Just Another Cute Little Twink

God, I love switching bodies with Ethan. Fucking love it! I get to wear all of his cute clothes, his cute little underwear. I can drive around in his car and listen to Britney Spears as loud as I fuckin' want to, go to the mall with his friends and just openly check out all of the cute guys there. And then at night, I can go to any gay club that I want to and just shake my cute little ass for all the guys to see. Hell, if I want to make out with a guy right on the dance floor, I can do that too -- and not a single person thinks anything of it. Just another cute little twink doin' his thing.

And trust me, Ethan gets plenty out of being in my body too. He gets to be the big jock, have all of my muscles, strut around the school in my letter jacket. Blah, blah, blah. Yeah, all of that stuff is great, I guess -- but it's nothing compared to just really getting to be myself for once and getting to do all of the things I want to do in Ethan's body.

What The Label Wants

The label wanted a clean-cut, modern-day boyband. You know, like back in the days of 'N Sync and the Backstreet Boys. The only thing is, we didn't fit that mold at all. We were five black guys, straight from the streets of Detroit, ready to make our big hip hop debut. Yeah, I guess our image was a little rough. So, I mean, when the label told us that they just needed to "clean us up" a little bit, we didn't think anything of it. I mean, they were offering us this huge contract and everything. What were we supposed to do -- say "no"?

It wasn't five minutes after we signed our names on the paper that these guys in suits came in and ushered us off "to the studio." They loaded us up in limousines and everything, man. Askin' us things like if we were ready to hit the big time, ready to be stars. Champagne was flowing, everyone was partyin' -- and then all of the sudden, we all started feeling tired. "You guys have been through a lot today..." they told us, "You're probably just very, very sleepy..."

The next thing I know, I'm waking up in this sort of emergency room. I'm thinkin' what the hell happened... I'm able to turn my head left and right, and I see four other guys layin' beside me, but I don't recognize them. A doctor comes up to me and asks me my name. I hear myself saying "Joshua," but I know that's not my name. My name is D'Andre...

"Very good, Joshua," the doctor tells me, "Now, how old are you and where are you from."

I hear myself say that I am 18 and from Orlando, FL. Neither of those things are true... and it doesn't even sound like my voice... I sound like, I don't know, a white guy. My voice is all high-pitched and smooth and shit. But the doctor seems very satisfied with the answers.

"And I understand you recently signed a record deal with MBS Records?"

"Yeah," I hear myself say, "It's always been my dream. I knew if I worked hard enough and just believed in myself, it would really happen one day!"

What the hell kind of shit is this coming out of my mouth?! And why don't I sound like me!? And yet, all I can do is just lay there and answer her questions.

"Okay, Joshua," the doctor says, "Now just one final thing. I'm going to hand you a mirror. Due to the nature of the incident, you may find your initial appearance to be a bit... shocking. But you will, of course, accept any changes that you see. This is how the label wants you to look, and what the label wants is always best."

That last phrase really strikes a chord in my mind. Yes. She was right. What the label wants is always best...

She hands me a mirror, and I hold it up to my face. I don't know what to feel. The face looking back at me is not my own. The rough African-American features that I've known all my life are gone. Instead, I'm this white guy! This white guy with dark, spiky hair, and a really clean-cut face. I look down at my arms, these white arms with no tattoos, no street-earned muscles. I mean, the arms are toned, but they're like the kind you get from going to the gym a couple times a week. Not from having to defend yourself on the streets your entire life.

I open my mouth to speak.

"Who is this?" I ask, and now the voice that I've been hearing seems to match up perfectly with what I'm seeing in the mirror.

"That's you, Joshua," says the doctor.

"But my name is..." I try to remember what it is.

"Your name is Joshua," says the doctor, bringing the mirror away from my face, "And you are an 18-year-old fresh out of high school and ready to sing and dance and look good on the covers of teen pop magazines. You're very lucky, you know. You're going to be the sort of front-man of this band, a sort of modern-day Justin Timberlake. This is what the label wants of you, and what the label wants --"

"What the label wants is always best..." I finish her sentence in almost a monotone. And then I remember something, far in the back of my mind, "But what happened to Keshawn... and Tré-V... and Iverson... and Lil' D..."

"They are now Kevin, Travis, Ethan, and Matthew," she tells me bluntly.

I look to my left and my right again. That's them, I realize. These four guys -- my four best friends -- grew up with me in the ghetto, came up with me from the streets, and we were gonna make it big. And we were gonna be hip hop stars... Livin' the life, man... But they were all the same as me now. These fuckin' clean-cut white guys.

And then, once more, I feel very sleepy. I close my eyes and my mind is flooded for a moment with images of dance steps and singing lessons all throughout a childhood that isn't mine, and then a high school that I've never even been to before, and the four guys that are laying beside me and how we met there, and how the label picked us up after seeing us perform in a mall. None of it is true, I know that it isn't. But it's what the label wants, and what the label wants is always best.

Guitar Hero

"Son, I don't mind you staying home and playing video games since you obviously couldn't go to school today -- but until we figure out how to change you back, can you at least put on some clothes?"

"But Dad, what am I supposed to wear now, huh? All of my clothes would look silly on me since I'm not a little kid any more! I mean I have grown-up muscles and everything now. Oh! And look at this!"

"Whoa -- okay, son. Why don't you, uh... cover that up..."

"But why, Dad!? It's so neat! And it's so big, and look at how it has like all this hair on it! Is this what yours looks like, Dad?"

"Daniel! You are going over yourself up right now, young man, do you hear me? Or the video game gets turned off!"

"Awww, Dad! C'mon!"

"Upstairs. Now."

Craig watched as his son reluctantly put down the Guitar Hero controller and headed up the stairs.

"Damn..." he thought to himself, trying for now to hide the massive hardon in his pants, "That age progression formula worked even better than I thought it would. Look at that ass! Absolutely perfect! Now I've just gotta get him acting like an adult... Lucky I've got that formula ready to go as well..."

Just a Job

Just checkin' out the body they have me in for today's shoot. It's actually a pretty nice one, I have to say. Nice ass, cute face. It'll look real good on film. And it's much better than that European twink suit that they had me in last week. I swear they must have gotten that one from the bargain bin...

Can't wait to see what idiot costume they have me in, though, or what stupid scenario they have me acting out. By the looks of it, it's "college jock gets fucked by nerdy professor." But hey, at least I get to be the college jock and not the nerdy professor. And maybe they'll even let me stick around in the dressing rooms for a bit after the shoot, so that I can actually enjoy this body for a bit. You know, by myself, and not in front of a whole camera crew.

I tell ya, I thought getting into the porn industry would be exciting, and when I found this company that uses actors in bodysuits to portray all of its "stars," I signed a contract without question. But I guess when it comes down to it, a job's just a job...

Hop on In

"All right, son. You know the drill," said my dad, dropping his robe and turning his back to me, "Hop on in."

"You got it!" I said, stripping off my own clothes and stepping right up behind him.

I placed my hands on his back to let him know I was there. Then, he started slowly backing into me as I pressed myself gently forward, feeling my flesh melt into his as I went deeper and deeper into him. I felt his body coming more and more under my control, that wonderful feeling that I had been waiting for all week.

"All right, Dad," I said, taking a deep breath, "I'm about to go all the way in!"

"Go ahead, Son," he said, "And remember -- I'm only letting you use my body this weekend because I want to use yours next weekend!"

"You got it, Dad!" I said.

I gave him a light kiss on his back and then I plunged my head right in, navigating my way up through his body until my eyes matched up with his. After a brief moment of bluriness, I knew that I was now inside of my own father's body, controlling it just like it was my own -- and, oh, the things I had planned for it for the weekend!

The Personal Assistant

His devastating good looks, his gym-sculpted body, his million-dollar bank accounts, his fancy ski lodge in Colorado, his closets full of expensive tailor-made clothing, his cars, his care-free bachelor lifestyle, his voice, his handwriting, his smell even! All of it was now mine! I was now the man who for so long had treated me like complete shit as his "personal assistant." For years I had followed him around, catering to his every whim -- hating every humiliating second of it, but knowing that it would all lead to this very moment.

Now I'm the one in charge. Now I'm the one with the personal assistant, although he'll be lucky if I keep him around just long enough to show him how shitty it really is to have that body. After that, I could give a fuck what happens to him or what he does with my body. I'm gonna live my life the way I was always meant to live it, baby, and it starts right now!

Out Cold

"Um... so how long is he going to be like that?" said Trevor, after having witnessed our friend Mike deflate into nothing an empty shell.

"Dude, don't worry. He'll be out cold at least until tomorrow afternoon sometime -- plenty of time for both of us to try him on and have our way with him for the night!"

"But how are we gonna get him back to the hotel room like this?"

"Easy, dude," I said, "Just help me lift him up. It'll just look like we're helping out a good old friend who's had too many drinks. And then as soon as we get back to the room, what do you say you help me 'break him in' a little bit, huh?"

"You don't have to tell me twice!" said Trevor, lifting one of Mike's heavy arms over his shoulder, "Come on, let's help our good friend out here!"

Not Today

"Nope. Still don't want to swap back," I said confidently, walking out the door of the apartment that I had recently accquired along with this amazing new body.

I have no idea how it happened, honestly. I was just sitting in the park one day, watching this stud jog by, and then bam! I found myself in his body, shirtless and sweaty from the jog, my new young body looking so athletic and pumped-up. Across the park, I saw my old body suddenly jump up from the bench. God, I looked old. And frail. Especially compared to what I had now.

My old body came running towards me, yelling about me stealing his body and sounding absolutely crazy. One thing I know is that I felt a lot sharper in this body, and I knew that if I just played it cool, I could keep this body for as long as I wanted.

"Calm down, old man," I said with my new smooth voice, "I don't have any idea what you're talking about..."

And then I confidently walked away into my new life, finding that I was even starting to steadily accquire bits of this stud's memories and mannerisms the more that I lived as him -- making everything just all the easier.

Still though, he comes up to me in the street, begging me to give him his life back. Sorry, buddy. Not today, and not ever!

Never Good Enough

I can't believe this day has freakin' come! I spent my entire college career trying to win this award, but I was never quite good enough -- never good as my little bro, James, who only started swimming because of me in the first place. Who would have thought that he would have gone on to be this super-stud in the pool, sweeping up trophies left at right as I became known as "the other brother." Hell, I don't even think people knew or cared about the fact that I was a swimmer, too.

But now that I took his body from him, and forced him into mine, I'd say that things are turning around quite nicely. Today, I swam like I'd never swam before in my life -- I really put his body to the test and it felt amazing! The only thing greater has been standing here with this trophy as everyone gathers around us taking pictures. Even Mom and Dad are so proud me. As for James, I don't think he even came to this match, not even to watch. But I'll be sure to let him know how everything went just as soon as I get home.

Old Professor Jenkins

All right. I think everything's all set for the BBQ this afternoon. Burgers are on the grill, Beer is nice and ice-cold, got my "Phil" bodysuit propped up on the the back porch -- oh wait! I guess I'd better get that on, huh? Damn, I'm getting so used to spending time as this big, dumb stud that I forget sometimes whether or not I'm even wearing him! God, I'd love to spend the rest of my life as him -- just look at him! -- but until I can figure out how to make that happen, I've just gotta make the most out of the time that I do get to spend as him. And so, for another afternoon, I'll become "Phil" once again, a hot college jock just grillin' some burgers and chuggin' some beer with his boys -- none of them any the wiser that in fact their new buddy "Phil" is nothing but a bodysuit being worn by their own "old Professor Jenkins."

Morning Coffee

Swapping bodies with my dad has had a lot of cool perks. I mean, I obviously have all of these awesome muscles now and, like, everyone treats me like I'm an adult. And I get to use his credit cards when we go out to the store, and my signature even looks like his now. And I sound like him on the phone, and I get to drive his car, and I get to stay up however late I want and watch TV.

But one thing that really sucks is that I feel really sleepy in the mornings. I mean, I watch my dad in my body, like, jump out of bed every morning and he always wants me to wake up and take him to the park and play with him and stuff. And he goes straight to the cupboard and pours himself a bowl of Lucky Charms and runs up to his room and he's ready to go -- and I haven't even had time to sit down with my coffee and read the morning paper yet. What I wouldn't do to have his energy...

Thursday Nights

Thursday nights are the fuckin' best. It's the only night that me and my best friends Drew and Caleb get to go out together anymore, so you can bet we make the most of it. I'm talkin' about hittin' all the gay clubs in the area, staying up until five in the morning, gettin' drunk as hell... And we almost always go out like this, dressed in as little as possible, not afraid in the least to show off our bodies as we dance the night away.

That's why it sucks when Friday morning comes around and we all have to strip out of our bodysuits, peeling away the tan, muscular, smooth bodies as our white, flabby, hairy bellies flop out and the handsome, chiseled faces fold away to reveal those of three tired-looking men in their mid-40's. Then it's off to work at our various jobs, where we will all trudge through our workday -- all of us looking forward to next Thursday.

Boyfriend

Boyfriend
by Erick Stratton

I don't know what Josh expected, but he sure as hell didn't expect to see me sitting on his bed when he walked into his bedroom that night. He looked as good as ever. He was just coming back from work, so he was still wearing the green polo and khakis that were required at the sub shop. He seemed a little tired, his hair was kind of messed up, but he still looked good. He looked good all the time, no matter what. That was one of the reasons why I loved him so much; that was why I had to do what I was about to do that night.

“What are you doing here, Andrew?” he asked me flatly, “I told you I'm done talking to you. Get out.”

“Josh, baby,” I told him, getting up from the bed and approaching him, “You know I still love you. Why can't we just get back together?”

I reached for his hand, he recoiled away.

“You need to fuckin' stop this shit,” he told me, “You know that I'm with Scott now. We've been together for almost a year. You and me can't get back together.”

“But if Scott wasn't in the picture --”

“Scott is in the picture, and I love him. And you and me will never get back together. Now get the fuck out.”

“You love him?”

“That's what I said.”

“And do you think he'll be in your life for a long time?” I asked.

“I would really like that,” he responded.

“Fine,” I said, grabbing my coat off of the bed, “That's all I needed to know.”

I kissed Josh on the cheek, he pushed me away, and I let myself out. It had been just like all of the other meetings I'd had with him since we'd broken up a year ago.

I loved Josh so much. I mean, more than anybody could understand. Josh was my soulmate, the one guy I was meant to be with for the rest of my life. When we broke up, it tore me apart. When he started dating Scott a few weeks afterwards, I thought that I couldn't go on living. It had been my one goal to get back together with him, to make him see that we belong together – but all he could see was Scott. And when I realized that, then I was finally able to make some plans to get back into Josh's life.

I got into my car, threw my coat into the back seat, and waited. It was just a little bit after 9:30. Scott would be coming back from his job around 10:00. They had been living together for the last couple of months. I hated that, but then it also made it easier to follow them both – since they were always around each other.

It was important for me to see how they acted when they were together, even if I just got quick glimpses of them coming in with the groceries or heading out for an afternoon together at the beach. And then there had been the nights like this where I just sat outside in my car and looked up into their apartment to see if I could observe anything through the living room window.

I watched Scott at his job. He worked at the Best Buy down on Jefferson, so it was easy to hide behind the rows of computers and observe him as he went about his work. He was a good-looking guy. Very “All-American”, I guess. Blond hair, blue eyes. Probably about 6'3”, if I had calculated it right. He looked kind of athletic, or at least like he took care of his body. I wouldn't say that he was Abercrombie material or anything, but he was a good looking guy. All that mattered, really, was that he was the one who was with Josh when it should have been me.

I looked down at my watch. It was a little bit after 10:00. I became more alert, watching for the headlights of Scott's car to pull into the parking lot. I couldn't mess this up, I couldn't let him get into the apartment tonight. I had to catch him in the parking lot, and then I had to make things quick. I went over the plan in my head. I'd been going over it for the last week, but now was the time to see if it would really work.

Finally, I saw his car. He parked in his usual spot, he stepped out of his car, and he made his way towards the stairs up to the apartment. I quickly made sure I had everything that I needed, got out of my car, and ran up behind him.

He turned around, with a flash of fear in his eyes – but when he recognized that it was me, he just pushed me away. Apparently Scott thought that I was “creepy”, or at least that's what I had heard. He didn't like the way I hung around Josh all the time. He was always telling Josh that he should get a restraining order against me or something. But Josh still loved me, I knew it, and that's why he would never do anything like that.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing, stalking us now?”

“Actually, Scott,” I told him, “Yes, I am stalking you. And I have been for a while.”

I looked up at him, noticing how much taller he was than me. At 5'6”, anybody over six feet tall seemed like a giant to me. He could have taken me out so effortlessly at any time if he wanted to. That's usually why I stayed away from him.

“What the fuck? Does Josh know you're here?”

“Yeah. I was just up there.”

“I'm calling the police, dude,” he said. He reached into his pocket, presumably for a cell phone, “You are so fucking creepy.”

With confidence, I stopped him from reaching into his pocket. I grabbed his wrist firmly. I knew there was probably going to be a little bit of a struggle – at least for a couple of seconds, anyway.

I felt it instantly, and by the look on his face, he felt it too. It was a cold shock, something that I hadn't expected. I almost let go of his wrist, but knew that I had to hold on. He fell back against the railing of the stairs. I kept holding onto him. It was so cold. Just coldness throughout my entire body.

He tried to pull away from me, but he was weaker now – or was I just stronger? My arms were certainly looking thicker, my hand looked bigger holding his shrinking wrist. It was working. It was definitely working. I think he knew what was going on, but just logically couldn't make it make sense. He kept trying to break free, thinking that would stop it from happening, but I held strong.

I watched his eyes become dull and brown, his blond hair become brown and shaggy. It was then that I realized I was looking down at him. I felt like a giant. He was shivering, or trembling – I don't know which – as his body deflated, losing any athletic trait that it used to have. He looked so small now, his face seemed so much more feminine as it took on more and more of my qualities. Josh always told me that he preferred men who were more masculine. More masculine like Scott. More masculine like the man I was about to become.

The last thing that swapped were our clothes, so that I was suddenly in Scott's Best Buy uniform, and he was wearing my beat-up jeans and T-shirt. I was him, and he was me – in every single way now. Finally.

I let go of him, and let him fall back against the stairs. He looked exhausted and weak in my body. I, on the other hand, felt amazing, and I knew that I looked exactly like Josh wanted me to now. I stood up tall and proud, stretching out my new limbs. I couldn't wait for Josh to see me like this.

Suddenly, Scott got himself up and rushed at me. He was no match for me now. He hit me like a brick wall. He came back at me again, pounding his frail little arms at my now powerful chest.

“What the fuck did you do to us!? What the fuck did you do!?” he kept saying. Had my voice really sounded that girly?

“I don't know what you're talking about, Andrew,” I told him, “Now why don't you just get out of here before I call the police?”

I used the threat that he had used on me so many times, and it infuriated him. He started to cry. I'm sure he felt hopeless, and he should have.

Then, Josh came out of the apartment, wrapped in a robe. He looked so good.

“Andrew! What the fuck are you doing!?” he addressed Scott. I smiled. He couldn't tell the difference.

“I'm not Andrew!” Scott said, practically on the verge of tears, “I'm Scott! It's me, Scott! I'm your fucking boyfriend, would I lie to you!?”

Josh turned to me. I tried to appear completely clueless.

“Scott?” he asked me, “Are you okay?”

He came over and wrapped his arm around my waist. It felt so good. He loved me again.

“Yeah, baby,” I told him, pulling him a little bit closer, “I'm fine. Can we just go inside?”

“Yeah, baby,” he said, “Go ahead, I'm gonna talk to Andrew for a second.”

“Okay,” I said, and I gave him a kiss. I felt electric inside. He had no idea what was going on. He thought I was Scott. And why wouldn't he have? I turned away, and started up the stairs, smiling broadly now that my back was turned.

“Andrew,” I heard Josh say to my old body, “I'm really starting to worry about you. I'm with Scott now, and I'm happier than I've ever been. You know that I'm sorry things didn't work out between us, but you've got to move on, man. I mean it, I'll call the cops if shit like this happens again. Okay?”

Scott bawled in his new body. He must have felt hopeless.

“Josh, baby?” I turned around at the top of the stairs, “Are you coming in?”

“Yeah, Scott. I'm coming in,” he smiled up at me.

And the real Scott was left crying on the sidewalk, trapped in my body and trapped in my life as he watched me step effortlessly into his.

Envy

Envy
by Erick Stratton

Joe lived alone, and he was a lonely man. He was 44 and divorced, fat and balding. He lived in a one-bedroom apartment in a neighborhood which had perhaps 30 or 40 years ago been a flashy new development, but which was now looking awfully run-down and out-of-date. He had no pets, and no plants. He never had friends over (he never had friends), and he rarely went out besides to work – which is where this story really begins.

Joe worked at the local high school as a janitor. He'd worked in a bank once, but that was before the divorce. Now, he spent his days pushing through crowds of noisy, rude high school students who never even gave him a second glance. He hated it and, truthfully, grew more resentful of his position in life every day. It took a while for him to get to the point where he actually wanted to do something about it – but once he got to that point, there was no stopping him.

There was one thing in particular that Joe hated. He hated how these kids walked around in the prime of their lives, and took every moment of it for granted. None of them gave a second thought to how fortunate they were or to how easy they really had it – and the most ungrateful of them all, at least the way Joe saw it, was Matt Wendland.

Matt was a jock, and the school worshiped him – not only the students, but all of the faculty as well. He could do no wrong, as long as he kept winning games for the football team and triumphing in wrestling matches – and as long as his parents kept donating loads of cash to the athletics department. He was beautiful, in an overtly masculine way, with a perfectly and carefully-sculpted body that no 18-year-old should rightfully have. He drove some hot new car that his parents bought for him after he had wrecked the previous one. He sported a new wardrobe every time that Hollister and Abercrombie updated their lines for the season. He had the best parties at his house, he had the best Spring Break stories to tell, he had the best girl in school in his bedroom whenever he damn well pleased. He had the best of everything, but he treated Joe like shit.

Matt would blatantly toss emptied-out energy drink bottles so that they just missed the trash can – especially if he knew that Joe was watching. “Dude, just leave it,” he would say to his jock friends, “That's what we've got Joe the Janitor for.” And then they would leave down the hallway chuckling and grinning and patting each other on the back.

Matt would go out of his way to “accidentally” shoulder check Joe as he demonstrated the play that had won the game last weekend. Matt would carelessly lead his throngs of friends through a lobby that Joe had just mopped. Matt would tip over the trash cans in the locker room, Matt would leave cruel things written on whiteboards that he knew Joe would be coming in to clean; and Matt didn't give a fuck about how it made Joe feel. To Matt, it was funny. Some of his friends might have known otherwise, but they would never question Matt's authority. So they laughed along, hoping to gain (or maintain) acceptance from their idol.

At first, it was enough for Joe to simply grumble things under his breath whenever Matt disrespected him. But it eventually started to wear on him, letting some 18-year-old stud humiliate him like that. And eventually it wore on him so much that he started seeing things in a very different way.

Sometimes, he would imagine being on the other side of Matt's tormenting. He would imagine being the high schooler who had no idea what it was like to see real failure in life, and who had so many good things around him that he didn't have any need at all to respect the people and things that were below him. It would be nice to be like that, Joe thought, It would be nice to be Matt Wendland.

After Joe realized that he envied Matt's life, it took only a very short time before he was flat-out obsessed with it. At night, he would think about what Matt was doing at that particular moment. He would hear about a party that Matt was having and imagine all of the girls that were hanging off of him as he drunkenly flexed his biceps. Joe wanted to know everything that there was about Matt, so that his fantasies could be more complete; and the more he learned, the more obsessed he became.

Soon, he looked forward to seeing Matt at school. He looked forward to any encounter that he would have with the jock, and departed from his scheduled duties specifically because he wanted to follow Matt around. I want to be Matt Wendland, he thought to himself.

At home, Joe would clip out any newspaper article that mentioned Matt, and from this he learned things about Matt that he wouldn't have learned from simply observing him in the hallways. He was able to piece together somewhat of a biography of Matt from mentions in the articles about his family and his history as a football player and wrestler. There was an article in one of the papers where Matt discussed what he wanted to do after high school.

“A couple of schools have already offered me the chance to play on their teams, but I'm still looking forward to some more schools scouting me later in the season,” Matt was quoted.

To go to college for free, thought Joe, And all I'd have to do is be on their team.

After he read that article, Joe began to ferociously study the sport of football. He watched more games, checked more websites for scores and statistics, read more magazines than even the most die-hard football fans would consider to be necessary. But Joe wanted to know everything – and in fact, he did become quite knowledgeable about it. He only wished he would actually get to play, and many of his fantasies about Matt became about being on the field, scoring the winning touchdown, fucking the head cheerleader afterwards as he released into her any tension and aggressiveness that hadn't been taken care of during the game.

It was unhealthy the time that Joe spent fantasizing about things like that, it really was. But Joe hoped that it would pay off, and convinced himself that one day he really would get to be Matt Wendland.

The school year was coming to a close, and the thought of Matt leaving for college was absolutely awful for Joe. He knew that if he was going to do something, he had to do it soon. He followed Matt more intently than ever, even parking across the street of Matt's house and peering through the windows with a pair of binoculars. This way, he could see the way that Matt interacted with his family and the way that he moved around his own house.

It was on one of these “observation trips” (as Joe liked to call them) that he finally figured out how he was going to do it.

He noticed that Matt left his car unlocked. It was a careless thing to do, but if it got stolen his parents would probably just buy him a new one. So why would Matt care about locking it? Joe couldn't wait to have that care-free, cocky, I-can-have-anything-I-want attitude.

And so, the car had been left unlocked, and Matt had gone inside the house. Joe had to take the opportunity. He had to. He grabbed the things that he needed from his own car, and crossed the street as stealthily as he could. Ducking into the Wendland's driveway and behind Matt's car, he felt for the door handle while keeping his eyes on the house. The sound of the back passenger-side door opening seemed terribly loud to Joe, but his action was quick. Into the back seat he went, softly closing the door behind him. And there he waited, pressed as low to the floor as he could be.

He didn't wait long, or maybe he did. The time passed quickly because his mind was racing with the anticipation of finally having that one thing that he had envied for so long. When he heard the front driver-side door open, his heart stopped. But it was promptly closed again, and then there was Matt in the same car with Joe. It was so close now. The engine roared up, Matt pumped up his music and backed out of the driveway without any idea of what was coming.

Joe let him drive for a bit. They were driving out to one of Matt's friends' house, which was just a little bit out of town in one of those new developments that pop up along what used to be a quiet country road. Joe knew exactly where they were going, of course. He had pretended to be mopping the locker room earlier when he heard Matt talking about the party on his cell phone. Joe lifted his head up a bit every now and again, and he knew that when he started seeing less lights and neon signs flying by, that they were getting farther and farther out of town.

A few more minutes, he thought, and he smiled at hearing Matt singing along with the music, because he knew that he would have that voice soon.

There were no street lights now, no headlights passing in the other direction, and Matt was cruising steadily along. This was the time, and Joe knew it. He pushed himself up from the floor of the car, slowly rising so that he was kneeling directly behind Matt. He stayed there for a moment, sniffing in the cologne that Matt was wearing. His smile became bigger, his intentions became more difficult to prolong.

It was then that Matt chanced to look into his rearview mirror, and upon seeing Joe's unkempt, scraggly, sunken face reflected there, he swerved sharply into the shoulder of the road.

“Fuck!” he said, flailing his muscular arm around the back of the seat in an instinctual attempt to fight off Joe, “What the fuck are you doing! You fucking creep!”

Matt kept one hand on the wheel, but the car was swerving all over the country road as he fought against Joe. The lights from the housing development came up on the horizon.

“Stay calm,” Joe said. His voice was strange, loaded with both madness and joy at the same time, “You're going to pull over. I need you to pull over.”

“Fuck no!” Matt fumbled for his cell phone, “Fuckin', there's all kinds of fuckin' houses up here! Somebody will see what you're doing! You fucking creep!”

“I know there are houses up there,” Joe said, “And your friend Lincoln's house is up there, and he's having a party, and I'm going to look great when I show up to it in your body.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?! You fucking creep!” the cell phone slipped out of Matt's hands.

He swirved sharply again as he reached down to retrieve it. The phone slid out of his reach.

“I need you to pull over,” Joe repeated.

“I'm not fucking pulling over!” Matt returned to trying to physically attack Joe. Joe loved Matt's arrogance, thinking that he could get out of this.

From the floor of the car, Joe slowly and deliberately brought up a knife. It caught a flash of moonlight as he brought it up to the the jock's neck and held it there.

“I need you to pull over,” Joe said.

And finally, Matt gave in. Matt Wendland, the super stud who didn't appear to be afraid of anything, had fear in his eyes. Maybe he did appreciate his life after all, Joe thought. The car slowed down. Matt was shaking as he guided it to the side of the road and parked it. He left the key in the ignition. His thick chest heaved up and down a few times. It was quiet – but only for a moment before Matt courageously, if not stupidly, threw his elbow into Joe's face with a thud. The threat of the knife instantly removed, Matt pushed the driver-side door open and, still incredibly shaken up, stumbled out of the car.

Joe, of course, had anticipated something like this, and was right behind Matt without any delay. This would be the first time where all of that endless studying of football plays would come into use. Joe quickly and almost effortlessly chased Matt for ten feet or so before tackling the football player to the ground.

“What the fuck do you want from me, dude?” Matt asked helplessly, choking up the gravelly dirt from the side of the road, “I'll fucking give you whatever you want.”

“Oh really?” said Joe, as he pinned the jock down and began to remove his own clothes. He was careful so that as he removed each article of clothing, he still had a firm hold on Matt. Matt continued to struggle, but Joe was a big guy. He could hold his own, and he had prepared for this.

Finally he was completely nude. He was naked and on top of Matt Wendland, who was face-down in the dirt. He laughed, and it was a laugh of victory as he pushed his hand into Matt's back.

He felt no resistance. His fat hand simply slid in through the tight polo that Matt was wearing, through Matt's skin even, and through his thick muscles. Matt screamed at the feeling of having his body so sickeningly violated – no, not violated – occupied. He was being occupied.

Joe continued to push into Matt's body, positioning his arms into Matt's one at a time, and then slipping his legs beneath the surface. He felt his tiny cock become absorbed into Matt's huge member. He finally pressed his torso fully into Matt's. Matt screamed even more helplessly.

“Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” he shouted out as tears streamed down his face, “Get out of me! Get the fuck out of me!”

Joe took one final big breath, feeling the air come in through his own mouth but inflating Matt's athletic lungs. And then, he closed his eyes and and pressed his face right into the back of Matt's head.

He gasped, and he tasted dirt in his mouth; and he knew instantly that it had worked. He laughed. He could do nothing else but laugh. He heard Matt's voice coming out of his throat, and it only made him laugh more. He leaped up, feeling so strong and quick, and he stretched himself out in the moonlight.

He looked down at his arms, and couldn't wait to use them to powerfully send a football sailing through the air. He looked down at the way his pecs stretched the fabric of his tight polo – although, a change of clothing would be necessary before he went up to the party.

Thinking about the party, he knew he had to get there soon, or else people would start to wonder. He made his way back to the car, feeling his strong legs underneath him as he imitated Matt's swagger. He had tried imitating it before, but it felt so much better now that he actually had all of Matt's body parts under his control. Joe had brought along some of Matt's clothes – things that Matt had left laying around the locker room throughout the school year. It wasn't going to be a particularly flashy outfit, but at least it was something that didn't have dirt and blood all over it.

Joe shamelessly stripped off Matt's shirt. His chest was glistening with sweat. His muscles were pumped up from the struggle. He slid on the shirt that he had brought along. Next came the pants, and they fit perfectly. They were tight, but Joe liked that. He liked the feeling of having his muscles pushing the limits of his clothing. It made him feel hot. But then, he was hot now. The hottest.

He tossed the dirty clothes in the trunk, and then went around to take his seat in the front of the car. Joe looked into the rearview mirror and realized that Joe the Janitor was gone. He was Matt now. Matt Wendland, the guy that everybody envied. He smiled, and Matt smiled back. He thought about the nice cold beers he was going to have at the party, and the hot chicks that were going to be all over him all night. He thought about stumbling home drunk at the end of the night and trying to avoid his father, he though about the hangover the next morning, the crunch to get all of his homework done before school on Monday; and he thought about everything that was to come after that.

And he laughed. He could do nothing else but laugh.

He turned the keys, which were still in the ignition, flipped on the headlights, and pulled out once again onto the quiet country road, knowing that he had nothing to envy any more.