Voting Test - Done Thanks Guys!

Update:


I thought there was a problem with the voting system, but with the help of you guys I've actually found out that people just weren't voting :(


Thank you for testing the system for me, and I hope you've discovered it's quite easy to 'just click' once you've read the story. Seriously, the voting is important to the authors as we are able to gauge how well the story was received, and tailor it better to the readers interests - so we all benefit really. The voting buttons were added for the people that don't want to post any comments, it's all anonymous.


Appreciate your support.
Sean.

---

I think there is a problem with the voting buttons on the website, and I would like to test them.

Can you click on the 'Awesome' button [only] please.

If you're prepared to add a comment (anon if you like) just let me know what the value of the Awesome vote counter *AND* the country i.e. for the UK is was http://maletransformation.blogspot.co.uk 

Big thanks.
Sean.

Caption This! (28th July)

**THE STORIES ARE IN THE COMMENTS**

It was a heavy night of celebrations at the opening of the Olympic Games in London. Athletes and supporters mingled; pushed and shoved all enjoying the party.

With a start you’re woken, much earlier than normal with a fuzzy mind you stagger to the window and look out. It’s a scene you weren't expecting; a fantastic view of the Olympic Park, the stadium in the near distance.

You sway slightly and need to hold as you look down from the apartment window in the Athlete Village. You feel someone duck under your arm and look out.

He slap’s your pecs, “Shit, I told you we could do it.”

You look down, its not your body. You feel and touch your muscular frame; definitely not your body.

The guy looks at you and tips his head, “You OK Chris?”

“Err, yeah.” You grab your throat, its not your voice either. “Where am i? And who are you?”

“It’s me John, don’t you remember? We snagged these two athletes in the tunnel as they were walking back.” He holds up the official passes, “See, that’s you and this is me. They put up a bit of a fight, and I’m glad we found that storeroom.” He looks at you and smiles. “By the time you’d got inside him he had a raging hard on, and the look on your face I think you enjoyed getting dressed in his clothes.” You feel him rub your back, “Last night was fucking amazing.”

You smile as memories flood back, “Yeah, it was.”

“I told you I’d get us into the Olympics. Who knows might even get some medals to take home.” He grins.

----

It’s Caption This! Your time to shine.
Drop in some ideas or post your own story in the comments below.

The Bro and The Librarian

By Terryln (2003) edited by SlickPsych (2012)

Miss O'Shea was startled to hear a tumultuous commotion towards the front of the library. She put a pile of books down and walked swiftly to the front desk, where a new student to University was throwing books over the counter at her young female assistant. His language horrified her, and the vulgarity sent chills up her back. But as the authority of the library she was immediately obligated to intervene; she was nervous walking up to him.

“Now young man, I wont have that language used in here... can you please eloquently express your qualms?'”

He turned to look at her with a glint of disdain in his luring dark brown eyes. She could tell he was a rouge bull type tethered with a thin chain. The way he used his size to intimidate others showed not only immaturity, but a lack of empathy. He curtly replied, in a tone of diffidence: 'Why don't you fuck off old lady! I ain't payin’ no fuckin book fines you hear!?”

“Young sir, your language is disrespectful.” Miss O’Shea walked over to the ingénue manning the front desk, and the beautiful young lady got out of the chair and allowed Miss O’Shea to sit and access the computer. “Now, Mr…” Miss O’Shea looked at the computer to find his name… “Mr. Brown, your fine is only $20 dollars.”

“Fuck lady where I come from spending $20 on a book is ridiculous… neva mind if it ain’t one you don’t even own.”

“Understandable, Mr. Brown, but you’ve had the book on loan for 5 weeks. That’s only about seven cents a day after the due date.”

“Listen lady, I’m here to help this pathetic basketball team. That’s it. I gotta go to class at this here fucked up racist university ta keep up a show. So, here’s ya damn book.”

He threw the book defiantly at the assistant, Patricia. He even had the temerity to wink at her as he did it. He then reached into his pocket, on his sagging camouflage pant, his arm muscles contracting as he did. His white wife beater was obviously a way for him to show off his great arms and accent his skin tone: it was a beautiful shade of brown. His redoubtable size only added to the hyper masculine appearance which he used so unashamedly to assert his dominance. And his 6’2” figure only gave his ego more room to be too big for any space in which he existed.

As disgusted as Catherine O’Shea was with him, she nonchalantly looked over at the handsome man. Not too many black students matriculate to this school. It has a reputation for being a breeding ground for the typical elitist crowds who come from old money. For political reasons, the school had to diversify. And being the backwards social environment that it was, they of course chose to bring the worst of stereotypical racial projections. A black youth with a penchant towards being self-righteous who was also an athlete from the ghetto was a great way to sharpen the schools double edged-sword: to get a regional championship before he was put on probation and/or kicked off the school/team. More conniving: to say, on paper, that they had given every opportunity to him, but he didn’t take them.

His heavy argot and commanding voice broke Miss O’Shea out of her perspicacious analysis:

“And ta show yous all that I’m a good sport, here be $5.00 for ya trouble.” He threw the five dollar bill on the floor. “But yous all can pick it up.”

He turned on his heels and walked out, leaving poor Patricia sobbing.

“Well, I never!” Catherine O'Shea was almost fifty-five, but often seemed older with her fastidious ways and her old-fashioned clothes and her greying hair dyed in a blonde bun. Her spectacles always gleamed with an air of quiet efficiency. She turned to face Patricia, and invited her in for a hug.

“There, there child,” she coddled the young adult as if she were a mother… She had been the chief librarian at the school for almost twenty years. A competent language expert and librarian - a real quiet type. 

“Miss O’Shea, why do they let those black kids act like that?”

“I don’t know, dear,” was all Miss O’Shea could say. In the back of her mind, she thought it such a shame for any human to be so malignant. She also thought back to her college days, and the youthful excitement and hope they had for integration. Decades later, and it seems like one generation is askew from that hope. She thought about how horrible it was that jealously, greed, and competition had replaced an ethos of cooperation, comrade, and mutual respect.

As she was holding Patricia, Miss O’Shea thought more intensely for a moment, and realized that she need not put on flowery rose glasses. As a closeted lesbian, even to this day to an extent, she had never been the mold for the values of the school for which she worked… nor was she ever really much of a leader. So introverted, so repressed, and deep down so bitter… she was no better than Mr. Brown.

Miss O’Shea broke her hug with Patricia, who seemed a little disappointed. The two had worked together since Patricia was a freshmen at the school. Now in her senior year, and having built a solid rapport based on watching a youth grow into a young woman, it was an unspoken attraction that both had for the other. But because of “their ways….” Neither would let anything happen. This rapport seemed destined to go the way of lustful wishing and private masturbation.

Miss O’Shea sighed and then stooped wearily to pick the tattered texts up from the floor. She looked lovingly at Patricia and suggested that she go ahead and leave for the day. Miss O’Shea looked back at the computerized index  system…. the young boy’s face came leering cockily from the screen - a handsome  black youth nonetheless, she thought. LeRoy Brown. 25. Basketball scholarship. Champion track and field.

She continued to read and confirmed her assumptions. He was a real jock. She mumbled under her breath as she read his record: “No wonder he’s so old and still in college, he’s been in and out of prison for misdemeanors. Wonder how many cocks were sucked to get him a spot here… even if only for semester or two.” She hated being so cynical, but she knew, as the young folk say, “what time it is.”

She came back to Earth and sighed. A hot temper of a delinquent all right. As she read on, she looked over to the wall adjacent to her. It was five o’clock on a Friday afternoon. Under the clock was a picture of her. She despised that picture - and her fake dyed hair.

 

“Oh well, I suppose I will have to report him to the committee on Monday,” she mumbled and sighed as she put one elbow on the desk. She looked again at his picture. “You don’t know how good you really do have it, kid. All you’d have to do is be better.”

She closed up the library and walked past the newly built athletes dormitory for students who came from out of town. She could hear some of the boys' vulgar hip-hop and rap songs. No one was around, so she started humming the beats as she walked briskly. For a woman her age and of her rank and status, she peculiarly knew a lot about trending music. The school was in high spirits because the season's big basketball opener was to take place tomorrow night. It was a cold winter’s night in January. Her bones were tired.

Miss O'Shea did have one secret. She was an avid basketball fan. She had bunches of basketball magazines around the house, pictures of basketball jocks, fantasy team lists, seasons statistics - everything.

She wasn't sure what part of the game most attracted her. Had she been honest with herself, it would be been the culture. Basketball had spawn with it a legacy of athletically attractive black men who came from nothing to get something. She had been born with a type of silver spoon. Though she had to work all her life, it was more because she wanted to be independent. She believed deeply in a work ethic, and was able to burry her life in scholarly literary and language pursuits – to the detriment of her own identity and sexual desires, unfortunately. There was something about the uninhibited nature of male players in the NBA that she found erotic.

A spinster - and a virgin - this was her only real pastime, although she did go to all the home games played by the school and cheered them on, and lusted after those young studs. Lusted to be like them, which given her age, position, and birth… could never happen. So, she lusted to be them.

The next week came, the team won thanks to LeRoy. Against Miss O’Shea’s professional judgment, she never reported him. She picked up enough small talk from the girl students in the library as to what the boys did off the court. She had heard LeRoy's name several times.

'….Such a stud….' said one giggling blond.’

'…They say it's nine inches long…’, whispered among another group of girls.

It was closing time again. She took her usual route & walked past the basketball team’s dorm. Feeling uncharacteristically voyeuristic, she snuck to the back of the building to peek into the basement through the garden window… in the back of her mind something told her to do this… as if she were being beckoned. When she got there, she saw LeRoy shirtless down in the basement tunnels standing near some of the electric controls. He was sweating, like he had been working on something… devious… 

“What an odd thing for us to be in such peculiar places,” Miss O’Shea mumbled under her breath. LeRoy happened to look up, and his eyes caught a shadowy figure looking at him from the basement window outside. Miss O’Shea blushed in embarrassment, and suddenly the lights went black throughout the house.

Miss O’Shea caught herself, stood up quickly… too quickly for her body, and scurried swiftly away.

Back at her house, She went to the bathroom and cleaned her teeth before placing them in a glass. Then she read quietly for a while, but her mind was preoccupied by her chance encounter with LeRoy. More than that, she was disturbed that she was so turned on by the sight of his intimidating figure being barely lit in a shadowy place. He looked so rough… so beautiful. She wanted him. She wanted to be him. She touched herself to a climax before nodding off to a troubled sleep in a dark winter's night.

 *** 

Meanwhile LeRoy, after several beers, decided to hit his bunk, wearing only his boxers. Certainly he was envied by his fellow students. At  twenty-five he had the body of a god. Smooth ebony skin over a superbly muscled body, a handsome face, stylish hair cut, magnificent powerful legs, but above all he was hung. A pendulous ten-inch penis lay over his thigh, and small black curls could not hide his golf ball size testicles. Many a girl had melted at the sight of that  equipment. Unfortunately not all of his many conquests had  voluntarily been taken with his huge member. For LeRoy had  the makings of a petty criminal and was used to getting his  own way. That’s why he was going to cut off all the electricity in the dorm, so he could slyly steal in the dark from some of his more naive housemates. But, that shadowy figure peering into the basement had startled him. Could the cops be shadowing him, to keep an eye on him? That’s all to possible, so he restored the system to normal. He too lay in a deep, troubled sleep.

 *** 

Miss O'Shea woke early as she did every day, to take her walk. She believed in keeping trim. She went to reach for her spectacles but found that she could see clearly without them – even to the other side of her room! She also literally bounced out of bed. She felt light headed. Even in the early morning light her skin seemed darker. 

“My God,” she thought, “I am almost black!” Instinctively, she ran her hands through her thick grey hair. But instead her fingers felt a different texture, her hair did not feel like this. In a panic she rushed to her full sized mirror.

There before her, in his manly jock pride stood LeRoy Brown. All six feet and 195 lb of him! In her nightie! Her panties were tight and this body didn’t look right in this gown, so he literally tore them off. But what stunned her most as her eyes moved from her handsome face, to the sculpted chest, was the impossibly large organ between her legs. Her hands moved towards it and picked it up. It was so heavy  but deliciously warm. She could even feel a pulse through  its veiny tumescence. It hardened as she realized what had  occurred. She didn't know how or why, but it had happened. “This is a pleasant surprise…” She said in her male baritone. “Or perhaps a more appropriate articulation of my surprise would be: “Damn, yo!”

She started to stroke her large ebony cock. She felt a sense of ownership and entitlement unlike any other. She saw it’s precum and she tasted it with LeRoy’s fingers. She watched herself in the mirror, admiring the physical differences between what she had known as a white woman and what she was about to become intimately familiar with as a black male youth. A smile slid across her rugged new face. She felt her goatee and stubble. She knew exactly how to take advantage of this biological shift…

***

At school in the boys’ athletic dorm, LeRoy awoke but found he could not see properly. He rubbed his eyes, but still could not focus on the girls playing volleyball on the TV. He felt tired to and moved slowly. He hadn't drunk that much after all. Wispy strands of hair fell across his face.

“What the fuck?” he asked himself as he brushed the hair away from what should have been a low cropped hair-cut. But there was so much of it and it was grey! He went to bite his fist but felt only soft gums on his hand.

“Oh no? What has happened to my teeth?” His boxers felt tight around his hips but curiously loose in the front. His hands shot to his groin.

 “No, no!!!!!” he almost screamed, as his fingers made their way into slender slit of flesh. As he went to raise his body his chest felt heavy as the two ample breasts fell into place on his stomach. His once  perfectly defined thighs were larger and fleshy. He slowly lifted himself up off his bed, feeling achy and a little mad at how much energy he was using. He slowly walked over to the dresser where his mirror was. He could barely see his new dull blue eyes as they widened in abject horror realizing that he was now an old white lady.

“Fuck no” His voice as a soft whisper. He could barely see this face, but he was certain that he had seen it somewhere before… as he was reeling from shock his mobile phone rang. He picked up and answered it almost meekly. “Hello?,” he squeaked.

The other voice on the end was undeniably familiar. “Can I speak with Miss O'Shea?” It asked.

 'You got the wrong number man', he replied almost sobbing. 

“I don't think so,' the voice said, 'have you had a good  look at your self yet fucker?'”

“Who is this?” The man once known as LeRoy Brown asked. The voice sounded terribly familiar but somehow distant. 

“This is LeRoy Brown bitch! Now listen up. You be here at YOUR house in ten minutes or you ain't never gonna be the  same again! Hear?'”

 “But, wh...”

 “Shut the fuck up, you fuckin old pice o shit!” the voice shouted, “and get your ass  over here now! “

Shaking, LeRoy put her mobile down and fumbled into some sweats and sneakers, which felt a little large for her. It took her a little longer than normal to get ready. In a daze, LeRoy left his old room and went to his new house. He found it odd that he was starting to remember a life that wasn’t his

 *** 

As LeRoy arrived at a house that seemed familiar, he was startled when the door opened and an intimidating young muscled black man pulled him in. He went to strike him, but the larger man held him down easily with one hand.

“Aight bitch Imma make our switch as painless as possible.” With that the young man pulled LeRoy into the living room and starting pulling off his size 12.5 black Air Force Ones with the red trimmings, his Higo Boss boxers, then each of his long black tube socks, then the matching Addidas sweat top and bottom.

“Oh Miss O'Shea what a deviant you are! Wearing boys clothes! Tsk Tsk'  The stripped woman who was once LeRoy just stared at his old body. They were both naked now. The person occupying the black man’s body started to dress in what the LeRoy had worn over to his – her – house.

 “Now babe, after you get dressed we gonna walk to the school and I’m going to help you open the library. Then, you're going to hand me the key to my room and we’ll both move on.”

“But why?? What the fuck you doing all this for?” asked the naked white woman, transfixed at the commanding black youth presence which she was fighting to not let her melt her core. Deep down, she was loosing and all she wanted to do was help this man and make sure that he was satisfied.

 “Well a star jock can't go around dressed in woman's clothes, can he?” He said as he flexed his new chocolate body and did a smug smile white he traced his abs. “I have to live in my dormitory and be near my wardrobe and other shit. By the way my dressing room is though there.” He pointed to her new bedroom and LeRoy went in.

He stood behind the door to see what he would do. “Hurry up bitch!” He yelled. “You’re lucky I’m being a damn good sport about this all!”  He snickered in satisfied recompense.

LeRoy opened a door and took out a brown knitted twin suit. Opening a drawer he found her underwear but he could not believe it. Some of it was stuff he had never seen before: girdles, panty girdles, corsets smelling of a mixture of lavender and mothballs. 

Miss O'Shea had dressed in his sweats by now and came into  the room. “Poor baby you don't know how to wear this, do you?” Well I'll help you if you help me by giving me your key, ‘aight?'” He said condescendingly, successfully putting the new Miss O’Shea in her new role and accepting his. It was great. Now they could think of themselves by the names associated with their respected bodies.

Miss O’Shea nodded her face, now red for the first time in her life. LeRoy smiled, perhaps somewhat sincerely.

“Now this is a bra for those plump boobies.” LeRoy helped Miss O’Shea slip it on. “Silk panties next dear. Good. Now a panty girdle, I think.” He gave it to her as she slid it up her fleshy thighs. It was not unlike the girdle pads she once wore when she played football, but these were tighter and they had straps hanging down. Seeing her furrowed brow LeRoy said, “Oh they're for your stockings, dear! Sit down.”

LeRoy rummaged through another drawer and pulled out a pair of thick brown cotton hose. 'Put these on, lady.”

 Miss O’Shea hesitated: “I ain't gonna wear no woman's stockings.  You crazy?”

LeRoy smiled. “Put them on, dear, or I'll use this on you!” He eased the sweat pants down to show Miss O’Shea the bulging pair of boxers.

“You wouldn't?!” Miss O’Shea gasped.

 LeRoy got close to her. Standing next to her looking down into her pale blue eyes. He whispered: “Try me.”

Miss O’Shea loved smelling this black man. She wanted him to move down and kiss her. He could feel his hot breath on her nose and felt as his nostrils ticked her forehead. She was in lust. She did not want to be.

He gently caressed her forearm. He whispered: “Now do it, bitch!”

Watching the former stud pull on her own stockings excited LeRoy so much that his new organ began to swell. He stood back and watched.

Miss O’Shea had an instinctual urge to perform for him while she dressed. She didn’t want to, but she did.

LeRoy smiled smugly: “Pull them up. bitch! “

Miss O’Shea found herself saying: “Oh yeah you like that honey?'  Miss O’Shea had to admit that she was looking at the sexiest man she had ever seen: sweats bulging with young manhood. Tight  muscular legs encased in those sweats.

LeRoy came over to her, and lightly smacked her cheek. “You bitch, he mumbled. I want you to act like you owe me some. You got dat?”

Miss O’Shea nodded. LeRoy smiled cheekily like he normally does and went to the nightstand to retrieve Miss O’Shea’s important personal care things.

He whispered to his mistress: “Here you slut, you'll want these.” He handed her the glasses. Before Miss O’Shea could take her teeth, he said: “But…of course you won't need your teeth when you are giving me head, isn't that what you boys call it, hon?”

Miss O’Shea nodded, slowly put herself on her knees in front of LeRoy, and smelled his cock through the sweat pants. LeRoy patted her head, pulled down his sweats, and Miss O’Shea extended a bony hand up to cup LeRoy’s glorious manhood through his Hugo Boss boxers. She licked it and played with it though the boxers, until LeRoy finally pulled them down, grabbed the back of her head, and in a confident tone, as if he had been doing this for years, said:

“Imma make yo white throat hungry for dis shit. Now suck yo big dick bottle bitch.”

*** 

One game to go before the team found out if they’d make it to regionals. It was to be a light one, LeRoy could handle that. From what his years of sports analysis had shown, this team had fundamental weaknesses that he could easily manipulate. He could manage that. He could do anything.

His phone rang. It was his girl Patricia. He was wonderin when she would finally call.

“Whud up babi gurl” He asked.

“Oh nothing. I’m just calling to let you know that I can’t wait for tonite. Last night was so magical.”

“Yea babe, yous really helpin me transform mahself.” He chuckled: “I think Is even passed dat essay you helped me do. Dat all night study patry was poppin!”

She giggled. “You know, when I first met you, you were a real ass. What changed you.”

“Ayy baby, neava underestimate da human’s capability to adapt!”

“You’re so prophetic at times.”

“Ay, I don’t kno what all these big words you be usin mean quite yet but Imma learn ‘em and Imma be as smart as chu one o des days, hear?” He knew that would make the bitch smile.

“So my place after practice? We’ll go over some basic Latin and hit the calculus?”

“How u say “aight” in Latin?”

“Come over and I’ll teach you.”

“Chyaya I see how it is babi gurl. Maybe Imma teach you a few thangs in time too ya dig?”

“Hahaha, Bye LeRoy.”

“Later Lady.”

LeRoy finally convinced her to give him a chance. After all, she had blamed him partially when Miss O’Shea was committed to a home for the elderly insane. But he won her over by visiting her weekly, and changing her wet panties and bring her gifts. Perhaps he would visit tonite and take a pair of his tube basketball socks to keep her feet warm in bed. She would love that: wearing his sweaty socks. He felt his crotch swell slightly in his basketball shorts at the thought!  

Just then another black athlete bounded up to LeRoy: “Hey brutha wassup?' 

Confidently, LeRoy greeted him with a cheeky smile and a soul dap. “Oh nuttin bro jus chillin!” 

Flaming Stone, Story Request (21st July)

Story Request from Caption This (21st July)

Requested by;

Anonymous July 21, 2012 11:04 PM

Anonymous July 23, 2012 2:06 AM

Anonymous July 23, 2012 7:10 PM

Nery July 23, 2012 7:30 PM

Alex July 25, 2012 12:48 AM

Mike July 25, 2012 1:20 AM

Boycott Chick-fil-A July 25, 2012 6:36 PM

Peter pushed his ear up against the door of his older brother's bedroom. He frowned and lines of concentration parted his forehead.

"Yeah, I can do that. Couple of times a day no problem." Came a muffled voice, even so he recognised it as his older brother David.

Peter held his breath; another voice. Was it from Skype or did someone slip into the room without Peter seeing? Fuck, he couldn't tell.

Suddenly the door swung open, and Peter fell head first into the room. Dazed he rolled over and looked up with shock on his face, David and his best friend Alex--a Hawaiian guy with a strong muscular build--looked down with disdain in their eyes.

"Hey it's your fat brother, did he escape from the zoo again." Sneered Alex.

David slowly walks over, "What the fuck are you doing ass-wipe?" There's an air of contempt in his voice. As Peter tries to get to his feet David plants a foot on his brother's chest and pushes him to the ground.

Alex turns to David, "Does he always spy on you?"

"Yeah, all the fucking time. Doesn't matter how many times I beat him, he still comes back for more."

Peter struggles on the floor, although he's heavier than David it's all fat; puppy fat as his mom calls it. David on the other hand has the physique of an athlete.

David leans harder, and Peter lets out a groan. "Pfft, I don't have time to waste on you." He says with a growl, pushing his socked foot into his brother's face. The two friends step over Peter and leave laughing.

Peter laid there for a moment, a tear formed in his eye. He slowly sat and grimaced at his reflection in the mirror, with a lump in his throat he had to look away. David was the complete opposite; strong, athletic and a team captain.

He sagged, realising he hardly had any friends; those he had were outsiders or oddballs like himself. David had many friends, with others bustling to be seen with him and feign friendship.

He wanted to be like David so much he would do anything; he yearned, ached to be like David. Peter grinned to himself; yeah, swapping with him would be better because then he'd realise how lucky he really is.

Getting to his feet Peter pulled his T-shirt down over his belly and looked around David's room. The wall's were strewn with posters of athletes, used sports gear spewing from a kit bag tainting the air with a musky odour. He picked through the items on his brothers desk, but something caught his eye; a round flat stone with intricate symbols carved into its surface. Beside it a crumpled piece of paper, smoothing out the note he glanced over the text.

Peter frowned, it was unreadable but thought it would be worth running it through Google Translator. Taking the stone and note back to his own room he tapped a couple of words into his laptop; corpus onerariis; clicking on translate returned the phrase body transport.

Running the rest of the note through the computer revealed that it was some kind of ancient metamorphosis device enabling one person to be transformed into another. Peter knew that David was not particularly smart and probably just discarded it because he didn't understand its value. It would appear that it needed the blood of its owner to activate it.

Rummaging through his desk he found a pair of scissors; with shaky hands he stabbed a couple of times at his thumb with a yelp. Squeezing his thumb a glob of blood appeared, carefully he dropped a couple of spots onto the stones surface. Seconds passed with no obvious change, then suddenly its grey surface splintered and cracked open revealing a jet black layer below. The symbols burnt a radiant orange before cooling to a chalk white, he touched the surface; it was warm.

Peter checked the text on the computer again; it suggested that once activated the owner only needed to give the stone to whoever they wanted to swap with, and the exchange would begin. He bit his lip, could this be the opportunity to swap with David? Or should he aim higher?

His question was answered when he heard the front door slam; "Where are you? Fat boy you worthless piece of shit, you need to learn not to keep spying on me and my friends!" It was David.

"I'm in my room!" Peter shouts out. There's a thunder of footsteps as David runs up the stairs, and a glint in his eyes as he rounds the corner.

Peter's lip curled, "Here, catch!" He threw the stone at his brother who caught it easily; confused he looked down at the object and his eyes grew wide as his glaze returned to Peter.

"What the fuck have you done?" Was all the young athlete could mumble before he found himself rooted to the spot--frozen. The younger brother could only take a couple of steps before he too found himself frozen.

Deep inside Peter's body a burning heat grew; a tightness within his whole body as it shifted inside. His eyes darted across to his brother, he could see movement below his T-shirt as it tightened around his waist. At the same time Peter felt his own clothes starting to loosen.

His bones cracked and popped, and the pain was sharp. Peter screwed his watering eyes tight and wondered if he was going to die; what had he done?

It seemed like ages, but the noises and pain subsided and Peter slowly opened his eyes. On the floor curled up was his own body. He blinked a couple of times, and looked around. Suddenly he caught his reflection and his mouth dropped open. "Fuck!" was the only word that passed his lips, for looking back was the reflection of his brother David.

There was a groan from Peter's double on the floor; he rolled over and gasped as he looked up; "You look surprised." Peter said in his new voice.

"What the fuck have you done?" Peter reached down to his double and took the stone with a grin.

"Something you could have done yourself, but wasn't smart enough to figure out."

"SHIT!" Peter dropped the stone, it was red hot. The brothers watched as it bounced on the floor. Almost instantly, it sparked and lightning licked from its surface finally connecting with the foreheads of the two brothers.

The two could only groan, as memories and abilities were copied and exchanged between them. Finally with a loud crack the lightning stopped just as quickly as it had started.

Peter blinked and swayed a little, then with a grin he looked over at his brother, "I guess I should be calling you Fat boy now."

"Swap us back you little shit, I'm still David you fucker, even if I do look like you!" David retorted.

"Why?" Peter picked up the now cool stone and bounced it off his bicep before catching it, with a snigger he continued. "Why would I want to do that? You need to learn about respect Peter."

Looking down Peter's nose wrinkled at his old clothes that he was still wearing, "Damn! I need some new threads," he pauses for a moment and smiles, "oh yeah, I'm meeting Alex in a while." He looks over at the shocked face on his brother.

With a smile, Peter stepped over his brother returning to his new bedroom pulling off his old clothes as he went. Shit this is going to be a hell of an adventure; all the sports, clubs, his car, and his friends... "Fuck!" Peter's face pales and he runs back to his old room, David is still looking confused sitting on the floor.

"Wait," David turns and looks at his old body, "you... you and Alex?" David's face flushes and his eyes widen. "My brother is GAY? And... and...," Peter's face screws up, "you and Alex? Shit!" David looks away.

Inside the brother's minds; memories, skills and attributes fall into place like a game and then Peter smiles, "Alex."

Peter runs back to his new room and grabs the laptop; smiling he grabs his brothers favourite cap and pulls it on before quickly opening Skype and checks the contacts, with a grin he double taps on 'Alex'.

After a couple of seconds, Alex's face appears with a huge grin on his face.

"Hey sexy." Peter grins into the camera.

"Shit you look hot babe." Alex smiles.

Peter's smile widens, "That freaky brother of your gone?" Alex asks.

"Yeah, I don't think he'll bother us anymore." Peter replies with a lopsided grin. "Come over, I need you now."

Alex's eyes widen. "Again? So soon?"

"Fuck yeah! I'm ready to go!"

"See you in five then!" Alex says, closing the call.

Peter leans back in the chair and smiles, tossing the stone in his hand. Hmm, Alex is really built. Maybe I should get all the way out of here and swap again. He's got one hell of a body, maybe even better than David's.

Caption This (21st July)

**THE STORIES ARE IN THE COMMENTS**

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Three pictures; choose your picture add a comment with your choice and an idea, who knows we might choose it and write something for you!

The Built Chest, Story Request

Story Request from Caption This (14th July)

Anonymous July 14, 2012 4:57 PM
Straight guy gets to try on body suit of white guy. But then, finds out the suit is gay and he can't help himself but fall for the tan guy. Story of mental and sexual transformation.

You ran your finger across the intricate designs on the heavy timber chest. It was quite a find in the thrift store, its dark surface suggested it was very old which meant it might be worth more than the $20 you spent.

Craig who'd helped you shift it up the three floors was bitching about its weight. He was a strong guy but you have to admit the chest was deceptively heavy. You'd not been able to get it open in the shop even though the key was in the lock so had no idea if there was anything inside.

The small insignificant lock refused to budge when Craig tried, but when you tried again it opened easily. Lifting the hinged lid revealed an empty interior. Craig gives you a shove, "Ha-ha, bet you thought there might be something worth having inside."

"Jeez, you're such an idiot sometimes Craig." You give him a shove and he stumbles backwards. The edge of the chest is at knee level and with a yell he topples backwards falling inside. With a thud the lid fell and you laugh as you hear Craig shouting from within, but your surprised when the wooden chest skips a little across the floor as your friend struggles inside.

Banging on the lid you shout, "Craig you finished playing with yourself in there?" But the yelling slowly dies down, as did the struggling. This time you gently tap the lid, "Craig?" Concerned, you pull at the lid but it refuses to budge. Jiggling the lock a couple of times releases its hold and the your able to heave the chest open.

You rest your hands on you hips and laugh at your friend in the chest, he looks up at you with dull eyes; mouth partly open. "Come on, stop fucking about and get out of there." You offer your hand but he doesn't move. You tip your head and lean down and grabbing his hand to your surprise it crumples in your own; it was completely empty, with no substance. With surprise you drop his hand like it was on fire, then tentatively you push on Craig's torso which sinks into his body and air escapes from his mouth like a soulless sigh.

Taking a hold under his arms you pull him free of the chest, almost falling over yourself as he's only a fraction of his original weight. You drop him onto the bed, and your shocked at how his limbs fall this way and that. You check for a pulse, and his breathing but there is no sign of life. Craig's body has become very flexible, and you think to yourself <i>very stretchy</i>. Gingerly you check inside your friends mouth and quickly realise you can pull Craig's mouth in all directions; you're surprised that you can get your whole hand inside and quickly discover his whole body has been evacuated of its contents.

You think for a moment, a dirty thought; a thought that you never believed possible of yourself. Running a finger down Craig's torso you wonder if it would be right to do. You're both the same height but Craig's body was so much more sculpted, perfectly formed some would say. You test the flexibility stretching your friends mouth again biting your lip.

With a grin, you pull what's left of Craig's clothes off and then you remove your own. Gingerly you pull open Craig's mouth and point your toe inside. It's warm and slippery which makes pulling on your friend easier than you expected.

With a gulp you close your eyes as you pull Craig further up your own torso carefully fitting each of your limbs into his. Standing you start to examine Craig's body; tight abdominals, thick heavy pectorals and you smile as you flex an arm admiring the way your new bicep doubles in size.

Guilt swarms around your mind, you've known your friend for almost ten years now; should you really be doing this? It was an accident you tell yourself. You take a gulp and feel something well up inside you and without thinking pull Craig's face over your own.

Turning slowly you look up at your reflection in the mirror. It's your friends face staring back atop his perfect muscular body. You blink, and his eye's sparkle in the mirrors reflection. Then something twists in your mind, a pinch makes you jerk with pain and your eyes screw up and water. "FUCK!" You're mentally stretched with vertigo height before snapping back into a conscious that isn't your own; "Craig!" You murmur under your breath.

You realise all of your friends thoughts and memories and with a gulp you discover his secrets as well; you've known him for a long time but his best kept secret had now been ripped open and revealed; he was gay.

The face in the mirror twists into a mischievous smile and you search Craig's pants for his mobile. Stabbing at the keys you make a call. "Hey! Jerry. Look man, you should come over I'm at a friends house looking after it while he's away." You're using Craig's voice, you pause for a moment. "We could, you know finish what we started last night." You laugh.

"Sounds like fun, you sure about this though? You didn't seem up for it then." Came a deep rich tones of Jerry's voice. You give him your address and he hangs up.

You feel and touch your new body before slipping into Craig's clothes; time passes quickly while you're exploring the way your friends body feels. You're refocused when there's a knock on the door.

A glance in the mirror confirms your new look as you open the door and greet Jerry with a deep; sensual kiss.

Little is said as you pull him to the bedroom; and pull his clothes off. Deep down although these actions feel like your own; something tells you that Craig is in more control than you like or want.

Caption This! (14th July)

**THE STORIES ARE IN THE COMMENTS**

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Two pictures this week, choose your picture add a comment with your choice and an idea, who knows we might choose it and write something for you!

Holiday for One

Yeah, I’m not proud of myself but it’s the first day of our holiday, and I might as well get it over and done with.

Seb and I always go on holiday together, not a gay thing you understand just two close friends out to have a good time. At least that’s what we told everyone.

Time and time again we’d come back and I had to remind Seb what a great time we had partying, drinking and bedding loads of babes. He’d never remember and always put it down to the drinking, but of course it was something else entirely.

Seb had just showered and started to get ready to go out. It was always difficult hiding my affection for him especially when I saw him naked like that.

Quietly I came up behind him, and wrapped an arm around his chest. He struggled as I pulled him upright and pushed him into the wall.

I whispered the key phrase into his ear; “Knock, knock. The big bad wolf wants to get inside!”

Immediately he stopped struggling and relaxed. I pushed up close to his back, and felt him pull me inside.

I blinked a couple of times, enjoying his perfect vision. Looking in the mirror I was once again Seb, in the party capital of the world.

I hadn’t bothered to unpack my clothes as I knew I wouldn’t be using them, instead I went through Seb’s clothes pulling on some tight jeans and a figure hugging black shirt.

We were close friends, closer than many in some respects. But when I was inside Seb we were like one; so after the holidays I always told him about ‘his’ guy on girl action.

Fantasy Come True - Part 1 (Alternate)

I raised a hand to my eyes and begun to rub them; swapping always left me feeling a little groggy. I yawned and looked over, Ian was still unconscious. I looked into the car’s mirror

Ian wasn’t a bad-looking kid; he just suffered from terrible shy-ness, and slight self-esteem issues. I looked at my right profile, then my left. I just wished the kid could be more confident in himself. I wondered if he could see himself from another perspective that maybe he could gain a bit of self-esteem.

I heard my old body groan “Ah, you finally woke up.” “What?” I smiled to myself at his shock to his new voice; evident in the fact that his hands went directly to his throat, and the surprise clear across his face.

I smiled, I knew this experience would be good for him, “Well sport, you enjoying being William Roux so far?” “W-what?” he said, I could tell that he still wasn’t used to his voice. I explained the story of Mrs. Robinson, and our little… experiment , I smiled, lost in nostalgia.

I saw his face began to turn into that of a mischievous kid; I looked down and I could see why!

“Woah! Hold on there sport, you’ll have all the time you want to really uh,” I winked at him “get to know yourself. Ryan’s going to his mom’s later tonight, and I’ll send an email in to work to use some of my vacation days.”

I saw his penis give a jerk, and I could tell he was excited, and raring to get home. I smirked, I knew he would get a lot of pleasure out of that cock…

“I’ll call you tomorrow to check up on ya’, just uh… have fun and try not to get into too much trouble, alright?” I winked again and made my way towards Ian’s house. This was exciting, another new experience, and maybe I could see more of who Ian is; due to his timid nature, he rarely spoke when I was around. I could see a light flickering from another room, and thought that it may be one of his parents and decided they should know that their son was home. I chuckled lightly, after being a father for so long, it was going to be strange going back to the role of child…

“Hey Mom, hey Dad, I’m home.” I said as I entered the living room, and froze for a second, “Dinner’s in the fridge, just heat it up.” His mom had kind eyes, and I could vibrantly feel the love she had for her son. “Oh uh, thanks Mom!” I said, trying to stay in Ian’s bashful nature “but I already ate at Ryan’s house…” “Oh, that’s fine, you can have something to snack on in case you’re hungry when you get home tomorrow.” She smiled and I blushed slightly… Ian’s dad had fallen asleep on the chair and I nodded and decided to just go to Ian’s room.

I wasn’t really sure where Ian’s room was but I figured it would be upstairs. As I walked up the stairs my heart had still rushed… It was so crazy to see Jill… I didn’t know that Mrs. Robinson – or shall I say Mrs. Daphne was Ian’s mom… I shuddered as the memories of being her had flooded my mind… I blushed again as I remembered performing her… matrimonial duties with her husband… A little weird… but I smirked as I remembered the pleasure he had given me…

I was jerked from my thoughts when I noticed a picture of Ian on the wall

This must have been his senior photo. I smiled and I wished that he would feel more proud to be himself when this experience was over. He was a handsome kid, and he should feel more confident. But then again, I suppose that was part of his charm…

“Everything alright sweety?” Jill called quietly up the stairs, “Oh uh… y-yeah, just y’know… thinking who still needs a senior photo of me!” She smiled that beautiful smile again, “Alright, but make sure you get to bed soon, you have a long day tomorrow with soccer practice!’ “Alright Mom, thanks, l-love you!” I said, a little nervous but trying my best to play the role I had taken for a couple days, “Love you too honey.” She said as she continued to her bedroom downstairs.

I finally went in to my new, temporary bedroom, and I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw the disarray of his bedroom; he was still the typical teenage kid, and of course his room reflected that.

I took off his shirt and shorts until I was left only in his boxers. I laid down on the bed and I couldn’t resist as I lightly pulled at the waistband, checking what I was working with down there. I gave a slight smile “Not bad…” I said to no one on particular. It was slightly above average for his age, but I knew it was no contest with mine… I sighed contently as I closed my eyes; I knew that he was going to have a good night…

Caption This! (7th July)

**THE STORIES ARE IN THE COMMENTS**

John cupped his chin in his hand, he’d stolen James’s life only a couple of days ago and the reality of this kid connections where only just starting to surface.

Sure, he was a bright kid; good grades and fine athlete but the kid had a secret life that not even John’s exhaustive researching had uncovered, and when you only get to take someone every seven years you make sure you don’t make mistakes.

John thinks for a moment trying to piece together the jigsaw; that mysterious call on the mobile only minutes after John took the young jock. It was too early to make any sense of the call, his memories only rest after a 14 days which is why John needed to research his target before hand; to fill that gap prior to getting access to his memories.

Then there was his room mate, Frank. Waking up in the middle of the night to find your supposed friend holding knife to your throat with a mad glint in his eye; “Who the fuck are you?” Franks voice echoed around John’s head, he’d screwed his eyes closed begging for it to end but when he heard nothing he took a peek only to see Frank laying in the bed opposite, and he sweared a grin raked its way across the room mates face.

But most confusing was the Police officer leaning in through the window of his car when I stopped at lights; the tall muscular officer growled under is breath…

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What did the officer say? What’s James’s secret? How did Frank know?

Finish the story or put some suggestions in the comments.

Working my Hero

I’d sneaked past security to see my hero after the bodybuilding championships. Finding his room and knocked and walked in.

What I saw shocked me; my hero was unconscious in the hands of some black guy. I rushed him and pinned him down.

“What the fuck have you done to him?” I demanded

“N…nothing,” He replied. “I just work here. All these guys are just suits touring the country, its my job to wear them, sign and pose you know..”

I looked over at my hero who had collapsed on the floor, his back was open he was certainly empty.

“So I could wear him?” I asked.

“You could,” The black guy laughed. “But you don’t know all the stuff I know about him, and besides I’d get security to take you down as soon as you get out there.”

I smiled, “You’ve just signed your own warrant.” I lashed out with a fist and knocked him out.

Turning the the black guy over I laid on his back and took a couple of deep breaths and pushed into his body. With a groan I rolled over and looked at the ceiling, within minutes everything the guy was belonged to me.

I got to my feet and rolled my shoulders, “I guess no mother fuckers gonna fuck with me now, now lets get this white boi on I gotta a show to put on.”

With that I eased myself into the suit and checked myself in the mirror; “Not quite what I had in mind but it looks like I’ve got a new job now.”