiratorially and whispers: “Let me know how it goes, bro! Good luck!”

Pav punches Miles on the shoulder lightly and winks at him, then he does a backflip into his golden-bright portal and blinks out of existence.

Miles rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Does he want me and Hobie to be together, or me and you? I can never tell with that guy,” he groans at Gwen, whose shoulders are shaking with badly-concealed laughter.

“I think he just watches too many of those soap operas, honestly. Trashy daytime TV will do that to a guy sometimes.” She quips just as humorlessly.

Miles gives her a sidelong glance and a smirk. “Right. Rots your brain. Poor Pav!”

Gwen and Hobie laugh at that as Gwen pulls up her own portal.

“I’m thinkin’ we need t’ stage an intervention, really.” Hobie adds.

“Yes, and soon,” Miles points out.

“I’ll see what I can do to pull him away from those shows, but you know how his aunt is,” Gwen snorts. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Pav is just a huge romantic anyways, soaps or no soaps.”

“When I’ve got relationship issues, I guess I know the guy to go to, then,” Miles shrugs, then throws Gwen a casual salute goodbye.

She stands in front of white and multi-colored splotches of watercolor floating out from her dimensional portal as she salutes Miles back, giving Hobie a quick wave. “Let me know how your little inter-dimensional weirdness problem goes too, Miles! Talk to us in the groupchat every once in a while!”

And like that, she’s gone.

So now Hobie and Miles were left alone together.

Standing in the middle of a dirty alleyway on a cold autumn afternoon wasn’t Miles’ exact definition of a good time, though… why wasn’t Hobie opening his own portal right now? Miles turns his mask’s gigantic white eyes up to his dimensional variant (and boy was that a weird thing to think about when Hobie brought that up one day during a Spider Sleepover at Gwen’s) and gives him a pointed stare.

Hobie’s own painted eyes meet his.

“So…” Miles says.

“So…” Hobie says, his grin evident in his voice.

“Are we or are we not going back to yours?” Miles stuck his fists on his hips impatiently.

“First,” Hobie says as he holds up a long skinny finger, “I gotta know what this is about. ‘Cause we all know you, Miles. I don’t wanna enable any avoidant behaviors, mate. You know how it is.”

“What?!” Miles throws up his hands in the air. “Dude! SO not cool! You are not my dad.”

Hobie shakes his head. “You know I’m right, though. This ain’t about your parents, is it?”

Goddamn Hobie and his parental instincts. When is this guy ever going to get off of mom duty?

Miles huffs. “No, Hobie. It’s not. Look. I just, uh… if you don’t wanna go back to your dimension, then can we get away from like… this area in general, please?”

Hobie hummed in thought, then shrugged and shot a web up to a nearby street lamp. Together, the two Spidermen swung through the concrete jungle that was earth-1610’s New York City until they ended up somewhere near the Financial District in Manhattan, happening upon a sort of indoor rooftop terrace party that a bunch of corporate yuppie-looking people were enjoying behind giant glass windows. A few of those yuppies were out onto the actual rooftop smoking and talking amongst themselves in the cold while the party bumped along behind them.

The sun was setting quickly, and darkness descended upon both Spiderman as they scaled a nearby building and sat on a water tank to secretly watch the party from a little ways away. Miles took solace in the dark most times, and drank up the view of what few stars could be seen in the New York City skyline.

The clouds were scarce on this particular fall evening, so the red and yellow hues on the horizon were completely uninterrupted. Miles’ dimension took on an almost ethereal glow sometimes, and during this time of day, he was more than grateful for it.

Hobie was silent as he watched the sun set alongside Miles, until the entire city was enshrouded in darkness and the stars of the cosmos seemed to have fallen from the heavens and landed right onto the buildings and bridges laid out all before them. Lights from cars making their nightly rounds and tall buildings glittered all around them, and just beyond the skyscrapers, bits of the Upper Bay could be seen shimmering and reflecting the glittery light right back.

It was breathtaking. Beautiful.

But time was running out. They couldn’t sit here and watch the scenery and the people from several hundred feet away forever. Miles also knew Hobie had stuff to deal with in his own world, a million miles away from anything he could ever know. With a world-weary sigh, Miles finally takes his mask off fully and winds it up and around his hands, over and over.

“Your problem botherin’ you that much, Mi?” Hobie grins at his friend, taking his own mask off and running a hand through his locs.

“It’s just… I…” Miles chews on the inside of his cheek, wondering how to proceed.

It really was a weird problem to have, all things considered. There aren't many instances where someone pisses off a dimensional variant of their friend, and they have another version of that very same friend right by their side to ask how to even go about fixing the rift they caused in the first place.

“It’s just that I... like… I messed up pretty badly, right? And I know it’s totally my fault,” Miles is speaking quickly now, bottled up words now spilling forth like water, “but my anxiety started spiking up randomly out of nowhere and I just blew it, man. I wasn’t really thinking. Well, actually, I was. I was overthinking but I didn’t really mean to leave this guy hanging for so long afterwards and--”

Hobie throws a leg over his other one, propping himself onto an arm and leaning back to face Miles. “Okay. Okay, Miles, that’s cool. Thanks for the disclaimer, bruv, but we’re gonna have to start from the beginning.” He chuckles.

Miles laughs nervously. “Right, right. Yeah,” he takes a breath, licks his lips and tries again.

“So… on my first day of school I bumped into… you. I mean, not you, I mean like my dimension’s version of you.”

Hobie raised a pierced brow. “Wait, there’s another me here, too?”

“Yeah, yeah and I just almost crashed right into-- wait.” Miles’ brain took a second to buffer. “What do you mean too?”

“Ehhh, we found another me in some odd dimension or another. Y’know, like, one of those ones we don’t go to often. It was whatever,” Hobie shrugs casually.

Miles had a couple of questions about that but he decided to stick to the topic and not get distracted for now. “... Right, cool. So yeah, I almost crashed into you at Visions, except it wasn’t you.”

Hobie nodded. “You almost crashed into Not Me. Got it.”

“… Because I was late for class and not really, uh, thinking. Like at all. But it was you, you know what I mean? Not You is super bad at directions and navigating buildings, I guess, so I helped him out. Annddd I guess he wanted to be my friend afterwards, but.”

“Mhmm,” Hobie hums, in a tone that sounded a lot like him saying go on, then.

“Did you, uh… did you know your name is Jones sometimes?” Miles scratches at his ear awkwardly. “Hobie Jones, not Hobie Brown. It was weird when I found out, because another student said his full name and so that’s how I found out in the first place,”

Hobie inhales. “Hmm! Interesting. Dunno that I like the sound of that, if we’re gonna be honest here. Doesn’t really roll off the tongue the same, I think. But alright. Why’s that so important?”

“Uhhh,”

Hm. Shit. This was the part Miles dreaded getting to in the first place.

How was he going to put into words the weird dread that befell him upon learning that this Jones character might very well be this dimension’s version of his MJ? How could he possibly explain the thrilling electricity that races up and down his spine everytime he totally does not think about dating, kissing, possibly even having children with this other Hobie? How was he going to get that across to this super-cool, super-hot, super-put-together version of him?

Speaking those kinds of words out loud right to Hobie’s chiseled face made Miles slightly nauseous. He opted to circumnavigate that little problem altogether.

“Listen, don’t ask, okay? Seriously, man, I’m not playin’. Buuuut… if I pissed you off real bad, how would. Like, how could I make it up to you, theoretically speaking?”

Hobie exhaled a laugh. Miles could see his bright grin even in the low lighting of the night. “Huh? How’d you go from helpin’ Not Me out to pissin’ ‘im off all of the sudden? We’re missin' a step there, Milesie. C’mon now,”

Miles laughed too. “Ho-biieee, I already told you, man!” He hated how whiny he sounded, but this really wasn’t the time. “You cannot ask me about it!”

Hobie tossed his head like a horse. “Oh my god, mate. I can’t give ya solid advice when I don’t even know what the hell I’m givin’ advice for. I gotta know what happened, bruv, what’d ya do?”

“Just--! Ugh,” Miles deflated. “I maybe sorta... ditched him all of a sudden. Like, out of nowhere. When he, uh, when he needed me.”

Hobie’s glittering eyes bore holes into Miles’ hot face. “Mhmm? Why for?”

“Hobie, for the love of all that is good in the world, just--! Throw me a bone, here, man. I am dying of embarrassment right now!” He buried his face in his hands as Hobie rocked back with laughter.

“Why’d ya ditch ‘im?! That doesn’t sound like ya, Mi. Sounds like a real wick thing, but not a Morales thing to do. C’mon, what did Not Me say to you? You can pretend I’m him and I’ll apologize an’ everything.”

“No no no no, Hobie you don’t get it,” Miles sighed. “He didn’t do or say anything. That’s the thing. I just… I freaked out I guess, when I looked up his name and saw that he was a super accomplished model and everything. He’s got thousands of followers on Flickstagram, even. But I just…! I dunno what my brain was doing to me, once I saw that. I guess I just had a mini panic attack and just… bounced. Then, obviously I had tons of homework and Spiderman stuff to deal with, so ever since then, we’ve just been avoiding each other in the halls and I haven’t had any time to even tell him anything. I really messed up, man.”

Hobie was unnervingly silent as he thought for a good minute. The night had really fallen thick onto the city and the temperatures were dropping fast. Miles could barely see his own breath clouding in front of him or even Hobie’s face now that the darkness completely enshrouded them both, and it made him a little nervous.

“So…” Miles prodded carefully.

“Super accomplished model and everything, eh?” Hobie quietly asked after a little while. Miles couldn’t see Hobie’s expression, but he could hear the rhythmic rubbing of fabric against fabric as Hobie rubbed at his arm with a gloved hand.

“Uhhyup.” Miles confirmed.

“Hm. Utterly fascinated now, mate. Tell me more about this other me, then. He cool like me, or a total neurotic space cadet?”

Miles rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I can’t tell you much. We haven’t gotten to talk much. I guess you can be the judge, here’s his social media here...”

He then pulls his phone out of a recently-added pocket he found the time to sew onto his suit, taking inspiration from his mother’s own yoga leggings that she got as a birthday gift a few months before. The fact that spandex was able to hold so much but still stay so snug against your body was nothing short of a modern miracle, in Miles’ opinion. He was grateful for it now as he unlocked his phone and tapped on Hobie M. Jones’ page right out of the search history on his phone’s Flickstagram app.

Once he hands his phone to his friend, he has to resist the urge to suck in a breath as he watches the bright light from his screen illuminate Hobie’s features in ways he’s never seen before.

Hobie takes a second to scroll for a bit and Miles watches as the light plays across his features with just a bit more rapt attention than he normally would. Must be getting late, and Miles’ brain has historically been known not to work very well when he was tired.

Then, Hobie handed the phone back to Miles and folded his arms across his knees.

“Interesting, interesting,” was all he muttered. Thankfully, he did not comment on the “M. Jones” part of the username.

Miles tried lightening the mood. “Let me guess. You hate him because he’s not a fascist-fighting punk like you, huh.”

“I can’t be th’ judge of that, Miles. You know social media ain’t real life, and all that just looked like his portfolio to me, if we’re gonna be honest.” He checked his spiked bracelet in the light of Miles’ lit up screen. “I think that this other me doesn’t really feel too comfortable openin’ up and lettin’ other people see who he really is, though. So if you do go off an’ apologize to ‘im, I don’t think it’ll be very easy to gain his trust back.”

“Hold on,” Miles shakes his head and tucks his phone away again. “You got all that from looking at his Flicksta for not even a minute? How do you even know all of that?”

“’Cause he’s me, bruv. I know that look on his face, on those candids. Even them professional shots look… like, well, I dunno how t’ explain it. I guess it’s just sort of like--”

“If you know, you know?” Miles puts in.

“Mm,” Hobie smiles and nods. “Yep. That. He’s… withdrawn. Held back. I ‘unno… doesn’t seem like he has many friends.”

Miles sits back to think about the distant and carefully-put together mask that Hobie Jones slipped onto his face back when an annoying student butted into their conversation just before 2nd period that fateful day. Not to mention how famous he seemed, that the whole school wanted to pull him into a million different directions just for some selfies and autographs in general…

“He’s famous. He has a billboard up near the school, even,” Miles says without thinking.

“That explains it, then.”

Miles thought aloud for a bit. “He told me that I was the only person in the world who didn’t look at him like he was made out of solid gold. Hmmm,”

“Right then. That’s a start, eh?”

Miles sighed. “I-if… if someone who you thought could be like, your only friend in the whole world. Your only real friend… if that person abandoned you out of nowhere, with no explanation… how would I go about making it up to you?”

Hobie doesn’t comment on the phrasing of that question, either. He lays a warm hand on Miles’ cold shoulder and squeezes.

“Listen, Mi. You’re real special, you already know that. If he liked ya enough to wanna be your friend the very same day you two met, then I bet you can come up with somethin’ that’ll stick eventually. That being said… a little food ain’t never hurt no one.”

They stare at each other in the dark for a second.

“Uh, what?” Miles asks.

“Y’know. Like a peace offering. Bring ‘im a peace offering, make your apology, and then leave the poor kid alone. Let ‘im sorta… well, let ‘im kinda just chase you a little bit, right?”

Miles’ brow was raised high now. “What, like. Just leave some food and a note for him at lunch or something? Dude, that is so lame!”

“It’s about the mystique, mate. Trust me. Gotta keep the intrigue up, don’t crowd him too much or else you’ll scare man away, right? I hate when people grovel at my feet if I’m gonna be dead honest with ya. Don’t make too much of a big deal of it, and he just might forgive ya. You two'll be holdin' hands in no time,”

“Is that it? Is it really that easy?” Miles was skeptical.

Hobie shrugs and removes his hand from Miles’ shoulder. “Hell if I know, but if he’s anything like me, it just might work. Just be prepared to take it on the chin if he doesn’t forgive you in the end, though. Gettin’ ditched like that with no warning’s a bit hard on someone who’s never had any friends to lean on in the first place.”

Made sense to Miles. He shrugged, nodded, and then had only one question left to ask.

“… Cool. Got it. So, uh. What kinda food do you like, anyways?”

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

And that was how Miles ended up making a quick run (swing, really) over to his favorite Jamaican store for a dinner plate with some beef patties thrown in during the next day’s lunch period.

He couldn’t afford to be seen by security, so he suited up at his usual place on the rooftop of the school and sailed down to retrieve his peace offering as quickly as he could before lunch was over.

What luck, that he had the same lunch as Hobie Jones! Made this whole run a pretty easy thing to do at all, which was always a bonus.

Once he made his way back to the school, he hurriedly stuffed his mask back into his bag and practically jumped back into his uniform, not even taking the time to stop and check if his suit was properly hidden. No time for that, when the period was almost over and he hadn’t even gotten a bite to eat for himself.

Miles also took the time to write up what he hoped was a sufficiently appropriate apology note the previous night after getting back to his dorm room at a late hour, and he tucked that into the crinkled paper bag as carefully as he could manage. A grease-stained apology note was definitely not a cool thing to receive, especially from someone who wronged you out of nowhere and wasn’t even man enough to say that apology to your face.

He arranged everything as best he could while flying down several flights of stairs down to the cafeteria.

Once Miles pushes past the double doors into the large cafeteria area, he feels the tightness in his chest and the heat radiating from his gut outwards intensify more as he gets closer to his target.

It takes a bit of wandering to finally spot Hobie, but then Miles sees him: sat at a table near the center of the room. He’s surrounded by a bunch of fake friends all talking loudly over one another and trading phones over their meals. Hobie Jones himself looks forlorn even when in the middle of a group, surrounded on all sides by bodies he doesn’t even look directly at, even when he turns his head slightly to speak to them.

Well, shit.

Miles was not expecting Hobie to have fallen into so large a group of friends so soon. He spotted the same girl who pulled him aside for a selfie that one time sat at the same table, and her and her little posse were just gossiping loudly about any and everyone.

Miles found his feet stuck to the floor upon finally laying eyes on the scene.

Ugh. God. A bunch of preps poking their noses into his and Hobie’s business while probably begging to read the very private note that Miles wrote for him was absolutely not anywhere in his list of things he’d like to experience today.

So Miles did a sudden about-face and walked away quickly, before he was even spotted.

Plan B was set in motion, then: give the bag over to Hobie before the next period.

Miles always dreaded the class he and Hobie shared right after lunch. The awkwardness subsided after a while, since it was kinda hard to feel so bad about The Incident when the entire class had to cram for quizzes and do research for essays, but the pit in Miles’ stomach as he purposefully averted his gaze away from that corner of the room was never easy to ignore.

But now, after weeks of gloom and doom, Miles found himself actually being excited for the bell to ring. He quietly made his way upstairs to the top level and slipped into the classroom as gracefully as he could manage.

Sure, he was nervous as hell about it all, at the end of the day. But he wanted this little problem that’s been put away for far too long to just… finally be done and over with. If for nothing else, he just wanted one less student at Visions hating his guts, really.

He placed the paper bag onto Hobie’s chair and scooted it underneath the desk to hide it from the rest of the classroom. The last thing he needed was some other nosy student swiping it up and rifling through the contents before Hobie could see it.

Miles ate part of his sandwich in the peace and quiet of the classroom, enjoying what precious little minutes he had until the bell rang and everyone-- including the teacher-- filed in to start the class’s lessons of the day.

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

Miles’ simple plan was a success, just as his buddy Hobie Brown had predicted.

Hobie Jones had read the note quietly in his corner of the room and hastily shoved the dinner plate into his backpack soon after.

Miles didn’t know if that meant he was forgiven or not, but at least he took the (probably cold) food with him and read the note without tearing it up into a million pieces, so at least Miles had that going for him.

There was one last step to really clinch the victory, though; an invitation to meet up at the rooftop later that day, before the last bell finally rung and let all of the kids out of the school for the day. Miles still had a lot to get off his chest that he couldn’t quite lay down on paper, and he needed to properly apologize to Hobie’s face to finally put his conscience at ease.

Whether or not Hobie took the invitation was left up in the air, really.

Miles made sure to try and get a head start so he could make it up there before Hobie could, but he made sure to add “be up at the rooftop by 3:30pm if you’re coming or I’m bouncing” to the end of the note, because as much as he wanted to make amends with his dimension’s Hobie, he was not going to let petty school drama get in the way of Spiderman-ing.

Miles was a man of standards, and he held himself to some level of professionalism, thank you very much!

It was cold that day, very cold.

Miles was lowkey regretting his decision to meet outside now as he tucked his chin deeper into his big puffer jacket, warming his hands with his warm breath before shoving them into his pockets.

He hoped Hobie had gotten used to getting around the hallways a bit more now, and that he could find his way up to the roof level without becoming completely lost and just giving up entirely.

As the minutes crawled by, Miles found himself unlocking and locking his phone multiple times, checking the time, checking for any notifications to distract himself, and wondering just why he decided on the roof to meet instead of, say, his dorm room hallway or whatever.

Then, the roof access door slowly swung open, and there stood Hobie M. Jones in all his six-foot-something glory.

Miles sucked in his breath as Hobie’s big brown eyes scanned the roof and fell upon his face, and the both of them stood rooted to their spots for a split second like deer in headlights.

Then Hobie grunted, tugged at his ponytail to let it loose, and his long dreads fell all around his face in one graceful movement. Miles felt his mouth go dry.

Miles’ feet moved on their own. They met in the middle, and a strong wind rushed through to tousle Hobie’s impressive locs some more as they both stared each other down.

Miles finally opened his mouth to speak, feeling his voice catching in his throat for a split second, before being interrupted anyways.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Hobie says quickly, tucking his own chin into his expensive-looking jacket’s collar as well.

Miles’ brain bluescreened. “Wait, wha?”

Hobie huffed out a laugh, the vapors of his breath being carried away in the chilly wind like dandelion seeds. “I’m being serious, man. It’s… it’s cool, honestly. I get why you ditched me. It happens all the time,”

Miles’ heart sinks. “N-no, Hobie, look. I really messed up and I felt like I had to-- wait, what do you mean all the time?”

Miles had a sweeping feeling of déja vu overcome him then.

Hobie chuckled ruefully, shrugging as he shoves his hands deeper into his own pockets, mirroring Miles. “I mean, like… you think you’re the only one who ever ran for the hills after seeing how famous I was? It just happens. That’s my life, I guess.”

Miles’ lower lip stuck out a bit. “But that’s… dude. That is so depressing!”

Hobie shook his head, tossing a loc out of his face. “Sure, but it’s… it’s just my life. It’s just how things are when you’re a model around here.”

They looked sadly into each other’s eyes before Hobie averts his gaze to his shoes, scuffing the toe on the roof floor for a second before looking back up and continuing.

“… You, uhm. How’d you… how’d you know that I like Jamaican food, though? I’ve never told anyone about that before. Nobody but my family, anyways.”

“Uhh, lucky guess?” Miles offers him a lopsided grin.

Hobie smiles for real this time, the corners of his eyes crinkling just like his earth-138 counterpart. “You really are a weird guy, just like you said before. What else did you want to tell me, before we both gotta bounce?”

Miles gaped at him like a fish. “You… you have to let me apologize, though. Like actually. Before we both have to go.”

Hobie nodded. “Okay. I’m all ears,”

Miles took a deep breath. “I…!" His voice caught in his throat for a second. "Uh. Do you wanna maybe… hang out, like outside of school sometime? Maybe grab some more Jamaican food from my favorite place?”

Hobie looks at him with an unreadable expression on his face. “You… that’s your apology?”

Miles sighed. “I’m bad at conflict management, man. Just let me treat you to some more lunch and then… maybe we can just let this whole thing go, yeah? You won’t ever have to talk to me again after this, I promise!”

“You are seriously sending me mixed signals here,” Hobie says. But he doesn’t seem opposed to the idea.

“I know, I know! But please, just humor me, man. We can do it this weekend, even. I just… feel like a total dick after what I did and I wanna be able to actually make it up to you.”

Hobie directs his shy smile back down to the ground. “Jesus,” he mutters.

Miles holds his palms forward. “What? Is that a no?”

Hobie laughs, full and bright and it-- fuck-- it fills Miles with a dizzying thrill that makes him laugh, too!

“Fine… but if you ditch me again this time, you asshole--” Hobie grabs the front of Miles’ jacket and yanks it towards him, putting the both of them closer together and making a complete heatwave roll through Miles’ nerves, “I will-- uh,”

Miles doesn’t register why Hobie stops speaking all of a sudden until his eyes slowly follow down to what he’s looking at, and then both of their hearts stop at the same time.

In Miles’ earlier haste to jump into his clothing after his meal run, he forgot to button a few buttons on his shirt, which left his very visibly black and red suit out in the open with just one small yank of his coat’s zipper. The top of his red spider emblem shone bright against the dark spandex.

For a second, the world stopped. The wind stopped blowing, the cars down below stopped honking, Miles stopped breathing.

Then, he hastily took a step back and cleared his throat, hoping against hope that Hobie would not recognize the spider suit so easily.

“S-so, yeah? You’ll go? I, uh, promise I won’t stand you up if you do. We can, uhm. Exchange numbers if you want--” here, Miles starts fumbling around his pockets for his phone, a device that he clung onto like a lifeline moments ago now almost completely forgotten in the excitement of the situation.

Hobie swallows and takes a step back also. “Y-yeah… yeah, sure. Let’s uhm. Let’s link up later, then.”

Miles lets Hobie input his digits into his contact list, and then bids him farewell.

“I’ll text you later, okay? Gotta go now, bye!”

Miles almost wants to throw himself off the roof of the school just to land on the concrete sidewalks below with a splat. A flattened spider. It’s what he deserves, honestly.

But he swallows his embarrassment and rushes down the stairs towards his own dorm room, instead.

He seriously, seriously hopes Hobie didn't recognize his spider suit, goddamn!

Once Miles gets to his room, he sags against the door with a sigh and shrugs off his puffer jacket. Then, he fishes his phone out of the jacket’s pocket and flicks the screen on, which now has Hobie Jones’ digits input into it under the name of “MJ (from Visions)”.

Miles throws himself into his and Ganke’s shared computer chair and twirls over to the window.

It’s Miles. I am not ditching you this time, PROMISE, he sends over to the number.

A few minutes later, he gets a response and his stomach flutters with the chime.

You better not, Hobie playfully teases. I know where you sleep…

A few more knife emojis accompany the texts and Miles laughs out loud. Then he bites his lip.

Fuck… damn. This really is earth-1610’s version of MJ, huh. The name beamed straight into his eyeballs from where it sat right at the top of his messages and it continued to haunt him as he got his laptop out for the night to finally make some more leeway on his English essay.

Miles went to bed that night dreaming of him and a red-headed Hobie Jones holding Mayday.

#spiderverse #hobie brown #miles morales #punkflower #mine #*stadium cheering* miles did it!!! he did it!#with his awkward spider rizz he secured a dat-- i mean a hangout with hobie mfing jones!!#stay tuned to see what happens in part three 👀#and who knows..... there just might also be a part four.....................#<_<#we just might have to see!#also goddamn i know that pic i drew and threw in there is. bad. but ive been playing with markers lately since i bought them #so i figured i'd also use this fic lowkey as practice lmfao #pls excuse the weird mistakes and bad coloring overall. its been years. IM TRYING OK 😭#gonna hopefully add in a much better drawing to the next installment. just gotta practice more is all!#also this is my 1st time writing out hobie brown's dialogue with tha accent n everything #lemme kno how i did 👍 i tried not to make the accent TOO cringey to read!

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mudwerks · 1 month ago

Photo

(via Kaspersky deletes itself, installs UltraAV antivirus without warning)

more trouble from Kaspersky

#Kaspersky deletes itself #installs UltraAV antivirus #without warning #tech #security #russian fiddling about

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cdroloisms · 1 year ago

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I think Dream in prison was always going to go poorly because it would require Sam to be as infallible as Pandora's Vault itself, and he's not. He has way too much personal stake in what Dream is doing, and in trying to force himself to be an emotionless machine that abides only the protocol he became a hypocritical wreck that only indulged his vindictive emotions and spiraled out of control trying to keep the situation steady. That's not even addressing how keeping someone in the prison would never be ethical because it's a psychological torture box designed by the psychological torture guy

I mean, I can see the argument that it would've been hard to like. Not make Pandora's Vault unethical, considering the size of the server and the fact that he was the only prisoner etc leading to a situation where yeah, he would've been left alone for long stretches of time no matter what, solitary was kinda inevitable, etc. Like I can see an argument for that. But on principle I feel like the influence that protocol had on the prison arc and on c!Sam specifically tends to be heavily overstated...because a significant portion of the prison arc, honestly, is making the point that the protocol was entirely based on what c!Sam determined.

Like, sure, the prison was always going to suck. c!Dream was never going to come out from it entirely unscathed. But there's a huge fucking difference between what he was prepared for (isolation + shitty food for an unspecified amount of time) and what situation he ended up in (his life at the mercy of two people that showed absolutely no damn qualms about literally torturing him). I think it's very fair to say that yeah, c!Sam was far from an unbiased party, and he was very much emotionally affected to his detriment during the prison arc. But...ultimately? I feel like we really don't see c!Sam struggling to maintain protocol over the course of months only to slowly break down. I don't think we see him "snap" and "lose control." necessarily, in the way that people often act is the case. (The strongest argument, in my opinion, in favor of c!Sam being greatly affected by some stressor that then has him turn to extreme cruelty has little to nothing to do with the prison itself and more to do with his brief stint with the Egg, but with so little attention drawn to that as a cause in the story of the prison itself, I feel like this mostly remains in the realm of speculation.)

Like, if we look at the facts, c!Sam's behavior day one was already weirding people out. Day one and c!Dream is already throwing himself in lava and c!Sam does not seem to give a damn. Of course, both of their behaviors had a myriad of reasons behind them, but it's important to note that there's like literally never been a single moment in the prison arc where c!Sam hasn't been, like, off.

We never see any of c!Ranboo's actual prison visits, but we know these happened very very early in c!Dream's imprisonment and that they were terminated quite early as well, once c!Sam discovered c!Ranboo writing in ender in the prison contracts. However, considering how the inside of the prison was the same between his dream and the real world, it is reasonable to say that c!Sam's behavior in the dream could've also been taken from reality, and "he knows what happens [when he disobeys]" is a hell of a statement to make.

c!Bad's prison visit is when things seem to be seriously off. Even if you consider c!Dream's behavior in this stream as entirely an act, c!Sam is noticeably tense after the prison visit and very demanding about what c!Dream said once c!Bad leaves the cell. c!Dream commenting on food being withheld is consistent with what we know happened in the prison arc later on. c!Sam says that c!Dream has been tossing himself in lava for attention. Several comments are made about "behaving" and "behavior," c!Sam is looking into the installation of an automatic feeder, and visitation is facing restrictions.

Pretty crucially, we see that c!Sam is very comfortable with making changes to the prison. Major changes to the prison, even. Installing an automatic feeder isn't exactly an easy process? And it obviously wasn't outlined in any kind of preexisting protocol. But c!Sam is perfectly willing to change this, just as he's perfectly willing to make all kinds of rules on visitation and limiting visitation because of c!Dream's behavior, etc, (which can reasonably be inferred as not being preexisting rules because that would mean that c!Dream, who allegedly helped with the creation of all of these rules, would be intentionally sabotaging his chances of visitation...when he very evidently wanted people to visit? like sorry but that doesn't make any sense) because he's the Warden and therefore the sole authority of Pandora's Vault and allowed to do literally anything he damn well pleases.

Further, sure, c!Dream might be acting in all the prison visits. Sure, he might be acting In General during this time, etc. But despite disobedience (disobedience with the explicit expressed purpose of trying to get c!Sam to spend more time with him...?) I would hardly characterize almost anything he does during these early days as being anything for c!Sam to be reasonably vindictive over. Even if you consider hopping into the lava (something c!Sam could've solved literally as easily as just raising the netherite barrier), tossing the clock into the lava (also preventable if c!Dream can't access the fucking lava????), and a couple alleged escape attempts (the only one that we know of being him trying to use the lectern to create a nether portal, something hardly easy to do and an attempt that c!Sam very evidently put down quite easily)--like. I can understand him being angry because of what c!Dream had done in the past, and obviously being angry because of c!Dream telling him about exile, but c!Dream early on in the prison arc hardly behaves badly. (Not that bad behavior would justify abuse, but you know.)

By the time of c!Sapnap's prison visit, c!Dream isn't the only one acting weird. c!Sam is strange in ways that are never fully explained and uh heavily imply shady shit??? He's not abiding by protocol when he suddenly interrupts the process of helping a visitor out of the prison by forcing c!Sapnap to respawn in order to check on c!Dream for Some Reason. He's once again very persistent about the question of whether or not c!Dream "said anything" and then reacts strangely when c!Sapnap was able to get him to say a word. He's replaced like a quarter of the obsidian in the cell with crying obsidian, which again, is an instance of c!Sam making BIG changes to the prison without protocol or anything dictating his actions. At most you can maybe make the argument that he's being moved by the spirit of the protocol, that being security should be prioritized over everything (hence potatoes instead of steak, hence no courtyard, hence--in this case--crying obsidian to make the escape attempt ineffective) but it's clearly nothing that they explicitly wrote down.

Also, around this time (I forget the exact date) he explicitly bans c!Ranboo from visiting. Also something we can reasonably assume isn't something that was included in any protocol that c!Dream wrote considering his uh, vested interests in continuing to have an informant.

c!Tommy's visit and that ensuing debacle, of course, is one of the first times we see c!Sam clearly, explicitly acting AGAINST the protocol that was established. The protocol outlines that c!Tommy should have stayed in there for at most a week, and c!Sam explicitly denies him from leaving when the time comes??? Even if you argue that he's doing it "for security", he's doing it in a manner that is going directly against the letter of the law of the protocol that he created with c!Dream. This is a clear demonstration that c!Sam sees himself, and acts as if he is above the law of Pandora's Vault, because, of course, he is the law. He is the Sole Authority. He is the Warden, and he answers to no one but himself. c!Tommy's death obviously ensues in quite the emotional fallout for him, and wanting revenge on c!Dream for this matter motivates his actions later on in the arc...but it's important to consider that mistreatment beyond the scope of what c!Dream expected long preceded this point. c!Sam, immediately after c!Tommy dies, describes himself as thinking that c!Dream's will was too broken to do anything like that. Describes himself as having punished c!Dream in every manner that he could think of. He doesn't go in to feed c!Dream for WEEKS after c!Tommy's death, directly leading to c!Tommy himself being isolated and starved post-revival. He bans visitation. All of these matters hardly seem like matters that c!Dream would have included in the prison protocol that he created when he was planning to be put in that prison, where he specifically had a vested interest in keeping himself (and the book) safe + having, like, FOOD + being able to have visitors in a safe manner + NOT being abused?

And even if we dismiss all of this as c!Sam acting in the best interests of security because c!Dream told him that the security of the prison is more important than anything else (which, even though we know that c!Dream did have this perspective to some degree, still doesn't eliminate c!Sam's responsibility as the one carrying out the existing protocol and making all of these Big Decisions and Big Changes etc to the prison) -- the decision to let c!Quackity into the prison stomps on all of that. That decision completely goes against not only the letter of the damn law that they established together, but the spirit of what the prison was ever meant to be in the first place. He compromises the security of the prisoner and the prison on the DAILY by letting in someone in full gear! With items! And plays a game with chance with c!Dream's life (and the revive book) every damn day. He hardly had enough of a system in place to keep c!Quackity from taking c!Dream's life, and he was certainly unable to stop c!Quackity from landing what would've been a killing blow on c!Techno before he got tp-ed out, like. He completely fucks over EVERYTHING that Pandora's Vault was meant to be, and that was...entirely his decision. Sure, c!Quackity manipulated him, true, but he was not beholden by any protocol or any element of his duty when he made this choice.

This isn't to say that c!Sam wasn't very much emotionally affected and making clouded judgements--he was! Especially if you factor in the stress of other events such as the Egg, etc. But I hesitate to ascribe any element of c!Sam's...c!Samness in the prison arc as him "cracking under the pressure," so to speak. The implications of mistreatment just start too early and are too calculated for me to say that he was simply reacting badly to stressors. I think he was absolutely trying his best to keep the situation "steady," in a sense, but keeping it steady never meant simply being an emotionless guardian to an impenetrable prison who couldn't cope as everything began piling up--keeping things steady, as early as that first month, meant breaking c!Dream into something docile. That was intentional. That was something he was making an active effort to do. Nor do I think that the claim that c!Sam was simply abiding by protocol holds any water, as I outline above: c!Sam has always acted above the protocol established in the prison to the point where even from the first time we see him acting as Warden during that first damn questionaire a specific point is made that he is the ultimate authority on the grounds of the Vault and his word is law. He acted within protocol when convenient to him and trampled over it when convenient to him, and I feel that people can overemphasize the role that protocol played in the decisions he made the same way that he himself did when he was shifting the blame of his own abusive actions onto c!Dream when he had the power, and always had the power, to amend the protocol established in any way he damn well pleased.

Of course, this isn't to say that the protocol was good. It, uh, wasn't--and plenty of people have criticized c!Dream for them even though the prison, as it ended up being used for his plans, was never anything more than a place for him to put himself because of the danger that the rest of the server presented, a base for him to hide in after the prison arc because of its security measures, and a "just-in-case" measure for them to hold their enemies if need be (which he never actually does, even when given golden opportunities to do so: inconsolable differences and the finale come to mind. Even if we're talking about his saw trap in the finale, the plan was to kill one and let the other go free (????????) while also giving them the exact items that could've easily been the keys to their escapes. after c!Tommy and c!Tubbo kill him. but I digress). But c!Sam goes so damn far beyond the protocol established by the "psychological torture guy" that he literally wasn't even beholden to when he was the Warden of the Vault on account of said guy being his prisoner. I don't really see any arguments about c!Sam's behavior having to do with him being too fallible of a man for the job he was given--he does exactly what he wants to do, how he wants to do it, using the job that gives him the power to do so. It's just that "what he wants to do" is not exactly what c!Dream had in mind when he and c!Sam were coming up with the plans for the prison and the protocol that they worked together to create because what he wants to do is, apparently, own a guy and keep him in his hell box. You know?

(i hope this didn't read too aggressively!)

#my asks !!#c!sam critical #long post #apologies on the essay i just have very strong opinions on the use of protocol to justify what c!Sam does #if c!Sam gave a single damn about protocol we would've seen him actually abide by protocol #and meanwhile this guy won't even use the literal built in security measure of the netherite barrier #to solve the problem of c!dream's 'misbehavior' early in the prison arc #when it literally could've solved ALL OF THEM #(jumping into the lava. throwing the clocks into the lava. trying to use the lava to start a fire to start a nether portal)#but then goes BEYOND protocol to install a goddamn glass wall later on just. because #like ??????????#at the end of the day c!sam's actions aren't in line with what pandora's vault was supposed to be mostly just bc he had a different vision #for the prison and the prisoner #and he's c!sam so he's able to justify any amount of human rights abuses in order to do what he thinks is 'right'#including of course killing and murdering his own romantic partner

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