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[the-daily-body]

Man Of Your Dreams

Wallflower Dylan is gifted a new psychedelic from his friend. Used to watching frat bros from afar he finds the pill seems to affect far more than his mind.

Intended this to be plot light but so it goes! Probably going to take this week off to avail myself to other authors entering my Viral Transformation Challenge! The next story will likely be my own take on the theme so look forward to that next week alongside those from a litany of other stellar TF writers! Until then! -Occam

Dylan was fairly straight-laced, going into his senior year of university he hadn’t strayed much at all from class besides tagging along with his friend from high school to some of the more boisterous frat parties. Said friend Tony was quite more of a wild child, often invited himself because he was the source of some of the more illicit substances to be found at these parties. He’d invite Dylan whenever he’d need a more sober pair of eyes, namely if he was planning on rolling or otherwise getting high on his own supply. Despite his mild manner, Dylan always hopped on the chance, going to ragers was supposed to be part of the whole college deal right? And besides, he didn’t mind the chance to ogle brazen men he would under normal circumstances be fearful of making eye contact with.

Knowing of his friend’s meek disposition, and repressed hunger for the most vulgar of men, when Tony hears of a crazy new psychedelic on the market he has a feeling Dylan might finally let his hair loose. Reviews say the stuff makes reality feel like a waking dream. Anything seems possible and to your body it might as well be. Steamier sources swear that dreaming about sex on the stuff is even better than the real thing. Tony, never concerned about side effects of his material, gets straight to hitting up the usual channels to see what he can get and is able to scrounge up a single pill of the stuff. He wonders if he should try it out himself first before deciding he owes his friend at least first dibs.

Dylan is floored at how quickly he agreed to taking the pill. After initially being standoffish at Tony’s suggestion that he use it to fuck frat bros in his mind, once his friend started explaining what he’s heard Dylan couldn’t pass up the opportunity to really live out his fantasy. He’s not going to outgrow being a wallflower, nor is at all confident that any of the performatively masculine men would fuck him. Staring at the pill the only thing holding him back is Tony’s vapid instructions. ‘Just have a blast dude, fuck your way through those bros hah!’ Dylan’s asking about the side effects falls on deaf ears as Tony just crassly humps the air to try to convince his friend to go out on a limb. Despite his qualms and fears, and the lack of confidence inspired by Tony’s actions, Dylan feels sure that his friend wouldn’t give him something actually potentially dangerous.

Holding tight to that misplaced confidence, as soon as Tony departs Dylan pours himself a glass of water and chokes the pill down. The small tablet leaves a metallic taste in his mouth, quickly hidden by the copious amount of saliva and bile starting to rise in the back of his throat as he immediately feels the urge to vomit. Man of will despite appearances, he keeps it down and just as soon scowls as he thinks about the lack of preparation offered by his friend and prepares to tear into Tony as soon as the trip is over. Standing up he feels the room spinning around and murmurs in shock, “su- surely it’s shouldn- work this… fas-” He stumbles over to his bed and falls face down as he feels his body growing sweaty.

Before his well-practiced anxiety response can rise his mind is flooded with every pleasant hormone it’s able to produce. Every muscle in his body tenses and he feels his cock struggle to force itself erect in the awkward position he’s fallen in. Dylan moans as every sensation sends signals so intense and potent that his mind can barely maintain consciousness. Indeed he finds himself struggling to even hold his eyes open as his eyelids grow weighty. Even perfunctory bodily functions feel erotic as he begins to fade, the burning of cold air in his stretching lungs, the sound of his own heartbeat and the warmth of blood coursing through his veins. Drool immediately pools under his head as he crests into a stuporous induced unconsciousness, far too unprepared for what awaits him in his trip, and the new world he is to encounter afterwards.

Dylan is sitting in a chair across from a man he knows too well and not at all. Face to face with Ben Harrington, president of Beta Delta Alpha, Dylan has to push down the immediate rush of fear. Taking a breath he reminds himself that this is a dream, one that Tony swears he should have pretty lucid control over. As the president stands opposed, leaning on nothing he flexes his arms and the pastel button up Dylan usually sees him clad in changes into a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. He smirks as he pushes sunglasses up his face and speaks in a tone intoxicated, under the influence of nothing but Dylan himself. His raspy voice sends a shiver down the meek man’s spine as he feels himself unable to retreat, “So, uhh, Dylan is it?” 

Approaching enough to touch him, Ben puts an arm over Dylan’s shoulder, exposing his clearly unwashed pit. Dylan takes a deep breath and forces his eyes closed from the burning over-stimulation of this man baring down on him. Still, from the sticky breath blowing across the face it's clear he is continuing to inch even closer, “You want me do you?” Dylan gulps as the man gets even closer, Ben’s lips almost touching his own, “Or do you just want to be me?” This takes Dylan out of it as he steps back away from the imposing man. Eyes opening he tries to manipulate the scene as Tony implied he should be able to. The Ben of his mind tilts his head and tsks, “‘Fraid you’re not the one in charge here after all.”

Ben closes the gap once more and throws his arm around the easily manhandled Dylan pulling his body against his own sweat stained form. He smirks and leans in directly to whisper something into the dreamer’s ear, “and if you do really wanna fuck me, well. You’re gonna have to become something more my type. Yeah?” Dylan blinks in surprise, he’s heard of bad trips and the like but something seems decidedly wrong here. Before he’s able to come to any cogent conclusion the dream Ben reaches down his free hand into Dylan’s pants. His sweaty hand instantly wraps around the smaller man’s balls and squeeze. Dylan hasn’t a chance to scream in shock he feels himself lose control. Of his body, his mind, and the world around him as he begins to fall back.

He’s humping the air as he’s falling into an abyss. He doesn’t feel the fear that this descent should evoke. Usually nightmares that turn this way immediately blast him back to consciousness, instead it fills him with adrenaline that only heightens the delight coursing out from his cock. Sure that he’s now laying face down in a pool of his own semen in the real world, Dylan does what he can to focus on the pleasure as intended. 

The sound of wind tearing past him makes him unable to hear his moaning screams as his clothes are shredded by the searing gale. Rapt in delight, the blaring gusts begin to slow. Air caresses him like a full body hug and suddenly he is deposited onto soft ground. Dylan doesn’t quite repose as his body continues convulsing. Cum begins to sprinkle down on him from the plethora of loads released during his descent and he finally finds wherewithal to paw at his crotch. Grasping at his balls he finds them unmistakably larger, “Wha?” No longer falling, Dylan opens his eyes and seems to be back in reality.

Dylan awakens and blearily rubs his eyes with clearly semen stained hands. “Oh what the, ugh- Am I awake?” His eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the lighting of a room that is decidedly not his bedroom. “Can’t be right?” Shaking the mess off his hands without a second thought he stands to his feet with a grunt and feels his cock bobbing, still impossibly rigid. His hands return to this turgid beacon before they almost happenstance fondle his balls. His sluggish mind struggles with how heavy and large they feel, nothing like the ones he has in reality. He smirks as the last words of Ben snake through his mind- “Become something more my type.” Who’d’ve thunk the president was into horndogs.”

Sniffing the air he begins to inspect the room surrounding him. Dirty clothes litter the floor and he finds a pervasive musk filling the air. Something in the back of his mind itches that there should be a can of axe around somewhere to cover it up, which he ignores for a number of reasons. He should be able to will the room to stop stinking. He certainly wouldn't do so with cheap body spray, and for the life of him he can’t bring himself to want to. Each deep breath of the stink he finds himself growing even hornier. Dylan feels his balls churning as he grasps them, he’s already cum a good number of times and yet he still craves release. 

He imagines the firm ass of a frat brother and leans against his dresser he uncontrollably begins to hump once more. Something flickers at the back of his mind yet again and he rips into an open drawer. Throwing clothes onto the pile of dirtied garments already littering the floor, Dylan removes a fleshlight which he proceeds to make exuberant use of. No time for his mind to question why he’s suddenly a top as his cock fills the sex toy more with every grunting thrust. 

Pubes scratch against his thumb as his crotch shifts into one that would instantly render a razor unusable. Likewise hair that has never even had to be controlled on his ass begins to thicken, growing itchy as a true jungle of curls begins to flourish on both sides of his waist. Soon enough his cock grows large enough that the toy is rendered unusable, with a furrowed brow and ungrateful grunt he tosses it to his room leaving it dripping on the floor as he somehow remains just as sexually unfulfilled as when he began, “Fuck I need the real thing…”

The real thing not present Dylan looks down at his cock and gasps as he sees what has become of his package. He doesn’t have a ton of sex but he usually keeps it clean and pretty hairless down there just for his own sake. Beyond the forest of pubes thick enough to get his hand stuck in, he covers his mouth in shock as he sees a veiny cock larger than he’s ever seen on a man with the low hanging massive balls to match. He does his best to focus up on anything besides how horny he is, but as pre continues to trickle from his hardened cock that becomes increasingly difficult. He bites his lip and looks past his throbbing cock at the floor. If he puts it away perhaps it’ll quiet of its own accord.

Dylan doesn’t pay heed to which clothes are clean or dirty as he throws on whatever best could hide his cock from his hands and mind. Nor could he notice just how far cleanliness and decency have fallen as priorities for him as he struggles to fit his package in clearly stained sweatpants. Itching at his waist as his pubes begin creeping up into a treasure trail racing to mee the spreading curls beginning to decorate his chest, his dull awareness finally notices that his whole body has begun changing. His thin arms have clearly put on powerful muscle from his mindless sessions of self-love, veins trailing down them make it difficult for him not to get straight back to masturbating at the thought of his own strength.

Similarly his eyes latch onto a chest that has somehow exploded into pecs without his knowing. Muscle that has never begun to grace his body now jiggles with every movement. He clenches his jaw hard trying to muster willpower not to give into his most basal urges, but as he feels his thighs fill the sweatpants he just threw on he wonders how long he could possibly hold out. His cluttered mind struggles to recall that he is on some kind of psychedelic trip as he fails to remember how long Tony said it would last. Instead swimming through dulling memories the voice of his, er, the frat president speaks up. “Ah god… You’re looking fucking good Big D. How’s your mind hangin’ in there?”

It takes a few moments for the words to sink in before Dylan can reply, “My, unh- mind?” His balls pulse as his eyes dash across the room while he struggles to think. God he’s been struggling to think this whole time. His cock lurches as he’s able to realize that every thought in his mind has been growing increasingly clouded. “Big D?” Dylan can’t help but smirk as his beyond impressive cock strains his sweatpants at being called Big D. He grunts as he tries to shake off the lusty delirium, “Need to chill out. Ugh. Sober up.” He hears the president tsk at him yet again, waiting with bated breath for the mans words his pecs bulge even larger on his chest. “Too late for that bro, just give in. Why have a trip into true unadulterated ecstasy when you can have a lifetime. You can finally be the man of your dreams.” 

As soon as the words of Ben, his president, are spoken in his mind it becomes clear that Big D doesn’t even have the ability to fight back against the ever-present urges that now control his body. He tears off the sweatpants that were barely holding in there as he fully give himself to whatever is calling out for him, the drug, Ben Harrington, whatever. His body bulks beyond measure to become man enough to carry the vulgar package that lies in his crotch. He masturbates into the leg of his sweatpants torn asunder as his torso bulks up, evidence of his endless celebrations as a man of Beta Delta Alpha.

Bestial body hair begins to cover his torso as his beard grows thick and dark. The tangle of hair in his pits thickens and spreads enough that it, nor it’s dominating musk, could ever be hidden. Muscle bulges on his arms large enough to haul kegs and toss out fuckers that get to rowdy at their festivities. Beyond apathetic to manicuring his appearance as he knows he’ll have people lining up at his doorstep regardless of needless things like hygiene or cleanliness he rubs his thick sweat covered thighs and feels how sensitive every inch of his skin has become. 

He smirks as he imagines, recalls rather, how constantly he gets to enjoy the sensual opportunities offered by his new form. He’s got all he needs dangling between his thick thighs and everyone who matters already knows it. The president certainly does. Big D smirks as he thinks of their vacations together on the frat’s dime. He puts his arms behind his head and sniffs his musky pits as he lays in repose, a thick cloud of musky sweat surrounds him as he begins to hear the sound of festivities breaking out on the floor below him and someone’s fervent footsteps racing up the stairs to his den.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and Big D imagines that some couple is looking for an empty room with urgency. He paws at his crotch excited to join in on their fun. Instead he sees some nervous looking guy who freezes as soon as he sees the behemoth, fear in his eyes. “D-Dylan!? I- That drug, there was something, something s-” He stutters and his hands shake as Big D rolls his eyes and stands almost two heads taller than he should over Tony, one of their frat’s little party drug dealers. Still, he wouldn’t have come up here for no reason. Big D silences him with a finger and slams the door shut behind him. Tony’s brow furrows as he looks around the room in confusion. Even his perpetually drug-addled mind can tell something unreal, something impossible has happened to his friend. “That pill can’t have done this right?” Tony takes nervous breaths and Big D’s musk rapidly fills his lungs, distracting him from whatever petty issue brought him in. Who cares about concern when his small cock is beginning to rise from simply standing near the priapic titan.

Big D’s voice rumbles through Tony, making him weak at the knees, “You wanna have some fun don’t you?” The drug dealer can’t help but nod and swallow the drool pooling in his mouth as the bestial Adonis stands over him, cock dripping ever-ready for another round. Tony isn’t sure if he’s started tripping himself or what, but as he begins making out with the frat bro he finds himself not minding as memories of whoever Dylan was disappear. After all pleasure is the most important thing, and no one is better at spreading heady delight than Big D.

[the-daily-body]

Caption Series - Tanned

Jeremy had never been the beach-going type of person. They were just... Boring. He would much rather spend his time in a museum than laying around doing nothing. 

It wasn't like he was in bad shape either. He was handsome and had some decent muscle tone on him, enough to strut around shirtless at the beach if he wanted to.

It just never clicked for him. Friends went and dragged him with them for a good time, but that was always because of the company not the location. That and he'd always burned like anything if he was out in the sun for too long. 

It was a day like any other as far as Jeremy was concerned when his friends came to him with a solution. It was no secret amongst them his feelings on getting sand stuck everywhere and turning red with burns wasn't his favourite, but that was all about to change.

"Listen man, we just want what's best for you. You can't live in Florida and hate the beach though dude, be real, so we think we've got something to fix that." His bro Liam said with a knowing grin.

Jeremy was sceptical to say the least. "What? No amount of money is going to change my opinion suddenly, and if you're going to try and drug me again, the beach is a bad place to do it." He gestured around him at the sand; not that there were loads of people around but that wasn't the point. 

"Nonsense dude." There was a twinkle in Liam's eye as he spoke. "But you'll like this once it's done, promise." 

Jeremy frowned, but didn't get much chance to ask what that meant before a sharp pain scratched his neck. He glanced back to see another friend of his, Kai, holding a syringe that had just finished unloading its contents into his neck. Jeremy frowned and glanced between them, then reached up to grab the injection spot once the needle had been pulled out. 

"Sorry dude, but he's right. You're gonna fucking love this." Kai said with that same cheeky smirk Liam had splashed all over his face. 

A dull, throbbing pain settled into most of Jeremy's body barely a moment later as he held his neck. Everything felt numb as the drug started its work on his body. Jeremy could barely feel a thing, but he could certainly see what was happening. A vague thought of whatever they injected having a sedative in it ran through his head, but it didn't last long. What snagged his attention was the tanned colour of his skin and the size that was packing on underneath it. 

"W-What's...?" Jeremy staggered back a couple of steps as his head spun. "Fuck... Dudes... My head...?"

The world seemed to shift every time Jeremy blinked over the next couple of minutes. Once he's been at eye level with Liam's nose, now he was looking down at his best friend's head. 

"Might want to strip dude, trust me." Kai nodded at Jeremy's chest. 

He blinked once, then frowned again. "Huh? Why?"

"Trust him. You don't want to ruin those clothes do you?" When Jeremy didn't show any signs of doing what he was told by either friend, Liam clapped his hands loudly. "Now dude!" 

That spurred Jeremy into movement. Just as asked he wordlessly started pulling at the loose clothing he wore, which was suddenly not feeling so loose. As he did he took more note of his darkening skin and increasing size; however impossible it was happening.

The final surge of growth hit luckily just as Jeremy threw his underwear off. He swayed on his feet as a huge volume of muscle packed itself onto his now dark body. The weight and the height were too much for him to keep his balance, so Jeremy let himself fall into the soft sand instead of forcing himself to stay standing.

"Jesus... What in the hell just happened??" Jeremy blinked and grabbed his throat. "And why do I sound different?!" 

"Sound?" Liam was on the edge of a laugh. "That's what you're worried about bro? Your voice? Not the body we've given you?"

Jeremy took a second to look down at himself. Really look. Huge in a way he'd never been able to push himself in the gym. Dark in a way that wouldn't burn quite so easily as his formerly pale white skin. Kai and Liam had injected him with something and it had turned him from himself into a huge black dude.

"Come on Jerome, get your black ass up." Kai held a hand out. 

Jeremy frowned. "Who are you calling Jerome? And you still haven't fucking explained bro."

Kai rolled his eyes and glanced at Liam. "It's a temporary shot. 24 hours, and we've got ID for you too. Jerome instead of Jeremy." 

Liam stepped forwards. "If you like it though Jerome, we've got a permanent one back home." He winked. 

"Jerome, fucking hell dudes." He ran his hands over his face and sighed. "Let's just get through the day like this, okay? I kinda dig it already. I'm gonna need some clothes though..." 

Kai and Liam laughed then slapped Jerome on the back. "That's our man! Come on, we've got something beach fitting you can wear!" 

Jerome rolled his eyes then chuckled as his friends pulled him away from the sandy spot and towards their bags. This hadn't been what he expected in the slightest, but maybe he could have fun at the beach in a body like this...

[the-daily-body]

Now that Christopher... sorry... Kris, had become a hot bro, let's talk some more about jockification. Another way Jockification can take place is by a phase described in our facility known as "cocooning". For this phase I'll let Kris' old friend when he was still a nerd, Michael, demonstrate it to you:

Michael was heading to his college Economics class, it was weird cause he didn't see his friend Christopher for at least a few days now... it was weird cause Christopher would usually be punctual and present at all his classes, just like Michael and their friends were.

As Michael entered the room something was off... now where Christopher used to sit, sat a bulked up hulking jock, looking confused at the Economics textbook

Michael uncomfortably sat next to the jock and asked "umm, do I know you?" The jock immediately looked at Michael and grinned "ugh no I don't think so bro! I'm Kris huhuhu, you?" The jock asked while almost unconsciously scratching his bulge. Michael looked kinda disgusted at Kris scratching his bulge but ignored it, "Um I'm Michael, nice to meet you Kris.." he smiled awkwardly.

The Jock looked at Michael and chuckled "great to meet you bro! So I think I'm gunna ditch class huhuhu, this shit feels stupid" he tossed the economics textbook on the ground, Michael was almost shocked but before he could respond Kris said "wanna come bro?" Michael still shocked, responded "absolutely not! I am here to study and I am not your 'bro' so let me focus... class is about to start" Michael looked back to his notebook, Kris just chuckled and said "oh you'll be such a good dumb bro like me soon huhuhu" before Kris headed off and left.

Michael thought nothing of the jocks words and after class he bid some of his friends farewell and went off to his room. When he arrived he went to cook himself some dinner and sat down to do some college work, as time went on he started to feel more and more warm... and oddly more and more horny... Michael wasn't really the type to jerk off every day, maybe once a week at most... it was already Wednesday and he already jerked off on Monday so it's odd that he's horny again... no matter, he guessed his body just needed release and he did have a stressful week so he thought that he might indulge on a quick wank.

He called his book and suddenly he felt the urge to strip, the warmth also helped him to take the decision and he stripped naked and laid down on his bed, his 3" dong already getting harder and harder, Michael couldn't ignore it and started jerking off. He was so lost in his jerk off session that he didn't notice the small inflation of his muscles throughout his body. His stick arms became a small bit muscular, so did his legs, his pecs became faintly visible and as he came his torso contracted and a faint line of abs began to poke out.

Michael soon came down from his orgasm high but noticed that his dick was still hard... and he was still very horny... So without hesitation he continued to jerk off...

This continued throughout the night... Michael couldn't focus on anything else other than his lustful dick, he came and came without stop as he did he obliviously became more and more muscular. He now had lean abs visible with pecs atop of them, he looked like he went to the gym constantly nonstop for the past 2 months and he was just gaining muscle mass, he wasn't like Kris yet... but he sure as hell didn't look like a stereotypical lanky nerd.

This cycle would continue for the next few days and Michael's room essentially became a "cocoon" for his transformation, until it was about Sunday, at this point Michael had been constantly in his room jerking off, only taking occasional breaks to use the bathroom or eat but other than the basic necessities all he focused on was his dick.

Throughout the five days he splurted everywhere, on his abs, on his room's carpets and walls, his room, once adorned with trophies of maths competitions and posters of famous economists and filled with academically focused books was no more. Now what was left was a jock cave, football trophies lay where the past maths competition trophies were, new posters now adorned the walls, those of football legends and sweaty bodybuilders, while his economics books were long gone, replaced with porn magazines.

Michael came down from yet another of his orgasm highs and was instantly hit with the smell of sweat and cum that filled his room. He looked and was even more shocked to see what had become of it. Everything only hit him when he looked at his phone and his eyes went wide "wh... what the fuck... Sunday?!... No... it's Wednesday right??... I... I mean I just sat down for a quick wank..." yup it turned out that Michale didn't even know he was almost in a trance like state while his body was essentially on autopilot for the past 5 days...

What almost knocked him out was how he looked now... he looked like one of the stereotypical jocks... he looks just like Kris! Perfect body... beautifully chiseled abs with a v-line leading to what looks like a... "9" dick?!" He shouted. He continued to study himself and saw two perfectly dominating pecs, extremely muscular legs as if he ran marathons, and beautifully sculpted out biceps on both arms.

He was instantly hit with a headache, he stumbled and fell onto his bed, his cock stood right up to attention and a voice in his head... the voice of Kris... was heard, Kris said "come on bro... you're almost there cum one more time and you'll be such a good dumb jock bro, bro huhuhu" Michael tired to resist "gotta resist.. Can't... cum..." But his body betrayed him, his now large hands grabbed his 9" python and started jerking it more ferociously than ever, his resistance was quickly caught in the pleasure and his mind was divided between pleasure and resisting... "Must... not... cum...." Michael said to himself and it seemed he was almost gaining control of his hands as they slowed down...

But then Kris once again spoke in his mind "bro just give in... remember Christopher... it's me bro! I gave in huhuhu! Life is so much better as a jock bro! Give in dude!" Michaels eyes looked puzzled, he said out loud "Give in?..." He then closed his eyes and the next time he opened them they were full of lust "FUCK YE GIVE IN BRO!" he shouted as his hands began to again ferociously jerking off his cock "FUCK YE BRO!" he roared as he came all over his abs in a cumshot bigger than ever.

Afterwards he looked at his abs "fuck bro... that was hot.... huhuhu" a knock was heard on the doors to his room, Michael didn't even bother to wipe off the cum put he did put on a pair of shorts beside his bed, he opened the room.and in the doorway stood Kris "fuck bro! That was a lot of pent up pressure huhuhu!" He said. Michael grinned "fuck ye bro you know how strong my cumshots are huhuhu" then Kris patted Michael on the shoulder and said "bro you gotta stop jerking off all the time or you'll be missing football training, coach's already pissed off at you cause you missed last training huhuhu, now come on I ain't allowing you to miss this one" Michael nodded, he grabbed a dirty shirt and wiped off his cum with it, he put on a fresh shirt and followed Kris to practice. At practice it seemed like Michael was well fit to his new life as a jock and Kris was extremely proud to have helped Michael to become the best version of himself and his new bro:

[the-daily-body]

Uber Frat

Tom had driven this route a hundred times before. The streets near the university were alive with students barhopping, loud music booming from nearby frat houses. His Uber beeped as a new ride request came in from Delta Sigma Gamma, one of the more notorious frats, known for their cocky jocks and constant partying. He sighed, not particularly excited about the prospect of dealing with another drunk frat boy.

The rider’s name popped up on his phone: Ryan.

"Another one of these guys," Tom muttered to himself, already dreading the ride. At thirty-five, Tom was happy with his life. He was engaged to Sarah, his high school sweet heart, and they were planning their wedding. Driving Uber was just a way to save up a little extra for the wedding. He was a simple guy; routine, stability, and a future with Sarah. He had no interest in wild parties or the frat life he’d never had.

When he pulled up to the massive Delta Sigma house, a shirtless, muscular figure stumbled out, carrying the telltale swagger of someone who had downed far too many beers. Ryan was massive, broad-shouldered, thick arms, chest bursting out of his soaked tank top. His feet dragged a little as he approached the car, and when he opened the door, the powerful stench of sweat and musk hit Tom like a truck.

Ryan collapsed into the backseat, reeking of alcohol, but worse than that, his scent was overpowering, the smell of sweat-soaked skin and dirty gym socks filling the car immediately. Tom gagged but tried to keep it under control.

“Yo, driver!” Ryan slurred, kicking off his sneakers without a care and slapping his socked feet right between the two front seats on the arm rest “Take me to the next bar, bro.”

“Uh, can you put your feet down?” Tom asked, his voice tight with irritation.

Ryan didn’t even glance at him, wiggling his toes lazily. “Nah, man, you’ll get used to it. Just like everyone else. This is how it is when you’re part of the brotherhood.” His voice was thick with drunken confidence, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

“Look, man, I’m just trying to do my job,” Tom said, irritation rising as the smell intensified, like sour sweat and musk combining to form something nearly tangible.

Ryan chuckled, the sound low and mocking. “You think you’re better than us, huh? Driving your Uber, going back to your little pathetic, boring life, playing it all straight and safe. You don’t even know what you’re missing, bro.”

Tom glanced in the rearview mirror, trying to keep his temper in check. “I’m just trying to get you where you need to go.”

Ryan leaned forward; his eyes gleaming. “Yeah, well, maybe where you need to go isn’t where you think. You ever think about that? You’re just waiting for someone to show you the way.”

Before Tom could respond, Ryan started to laugh under his breath, a weird sound emitting from his mouth. The air in the car shifted, growing thick, almost suffocating. Tom felt his heart rate spike as a sudden, intense heat spread through his body, followed by a strange tingling sensation.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tom snapped, panic rising as his muscles began to twitch uncontrollably.

Ryan smirked. “Don’t worry, bro. You’re about to find out what it’s like to really live.”

Tom’s breath caught in his throat as the tingling spread, intensifying into sharp, searing pain. His body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, muscles spasming and bones popping. His hands, gripping the steering wheel tightly, began to thicken before his very eyes. His fingers lengthened, widening as his palms became rough and calloused, swelling with new, brute strength.

“No… what’s happening?” Tom gasped, watching in horror as his forearms bulged, veins popping out against his skin. His arms were growing, muscle piling onto muscle, forcing his sleeves to stretch tight against his biceps and forearms.

Ryan leaned back, grinning. “It’s starting, bro. You’re just getting jacked like the rest of us.”

Tom could feel his chest expanding, pecs pushing out as his once-slender frame grew broader and wider. His shirt strained against the sheer bulk of his chest, the fabric barely able to contain the growing mass of muscle beneath it. His ribs cracked, reforming to accommodate the new size of his upper body.

With a groan of agony, Tom’s spine elongated, forcing him to hunch forward in the seat as his height shot up. His back rippled with new muscle, his shoulders broadening into massive slabs of strength. The pain was unbearable, every bone in his body felt like it was being stretched and reshaped.

“Stop! Please, stop!” Tom begged, his voice shaky with fear, but his words only made Ryan grin wider.

“Why stop, bro? You’re looking real good now. Imagine how much the boys are gonna love you.” Said Ryan as he wiggled his toes.

Tom’s legs began to throb, his thighs thickening, swelling with raw power. His jeans ripped at the seams, unable to contain the bulging muscles that pushed outward. His calves, once average, now bulged with definition, covered in a layer of thick, coarse hair that sprouted up his legs, across his thighs, and up to his groin.

He felt a strange tug in his groin, and his breath hitched as his penis twitched, growing harder, swelling in size. His balls, once normal-sized, ballooned larger, filling with an almost unbearable pressure. The musk of Ryan’s feet, the overpowering scent that had once repelled him, now seemed intoxicating, and Tom could feel a growing hunger building in his chest.

“No… this isn’t me. This can’t be happening,” Tom whispered, his voice deepening, taking on a more masculine, gruff tone.

Ryan wiggled his toes again and crossed his feet, brushing Tom’s forearm along the way “Oh, it’s happening, bro. You’re gonna be just like the rest of us. You’re gonna love being with your bros. Trust me, man, it’s what you’ve always wanted.”

Tom’s mind screamed in protest, but his body continued to betray him. The hair follicles on his chest started to burn as Tom saw in the reflection of the mirror that his faint dark brown hair was turning clearer, taking a golden hue, almost disappearing in his skin. He saw the same happening in his armpits as they grew thicker and denser there. The scent of his own sweat mixed with Ryan’s musk, creating an overwhelming cocktail of testosterone that filled the car.

His abs rippled beneath his torn shirt, each muscle growing more defined until his midsection was a solid, chiseled six-pack. His body was drenched in sweat, the salty tang of it filling the air, and to his horror, Tom realized he didn’t hate the smell. He liked it. He craved it.

His face contorted in pain as his jawline shifted, becoming squarer and more pronounced. His cheekbones sharpened, his nose slightly thickened, and his brow became more prominent. His once-neatly dark brown trimmed hair grew wilder, curlier, messier style that looked perfect for a frat bro.

But the worst was yet to come. Tom’s groin pulsed with heat, his penis swelling to an obscene size. His balls hung low, filled with a primal need, a hunger for something more. His underwear strained to contain the sheer mass of his manhood, and Tom could feel his arousal building, stronger, hotter, and more insistent than anything he had ever experienced.

“No… no…” Tom moaned, but it wasn’t just the size that scared him. It was the desire. The growing lust, not for women, but for men, his bros. The idea of being surrounded by them, feeling their bodies pressed against his, touching, tasting, servicing them, it sent waves of unwanted pleasure through him as he was trying to restraint those foreign pulsion. Tom turned his head back to throw a look of pleading to Ryan, but the only thing he saw between his locks of curly blonde hair was Ryan gripping his own groin through his jeans while licking his lips looking at him.

Inside his mind, Tom was screaming, fighting to hold onto his old self, but his body was changing too fast, too much. His cock twitched, a bead of precum forming at the tip, staining the inside of his underwear turned into a kaki speedo. His new, massive muscles tensed, and every part of him screamed for release.

Ryan watched him struggle, a grin of satisfaction on his face. “You’re almost there, bro. You feel it, don’t you? You need to let go. Just blow it in your speedo, man, and it’ll all be over. You’ll be one of us.”

Tom’s mind rebelled, but his body was beyond his control. The overwhelming musk, the power coursing through his muscles, the heat in his groin, it was too much. He could feel his balls tighten, his cock throb, and his heart race as the tension built inside him.

“Come on, bro, I gave you a chance to really enjoy this all. Way too long…” Ryan urged, his voice low and commanding. “Fuck it, you wanted this. CUM!”

With a shuddering gasp, Tom’s body obeyed. His cock spasmed, and with a grunt of pure, animalistic pleasure, he came hard, his seed spilling into his speedo in a hot, sticky mess. The sensation was overwhelming, waves of ecstasy crashing through his entire body. His muscles flexed, his heart pounded, and his new frat bro self-emerged in full force. As the orgasm was subsiding, Tom’s clothes torn clothes started to vanish into pure manly musk, evaporating straight from his body and pushing the musk in the car even further. Tom stood there, his new kaki speedo damp with his cum. The outline of his huge cock still visible in the dampness of the tissue. Tom trying to find his breath as Ryan was still boringly stroking his cock and riding the hangover of alcohol and musk.

Tom’s conversion was complete, his body now entirely foreign to him, yet every part of it felt strong, powerful, and, worst of all, desperately needy. His new muscular frame was drenched in sweat, his speedo sticky and soaked with his release. His broad chest heaved, the musky scent of his own sweat mingled with the fresh cum soaking his crotch, the stench filling the car.

Tom opened his eyes after a while when his brain could connect the information around him. He tried to move to take a look but to his surprise he couldn’t do anything. IT was like he was frozen on his car seat. As he started to panic, Tom heard Ryan’s voice from behind him as he felt hands on his muscled sweaty shoulders. “I told you you should have let it go and accept it. But no, you had to fight… I’m sorry bro, but if you had accepted the changes, your soul would have been assimilated. Now you’ll have to live your life from the passenger seat. Too bad for a driver to be a passenger of his own life.” Inside, Tom was screaming in pure, abject horror. He could still feel everything, the slick wetness in his shorts, the stench of his own musk, and the weight of his massive muscles. But it was like he had been shoved into a tiny corner of his own brain, trapped as a mere observer while his new frat bro body had taken full control. He could see, hear, and feel, but he was no longer in command. “See? You should have accepted way earlier Tom, or should I call you Carter!”

Ryan leaned forward, inspecting his handiwork, and laughed. “Oh yeah, bro. You’re one of us now. Look at you—fucking perfect. Just wait until the other guys get a load of you.”

Tom wanted to scream, to shout at Ryan, but his body refused to respond. Instead, his lips parted into a cocky grin, and his voice, deep and full of arrogance, spoke words that Tom didn’t want to say. “Hell yeah, man. I’m ready. Let’s fucking go.”

Inside, Tom’s soul wept. He tried to fight, to claw his way back to control, but the frat bro instincts that now filled his brain were stronger, overpowering his old self. He couldn’t stop the way his muscles flexed instinctively, couldn’t stop the pulse of desire that rushed through him at the thought of being with his bros, couldn’t stop the way his cock throbbed with excitement at the idea of being used by them.

Ryan clapped him on the back, his grin wide. “That’s the spirit, bro. Let’s head back to the house, just got a text from Cassidy and she cancelled our date. That’s okay though, looks like our brand-new slut just arrived. The guys are gonna fucking love you.”

Carter shifted in the seat, his large, muscular frame barely fitting in the compact space now. His legs stretched out, thick thighs brushing against the dash as he shifted, adjusting his still-hard cock in his shorts. His skin felt tight over his new muscles, the hair on his chest and legs sticking to his sweaty skin, adding to the overpowering scent that filled the car. His body, now perfect for the frat life, responded instinctively, craving the approval and attention of the bros waiting for him at the house.

After a while, they were both back at the frat house, every step sent a fresh wave of musk into the air, the smell clinging to his skin, marking him as one of them. Tom hated it, despised the way his new body seemed to revel in the scent, in the sheer masculinity of it all.

The door swung open, and the other Delta Sig brothers were already lounging on the couches, drinking and laughing. As soon as Carter walked in, all eyes were on him, and the room erupted into cheers.

“Damn, Ryan, you did a fucking good job on this one!” one of the bros called out, eyeing Carter with a mix of approval and lust.

Ryan grinned, clapping Carter on the shoulder. “Told you guys I’d bring us a new hole to fuck to replace the last one. He’s fucking perfect, right?”

Carter’s frat bro instincts kicked in, and he flexed his arms, showing off his massive biceps with a cocky grin. His body responded to their approval with an almost addictive high, a deep, primal desire to be wanted by them, to be used by them.

Inside, Tom was screaming, but his body was lost in the moment, his cock already twitching in anticipation as the bros crowded around him, patting him on the back, feeling his muscles, and welcoming him into their ranks.

Ryan leaned in close, his voice low and teasing. “You feel that, bro? You’re one of us now. Doesn’t it feel fucking amazing?”

Carter’s mouth opened, and his voice, deep, confident, and undeniably turned on answered, “Yeah, bro. Feels fucking incredible.”

Ryan smirked, satisfied. “Welcome to the brotherhood, man. Now, let’s get you upstairs and really show you what it means to be a Delta Sig.”

As the group led Tom toward the stairs, the weight of his new life fully settled in. Inside, his old self screamed and fought, desperate to break free. But his body, now a slave to the desires of the frat, couldn’t wait to submit to his bros, to be used by them in every way. ______________________________________________________________ Hey guys! Hope you'll enjoy this story based on this prompt from an anonymous: "An Uber driver picks up a drunk guy with smelly feet who taunts him with his scent and tfs him into a bro to go out drinking with." Hope you like it! As always feel free to message me in dms or ask if you want me to write prompts or just talk. Have a good day! :)

[the-daily-body]

More Than a Costume

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[the-daily-body]

I’ve been looking for a fraternity to join at my new college, but none of them have really been letting me in. The only one left seems to be full of horny jocks that are dumber than a bag of bricks. Think you could help me… fit in?

FML: In

As you laid it all out in front of your friend, your plans, your goals, your desires, he just kind of shook his head in disbelief:

“I know that I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but damn that’s disappointing.”

“What’s so wrong about wanting to pledge?” you replied, “It would just make getting connected the university so much easier. Plus, the parties are legendary.”

“No I get it,” he scowled, “but really? Pi Kappa Epsilon?”

“Listen, they weren’t my first choice either. I would have preferred a group a little less… dim.” I knew he wouldn’t leave it there.

“Dim? Dim still implies some light on upstairs. You can just call them what they are: brainless frat bros. They think with their dicks and muscle their way through academics. I can’t believe you’re asking me to use my power for this.” He began walking towards the door.

I called after, “Look, I’ve seen you do crazier shit than this. You turned the guy upstairs into a dog for a week.”

He stopped in the door frame for a minute to chuckle, “If he was going to call the RA a bitch he may as well get first hand experience.”

“Please dude.” I stared at him.

After a moment he relented, “Fine. But are you sure you want this? You want to change for this? A frat?”

“Yes. And I promise I’ll get you into any party you want!”

“Fine. Give me a bit. But remember, you asked for it.”

He returned in a bit and tossed me a necklace from across the room, “Here’s your frat solution. Wear this to your next thing with them at their house.”

You inspected it. It looked like a basic chain necklace like you had seen other guys wear around “And do what? What does it do?”

He rolled his eyes, “And do nothing. It will help you fit into the frat, I promise.”

“No magic words or anything?” I asked.

He grinned, “Oh come on, think of me as better than needing all that crap. Now put it on so you don’t lose it.”

It fits well around your neck, “I’m headed over there tonight, I think it is the last event before they drop everyone. You sure this will work?”

“Trust me,” he says, “You want in the frat? You will be in the frat.”

When you arrive at the frat house, you do feel the necklace almost pulling you inside. It feels warm against your chest as you wander around, talking with some brothers and checking in with your fellow pledges. You get a sense of magnetism from it, like the necklace is pulling the frat house around it towards you. As the party kicks into gear, you focus less on the chain and more on socializing. But whatever it’s effect, it seems to be working. Brothers and other pledges are seeming to stumble over themselves trying to talk with you. Even the pledge master gives a knowing glance and tilts his head in approval. In a little under two hours, you begin to feel more at home in the house, more comfortable in the crowd. Maybe for the first time you feel a sense of brotherhood. So it is a shock when you step into the bathroom to take a piss and take a look in the mirror.

You don’t recognize the face that stared back. You blinked in confusion, assuming you had too much to drink. But no. The stranger in the mirror stared back into your eyes, copying your every move as you tilted your head and inspected your face in awe. The trance broke as you glanced down and saw the truth. Your polo shirt stretched against your chest as two pectorals firmly pushed out, flexing with each breath. Your pants had grown tight around my quads, now a good few inches short. They hugged your ass so tightly you were surprised they hadn’t ripped. Tattoos flowed down your arms, newly ripped and well toned. You noticed for the first time the power you felt coursing through your veins. You could almost feel your skin taut against your muscles as they slowly swelled. You pulled your top off to get a better look at the action.

‘Damn I look good’ you think as you admire the new cum gutters and still developing 6-pack. You try out a few poses in the mirror, just to see the muscles move. The necklace is no joke. No way PKE would drop you now, you looked like you fit right in. But, at the same time, you figured it may be time to get the necklace off. You didn’t want to change too much, and no telling how far it would go. You go for the back of your neck and and start to fiddle with the clasp when the necklace suddenly starts to warm up.

You feel the odd magnetism is no longer subtle. It feels as though the necklace is pulling against the frat house you, drawing it’s very essence towards you. At the same time, the growth within your body stops as the necklace channels all its energy towards your head. The sudden spike hits like a migraine, as you let go of the necklace and go to hold your temples. The necklace wants to finish its work. Your senses are sharpened to a point, as you feel the heat of the bros downstairs, taste cheap beer and seltzers, hear every footstep, see every muscle and bulge, and smell 100 horny men all at once. You feel the pure energy of the fraternity pull through your body as it shapes you. Beneath the pressure, your mind buckles as false memories push their way in. Memories of watching college football on TV. Working out during the summer to become a fucking stud. Playing the field as soon as you got to college. Meeting up with some brothers to get a foot in the door. Getting called a fuckboi for the first time on Tinder. Wearing it like a badge of pride.

Your brain throbbed as the energy reshaped your memories and personality, but your balls churned as it began to adjust your libido. They ached as they swelled to the size of golf balls. Your cock was rigid at attention as you grabbed it with both meaty hands and started to pump. Your body writhed as every stroke only makes the pleasure more intense. You are soon hot with the effort. An aura of testosterone and sweat formed around you as a frat funk sets in deep: a mixture of booze, yesterday’s workout, and cheap cologne. The smell only drives you more wild, and you start to feel your brain short circuit. Your mind, consumed by pleasure, gave into the pressure and lost any remaining will to resist. The necklace pulsed in time with your throbbing cock as it buried the old you. As you reached climax, you knew there was no going back. As you shot your load across the room, a new you was released. A dumb, horny frat bro ready to pledge PKE.

And then the door behind you opened.

The pledge master, apparently worried by how long you had been in here, walked in on your afterglow as you tucked your cock back into your pants.

“Hey man, you okay?” he asked before recoiling a step. You watched as he smelled your rank funk and nearly gagged. You took a step closer.

“Yeah bro, better than ever. What about you? You look like you’re about to vomit.” you said, leaning in a bit closer. You flex your muscles and let your pit stench join the lingering cloud. You feel yourself start to harden again as he tried not to react.

“Bro, you are fucking rank. You smell like a… like a-”

“Like a frat house should?” you taunted. He had stopped recoiling and seemed now to be fighting a different urge.

“I don’t know bro, you should get- get that looked at.”

His eyes were focused on your muscles as you slowly flexed them rhythmically to the music downstairs. I felt the necklace pulling him closer as he fought the urges he is having. Fuck, you remembered that feeling, that pull towards desire. You knew how to help him out though. You grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips to your pecs. As his lips connected with your flesh and tasted the beads of sweat that rolled down your chest, he wrapped his arms around you and began worshiping your muscles. As he kissed and licked every inch of your chest and washboard abs, he gently rubbed against your rigid cock. It wasn’t long before he was licking at the fabric separating his mouth from his prize. But as he reached for the elastic band around your waist, you grabbed his hair and pulled him up.

Your mind reveled in in the power you held in your hands and the pleasure your new frat bro could cause with his mouth. But you only had one thing left on you mind:

“I wanna be in the frat bro.” You said.

He mumbled as his mouth still searched for your flesh, “Yeah man, sure thing. I’ll make it happen. You can be a frat bro. Just please let me suck on your-“

“No,” you boomed. You pulled him out of the bathroom and into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind you. You grabbed his ass as he grew limp in your hands, “I want to be in the frat bro.” You slip your hand beneath his gym shorts and begin slowly finger fucking his tight, straight hole.

He understood his place as he slipped off his shorts and underwear, leaving his cheeks on full display.

He moaned like he was in heat, “Yeah bro. Please. I would be so honored.”

You bent him over and spat in his quivering hole before you pressed your cock against him. You didn’t wait for him to relax as you slammed your cock as deep as you could and watched him yelp in surprise. As you slowly sped up and heard him start to moan, you felt the necklace once again start to warm against my chest as its power flowed through your cock and into the bro beneath you. He too began to sweat with the funk of the frat as was remade in its image under your guidance. He was going to become just as unified with PKE as you were.

[the-daily-body]

Stinky and his new jock plaything

Another AI generated story. The following prompts were given to create the following story.

Create a NSFW story featuring Stinky from 'Caspar' possessing a hot jock and exploring his new body

Include things such as BO, green snot etc Include dialogue and explicit language i.e cock, fuck, load cum NOTE: This has been slightly edited with bits and pieces copied together as the AI had to regenerate certain parts.

Stinky, now fully in control of Jake's hot jock body, cackles as he gazes at his new form in the mirror. The sight of the chiseled muscles and flawless skin makes him snicker with wicked glee. "Aw, look at this beefcake!" he exclaims, his voice dripping with a thick New Jersey accent. "Time to get real dirty, huh?"

He begins to strip off Jake's clothes, letting each piece fall to the ground carelessly. Naked and fully aroused, Stinky flexes Jake's muscles, marveling at the sheer power of the body he's now inhabiting. "Oh yeah, this is what I'm talkin' about," he mutters, running his hands over the firm pecs and abs.

Stinky then grins wickedly and shoves a finger up his nose, fishing out a long strand of green snot. "Let's see how this feels," he says, smearing the slimy substance over Jake's throbbing cock. "Nice and slick, just the way I like it."

As he starts to stroke himself, he revels in the sensation, groaning with pleasure. "Oh, fuck yeah," he grunts, the scent of Jake's potent body odor filling the room. "This is so fuckin' hot."

But Stinky isn't satisfied yet. With a nasty chuckle, he reaches under Jake's armpit and scoops up a handful of sweat, mixing it with the snot on his cock. The combination of the slimy mucus and pungent sweat makes for a filthy, arousing lubricant.

"Aw, yeah, that's the stuff," he says, stroking faster. "I'm one dirty son of a bitch, ain't I?"

The stench of Jake's body intensifies as Stinky continues to pleasure himself, the pungent aroma driving him wild. "Fuck, I'm such a filthy fleshie," he groans, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "But I love it. I fuckin' love it."

With each stroke, Stinky gets more into it, his moans echoing off the walls. "Oh yeah, baby," he pants, his voice thick with desire. "I'm gonna cum so fuckin' hard in this dirty, disgusting body. It's gonna be fuckin' epic."

As he reaches his climax, Stinky lets out a guttural roar, his body convulsing with pleasure. "Fuckin' take it, Jake!" he shouts, the filthy words echoing through the room as he finally cums, coating his hand and belly with his load. "That's how you do it, you filthy fuck!". BONUS PT. 2. STINKY WANTS TO GOON Prompt: Possessed jake decides to goon his cock. he starts gooning, talking mindless like a low iq himbo about gooning. He also pulls a gooning face i.e drooling, eyes rolling back and tongue sticking out

Stinky, still reveling in his possession of Jake's body, decides to take things up a notch. With a wicked grin, he heads to Jake's bedroom, eager to indulge in some serious gooning.

As he sits on the edge of the bed, Stinky grabs Jake's throbbing cock, feeling the familiar rush of arousal course through him. "Oh yeah, bro," he mutters in Jake's low IQ himbo voice, "time to goon this big boy."

With a mindless grin plastered on his face, Stinky starts to stroke Jake's cock slowly, savoring every sensation. "Feels so good, bro," he mumbles, his voice thick with lust. "Just gotta keep strokin'."

Stinky's eyes roll back into his head, a trail of drool escaping his open mouth as his tongue lolls out. He's completely lost in the pleasure, his movements becoming more frantic as he goons himself with abandon.

"Can't stop, bro," Stinky grunts between strokes, his voice a low, guttural growl. "Gotta keep goonin'. So fuckin' close."

Beside him, possessed Jake's body twitches and convulses, his eyes glazed over and unfocused. Drool drips from the corner of his mouth as his tongue hangs limply from his lips.

Stinky's pleasure builds to a fever pitch, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he nears his climax. "Fuck yeah, bro," he moans, his voice echoing through the room. "Gonna blow my fuckin' load."

And with one final, mindless stroke, Stinky reaches his climax, his body convulsing with pleasure as he unleashes a torrent of hot cum. "That's how you fuckin' goon, bro!" he shouts, his voice tinged with triumph.

[the-daily-body]

Somethings up with Jack

AI GENERATED STORY.

PROMPT: HOT DILF IS POSSESSED BY A HORNY FRAT BOY

As Jack, a muscular and ruggedly handsome dad in his early forties, moved the last box into the old frat house, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. The air felt thick, almost electric, as he stood in the living room, surrounded by relics of a bygone era of frat parties and wild nights.

"Guess this place still has some of that frat magic," Jack chuckled to himself, wiping the sweat off his brow. Just as he finished, an eerie chill ran down his spine, and a sudden surge of energy flooded through him. His vision blurred, and he stumbled, gripping a nearby chair for support.

"What the hell..." he muttered, but his voice sounded different—like someone else was speaking through him.

"Bro, what is this feeling?" he heard himself say, but it wasn't his usual voice. It was deeper, more confident, and undeniably that of a frat bro. "Whoa, I'm in a totally jacked dad bod, dude!"

Jack's hands moved on their own, exploring his broad chest and sculpted abs. He flexed his biceps, admiring the strength he now possessed. "Fuck, bro, this is amazing! I'm a total dilf, bro. Look at these guns!"

He caught sight of himself in a dusty mirror and grinned, his reflection showing a man who was both Jack and not Jack. The frat bro spirit had fully taken over, and it was relishing every moment in this new body.

Just then, Jack's phone rang, startling him out of his self-admiration. It was his wife, Emily. He hesitated, trying to remember how to act like the old Jack.

"Uh, hey, honey!" he said, his voice a poor imitation of his former self. "Everything's, uh, great here. Just... unpacking, you know?"

"Jack, you sound strange. Are you okay?" Emily's concerned voice came through the phone.

"Yeah, babe, totally fine! Just, uh, a bit tired. Moving all these boxes and shit," he replied, his frat bro persona slipping through. "Listen, I gotta... I gotta go, something came up. Talk later, okay?"

Before she could respond, he hung up abruptly, his mind already consumed by a different kind of urgency. His eyes glazed over with lust as he stripped off his clothes, eagerly exploring his body with a newfound hunger.

"Fuck, this feels so good, bro," he moaned, his hand wrapping around his throbbing cock. He began to stroke himself with fervor, every touch sending waves of pleasure through his body. "Gonna blow a huge fucking load, dude. This body is insane."

Jack's strokes became faster and more desperate, his moans growing louder. He imagined the frat parties, the wild nights, the endless hookups. The spirit inside him was living out its fantasies through Jack's body.

"Oh, fuck, bro, I'm gonna cum," he groaned, his muscles tensing as he neared the edge. "This is gonna be epic!"

With a final, primal roar, Jack's body convulsed in pleasure. He came hard, his cum spurting out in powerful jets. The ecstasy was overwhelming, leaving him breathless and satisfied.

As he lay there, panting and covered in his own cum, the frat bro spirit reveled in its new host, ready for more adventures in this unexpectedly perfect body...

It had been a few days since Jack had moved into the old frat house, and the frat bro spirit within him was growing more powerful, more insatiable. Jack's once orderly life had turned into a haze of lust and pleasure, each day more intense than the last.

Today was no different. Jack found himself in front of the mirror again, admiring his muscular form. The spirit inside him craved another session, another plunge into mindless ecstasy.

"Fuck, bro, can't get enough of this body," Jack muttered to himself, his eyes already glazing over with desire. "Gotta goon out, dude. Just need to feel it, need to lose myself."

He stripped off his clothes, the anticipation making his heart race. His cock was already hard, twitching with the promise of pleasure. Jack's hands moved to his nipples, pinching and twisting them, sending jolts of pleasure through his body.

"Yeah, bro, that's it," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he started to drool, completely lost in the sensations. "Fuck, I need this... need to goon so bad."

He dropped to his knees in front of the mirror, his hand wrapping around his cock. He stroked it slowly at first, savoring every touch. His free hand roamed over his chest and abs, feeling the hardness of his muscles.

"Penis... fuck, bro, my cock is so fucking hard," Jack babbled incoherently, his voice slurred with pleasure. "Gooning out... feels so good. Can't stop, don't wanna stop."

His strokes became faster, more erratic. He was drooling heavily now, his saliva dripping onto his chest. His eyes rolled back again, only the whites visible, and his entire body trembled with the intensity of his arousal.

"Yeah, bro, gonna cum so hard," he moaned, his voice barely intelligible. "Gooning... all about the penis, bro. Fucking love this... love my cock."

Jack's moans turned into cries of pure ecstasy as he reached the peak of his pleasure. His body convulsed, his hand moving faster and faster on his cock. With a final, guttural groan, he came hard, his cum splattering onto the floor and his chest.

He stayed there on his knees, panting and drooling, completely spent. The frat bro spirit inside him was elated, reveling in the shared ecstasy. Jack's mind was a blur, consumed by the pleasure he had just experienced.

"Fuck, bro, that was epic," he murmured, a blissful smile on his face. "Can't wait to do it again. Gooning out is the best, dude."

And with that, Jack knew that his days would be filled with more of the same—endless pleasure, mindless ecstasy, and a deep, insatiable craving for more. The frat bro spirit had found its perfect host, and it wasn't going to let go anytime soon. BONUS PART: JACK FINDS A TWINK

A few nights later, Jack found himself standing in front of his closet, looking for the perfect outfit. The frat bro spirit inside him was restless, eager to get out and mingle. He grabbed a loose muscle tank that accentuated his muscles, a pair of gym sborts, and some sneakers. With a backward cap completing the look, he smirked at his reflection.

"Looking good, bro. Time to hit the club and find some action," Jack said, his voice full of frat bro confidence.

At the popular downtown club, the music was pounding, and the dance floor was packed with bodies. Jack made his way to the bar, ordering a drink and scanning the crowd. His eyes locked onto a young, slim guy with a baby face and stylish clothes. The twink was staring at Jack, an intrigued look in his eyes.

Jack took a swig of his drink and made his way over, his swagger undeniable. The twink raised an eyebrow as Jack approached, clearly amused.

"Hey there, bro," Jack said, flashing a charming smile. "What's a cutie like you doing in a place like this?"

The twink looked Jack up and down, a smirk playing on his lips. "Aren't you a little too old to be here?" he teased.

Jack chuckled, leaning in closer. "Age is just a number, dude. Plus, I couldn't resist coming out when I knew someone as hot as you would be here."

The twink blushed slightly, but his smirk remained. "You're pretty confident, aren't you?"

"Confidence is key, bro," Jack replied smoothly. "And I know what I want. How about we get out of here and find somewhere more... private?"

The twink's eyes sparkled with curiosity and desire. "Why not? Lead the way, old man."

Jack's grin widened as he took the twink's hand, guiding him through the crowd and into the bathroom. They found an empty stall, and Jack wasted no time pushing the twink against the wall, their lips crashing together in a heated kiss.

"Fuck, you're hot," Jack growled, his hands roaming over the twink's slim body. "Can't wait to feel you."

The twink moaned softly, his hands clutching at Jack's shirt. "You're pretty hot yourself, for an old guy."

Jack smirked, yanking down the twink's pants and underwear. "I'll show you what this old guy can do, bro."

He dropped to his knees, taking the twink's cock into his mouth, sucking eagerly. The twink gasped, his hands tangling in Jack's hair.

"Oh, fuck… that's good," he moaned, his hips bucking slightly.

Jack worked his mouth expertly, his frat bro persona fully in control. He knew exactly how to bring the twink to the edge, but he pulled back before the twink could cum.

"Not yet, bro. You can't cum until you've taken my load," Jack said, standing up and turning around the twink around, feeling up the twinks ass.

Jack didn't hold back. He grabbed the twink, bending him over the sink. He spit into his hand, slicking up his cock before pressing it against the twink's entrance.

"Ready for this, bro?" Jack growled, his frat bro spirit fully in control.

"Fuck, yes, daddy. Do it," the twink gasped, pushing back against Jack.

Jack didn't need any more encouragement. He thrust forward, burying himself deep inside the twink. Both of them groaned at the sensation, Jack's hands gripping the twink's hips with bruising force.

"Fuck, you're tight," Jack snarled, starting to thrust hard and deep. "Gonna fuck you so good, bro."

The twink moaned loudly, his body trembling with pleasure. "Yes, daddy! Fuck me harder!"

Jack's pace increased, his cock pounding into the twink relentlessly. The sound of their bodies slamming together filled the bathroom, their moans echoing off the walls.

"You're gonna take all of me," Jack growled, his voice rough with lust. "Gonna fill you up, bro."

"Yes, daddy! Fill me with your cum," the twink begged, his hands gripping the sink tightly.

Jack's thrusts became more erratic, his body tensing as he neared his climax. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum, bro," he panted, his grip tightening on the twink's hips.

With a final, powerful thrust, Jack came, filling the twink with his hot load. The sensation pushed the twink over the edge, and he came hard, his cum splattering onto the sink.

They stayed there for a moment, catching their breath. Jack slowly pulled out, admiring the sight of his cum leaking from the twink's hole.

"That was fucking hot," the twink said, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Yeah, bro, it was," Jack agreed, giving him a playful smack on the ass. "We should do this again sometime."

The twink chuckled, giving Jack a wink. "Maybe we will, old man. Maybe we will."

As Jack left the club, the frat bro spirit inside him was already looking forward to the next adventure, the next conquest. This body was his playground, and he intended to enjoy every moment of it. BONUS: MORE FRATBOY JACK

[the-daily-body]

Filo Shenanigans

AI GENERATED STORY PROMPT OUTLINE: FILO HUNKS GETS POSSESSED BY AUSSIE GHOST

Miguel was a hot Filipino hunk, his body sculpted to perfection, every muscle defined under his caramel skin. His days were filled with admiration from men and women alike, but tonight, his life was about to change forever.

As Miguel lay in bed, a strange chill filled the room. His body convulsed, his eyes rolling back into his head as an Australian ghost, driven by insatiable lust, took possession of his body. Miguel's soul went dormant, and when he opened his eyes, they gleamed with a new, wicked light.

"Well, fuck me dead, this is a bloody nice rig!" the ghost said, testing out his new, Australian-accented voice. He stood in front of the mirror, flexing his biceps, tracing his hands over Miguel's abs. "Look at this hot piece of meat. Damn, I'm a stunner!"

He grinned, running his hands down to the bulge in his shorts. "Gotta see what kind of cock I've got here," he muttered, pulling down his shorts and revealing a massive erection. "Bloody hell, look at the size of this thing. This giant filo cock is fuckin' beautiful."

The ghost, now fully in control, began to stroke his new member, slowly at first, relishing the sensation. "Oh, fuck yes," he groaned, his voice echoing in the room. "This is what I needed. Feels so fuckin' good."

His strokes quickened, his grip tightening around the shaft. "Fuck, I'm so hot. Look at this body, this cock. Gonna blow a massive load," he panted, his eyes fixed on his reflection, his new accent thick with lust.

With a guttural moan, the ghost brought himself to the edge, his hips thrusting into his hand. "Here it comes, mate. Fuckin' cumming!" he shouted, his body tensing as he shot streams of cum all over the mirror, his reflection grinning back at him.

Breathing heavily, the ghost admired his handiwork. "Bloody fantastic," he said, wiping the cum from the mirror with a satisfied smirk. "This body is mine now, and I'm gonna enjoy every fuckin' second of it."

Miguel, still under the control of the horny Australian ghost, walked back to the mirror. His new body glistened with a thin layer of sweat, highlighting every muscle and vein. He flexed his biceps, turning to admire his broad shoulders and powerful back.

"Guess I can speak Tagalog now," he said, his voice still carrying the Australian twang but now seamlessly shifting into fluent Tagalog. "Tingnan mo ang katawan na ito, sobrang init." (Look at this body, so hot.)

He continued to admire himself, running his hands over his chest and abs. "Ang ganda ng muscles ko, sobrang tigas." (My muscles are beautiful, so hard.) His hands moved lower, teasing the edge of his shorts. "Ang laki ng titi ko, gustong-gusto kong magbate." (My cock is huge, I really want to jerk off.)

Just as he began to stroke his cock again, Miguel's phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID – it was his friend, Marco. With a wicked grin, he answered, not stopping his movements.

"Hey, Marco," he said, trying to mimic Miguel's usual tone. "Ano'ng ginagawa mo?" (What are you doing?)

"Miguel, bro, okay ka lang ba? Parang iba yung boses mo." (Miguel, bro, are you okay? Your voice sounds different.)

"Never felt better, mate," Miguel replied, suppressing a groan as he continued to stroke himself. "Just enjoying the... finer things in life."

"Sigurado ka? Para kang pagod." (Are you sure? You sound tired.)

"Pagod? Hindi, sobra akong energized." (Tired? No, I'm very energized.) He emphasized the word with a particularly firm stroke, his cock pulsing in his hand. "Actually, I feel like I could go all night."

Marco hesitated. "Baka may kailangan ka, bro? Mukhang kailangan mo ng tulong."

"Help? Oh, I'm getting all the help I need," Miguel replied, his voice thick with lust. "Everything's coming together perfectly."

"Parang kailangan mo ng pahinga, Miguel. Mukhang kailangan mong magpahinga." (It sounds like you need rest, Miguel. Maybe you should take a break.)

"Oh, don't worry, Marco," he said, barely able to contain his moans. "I'm getting plenty of... release. Everything is just... perfect."

As he hung up, Miguel's strokes became faster, his reflection in the mirror showing a man lost in pure ecstasy. "Oh, fuck yes," he groaned, his body tensing as he neared climax. "Ito na... lalabasan na ako!" (Here it comes... I'm cumming!)

With a final thrust, he shot his load all over the mirror, his body shaking with pleasure. Panting, he admired his reflection once more. "This body is mine," he said, his voice a mix of Australian and Tagalog. "And I'm going to enjoy every fucking second." BONUS PT. SHOE SHOPPING

Possessed Miguel strolled into the quiet shoe store, his muscular frame immediately catching the eye of the young, lithe assistant behind the counter. The twink, Ethan, couldn't help but stare, his eyes lingering on Miguel powerful legs, broad shoulders and sexy feet.

"G'day, mate," Miguel said, his Australian accent thick and playful. "I'm lookin' for some new slides. Got any recommendations?"

Ethan, clearly flustered, nodded quickly. "Y-yes, sir, right this way."

Miguel followed Ethan to the back of the store, where the assistant displayed a selection of slides. Miguel took his time, making a show of slipping off his shoes and flexing his toes. He caught Ethan's gaze fixed on his feet and smirked.

"Size eleven, yeah?" Miguel said, raising an eyebrow. "You got these in my size?"

Ethan stammered, "I-I think so. Let me check."

Miguel spread his toes, wiggling them seductively. "You like what you see?" he asked, his voice low and inviting.

Ethan blushed, barely able to meet Miguel eyes. "Uh, y-yes, they're very... nice."

Miguel grinned, slipping his feet into a pair of slides and flexing his calves. "Why don't you come closer, have a proper look," he suggested.

Ethan hesitated, then stepped closer, his eyes fixed on Miguel sexy feet. "They look perfect on you," he murmured, his voice trembling with excitement.

Miguel leaned in, his breath hot against Ethan's ear. "Glad you think so. How about you help me try 'em on properly?" He lifted his foot, placing it on a nearby stool, and let Ethan's fingers graze his skin.

Ethan's hands trembled as he adjusted the slides, his touch lingering on Miguel's smooth, muscular legs. "They're really... perfect," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

Miguel's voice dropped to a husky murmur. "You like touching them, don't you?" He placed a hand on Ethan's chin, lifting his gaze. "What about the rest of me?"

Before Ethan could respond, Miguelk pulled him into a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring Ethan's mouth. Ethan melted into him, his hands roaming over Miguel's sculpted chest.

"Let's take this out back," Miguel whispered, his voice dripping with lust.

In the back room, Miguel pressed Ethan against the wall, his hands sliding down to undo the assistant's pants. Ethan's breath hitched as Miguel's fingers teased his entrance. "Oh, fuck," he moaned. "Please, fuck me."

Miguel grinned, positioning himself. "You want this?" he murmured, his cock hard and ready.

"Yes, fuck yes," Ethan begged, his body trembling.

Miguel entered him with one powerful thrust, their moans echoing in the small room. "Fuck, you're tight," Miguel growled, his hands gripping Ethan's hips.

Ethan's moans grew louder as Miguel pounded into him, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through them both. "You're so fucking hot," Miguel panted, increasing his pace.

"Yes daddy, yes, fuck me harder," Ethan cried out, his nails digging into Miguel back.

As Miguel felt himself nearing climax, he pulled out, turning Ethan around. "Show me how much you want it," he said, his voice commanding. Ethan knelt before Miguel, taking the massive cock into his mouth, sucking eagerly. Miguel's hands guided him, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. "I'm gonna cum," Miguekl's groaned, pulling back at the last moment. It took Miguel all his will power to not cum in that very moment.

Ethan stayed on his knees, his eyes fixated on the muscular man's feet. He couldn't resist his fetish any longer. "Your feet are so fucking sexy," he whispered, leaning down to worship them.

Miguel smirked, watching Ethan's tongue flick out to lick his toes. "You love my feet, don't you?" he said, his voice thick with arousal.

Ethan moaned in response, his hands stroking Miguel's feet as he began to jerk himself off. He couldn't hold back, his cum splattering all over Miguel's feet. Without missing a beat, Ethan leaned down, licking his own cum off Miguel's toes.

Miguel's groaned at the sight, his cock throbbing with need. "Good boy," he murmured, guiding Ethan back up. He took his cock in hand and began to stroke it furiously, his eyes locked on Ethan.

"I'm gonna cum," Miguel growled, his hand moving faster. With a final, powerful thrust, he shot his load all over the new slides.

Miguel grinned, satisfied. "Good boy," he murmured, lifting Ethan's chin for another kiss.

Miguel adjusted the slides, feeling the sticky warmth of his own cum beneath his feet. Miguel grinned, pulling up his pants. "Told ya you'd love it," he said, giving Ethan a playful smack on the ass. "Thanks for the slides, mate, perfect fit"

With a confident stride, Miguel walked out of the store, the new slides on his feet and a satisfied smirk on his face. Miguel couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Possessing this body was turning out to be even more enjoyable than he had imagined.

[the-daily-body]

A young man and college student finds a software capable of turning his roommate and friend into Billy from stranger things, a fictionnal character he's been fantasizing about for a long time. But would he be capable of deceiving his friend and sacrificing him to turn him into his own selfish desires, entirely someone else for good ? What price will he have to pay ?

The Price of Desire

Eric stared at the glowing screen of his laptop, a strange sense of excitement bubbling up inside him. He had stumbled upon a program unlike anything he’d ever seen—an obscure piece of software with a power that felt more like dark magic than modern technology. It claimed it could transform anyone into anyone else, real or fictive, physically and mentally, down to the last detail. A fantasy that should have remained locked in the recesses of his mind was suddenly within reach.

Billy.

The bad boy from Stranger Things who had captivated Eric ever since he'd first laid eyes on him—Billy, with his chiseled body, wild hair, and untamed confidence, everything Eric longed for. Billy, with his alpha attitude and carefree behavior. Billy with his over-the-top sex life and don’t give a shit personality. And now, here was this impossible opportunity, lying right in front of him. The catch? The person to be transformed had to be someone Eric knew personally and was closed to. Being far away from everyone he loved because of the college, that meant it could only be one person: his roommate, Jake.

Jake had been Eric’s roommate and best friend since freshman year—kind, loyal, and completely oblivious to the fantasies Eric had buried. Could Eric really do this? Could he trick Jake into becoming... someone else? The more he thought about it, the more he was torn apart between his fantasy and his loyalty. Jake had always been there for him, he was his best friend, a good student, loved by everyone. The more he thought about it, the more he was starting to realize what that meant. But one glance at Jake sleeping on his bed and then at the picture of Billy on his computer was enough to send Eric into overdrive. And if anything, it could be reversed by the end of the night. Yes, Eric had to do it.

He started to enter the parameters:

Billy Hargrove, white tanktop and pair of jeans, alpha, dominant, horniness level max.

The temptation to press enter right away was unbearable. After hours of agonizing over it, Eric decided to do it. He told himself it was just curiosity, just to see if it worked. The transformation would be reversible, he reassured himself. Right?

______________________________________________________________

At first, nothing happened. Then Jake's body began to twitch. His limbs spasmed violently, and he let out a low groan in his sleep. Eric watched in horrified fascination as Jake's skin started to shift—bronzing slightly, taking on that signature sun-kissed tone Billy was known for. A thin sheen of sweat broke out across Jake's body, highlighting the rapid changes underneath.

Jake's face was the first thing to shift—his features contorting as though invisible hands were reshaping him like clay. His jawline sharpened, becoming more angular and pronounced. His cheekbones lifted, while his nose restructured, growing slightly broader. His lips thickened just a little, curling into a sneer even as he slept. The bones beneath his face crackled audibly, like distant fireworks.

Then came his body. Jake’s chest began to heave, his shirt tightening as his pecs swelled, muscles bulging outward. His arms thickened, biceps ballooning in size as veins snaked along his skin, stretching taut over the rising muscle. His stomach contracted, fat burning away in an instant to reveal an impressively sculpted six-pack. The definition of every muscle was becoming impossibly sharp, like a body sculpted by the gods themselves.

Eric’s eyes widened as Jake's legs extended, lengthening and thickening with sinew. His thighs bulged under the fabric of his jeans, his calves now heavy and sculpted with muscle. The feet at the end of his long legs morphed, growing wider, larger, more imposing. Even his toes seemed to rearrange, becoming more masculine, rougher.

As the transformation progressed, dark blonde hair sprouted rapidly across Jake’s chest, arms, and legs. The hair on his forearms thickened into a rough, virile coat. A trail of coarse hair formed on his lower abdomen, leading down below his waistband. His groin was what transformed the most as a the thick dirty blonde curly pelt he now sprouted. His entire body had taken on that wild, untamed look of pure alpha masculinity.

Eric’s gaze drifted lower, his face flushing as he noticed the bulge in Jake’s pants swelling. Jake’s cock was growing larger, thicker, pushing out against the tight fabric. His nuts, too, seemed to hang heavier, the very size of his masculinity amplifying as he transformed.

A violent jerk shook Jake’s body, and his hair began to change next. His once-short, brown locks sprouted rapidly, curling into wild, sun-bleached waves. His hair grew longer, thick and unruly, cascading down to his shoulders in messy, sweaty strands. The familiar mop of Billy’s iconic hairstyle now crowned Jake’s transforming head.

As the final changes solidified, Jake’s groans deepened into something more primal. His posture changed, becoming more confident, more aggressive, his body brimming with raw power. The scent of musk filled the air, an intoxicating mix of sweat and testosterone that radiated off Jake’s pits, cock and feet.

But the worst part was Jake’s face. His once-soft, friendly expression twisted into a cocky, arrogant smirk, the same one that Billy always wore. The fear and confusion in Jake’s eyes dimmed, replaced with the cold, predatory gleam that belonged entirely to Billy Hargrove.

Jake’s body suddenly tensed, his eyes snapping open. “Fuck... what the hell?” His voice was deeper now, rougher, dripping with Billy’s signature bravado. He looked down at his new body, running his hands over his muscled chest and abs covered by his musky white tanktop, feeling every ridge, every bulge of strength. His cocky grin widened but his eyes still were surprised and scared of what he was seeing. He tilted his head away from his huge pecs and hard abs to look at Eric. Jake then tried to open his mouth to ask for help but before he could do it, his pupils contracted and dilated, now lacking the fear and full of confidence and horniness.

Eric stood frozen, unable to move, unable to speak.

Billy flexed his arms, admiring his muscular frame. He glanced at Eric, his sneer deepening.

“Damn… looks like I’m fuckin’ perfect,” Billy said, his voice full of arrogance. He stretched, his thick biceps rippling with power. His eyes locked onto Eric, sizing him up like prey. “Gotta say, man, I feel fuckin’ good.”

Eric’s heart pounded. This wasn’t Jake anymore. His friend was gone, erased by the monster standing before him. And yet, despite his horror, Eric felt an undeniable attraction to the imposing figure in front of him—the very object of his darkest fantasies come to life.

Billy got off the bed and took a step toward him, his swagger undeniable, oozing dominance. “You do this?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. When Eric didn’t respond, Billy chuckled darkly. “Yeah, you did. I can see it in your fuckin’ eyes.”

In a swift motion, Billy grabbed Eric by the shirt and shoved him onto the bed. Eric gasped, his heart racing as Billy towered over him, his cocky grin never wavering. His heavy boots thudded on the floor as he approached taking off his tanktop then slowly pulling off the belt of his well-used pair of jeans, the leather slipping through his fingers with a sharp hiss.

“You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? Wanted me?” Billy said, his voice dripping with contempt and amusement as he grabbed the pack of cigarette from his back pocket and lighted one up. He tossed the belt aside and ran his hand over his crotch, his bulge pressing aggressively against the fabric. “Well, now I’m here. You got what you wanted.”

Eric could hardly breathe. Billy’s eyes gleamed with malicious delight as he reached down, picking up the device Eric had used for the transformation. Eric’s stomach dropped as he saw Billy’s fingers swipe across the screen, entering something into the software.

Billy looked down at Eric, his grin widening. “You think this game’s over, man? Nah. We’re just gettin’ started.”

Eric’s eyes went wide as Billy held the device up, revealing what he had typed in:

Steve Harrington, slut, passive , slaved to Billy, Ahoy uniform.

With a chilling smirk, Billy tossed the device aside, leaning over Eric, his breath hot on his face as he grabbed Eric’s growing hair and forced his unwashed uncut cock in his mouth as his face was starting to rearrange. “Now, let’s have some real fun, huh?”

The last thing Eric saw was Billy’s cold, blue eyes and that cocky, knowing grin, as the reality of what he had unleashed crashed down on him.

His nightmare had only just begun.

______________________________________________________________

Hey! Hope you'll like this quick story!

If you have any ideas you want to see written, please do it and I'll do my best to answer them! Have a nice day and see you soon :)

[the-daily-body]

Healthcare insurance

Doctor Green approached his oncology patient in the ICU. The old man, Benedict Brown, suffering from lung cancer, was in the hospital for his late diagnosis of his condition, which wasn't improving.

Dr. Green:"Mr. Brown, I don't have very good news. The tumour is a small cell lung carcinoma. It is the direct result of your smoking. Unfortunately it is very aggressive and in your case has been diagnosed very late. We can offer you a support group along with some pain medication..."

Mr. Brown:"Are you JOKING ME?!? When I came months ago, you said it was just... eh ehh ehhhh cough cough... Just cough. And now you're telling me I'm gonna die?"

Dr. Green:"I'm very sorry sir. We did everything we could, but the diagnosis is final in this case and overall the condition can be hard to diagnose in early stages"

Mr. Brown:"You're just trying to get out of this so you won't feel guilty. For not treating me as you should. You turned me away and you know it damn well"

Dr. Green:"Sir, if there was something I could do, I would. But I am out of my options"

Mr. Brown smiled. "Oh there is one option. Come closer I can tell you. But send everyone away."

Dr. Green hesitated. But did as he said. Dr. Green sat down on a chair next to Mr. Green.

Dr. Green:"Ok. So tell me."

Mr. Brown grabbed Dr. Green's hand and started the incantation. Dr. Green could feel how the man's cold hands started getting warmer and warmer. And suddenly, he felt the warm presence all over his body.

Mr. Brown opened his eyes. He was sitting now and looking at the old man on the bed. He looked down and saw a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck. He inhaled a big ammount of air. "What a relief"

As soon as he said that, his old body started coding. He pushed the button and started doing a CPR. The doctors did what they could, but couldn't save the old man. Or atleast his body

But Mr. Brown didn't really care. Because he was now a young healthy doctor. And this time. He was gonna live his best life

Dr. Green:"What's happening?"

Mr. Brown:"Ahh, you're here too? You were supposed to die in my body. Oh well, I guess I can handle one black passenger."

Dr. Green:"How did you do this? Mr. Brown, you have to get out of my body!!!"

Mr. Brown:"You know what? I don't have to get out. This is my body now. And I'm gonna enjoy it"

Mr. Brown:"Fuck yeah, look at me in these sunglasses and a vest. Now your body has atleast some style, doctor. You should thank me. You were in desperate need of a makeover."

Dr. Green:"My wife will know it's not me. She will figure it out"

Mr. Brown:"Right. She won't last with me for too long. I can tell you that"

Mr. Brown:"The same goes for your job. I won't stay in healthcare with a body like this. That would be a waste of time. Now, I really wanna smoke so bad."

He got out of the car and lit a cigarette. He coughed

Dr. Green:"My body isn't used to it. You can't smoke"

Mr. Brown:"Oh don't worry about it. I'll get used to it pretty soon. Also, I don't need to smoke right now. Just need it to get some photos for Grindr"

Dr. Green:"Grindr? Isn't that for gay people?"

Mr. Brown:"Great job, Dr. Green. Exactly"

Mr. Brown:"Man, look at me. I look good. The jeans, the leather. The smoke. I look so fucking good. Thanks for the body doc. Since you killed mine. Oh yeah. Look at that. That's the one for Grindr"

Dr. Green couldn't believe what was happening. His own body was smoking and doing things he would never do. He was controlled by someone else, possibly forever. What was he gonna do? He can't stay like this forever. But what if he has to?

In the nearby alley the two men were kissing passionately. The younger one pushed the other against the wall, pressing his hard dick against his.

The man:"Aren't you a bit young for me?"

Mr. Brown laughed:"Well. What can I say? I'm an old soul"

Could you make a story in which a man who suffers from lung cancer takes revenge on his young doctor for not being able to cure him, possessing him and turning him into a smoker and gay? You could do the perspective of the old man in his new body and the young doctor being possessed and forced to see his changed appearance. I really like this guy by the way. https://www.tumblr.com/male-meat-suit/724018661918195712/maybe-a-story-with-this-one?source=share

[the-daily-body]

Just Borrowing You

You ever wonder about the aftermath of some fuckin' body hopper shoving their whole ass selves inside your body? Ever wonder what happens to a guy that's worn as a suit for three years by a 6'4, 240 lb muscle daddy? Walking around as you, looking like you just roided up in the span of a week? Acting like some top dom "alpha male," fuckin' every twink that comes in sight? Yeah, hi: that's me.

Three years ago to the day, I was on the trolly, minding my own fucking business... and I saw him. He sat in the back of the car, obscured by shelves of transit brochures, but I did see his huge combat boots stuck out in the middle of the aisle, his tight black jeans hugged gigantic calves and quads, but the rest of him completely unknown. To this day I have no fucking clue. All I know is that voice: low... gruff... demanding... cold. I'm 5'2, proudly a twink, and that particular day I was literally on my way to get railed by some sexy jock from Grindr. I can remember sitting there, ignoring his existence entirely, then we approached the West Tunnel. The trolley slowed down before entering the tunnel, and as the blackness of the cavernous void swallowed the train whole... I heard the heavy footfalls of his massive boots approaching.

It all happened so quickly, the guy was clearly a professional. He'd done this a million times before, and I was merely one in a sea of thousands. His calloused hands gripped tight around my wrists, hoisting me to my feet, bracing me against the trolley windows. His breath was warm and stank of cigars, and his voice low and commanding.

"Get ready to become a man, boy." A hand clamped around my mouth before I felt it first in my calves. It started as pressure, like a charley horse in your muscle that doesn't exactly hurt- it's just... tight. It didn't stay that way though. I felt every single fiber of my skin stretch wider and wider, hearing the rubbery creaks and groan of my legs and feet. My arms and hands spasmed as they grew thicker, my chest felt like a balloon just inflating and inflating and inflating... Though none of it was as surreal as feeling my dick warp and grow, my balls swell and drop, the entire region feeling full and tight and stretch. By the time I felt the tension press against the back of my head, the trolley was approaching the end of the tunnel. I gargled as my tongue swelled thick and long, my lips curly into a dirty grin. As the blackness subsided, and the daylight of the station finally swarmed into the train, I was no longer in control- just a passenger in my own fuckin' body. He grinned with my own face, looking down at my skin stretched over his gigantic fuckin' muscles, wearing his sweaty, tobacco stinking clothes. He stepped off the trolley, stretching and cracking his joints, and for the next three fucking years of my life I was muscle daddy dom.

I'd be lying if I didn't get some kick out of it. I lived my whole life as a twig-skinny little twink, always having to look up to make eye contact, always having to bottom for some boring fuckin' top... It was wild suddently being over six feet, suddenly having big fuckin' muscles, but I was just along for the ride. Using my cock to rail six twinks in one hour, wearing my face to degrade and command them. It almost felt after being little more than a costume for so long, that his life really was gonna be my life. By year two I'd gotten accustomed to it, I'd started to like the feeling of him face fuckin' his subs or the power he exuded as he forced my swollen sweaty size 15 feet onto their faces, his own foot stench wafting out from beneath my soles and his sweat pouring from my pores. I'd grown to love the feeling of dominance, of control. By year three, I couldn't tell where he ended and I began. At that point, he was who I was: alpha, masculine, dominant, confident. The little twink that he invaded that day was gone, and all that was left was us.

Then one day, poof. He saw some other little otter that caught his fancy, and he pulled out of me like a bat outta hell. Droppin' my empty skin in the bushes like trash before slippin' into the guy even quicker than he did with me. He strutted over to my husk, adjusting his face as he did, before leaning down and leaving me with just one sentence as an end to three years of his rule:

"You were a damn good time, boy." I was back to my normal twiggy self, put back just as I was on that fateful day all those years ago. But I was no longer that kid, I was a fuckin' dom. Boys worshipped my feet at my command, sucked my cock when I said, opened their holes to my breeding. And now it was all gone. My life both before and during him was dust in the fucking wind.

I couldn't go back, my friends and family long being told to fuck themselves had left me nowhere to go. I stayed at a hostel for a couple of weeks, and after a couple of guys trying to fuck me like a little toy, I'd had enough. I was gonna be a fuckin' stud again. I was gonna make 'em beg for my seed; stuff 'em so good those boys would be pregnant with my slime. So, I hatched a plan.

It was really fuckin' wasy actually. I was living in a hostel- tons of young people coming in and out, here for a couple of days and then back to wherever they came from. Perfect for finding a guy who fit the profile: sexy, cocky, and ready to rail. It took weeks of taking it up the ass to find the perfect guy: what better way to know how they'll fuck than to be fucked? Will was fine, thick dick but he cried after cumming. Darrius was hot as fuck, built like a fuckin' stallion, but he was a port worker back in Houston and I didn't wanna live some boring fuckin' 9-5 every day. Quinton was ugly as hell, but had a rockin' bod and a nice round ass. Yet, none of them hit the spot in the way that I needed. No one had the power, the assertion, the authority... and I was starting to lose hope. That was, until I finally came across Vaughn.

He was in the city for a boys weekend, hitting the streets with his dumb ass entourage of college dropout surf junkies. An Aussie, by the thick Queenslander accent that bellowed out of his throat. The day he checked in, seeing him standing there with those hot dumbasses just smackin' ass and bragging about gettin' laid all day and night, I knew he was the one. That thick blonde hair, those tight, sculpted arms bulging out of his stringer tank... the big fuckin' AF1's lookin' worn as hell and beggin' to be huffed by some willing slave. Yeah, he'd be another tight squeeze, but damn, I wanted to be him.

I watched him around the hostel that entire day, never taking a single solitary second away from my surveillance. In the span of four hours, I knew just about all I needed to know- having it all scribbled down in my notebook:

Name: Vaughan David Carter Age: 24 Home: Brisbane, Queensland Occupation: Influencer/Brand Ambassador Orientation: Unknown? Friends: Donnie, Alan, Tayn, and Reggie Height: 6'2 Foot: Size 14 Hobbies: Surfing, Gym, Fucking Education: Uni Dropout Odor: Strong Personality: Loud, Cocky, Boisterous, Horny, Dominant I studied him like an animal in a cage, and planned precisely how I was gonna approach this. He'd only talked about fuckin' girls, which fine or whatever, all I wanted to know was if he would be the kind to stick his fist up a leather daddy's ass. So, I waited for nightfall, when the likelihood of him bringing some booty call back to the hostel was at it's highest. I was in luck.

1 AM rolls around, and the group struts into the lobby, three of the five guys having their arms wrapped around gorgeous women. One of which just so happened to be Vaughn. I sat in the corner, hiding behind a newspaper on the sofa as they all piled into the elevator, giggling like fuckin' morons as the doors closed. Of course, I followed. Watching the elevator climb to the fifth floor, I ran up the five flights of steps to hopefully catch the sight of him pulling her into his room. Peeking through the stairwell door, fortune smiled upon me once again. There, outside room 510, I saw them tapping his keycard on the door. He spared no time ripping the beige sweatshirt off him, pressing his lips aggressively against hers as he pulled her in.

I tiptoed down the hall, squatting down next to the door, pretending to scroll through my phone. In reality, I'm listening. It didn't take long for me to hear the squeaking of the bed, the headboard slamming against the wall, her moans of ecstasy and his guttural growls and deep "fuck yeah, bitch, take this fuckin' horsecock." Must've been wild- even from behind the thick wooden door, you could hear furniture breaking, lamps flying, the loud slaps of flesh against flesh as he shouted "lick it clean," "open your mouth," and "show me how much you want it." Words I'd used so often in a different life. Finally after a solid clock in at an hour and fifteen minutes, I heard his roar of climax; his deep bass voice booming like a loudspeaker as he spilled his batter. The mere sound of it got my dick stirring, but I maintained my composure. I scooted over to a door down the hall, watching her exit the room disheveled, panting, and grinning from ear to ear. Not long after she'd gone down the elevator, out came Vaughn- sweaty, shirtless, and his cock bulging out of the black sweatpants. He shoved his giant feet into his dirty sneakers, and walked toward the bathroom. The aura of sex wafting from him as he strut down the hall toward me, an afterglow of glistening drops of sweat and stinking of musk and cum. Oh how I missed it.

"Sup?" He brushed past me, a trail of funk drifting in his wake and pushed the door open into the communal bathroom. I wouldn't get another chance. This was it. I took a deep breath, putting my phone back into my pocket before gingerly stepping into the room. He stood before the floor length mirror, phone out and flexing his gigantic muscles, likely flaunting his conquests to his innumerable followers. He at first took little notice of me as I skulked about the room. I gazed over those firm, cut muscles posing with such command and presence. I leaned against the stalls of the bathroom, flashing my hungry eyes- which seemed to catch his attention. "The fuck you lookin' at?"

"Oh... I was just lookin'. Don't mind me." I'd plowed so much twink ass, I know what a dom is looking for in a sub. It starts with the voice: pitch high, feigned shyness, and above all big thirsty eyes. "I heard you in the hall. It sounded so hot..." I whined with reckless abandon, revealing I'd heard it all was risky, but a guy like him more often than not loves to revel in the glory.

"Heh, when you got a dick like this you oughta share it." His thick accent was leathery and gruff, swelling with masculinity.

"Fuck... Sounds so fuckin' nice. Bet you breed once a week with a horse cock like that." I use his words against him, his cockiness forcing him to grin and brag.

"You tryna come onto me, homo?" He turned around, gripping the outline of his obscene appendage snaking down his thigh. I drooled at the sight, knowing soon it would be mine. "Tryna get this python up in you?" He walked over to me, quickly pinning me against the wall, his huge hands wrapping around my wrists and pressing hard against the drywall. "What, you wanna know how a fuckin' man feels inside you?" His tone was sultry but contemptuous, he saw me as little more than a cum dump. He was perfect.

"Mmmmmmmm yes, sir. Please!" I whined, sounding even more desperate and inflating his ego even further. He grinned, nearly throwing me into the stall before closing the door behind him. He was easier to manipulate than I'd anticipated. The more I pouted, the more aggressive he became.

"Still dripping, boy. That hole better be ready for it." I eagerly dropped my shorts, bracing myself against the wall. I sat in anticipation of his insertion, but didn't have to wait very long. "Take this fuckin' cock, ya little bitch." Pain. He thrust in one go, his cock still slimed with his seed, he tore straight through me. I yelped, feeling his hand clamp around my mouth as he thrust into me.

Memories came flooding back of my first takeover, his tobacco stained fingers clasped over my face like a vice. The tightness, the roughness... I moaned in ecstasy not from the fucking, but from the reminiscence that came with it. The sound of wet slapping now bellowed in the tiled room, hearing him grunt like a neanderthal. I looked down, and saw precisely what I needed to see.

The outline of his dick protruding from my limber belly. With every thrust it bulged out of stomach and retracted, even once slipping ever so close to the base of my shaft, eliciting a deep moan from Vaughn. Little did he know he was prepping me, pre stretching me for the full 'entrance.'

"Fuck yeah, bitch... Take i... Whoa, what the fuck?" I felt it, looking down his dick had found the narrow opening of my cock, and had slightly slipped inside. His hands gripped my skull, pushing it out of the way to see what he'd hit, and his reaction was everything I'd hoped. "No fuckin' way." The thick head of his cock bulged out of my pubes, contorting the skin of my shaft into a bulbous mound. I heard him snicker as he roughly grabbed hold of my dick, thrusting once more; his cock sinking deeper into mine. "Unnf. Ohhh my, little bitch. What do we have here?" His grip on my dick tightened, squeezing it almost painfully before slowly pressing his dick further in. He moaned like he was balls deep in the tightest fleshlight, watching with wicked glee as his cock slid into mine. It bulged outward, stretching wide as his head slithered into mine. Gritting his teeth, he kept pushing, watching in amazement as my dick stretched longer and longer until his balls plummeted into my sack. We gazed down at the monstrous phallus that hung from my groin, Vaughn stroking it and groaning in pleasure. "Ho ho... Let's see how far we can take this."

He thrust into his hand, his pre leaking from my cock slit and lubing his palms as his thick ass slowly slurped itself into mine. My skin wrapped around his midsection as he smacked my stretched cheek, filled entirely with his juicy glutes. He chuckled devilishly, amused and turned on by the situation and my fake shock. I could feel the tips of his sneakers pressing against my heel, before he swung his leg back and kicked straight on. It collided with my hamstrings with a splat, instantly bursting my leg with his thick muscles. My feet exploded in size as his black sweatpants and grimy sneaker suctioned themselves around my new musculature. This seemed to have tipped him over the edge, as he wriggled my feet inside his smelly Nike.

"Whooooooooo boy, you wanted to know what a man felt like." He quickly kicked his second leg into mine, still stroking his 11 incher now uncut. "Let's see how you'll handle it." His left arm flew behind me as he plunged it deep into my shoulder blade, his wide hands slipping down into my fingers like a rubber glove, veins bulging atop thick biceps. He balled a fist with my hand, wrapping it around my ripe cock before his right arm dove in as well. Vaughn cackled like a hyena, flexing his thick bicep with my 'musk master' tattoo prominently stretched atop. An apt gift from my former 'pilot', as Vaughn's sharp pit stink now wafted from the thick forest of wiry hairs. He shoved his entire chest forward, my tiny abs now replaced with thick slabs of meat tightly wrapped in my skin.

"So... let's see what kind of damage I can do as you." My hands slipped off my cock and slammed onto my face, smearing his salty cum and cheesy cocksmell over my nose and mouth as he pushed my head backward. My vision suddenly became impenetrably blurry, hearing his wild laughter growing louder and louder until I could hear it echoing inside my head. With a loud schlorp, he'd entered me completely. He pulled and pinched the skin of my face, pressing his features into mine, my lips now pulling into a wide cheshire grin I had missed so dearly.

"Oh fuck!" His voice poured from my mouth, as his seed shot out of my now musky cock. He pumped barrage after barrage of his thick, creamy release onto the tiled wall and toilet. The torrent slowly subsided, draining Vaughn of at least a quarter liter of spunk. "Strewth, mate..." He teased as he flexed his biceps, slipping my cock back into his musty Calvin Kleins. He unlocked the stall door, not even taking the moment to look in the mirror and instead walking straight out into the empty hall. He chuckled to himself, looking over every inch of his new body, his wolfish teeth gleaming behind my lips. We reentered room 510, stinking of sweat and cum from the girl he'd bred earlier. His clothes littered the floor, furniture lay upturned in every corner; by the bed, an open suitcase full of cumsoaked fleshjacks, cockrings, pocket pussies, and lube. "You're going to be very good for business, aren't you?"

---

"Where the fuck is Vaughn, mate?" Donnie looked down at his watch, sighing. The four boys stood by the elevator, already fifteen minutes late for the barcrawl that Tayn had booked them.

"I bet he's filming in his room, you know..." Tayn gestured obscenely to the others, mimicking Vaughn sticking his dick into his fleshlight, much to the amusement of their friends.

"Think he's gonna get his account reinstated? I thought he was banned?" Alan snickered, recalling their brash friend losing his successful OnlyFans account due to some bureaucratic bullshit no one could explain. The guy made at least $25k per month just jacking off on camera, or tying up some gay dude and making him sniff his notoriously fetid feet. Reggie smirked, rolling his eyes.

"C'mon let's go." The four made their way to room 510, hushing eachothers chuckles as they brought out Tayn's spare room key card. Unlocking it, the group burst into Vaughn's room, hootin' and hollerin' about finding some tail that night. As they did, they were met with quite the sight. Vaughn sat at the base of his bed, his phone in his hand, indeed filming a video for his brand new OnlyFans. However, though the four could easily recognize their mate's massive stature and the stink wafting from his dick and socks, a new face sat upon his head. He grinned at his flabbergasted freinds, flexing as his deep Aussie timbre howled from his new lips.

"Boys..." He grinned at their shocked expressions, their complete disbelief. "I think I found us a way to make some fuckin' money again." He stroked his massive uncut cock, hocking a spit into his hand to lube it. Donnie stepped forward.

"Vaughn?" The blonde stud sneered in crude reply.

"In the flesh. Heh. Or in his flesh." The four friends stood aghast as Vaughn pinched down on the skin of his cheek, slowly stretching it out a foot or so until it snapped right back into place. Tayn walked over, pulling on his friend's wrist and watching as the skin elongated effortlessly before again snapping right back. "Want me to show you how?" The four Aussie studs looked at eachother, their expressions slowly turning from one of horror to one of mischief. Their lucrative careers, cut short by red tape and bullshit, were about to rebound on a massive scale.

[the-daily-body]

Owed and Owned

Angelo was peacefully sleeping when he woke up in the middle of the night with the most excruciating headache he had ever felt.

He grabbed his head and grunted in pain.

"Aaaaaarrwwhhhgh! Fuuuuucckkkkk!... There's something.... in my head.... it hurts! Get out! Get out! Get oooouuugghhh!!!"

Suddenly, Angelo's arms dropped limply to his sides, and his pained face quickly changed into a blank face in a fraction of a second, like a switch had been flipped off. With slow steps he walked to the door and opened it.

Waiting outside, with his usual nerdy demeanor, was none other than his distant cousin.

(A month later)

My cousin looks so peaceful, it even looks like he is sleeping, but for one to be sleeping, one needs to be awake first, and that is just not his case, not anymore.

Angelo had been the bad boy in my family since a young age, always getting in trouble or causing trouble; at 16, he joined a criminal gang; at 18, he was arrested for drug dealing; at 20, for getting into a bar fight. Now, at 21, nothing much had changed, he was still part of the gang, and he was still hotter than ever.

I was two years younger than him, and even though we were distant cousins and our interactions were almost nonexistent, I always had a secret crush on him. I couldn't help myself; I just had a thing for bad boys. I love the way they act so tough and fearless, like they're invincible and nothing can stop them.

I buried my face in Angelo's hairy armpit and took a long sniff; he just had the most wonderful smell under his armpits; it was powerful and primal, a musk that my olfactory epithelium was very much used by now.

I started licking them clean, making sure my tongue would drag slowly against his armpit's hair and I could taste every single bit of him.

While I feasted on my hot cousin's armpits, I saw a tiny alien humanoid sticking his head out of his ear, the tiny alien's head was no bigger than a bean.

"Good morning, Zul. Did you sleep well?" I asked.

"Yes I did, I see you're already having breakfast," Angelo responded with his eyes still closed. His voice sounded sleepy, like he was talking while dreaming.

"And how about you? Have you had your breakfast yet?" I asked.

"Not yet, was just about to when I noticed there was some stimulation coming from Angelo's armpits. I knew it was you."

"Well, don't let me get in the way, go back in there and feast on my dumb cousin's brain."

Zul feeds on brains, but because of his small size, he only takes small bits of it every day. It's been a month since I helped him get inside Angelo's body, and now there's only 40% of brain matter left.

The alien nodded his head and crawled back inside my cousin's head. Almost Immediately, I started to see the signs of his feeding on my cousin's body, like his muscles tensing and his biceps flexing. His head started rolling from one side to another as he let out deep grunts, looking like he was in a nightmare, he might actually be in one, but I was living my dream.

I buried my face back into his armpits as I knew what was going to happen next: Every time the alien fed, it would make Angelo's body release a lot of sweat. And I was starting to feel the effects, or better, to taste it.

"Hmmmm... he tastes soooo good," Angelo moaned.

"He sure does," I replied, switching from armpits.

I pulled off his tank top and shorts; Angelo's cock was big and thick but was flaccid, I gave it a few strokes, but I knew it was useless, his body couldn't respond to stimulus anymore without the alien in control. Luckily, the alien had kindly programmed Angelo's body in case I wanted him to be hard while he was busy feeding.

I pinched both of Angelo's nipples at the same time, and just like magic, his cock started to harden to a 9,5 inches huge shaft, throbbing full of life. As I took a few licks, I looked at him and noticed he was staring back at me, a sign the alien was now in control.

"How much is left?" I asked, my tongue running against his sweaty balls.

"34%" Angelo responded.

"Wow, just remember that you need to get out of his body when you reach 10%, you need to leave enough for his body to obey commands."

"You don't have to worry about that, I'm already looking for another host."

I was in the middle of giving Angelo a blowjob when I heard a knocking. I sighed in frustration, who could that be? One of Angelo's many hookups? I thought I already got rid of all of them!

When I opened the door I was shocked to see a tall, fully tattooed hot stud. I was left standing at the door completely frozen, staring at the hot man in front of me like an idiot.

"Is Angelo home?" He finally asked, his tone was intimidating and cold.

"H-he's...he's not home right now," I lied, "Is there something you want me, ummm... to tell him when he's back?"

I think he didn't buy the lie because he gave me an even more menacing stare, a stare that almost made me cry and apologize for lying.

"Tell him to pay what he owes, I will be back in a week." He said out loud, making sure Angelo could hear him.

It was all he said as he walked away. When I closed the door, I finally sighed in relief; that guy was so scary but so freaking hot at the same time. I asked Zul to dig into Angelo's mind for any information about the guy, but Zul told me he couldn't find anything and that he probably already consumed that memory. I was disappointed in knowing that precious info was now alien poo, but I just went back to giving Angelo a blowjob. Eventually, I completely forgot about the whole thing.

A week later I came back from school to find Angelo sitting on a chair with a book covering his face.

I walked towards him and took the book out of his face, and I was shocked to see his face expression; his eyes were staring in opposite directions, his left eye was wider than the right one, and his mouth was agape with his tongue sticking out.

I was used to Angelo's blank face by now, but he never looked this... empty before. I knocked on his forehead like I was knocking on a door, and in a sense, I was. The sound that it made was hollow, which was expecting since there was now only 14% of his brain left. "Zul? Are you there?"

"No, I'm here." A deep baritone voice came from the corner of the room, scaring the shit out of me.

I recognized him, he was the hot guy who knocked on Angelo's door a week before, now wearing nothing but a white towel covering his lap. "Zul, this is such a wonderful host. Good job buddy." I praised.

"It's good to be in control of an entire brain again. I accessed this host's memories, and it looks like your cousin pissed off the leader of his gang by not paying for his drugs. So his gang leader sent this big and strong guy to teach him a lesson if he didn't comply."

I sat on the tattooed hunk's lap and started caressing his fit body, feeling his muscles and pecs. I then pressed my face against his armpits and took a sniff, he smelled clean, like he just got out of the shower. The thug then pulled me in for a gentle, yet dominating kiss. Pulling away from the kiss I grinned at him, "So, this gang leader... Is he hot?"

"Very much, after this host's brain is at 10%, I might go for his boss, that way I would have plenty of hosts available for me. Would you like to own an entire gang of hot brainless men?"

"Yes! I would!" I eagerly said, my eyes glowing with the image of a bunch of hot brainless criminals at my disposal.

"Then you have to deserve it first," He said, caressing my face gently, it was weird to see such an intimidating guy acting so soft. "Go to Angelo and activate him for me, I can't control him while I'm in another host, but before leaving him, I programmed what was left of him to respond to physical touch. Pinch his right nipple two times and then give his left a twist to the left."

I nodded and walked to Angelo, I gave his right nipple two pinches, and his left a rough twist to the right... or was the left? I decided to twist it to the right. Angelo suddenly—still with his mindless face and hanging tongue—pulled down his shorts and started jerking off his cock.

I then heard the thug across the room laughing. "That's the wrong command, you need to twist it to the left, not the right."

I looked at Angelo, mindlessly jerking off his now hard cock, and I did the command right this time, two pinches on the right, one twist to the left...

Suddenly, Angelo stopped jerking off and walked to his bed, getting on all fours and exposing his ass.

"I like this new command, is there more?"

"Yes there is, watch it," The thug stood up, making his white towel drop to the floor. My jaw dropped when I saw his massive cock, he was so much bigger than Angelo. With a grin planted on his face, he grabbed his shaft and swung it in my direction, "Would you be kind and do what you do best?"

I didn't have to be asked twice; I got on my knees in front of this hunk and took his huge member into my mouth. I felt his hand gently caressing my hair. "That's a good cocksucker, get this cock wet for your cousin's ass"

I slobbered on it even harder when he praised me, after a few minutes, he gently pushed me away. His big cock swung with each step he took towards Angelo, he gave his ass a hard slap and smirked at me as he aimed the tip of his cock at Angelo's entrance.

It was far from Angelo's first time, since Zul turned him into a host last month, I've been having my share of fun with Angelo's ass. But Angelo wasn't used to a big cock like that, it was so big that it easily could count as a first time.

Angelo gave no response, he just continued frozen on all fours with his eyes blank as drool soaked the sheets under him. That was until the thug buried everything inside with a single powerful thrust, and just like that—as if a switch had been turned—Angelo started to move back and forward, fucking himself on the massive member.

"I programmed him so that as long as he has a dick stuffing his ass, he will fuck himself non-stop. Pretty cool huh?" The thug proudly said with both his hands behind his head, exposing his hairy armpits to me. Zul knows how much I love them.

"Now enjoy the show while I feed on this dumb hunk." With a final wink, the thug froze with his hands behind his head and his face changed to the same mindless look Angelo had: eyes rolled back and tongue sticking out.

Angelo was still fucking himself non-stop, like a broken robot trapped on a loop. I hopped on the bed and sat on Angelo's sweaty back while I was facing the frozen thug. My weight sure made Angelo's job more difficult, but I didn't care, I knew he was strong enough.

I pressed my face in the thug's armpits and started worshiping them. Sometimes, he would let out a long grunt, and his muscles would flex, but after a while, it stopped.

Zul appeared inside the thug's mouth and sat on his tongue, the tiny humanoid alien was now holding a tiny bit of meat, eating it like a burger as he watched me worshiping his new home.

I owe this little guy everything.

[the-daily-body]

The Silent Sentinel

Jason was bored out of his mind. This school trip was supposed to be about history, culture, and learning something useful—all things Jason didn’t find interesting. Castles, knights, and ancient ruins were about as exciting to him as a brick wall. No, what he really wanted was to find a way out of this place. Maybe hit the pub he’d seen just outside the castle walls, grab a couple of drinks, maybe flirt with some local girls, and hopefully end the night getting laid—that was Jason’s plan.

Jason had always been more of a sports guy rather than a book guy. For him, the most important thing was to have a good time and to make every minute worth living. As soon as he could walk, he started running after balls, climbing trees, and laughing all day long with his friends. Jason had always been a joy to be around, and people were always asking him to join in for a good time. His easy-going attitude and laid-back mentality made him the star of his class from kindergarten until now in college and as soon as he was old enough, he decided to get a tattoo to remind himself that life was short, a line going from his elbow to his wrist and ending as an arrow. At around 6ft 4, Jason was a mountain on the football field. The only thing bigger than his height was his natural aura of dominance, emphasized by his perfectly crafted body. But the thing that really made him the star of every conversation was his million-dollar smile, his curly, wavy blonde hair, and his deep blue eyes. Yes, Jason was truly a perfect specimen of a human being.

______________________________________________________________

“The armors you’ll see all around this place are the eternal protectors of this place. Each one of them are unique because they all belonged to different people and they wear the proofs of their identifications. According to the legend, the armors used to be living soldiers, but the king ruling in this castle couldn't accept his knights to run away, so he cursed the castle and its walls, transforming every soldier trying to run away before the end of their mission and duty into eternal protectors of this walls, and doing so, trapping them as the armors you'll see all around, protecting the place they tried to run away. But don’t worry, this is only some lore and the local explication to why there are so many armors in this place. In reality, this probably used to be some kind of refuge for knights as they were walking from town to town offering their help. Anyway, follow me, on your left you’ll find the grand hall…” said the guide as he kept walking, followed by Jason’s teachers and the other students.

As the tour group made its way deeper into the castle, Jason lagged behind, half listening to this nonsense the guide was talking about. He was getting further and further from the group while shooting quick glances at his friends that seemed really intrigued by this visit. He wasn’t about to stay stuck here listening to this old-looking man who probably hadn’t seen the light of day in years. This was a pure waste of time. Bricks, rocks, paintings, tapestries, a lot of old empty armor—what a shame to spend such a beautiful day stuck between these dusty walls. For Jason, it was enough. This had to end. But he knew he couldn’t just leave like that. Jason really had to pass this class, or he’d lose his scholarship.

As the guide entered the grand hall, full of the same tapestries and armors holding spears in their hands, it was the last straw for Jason.

“I’m done,” he muttered under his breath.

Out of nowhere, he took out his phone and pretended to answer a call in a hurry. He acted concerned and almost stressed, talking just loud enough for his friends to hear him.

“Yeah, okay… well, I can’t right now, I’m on a vi… okay, yeah, okay. I’m on my way!”

Jason hung up his phone and put it back in his pocket as his friends, still walking toward the room, looked at him.

“Is everything okay?” asked Jason’s best friend, Matt.

"Hey, yeah, I gotta go. An emergency came up, I need to get home ASAP. Catch you later.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, dude? You good?"

"Yeah, it’s no big deal. Just something I need to handle. I'll text you later."

Without waiting for a response, Jason slipped down a narrow hallway leading toward what he thought was the exit. His heart raced with excitement, not because of any thrill for exploration, but at the thought of escaping the dull history lesson for something more fun. The pub wasn’t far, just a short walk across the courtyard, and he’d be able to grab a drink, chat up a girl, and then go back to his room, where he’d have the rest of the day to relax, play some games, and invent an excuse if anyone asked. The day was finally about to begin!

As Jason moved through the castle, the twisting corridors began to confuse him. Every turn looked the same, and he realized with growing frustration that he had managed to get himself lost.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, pushing open another old, heavy door at the end of the hallway. The room was dimly lit and almost empty except for another rusty, old-looking suit of armor standing in the corner and an ancient-looking table in the center. Jason stepped inside, scanning the empty space, hoping to find an emergency door or an employee exit leading to the main courtyard.

“Another one… Ain't no way I'm staying there any longer. Done with this boring bullshit. Let me out!” he muttered, dropping his shoulders in frustration and exhaustion as he turned to leave the room.

But as Jason tried to leave, his feet wouldn’t move. His body stiffened, a strange sensation creeping up his legs. Jason glanced down, trying to see why his feet were stuck to the floor. That’s when he saw it. All around him, engraved in the stones and covered by centuries of dust and grime, a dim light began to shine through the dust. Lines of shimmering purple light started to appear, soon forming intricate glyph designs.

“What the…” Panic set in as Jason struggled to move, feeling his legs frozen in place. The glyphs on the floor glowed brighter, their light pulsing in rhythm with his quickening heartbeat. He tried to yank his feet free, but the more he struggled, the tighter the symbols’ grip became.

"No one leave before the end of their mission..." heard Jason in a faint murmuring voice echoing between the walls.

Before he could scream for help, Jason felt a weird sensation spreading through his lungs and body. He turned his head to see dust starting to float around him. First, it was only a grain of dust, then a second one, and soon, a swirling bubble of dust engulfed him in a thick tornado of fear. Jason thought it was the end, that he would die here, his body lost forever in this empty room. Closing his eyes for a brief moment to collect himself, he suddenly felt wind on his forearms. Jason opened his eyes in surprise—how could he feel the wind on his bare forearms when he was wearing a long-sleeve shirt and a coat? Wait, now it was his calves. What was happening?! Tilting his head, he saw through the thick cloud of magical dust that his clothes were turning into dust. Threads of fabric were ripping from him, swirling into the air before disintegrating.

Jason screamed for help, but no sound came out. Everything went silent, muted by the wind and glyphs. And suddenly, as Jason panicked, feeling his body exposed to the elements, the movement stopped. Everything stood still for a moment before exploding away from him. His clothes, now dust, scattered across the room, forever lost. Jason stood naked in the center of the room, the glyphs still glowing all around him. He tried to move, thinking it was over, but his feet were still frozen.

Then, a strange warmth spread from his groin, catching his breath. His hands shot down instinctively, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. His entire groin glowed with a faint purple hue, just like the floor beneath him. The warmth quickly turned into a searing heat surging through his lower body, the pain so intense it left him gasping.

Jason’s hands flew to his cock. He tried to hold it as an alien sensation began rising within him. It felt like it wanted to grow harder and harder, longer and longer. The feeling was both deeply arousing and weirdly terrifying. It was a pulsating force building inside him, and Jason was trying to resist it. But with one pulse from the glyphs, Jason felt his cock head push his fingers away. He saw it then—his cock elongating, hardening, then transforming, taking on another form and color. The familiar sensation of his manhood was replaced by something cold, metallic, and dangerous. He looked down in horror as he saw it shining between his fingers. His cock had stretched and turned into a massive sword, its shaft glinting in the dim light.

Jason’s mouth hung open, paralyzed with fear. His own flesh had turned into a sword. Just as he was about to scream in pure terror, he felt a new sensation beginning to spread in his nuts. His balls started to merge together. The pain was excruciating as the nerves intertwined and fused. Jason could have fainted from the intensity, but he remained conscious, trapped in the agony and his own powerlessness. Suddenly, his larger nut began to retract into the sack, which itself started to rise higher. Jason heard a pop, then a crack, and before he could catch his breath, he felt his hands gripping his balls as they began to harden and merge with the base of his cock sword. In an instant, his nuts had become the handle of his cock.

Jason was about to cry when the glyphs spasmed with power. His hands loosened slightly, just enough to let the sword fall and hit the ground with a loud metallic clang. His body convulsed, his knees nearly buckling from the impact as Jason realized he could still feel everything—the impact, the cold, grimy floor against his cock, and the vibration of the metal reverberating through his balls. It was as if his cock and balls, though transformed, were still part of him, still flesh in some twisted way.

He gasped in horror, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached down to grab the sword, desperate to reverse whatever had happened. But the moment his calloused hands touched the hilt, it was like squeezing his own nuts with a crushing grip. Pain surged through him, and he screamed out. Jason tried to release the hilt, but his fingers wouldn’t obey—they were frozen in place, gripping his balls tightly. It felt as though his body was no longer fully under his control.

Jason wanted to drop the sword, to escape the agony, but his body didn’t respond. Unbeknownst to him, this was only the beginning.

Jason tried to scream, but no sound escaped his throat. Behind him, he heard metallic noises, one after another. Then, all at once, a loud bang echoed, followed by the sound of sand flowing on an empty beach—the kind of sound that could be calming, but not in this moment.

Before his eyes, he saw shimmering tentacles of dust beginning to engulf his calves, then his arms, chest, and legs. It felt like something was embracing him. Oddly, it was almost soothing, and for a brief moment, Jason nearly forgot where he was. The sound and sensation were calming his torment. But a faint breeze brushing against the sword snapped him back to reality. When he resurfaced a few seconds later, he realized his body was constricted. He turned his head just in time to see the empty suit of armor in the corner of the room dissolving into dust, swirling around his head as a helmet formed and encased his face. Jason’s entire body was trapped inside the armor, locking him in place.

Jason looked down at himself in disbelief, his breath shallow and panicked as it echoed within the helmet. He could feel the cold metal against his bare skin. He tried to move, but nothing happened. He tried to scream, but no sound came from the helmet. The only part of him still under his control was his head.

Through the eyeholes of the helmet, Jason saw the purple light again. He understood it wasn’t over for him yet.

Suddenly, it felt like his feet were burning. The sensation spread up his legs, into his chest, arms, and finally his face and brain. The pain was unbearable, his vision blurred, and he thought he was being boiled alive. But just as Jason was about to pass out, he felt a pop in his bones, and a purple light began emanating from within the armor, glowing through his skin and bones. Jason screamed silently as light poured from his mouth. His eyes shut one last time as a tear of fear and pain rolled down his vanishing cheek. His body was disintegrating, turning into ash, dissolving bit by bit. His hands, his legs, his chest—all turned to dust, floating and falling within the armor before being absorbed by it.

Jason screamed in silence; his voice trapped within his mind as his body dissolved. He could still feel everything—his hands gripping the sword’s hilt, his feet on the cold stone floor, the weight of the armor pressing down on him—but he was no longer flesh and blood. He was nothing more than the armor now, a hollow, metal shell, yet still fully aware.

Jason tried to move, but he couldn’t. His body had become the armor, and there was no one left inside to control it.

As the glyphs continued to shine, Jason felt something being engraved onto the hilt of his sword. Beneath his armored fingers, a glyph appeared, etched into the metal. An intricate design started to form. A human silhouette started to appear in a standing position being encircled by what looked like a leaking sword centered in a shield with a castle on top of it. Then, as he thought it was over, a new engraving staring to appear on the lengths of his sword, centered between the two sharp sides. A line going from the hilt to the tip and ending as an arrow, a perfect mirror picture of the tattoo he used to have. When the engravings were complete, the glyphs shone brightly one last time before fading, leaving only the mark behind.

Jason felt his body moving of its own accord, walking back to the corner of the room where the armor had stood before he’d entered. Every movement his legs were taking, every breeze of wind on his naked metallic body, every bit of friction was sending shiver of orgasmic sensation in his sword. Jason would have cried and begged for cum and release if he had the chance. But nothing came, just frustration as another step was taken until he was where he belonged.

Jason took a standing position, gripping the sword even tighter, inadvertently squeezing his nuts harder. The tip of the sword scraped against the floor, sending a tingling sensation through his entire being that once again screamed for release.

Jason wanted to scream, to cum, to escape—but nothing happened. He was stuck there, waiting for the curse to be broken.

______________________________________________________________

Time passed—minutes, hours, Jason couldn’t tell. He was frozen in place, his thoughts racing, but his body immobile. The cursed room was silent, save for the occasional drip of water echoing in the distance. Then, suddenly, the door creaked open.

If Jason had still had a heart, it would have leaped. His friends—Mike and a few others—entered the room, laughing and chatting as they followed the tour guide. They seemed oblivious to the oppressive air of the chamber, their voices echoing off the walls.

Mike stepped forward, stopping in front of Jason’s armored form, unaware that he was staring at his best friend. He gazed up at the imposing figure.

“Whoa, check this out!” Mike called, drawing the others' attention. “This one look so epic. I wonder how old this armor is.”

Jason screamed inside his mind, desperate to be seen, to be saved, but his body remained as still as ever. The tour guide, unaware of the curse lingering in the room, droned on about the room’s history, speaking of old sorcery and forgotten rituals. But Jason’s friends didn’t care about what the guide was talking about—they were more interested in the armor and the sword.

“Dude, look at the sword!” Mike said, grinning. “This thing is massive. Bet it was for a fucking Captain knight or something.”

Jason’s entire being quaked in horror as Mike reached down and grabbed the sword—his sword, his penis. As Mike too hold of the hilt, he felt something weird. It was almost like it was warm to the touch, spasming with power, craving for touch and sensation. As Mike started to move back and forth moving the sword left and right, he swears he heard a faint murmur from the back of his mind, “Help me… feels, painf… good… don’t… stop.” Mike blinked a few times as he tried to understand if he was dreaming awake but his other friends called for him and the weird sensations vanished into the void as he laughed back playing a bit more with the sword. For Jason, the sensation was unbearable. It was like someone had taken hold of his most sensitive part, jerking and playing with it. Every time Mike moved the sword, Jason could feel it. The cold steel, the rough handling, the vertigo-inducing sensation of Mike squeezing his nuts while moving his cock left and right—it was all too real.

The group laughed and joked, unaware that every swing of the sword was torture for Jason. One of them even pretended to knight Mike with it, holding the blade up with mock seriousness.

Jason’s mind was a whirlwind of fear and humiliation. His friends—the people he had once trusted—were now unwittingly torturing him. Every time they touched the sword, he felt it deep in his core. His mind screamed for them to stop, but no one could hear his silent pleas as he watched them playing with his most intimate part, begging for someone to free him.

“Man, this sword is fucking epic,” Mike said with a laugh. “It’s so heavy. The knight who owned it must have been super strong. Like, I’m sure he was fighting and winning every fight!”

Jason could only wish it were true, that he could win this fight. But all he could do was endure, helpless in his new state, feeling everything happening but unable to do anything about it.

At one point, Mike joked, “I bet whoever owned this armor had to be a badass. You think they ever knew it’d end up stuck in a dusty old room like this?”

The words cut deep, and Jason’s mind spiraled into despair. Would he be trapped here forever? Would anyone ever know the truth? The laughter of his friends echoed in his mind; each taunt a dagger to his soul.

Eventually, the group grew tired of playing with the sword and returned it to its place, making sure the sword was held tight between the metallic fingers. As Mike finished positioning the fingers back in place, he noticed a strange engraving between the blades of the sword, it looked like a glyph leading to a line ending up as an arrow. As he blew on it, he swore he saw shimmering purple dust flow out of the engraving. He knew this symbol, but as his mind was about to put the pieces together, he heard someone calling for him. Mike got back up and started walking out of the room, forgetting about it after a couple of minutes. Jason stood there, holding his cock between his hands, feeling every faint movement and vibration of the walls and floor resonating in his empty armor body and cock as he kept screaming for help while hearing his friends entering a new room as the guide kept talking about the legends of this medieval castle he was now a part of.

______________________________________________________________

Hey guys!

I hope you enjoyed this new story. Let me know if you want to see more of Jason's journey. I have some ideas of where things could go for him, and no, it won't only be inanimate transformations if you want me to continue it.

As always, let me know what you thought of it, whether you enjoyed it or not, and if you have any ideas about what could happen next or where you want the story to go.

Also, I saw the results of the poll, and the story you voted for will be released really soon, so stay tuned.

Last but not least, I still have some slots left for free shorter stories based on your prompts. So feel free to send me messages or ask (anonymous is fine, don’t worry) if you have ideas you want me to write. It can be pretty much any theme you desire, but it's first come, first served.

In the meantime, have a nice day and see you soon! :)

[the-daily-body]

"Bro! What was in that stuff you gave me?"

"Just a little something to help you fit that uniform better."

"Uniform, bro?"

"Yeah, bro, your football uniform."

"Football uniform? I play football?"

"Yeah, bro, you play football. Whatcha think you're doing here?"

"But wasn't I, like, a nerd, bro?"

"Come on, bro, do you feel like a nerd? Look at those arms, bro."

"Yeah, you're right. I guess that last tackle must have rattled my brains a bit, bro. What's the score now? Are we ahead?"

"21 to 14. Coach says you'd better sit out for a few. But don't worry, bro, you'll be going on the field soon. We're not short a player now."

[the-daily-body]

“Cheryl?! Is that you?! What the fuck are you doing in Anthony’s body?!” My husband scolded me as he walked into our bedroom.

“Doug, please. You get to have fun in our son’s fiancé. I wanted to have a little fun in Shauna’s new boyfriend here. Isn’t he quite the looker for our girl? She’s grown up so much.” I retaliated as I continued exploring my new masculine body.

“Oh, I see how it is. I was inside her for one day! I demand you get out of him and join us for dinner. Shauna was wondering where you two were. I’m not going to explain to her how we are secretly body hoppers Cheryl.”

I had hopped into Anthony here while he had excused himself from dinner to the restroom. Of course, I excused myself as well and followed him down the hall. It was simple enough to focus my energy towards him and hop into his skin.

It had been awhile since I possessed a man. I only got the idea after my husband, Doug, hopped into our son’s soon-to-be-wife two weeks ago on vacation. Well, I was going to enjoy being Anthony here for a bit.

“Gosh Sir. I don’t know what happened to Mrs. Smith. I’ll keep an eye out for her though. I gotta get back to my fiancé though.” I smirked.

I quickly hopped out of bed and scooted past Doug. He gave me a glaring side eye before realizing he was helpless to do anything else.

"Relax babe. If the rest of dinner goes well, I'll let you help me explore this body some more." I whispered seductively to him.

I made my way back towards the dinner table, taking a seat next to Shauna. She rubbed my bulge as I sat back down and I looked at her with lust in my eyes. This was going to be an interesting evening.

[the-daily-body]

As I settled into the driver’s seat, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sensation of being in his body. My gaze caught the reflection in the rearview mirror, and damn—Mateo was a sexy motherfucker. A smirk tugged at his lips, natural for him, but the awe behind it was all me, the one now in control. I shifted slightly, feeling the muscles in my—well, Mateo’s—chest tighten, still buzzing from the workout.

“Shit these are nice,” I muttered, testing out this new voice, hearing that laid-back, confident tone. It had a casual swagger to it, almost like he was used to talking this way, smooth and cocky. I gave a small flex, watching Mateo’s pecs bounce in the mirror. Damn, that felt good. I couldn’t resist; I flexed again, harder this time, and his chest swelled, rising with each bounce. “Look at that… fuckin’ unreal.” My fingers slid over his damp skin, feeling the solid pump, the heat from the gym still radiating through his body.

The scent hit me then—sweat, body wash, and that earthy, musky smell that clung to him after the workout. It was strong, and hell, I liked it.

“U-u-ungghhh, fuckkkk,” I moaned, not even trying to hide how much I was feeling it, inhaling deeply, letting that raw, masculine scent fill my lungs. It hit me in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Damn, you smell so good, bro,” I muttered through Mateo’s lips, as I made him hungrily look at his own reflection. I admired the sharp jawline, the messy curls that somehow looked perfectly styled, and my chest tightened as I took him in again.

“F-fuckkk,” I whispered, almost like the smell alone was doing things to me. Shit, I’d stay in this body all day if I could. I flexed again, his pecs bouncing in the mirror, and I let out a low, satisfied grunt.

I let my hand wander over his chest, fingers tracing the firm muscles. Mateo’s pecs felt solid under my touch, but the skin was smooth, a little slick from the heat. I gave them a squeeze, feeling the weight of them, letting my thumb graze over the soft hair there.

“Yeah, I can see why you like all this hard work” I made him tauntingly say as if he was talking to me. My eyes locked on his reflection as I worked my fingers over his chest, feeling the muscles flex just under the surface.

“Ungghhh… hell yeah, this feels so good,” I groaned through his lips, grinning as I tested out that laid-back, playful voice again. I flexed again, watching his pecs bounce in the mirror, unable to hold back.

“Shit, look at these fuckin’ things,” I muttered, squeezing them with both hands, feeling their heavy, solid weight. “You got some fuckin’ monsters on your chest, bro,” I groaned, smirking at how it sounded, amused by how casually cocky it felt. I pushed his chest out, flexing harder.

“YEAH, look at my big-ass meaty titties" I moaned breathlessly, my fingers tracing every curve of his pecs.

“UNGHHH f-ff-fuuuckk” I groaned again teasing his nipples while enjoying the lazy, confident sound of his voice. His reflection looked back at me, cocky and in heat. It was hot, watching Mateo’s face twist in pleasure, knowing I'm the one causing his own body to get hard for himself. His jaw tight, lips slightly parted, the groans slipping out effortlessly. I gave a little grin, loving how I could make his body respond under my control.

I raised his- my eyebrow at myself while flashing a toothy grin and giving his pecs another pop. Yeah, I thought, I could do this all day.