Last Seandays: Body Shop

Business was slow, the new cars had sophisticated immobilisers. To steal a car nowadays you needed the keys, and I knew just how to get them.

I'd found an expensive hotel in Las Vegas, valet parking was the answer. The hotel was busy, and they had a team of ten drivers. Strangely enough I had ten guys in my team as well, but they weren't the sort of people you'd willingly give you car to--but that was going to change.

Renting an expensive car, I filled the trunk with shopping and drove to the hotel. I pulled up outside and popped the trunk, one of the valet team came over and helped with the shopping before taking the car to park it.

I stood there for a moment, and waited. As I expected one of the team walked over, the name 'Nathan' was embossed on the badge. "Can I get someone to help you with those?" He asked.

"Can you help me?" I asked stuffing a $20 in his hand.

He looked at the bill, and his eyes lit up. "Well, I'm not meant to leave my station." I stuffed a $50 in his hand. "But--If the guy in charge can't take a break, what's the point?"

He let out a whistle, and six guys trotted up. "Craig, you man the desk, I'm just helping this gentleman with his shopping."

I'd done my homework, Nathan was the head of the valet team. He was big and strong, but the twenty-three year old had earned the trust and respect from the rest of the team--something I'd make use of later.

I told him the room I was staying in and followed him, it was an impressive sight. Strong broad shoulders, thick arms and a handsome face--definitely something I could work with. His uniform, black dress pants, white v-neck shirt and tailored waistcoat only emphasised his build further.

Opening the door to the room, he walked inside. My team was waiting and tackled him to the floor. It took all of them to subdue him. I took the serum and injected it into his neck, he continued to struggle for a couple of minutes then stopped.

Last Seandays: Intruder

"Tony, where are you?" I shouted into the quiet apartment. "I want my fucking deposit back if you're going to throw me out for no reason. You hear me?"

I slammed the door and started to search the rooms, and then I came across the fucker lying on the kitchen floor. "I want my money," I demanded.

He looked at me through lifeless eyes; he rolled onto his back with a dull thud. Then, inch by inch he was being pulled into the next room by his feet. I stood there for a moment as he slowly disappeared through the door, his limp arms dragging behind him.

"What the fuck?" I muttered following Tony into the next room. I stopped as I came face to face with a stranger; he was dressed in black, a hood over his face. Through the eyeholes piercing blue eyes flicked between me and Tony: he dropped Tony's feet and slowly pulled something from his pocket, the steel of a knife glinted in the sun.

Last Seandays: The Art of Subterfuge

I wouldn't say I was bad, hell, some people would call me nice. Well maybe.

I'm always looking to make an easy buck, and not afraid to step on anyone to get it. I guess you'd blame my parents, and I'd probably agree with you.

I was brought up on a ranch--as soon as I was able to talk they told me that I was an unwanted child. It wasn't until I was older that I really understood what they meant.

They treated me like staff, he'd give me a wage and she'd take it away telling me it was for room and board. As soon as I was old enough I ran away--to the city.

I spent years running, trying to put as many miles between me and the people I hated.

I'd settled in Kirkborough, a small town near to the Mexico border where the people were friendly. I'd got into a routine working for a living--in a coffee shop, although this time I was on a wage where I could afford a room and have some money left over.

My life changed when I saw Zack Selland crossing the road--I recognised him from the shop--he was a cool dude always friendly.

I'd been sitting on a bench he glanced over and I waved, he looked confused--as if he'd never seen me before. As he broke in a jog his wallet fell from his pocket. I shouted out, but he ignored me.

Picking up the wallet, I flipped through it--easily $500--WOW! If he was a nobody then the cash would be making my life easier but he always tipped well. I looked up and saw him turn a corner, and I gave chase.

Last Seandays: In Deeper, part 3

Read part 1, part 2 here

There was no lag, no laziness, I was Robert--I knew that already. I touched my face and studied it in the mirror. "Huh, you'll do," I told the reflection.

I reached down and picked up the receipt and pen Robert had dropped in the struggle. Then I went back to David's pants and took ten bucks from his pocket, "It's not stealing, I know he'd tip... believe me," I told Robert's conscious.

As Robert, I left the room taking the service elevator to the kitchen. I seamlessly drew on his memories checking in the meal on the register and placed the signed receipt in the folder.

"You going?" A voice called out, it was the head waiter.

"Just finished," I told him. "See you later." I knew Robert had an evening shift as well.

In the staff room I removed my uniform shirt and hung it up in my locker. I switched on my phone and checked for messages--nothing I was clear for the afternoon. I pulled on my hoody--Robert thought it looked cool over his vest, and I hitched my rucksack over my shoulder.

Robert would normally be heading home to catch up on some sleep before the long evening shift, but after immersing myself in his memories I figured a way to get back with Justin again.

Last Seandays: In Deeper, part 2

Read part 1 here

My hand snapped forward and grabbed his wrist, I jerked him towards me, spinning him as he went. With his back towards me, I grabbed his other wrist and pushed inside him. It still took a few minutes, like pushing through treacle but there was hardly any struggle once I'd started.

I rolled and cracked my neck--Justin's neck. "Still need some more practice," I muttered. The phone rang in my hand. "Hello?"

*Hey Justin, it's Sam. Thanks for last night, how do fancy going for a drink and then to that new club KOKO? I'll pay.*

"Sure," I replied in Justin's voice.

*Smart casual, I'll pick you up at eight.*

"Great," I replied, we said our goodbyes and hung up.

I showered again, it felt more natural than ever. I dried off feeling more like Justin all the time as I fixed his hair. From his closet I picked a shirt, tie and a cardigan  with some expensive pants, always being guided by Justin's mind.

I was just as much Justin as he ever was, but I needed to practice--on someone else--so I shrugged myself free of his body which crumpled to the floor. I scooped him up and laid him on the bed and left.

There was some kind of fascination I had with Justin, I knew I hadn't finished with him, but I wanted to watch him, when he was himself. So later that evening I headed to KOKO.

Last Seandays: In Deeper, part 1

I smirked as the two cops ran past me. I caught an eye of one and he frowned as he past me panting heavily.

I'd only been able to do this for a few weeks, take over the bodies of others. Hell I'd gotten myself in so much trouble, but I knew nobody would be able to catch me--what chance did they have?

But let me tell you about how I got here in the first place.

Last Seandays: Fresh smell

Clive had been waiting three months for the package and finally it had arrived.

The DHL guy helped get the heavy box into the house, inside there were many other boxes sealed with for storage written on them.

“What’s going on?” asked the guy.

“I’ve moving out going to live with my family, I’m renting the house out to the local university they are going to use it as a Frat house.”

The 60 year old thanked the DHL guy before dragging the heavy box into his bedroom.

Pulling the delivery note off the box he read the details;

Male, 19 years old, black hair, 5’ 9”, brown eyes, tattoo right shoulder, build: muscular, pre-programmed: Football scholarship.

Clive pulled out the bubble wrap, pulling out what looked like an unconscious heavy body matching the description on the paperwork.

Clive bit his lip, “perfect.”

Looking at his watch Clive quickly stripped and sat with the jocks head between his knee’s. Reaching down he pulled the jocks mouth open, wider than normal and pushed his feet in.

Slowly but surely the 60 year old eased himself into the jocks heavy set body. With his newly acquired strength he was able to stand and watch in the mirror as he pulled the jocks head over his own.

He quickly pulled on some jeans, some his nephew had left, it was all he had that would fit.

Last Seandays: Under the skin

So where have I been for the past couple of weeks? Well as I’ve been trapped for a while I wanted to spread my wing a bit and perform some body hopping…

It’s true, I’ve had some fun in Ryan but it was time for a change.

Of course there were few that weren’t intimidated by Ryan’s physical size. I was out in the Mall, checking out some clothes; it was always fun to strip off my shirt in the shop and try stuff on – just for the looks from others.

It was in one of the many shops I spotted Chris, a lot smaller and younger than Ryan, but damn cute in his own way. I watched as he picked up a sweater and made his way to the fitting rooms. I followed him in…

I walked into the room, all the doors to the closets were open apart from one. I walked Ryan over to the closed door knocked on the door.

Seanday Reloaded: To Close

The doorbell rang again. "I'll get it," I shouted over the noise of the party. I looked at myself in the mirror and adjusted my tie. Yeah, I looked good--I always did.

I opened the door, and more of her friends filed in. I smiled tightly as they laughed and pushed at each other; all of them a good five years younger than me. "Mr. A," they acknowledged as they passed. I knew them all, I'd seen them before but not all together. My skin prickled, excitement or jealously I wasn't sure.

Following the new guests back to the party I glanced cautiously around the group. One of them gripped my arm, "This is a great birthday party," Peter told me, trying to be heard over the music.

I smiled. "Yes, had to do something special for my favourite niece," I replied in a raised voice looking over at Emily surrounded by her friends.

Peter tugged at my arm again and beckoning me to the quieter kitchen. "Sir, I don't want you to be mad or anything but we've got a special present for Em'."

Seanday Reloaded: Restroom Surprise

I burst into the restroom and did a quick recon of the area, I knew the CIA would be close behind me but they’d never caught me yet. I looked in the mirror, nobody expected a seventy year old to carry out the assassination, it was a perfect disguise but it was something I hated being only thirty myself. I jumped when I heard a voice call out, I’d been careless. “I’ll be out in a moment,” came a call from one of the cubicle. I spun around and saw a young guy looking over his shoulder smiling, I licked my dry tongue over my lips. “Perfect,” I whispered under my breath.

As he returned to his piss, I bundled into the cubicle taking him by surprise. I wrapped an arm around his neck, using my own strength I choked him into unconsciousness, and I grunted as I lifted him onto the seat of the john. I closed and locked the door; cramped space but there was no time to complain. I removed the old sweatpants and t-shirt and with a groan I stepped out of the old man who crumpled to the ground. I looked down in disgust at the man, he smelt and itched all the time I was in him I hated it.

Seanday Reloaded: The Pickup Line

It was 3am on Saturday, and I was checking in with my favourite cab service.

“London Cabs, how can I help,“ a voice chirped.

I recognised the voice. “Hi Tony, it’s Chris,” I grinned.

“Oh hi mate, you up for a deal? We’ve got a couple of good candidates tonight--from the same nightclub,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, send over the pictures of what you’ve got.”

“Actually Chris, one of the guys have just picked up a guy and I think he’s right up your street.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, we picked up the club’s DJ—Cameron Davies?”

“Fuck you’re kidding, he’s loaded,” I gasped.

There’s a chuckle from the other end of the phone. “So I can send his cab over to pick you up then?”

“Hell YES!”

I pulled on some sweats, and made my way to the pickup point. It wasn’t long before before a black cab rolled up and stopped. The drivers window slid open, “Chris?” the driver asked.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied as the door locks popped open. I climbed into the back of the cab and almost immediately tented my sweats. There was Cameron Davies, a twenty-three year old millionaire that had the worlds nightclubs begging for sessions, and tonight he could be mine.



The partition window inside the cab dropped. “You’re a lucky guy, Cameron usually has his own driver to pick him up but he told me he’d broken down,” snorted the driver.

I gently rubbed the back of my hand against his stubble. “He’s out right?” I asked.

Seanday Reloaded: Desert Eyes

It was 2114, and my life was in tatters. I'd been accused of killing a tourist through neglect. It’s like trial by proxy, one robo-guide droids had malfunctioned and driven into a rock face. The tourist who'd rented the robo-guide hadn't buckled up and been killed. In this country, it's the droid's owner that is ultimately responsible, and I was up for termination. But I was on the run, into the desert heading for an empty checkpoint I knew.

Inside the checkpoint, I sent for one of the droids: Marcus. About thirty minutes later there was a gentle tap on the door. "Sir, are you there?" I recognised the soft gentle tones of the Mk226b. One of the most advanced models on my list, and the most realistic.

I opened the door, and Marcus stood there, his soft brown synthetic eyes had a relaxing effect on me. "Come inside quickly," I muttered looking around to see if he was followed.

"How can I help?" Marcus asked, in a soft unflustered tone.

"How old are you?"

"Three years since manufacture," he replied.

"And ageless," I added. "Strip."

Enough

By Bill Rowan

“Enough already.” Chris said to no one in particular. He was finally back in his own body after his latest stint as another Chris for the past few months. Mind you being the other Chris hadn’t been bad. Au contraire he had had a blast being the Aussie stud but after so many times of being transformed, transferred, possessed, and even cloned, he was beginning to lose his own identity. He enjoyed the experiences, many of them quite erotic, but he needed time to be himself for once and recharge. Doubtless that wouldn’t happen. There were some major obstacles to overcome if he wanted down-time.

For starters he would have to fly beneath the radar so people wouldn’t think to use magic on him. That was definitely a hard one since he didn’t really want to live somebody else’s life but he knew it would likely be the only way he could get some peace for a while. He didn’t want to give up acting as that was his first love, meaning his options might be a bit more limited. He was pretty sure whoever he did choose wouldn’t be too bummed out at being an A-list actor who just happened to be quite wealthy and hunky. And even if he could find such a person, how would he be able to pull off the transference since he himself had no magical abilities?

Thinking all this through, however, got Chris conflicted. On one hand he wanted a break but on the other he had become quite addicted to having himself ripped out of his body or turned into some inanimate object to be worn by some hot guy. Just thinking about that got him rather aroused and he definitely didn’t have time for that now. Rarely did he get to be himself for more than a day or two before someone else had their way with him so he would have to act quick if his plans were to succeed.

He thought back to one of the swaps a few years ago when a guy named Brian had taken his body for a Halloween superhero costume party. Brian had used a Draconian Katra that Mr. Cavanaugh, one of Chris’ frequent transformation instigators, had given him. It actually had been quite amusing to see the kid’s reaction at finding himself suddenly thrust into Chris’ body. Chris wondered if Brian still had the Katra and, if he did, would it still work? Didn’t matter anyway since Chris didn’t know how to contact Brian anymore. So what other option was available to him?

His mind then wandered to the possibility, remote as it was, that perhaps some residue magic had been left in his body. But even if there was, how could he activate it and would it be enough to achieve a swap? “Nope.” He told himself. “They wouldn’t be careless enough to leave any trace behind.”

He could call Mr. C. but then he would know Chris’ plan and that would likely defeat his purpose. So maybe Chris could get one of his friends to ask the crafty wizard, or whatever he was, for some help. Like maybe get an artifact that could be used…. No, two things wrong with that. He didn’t know how to get in touch with Mr. C. and whatever friend he asked would think he was crazy. After all body swapping and magic weren’t really possible, right? They would think him crazy. He resigned himself to never being able to accomplish his much-needed vacation and finally went to bed. Tomorrow was another day of filming and Chris had to be at the top of his game.

The next morning before he went to the studio he got up early to take a walk around the park. It always helped him clear his head. Fortunately no one had decided to hijack his body or to play some other mischief during the night. Maybe they would leave him alone for a while.

As he was walking along his usual path he came upon a small store sitting smack dab in the middle of the park. Now Chris was always very observant of details but somehow this store had escaped his notice before… or it had never been here. But that would be silly. Stores don’t just appear out of nowhere. Intrigued, he went closer to explore.

The windows showed him nothing other than his own reflection. A “CLOSED” sign hung in the window of the door, just below faded lettering – “M. Bostov     Clothing Store”. Why in the world would anyone put a clothing store in the middle of a park? Chris looked around, checking out the store. While there were very few people at the park, none of them seemed to notice anything unusual as they passed by. Was he seeing things? His curiosity being fully aroused, he tried the handle on the door which, despite the “CLOSED” sign, opened easily, allowing him access inside as a small bell above the door tinkled. The lighting was dim but Chris could still see rows of clothes and accessories that seemed to stretch on forever, odd given how small the building looked from outside.

“Hello? Anybody here?”

“Hello Mr. Evans. I’ve been expecting you.” Chris swung around to find a young man clad in head to toe leather behind him. “I’m Jace. Welcome.” Jace tried to remain calm but he was such a big fan of Chris Evans that he was rather flabbergasted to see his idol standing right there before him, even if he had been waiting for him to make an appearance. Chris shook the hand that was offered, smiling at the young man but still rather befuddled by the strange store. “Follow me. I have exactly what you desire.” Okay, that was strange. Why would Jace be expecting him or know anything about what he desired? Nonetheless Chris followed the young man, not quite understanding why he was trusting him.

They wound their way through a myriad of merchandise, finally ending up at what was obviously a section devoted entirely to leather. Leather pants, leather vests, leather harnesses, leather jackets. If Chris had been in the market for something leather today, this was definitely the place to find it.

“I’m really not interested in buying leather today. Thanks just the same.”

“Let me show you something that you can try on and if you find you don’t like it, fine. But I think you’ll like what I have to offer.” Jace was definitely persistent. Chris had to give the young man that. Besides what could it hurt to try on a jacket, if only to amuse his host? Jace pulled out a distressed-looking brown jacket. One that looked to be too small to fit Chris’ bulked-up torso.

“Uh… I don’t think that will fit me, Jace.” The jacket was quite obviously meant for someone not quite as large as Chris but as Jace handed the jacket to him, Chris felt the strangest compulsion to try it on.

“I think you will find it fits you perfectly, Mr. Evans. Let me show you to the changing cubicle right over here.” Jace motioned forward where there was a booth with curtains. “If you please, sir.” Chris entered the booth, whereupon Jace handed him the jacket.

Seanday Lunch: Fractured

"Jesus, I never realised how hard these guys worked," I gasped pulling off my helmet, and then realised there were still other players around--I snapped my mouth shut hoping nobody heard me.

"Shit, I think I'm overheating or something," I gasped, I felt the world start to spin as I pulled up the tight shirt trying to get some air. It did little to help, my pads below were just as tight.

I was on the verge of passing out when I heard distant voices, and then the skies opened drenching me in ice water. "Better?" I heard a voice chuckle behind me, turning I recognised the face of Joe.

"Jeez, Joe what are you trying to do--drown me?" I spluttered.

"Fine," he muttered, "next time I'll let you pass out and die."

I coughed up some water and thanked him. It seemed to have worked, I felt a lot better. "Thanks bro' it was just a bit of a shock." He nodded, and told me that I owed him a beer.

I should have known how demanding the game was, I had access to Carl's memories after all. But the raw anger, and ruthlessness to win were so overwhelming that I only dared to dip into them the once.

My Name Is Jace

Special thanks to M. Bostlov and his magic clothing shop and to "Pops"

Up until a very short time ago I was a sixty-two year-old man working in a very boring dead-end retail job. All that changed when I wandered into this very odd-looking clothing shop one day. From the outside, M. Bostlov Magic Clothing Store looked like any other little shop along the street, but I couldn’t contain my amazement when I entered. What looked small from the outside was quite large inside. Must be an optical illusion or something. Row after row of various clothing and accessories greeted my eyes. As I studied the aisles more I noticed the store seemed to be divided into sections, although exactly what kind of sections I wasn’t sure. That is when a very dapper looking man walked over to where I stood, and we started to talk. He followed me down the various aisles as I checked out the selections until I came upon what was quite obviously the leather section. I had always had a fancy for leather clothing and in my younger days had always dressed in leathers when riding my motorcycle. I missed those days and sighed as I thought back on all the good times. He must have sensed something for he started to ask me questions, very personal questions indeed but I didn’t mind answering him for some reason. I was feeling very relaxed and quite at ease. The smell of all that leather was intoxicating. As we carried on our conversation he had been picking out various items of leather clothing until he seemed satisfied with his bundle.

“Come into my office with me. I have a proposition you might be interested in.” He smiled so seductively I couldn’t help myself and followed him willingly. By now I had lost all conception of time and my mind was cloudy like I had just woken up from a very deep sleep. He continued to ask me questions: would I like to leave my old life behind and come to work for him in the store? I would never have to worry about anything ever again he assured me. I was so enamored by the leather gear that I immediately answered “yes” without really giving it much thought. But then again what did I have to lose? It probably should have struck me odd that he would want an old man working for him, yet it never occurred to me.  And then, in what should have surprised me, he asked me to take off my clothes and try on the leather gear he had gathered. What surprised me more, I actually disrobed in front of him! I never in my life had done that in front of someone I had just met.

As I stood there stark naked and slightly chilled he held up a pair of leather pants. Nice pants but they looked way too long and way to skinny to fit me. He assured me they would fit okay, urging me to trust him and try them on. I was still skeptical, but I started to pull the pants over my feet and up my legs. The leather felt so great against my bare skin and as I had suspected, it was a tight fit, especially when I tried to pull them up over my hips and waist. He assisted me until finally I was able to zip and button the pants. I felt silly, but he assured me I looked great in the pants. He continued handing me the rest of the gear, none of which I would have sworn would ever fit properly, until I finally was dressed from head to toe in leather. He seemed quite pleased as he looked at me. I could only picture seeing an old man trying to be young again in my mind… until he led me over to a mirror.

Seanday: The Honey Pot, pt 7 (of 7)

READ PART ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE or SIX

"Sandy," I chuckled. "You're so naughty. And on their wedding night.

"It's still MY wedding night, and tonight I wanted to be the woman. Why should Becky have all the fun?"

I eased myself into Mark's body enjoying the confined fit. The shirt I was wearing was damp and tight, as was the waistcoat. I took a deep breath stretching my arms above my head. With a grunt, I sat up on the bed. "Hello gorgeous, did you miss me?" I whispered in Mark's voice. Piece by piece I slowly started to undress beginning with my tie pulling it free of the collar and swinging it around my head. Next the waistcoat, shirt, and then my pants. I stood there in just my white underwear, turning in a circle. "This is what you signed up for, this is it!" I looked down, and then back at Becky. "Have you been working out? Mark's got a lot more definition," I flexed an arm, "yeah, definitely."

Becky smiled at me, "I made him sweat, making him hot for the wedding."

I hooked my fingers into the waistband of the underwear and pulled them down. "Should the married couple christen the suite?"

"I think they should," she smirked.

Seanday: The Honey Pot, pt 6 (of 7)

READ PART ONE, PART TWO, PART THREE,

PART FOUR or PART FIVE

I walked into the storeroom. On the table was an identical suit to the one Mark was wearing. The girl; I now knew as Jill was holding out a white shirt. "Try this on for size," she told me. I pushed each arm inside as she held it up, and then pulled it over my shoulders. I turned around and she started to button it up. "It's tailored, so should be a snug, close fit around your middle."

Smiling I pushed all of Grant's confidence to the fore. "You're a beautiful woman, stunning. My friend's talking to his fiancée. I'd like to find out if you're a snug close fit around my middle." I rolled my shoulders tightening the shirt across my chest.

Her eyes widened, as if a wish had been granted. She said nothing, but pushed the suit aside hopping onto the table. "You sure your friend won't come to find you?" She asked pulling at her panties. I shook my head as I pulled at my underwear, freeing my hardening dick.

Leaning across her, I kissed her gently, then more deeply, slowly laying her to the table. Unbuttoning her blouse, I eased my hands inside and freed her breasts and sensuously massaging them. She murmured something between kissing, but it made no sense. I reached down and took my dick. From memories I knew it to be about eight inches, but it was thick. Even as I touched it I was surprised at its weight as I'd never had the opportunity to experience it hard. She let out a gasp as I pushed in deep, the fit more than snug--tight, almost restrictive. Pulling back, I paused and pushed again--a little harder. Each time I ploughed deeper, the louder she moaned. I was pacing the rhythm and she was keeping up. The tightness, warmth and dampness only made me want more. Beads of sweat began to pepper my forehead as the pace slowed, but each stroke only became more purposeful, and the harder she pushed back. I felt my butt clench, my abs tighten and with a lingering growl I pumped five loads into her. We both paused, catching our breaths. Bracing myself against the table I pushed myself up, unceremoniously pulling myself clear. The shirt clung to my torso, damp with sweat and sticking to my back. I unbuttoned it, and peeled it off as Jill eased herself off the table. Her long hair was tangled, and she tried to fix it--unsuccessfully. Her attention turned to her clothes, she pulled at her panties fixing them in place as best she could. I handed her the shirt. "Sorry, hope that's not the only one," I asked. "Have you got any--," I gestured to my groin and she pointed at a box of tissues.

"That's our only shirt in that size, but I can have it cleaned by the time you need to pick it up next week."

Seanday: The Honey Pot, pt 5 (of 7)

READ PART ONE, PART TWO, PART THREE OR PART FOUR

The next morning I woke to find myself alone in the bed, opposite Mark sat slumped in a chair, his head back staring at the ceiling. A few moments later Sandy walked in from the bathroom, "Oh you're awake, I didn't want to disturb you. You looked so peaceful."

"Thanks," I chuckled. "How long has Mark been like that?"

"About half an hour," she replied.

"That long?"

"He's been taking a lot longer to wake up recently. I'm wondering if its because I've been inside him for such a long time."

I sucked on my lip, "At least he still wakes up."

She just shrugged. "Say, you want to swap today?"

"If you like," I replied a little reluctantly. I threw the quilt to one side and sat on the edge of the bed stretching. I pondered on the fact that I'd be losing Grant as I gently rubbed my thick pec. Trying to push the thought from my mind I got to my feet, leaving Grant still sitting on the bed. Devoid of any control his body relaxed and fell to the bed.

I glanced at Sandy's naked form and blushed a little, still feeling the embarrassment from the teenager's mind that I now shared. "I can't believe you still blush when you see me like this," she smirked as she hugged me, "you're something special Daniel." Maybe I was, a thirty-four year old hiding in a teenager's body.

Seanday: The Honey Pot, pt 4 (of 7)

READ PART ONE, PART TWO OR PART THREE

We continued our sexual exploits, only this time it was Mark's head bobbing back and forth. Whether it was Mark's thick neck or Sandy's perfect control he was able to take me all the way to the root. Sandy was right, there was a whole level of excitement knowing that the heavy shoulders and back writhing in front of me belonged to the very straight body of my friend Mark. With a grunt I exploded into his mouth and throat, and he gulped down every last drop of all I could muster.

He sat back with crossed legs and wiped his mouth. "Just needed the right body to do it in," he grinned. There was nothing I could say as I watched him get to his feet and head for the bathroom, I heard him gargling before returning.

"Beer?" I asked.

"Damn straight," he laughed. "And don't think that sucking you off is going to be a habit, I've got a reputation to hold up."

We returned to the bar, and slowly drank our way through some Margarita pitchers before going into the nightclub for the final time. I felt like a honeypot at the club with girls hanging off me, and asking for my number.

Mark organised the cab to the airport the next morning, living up to his Captain Sensible tag. When we arrived home I made sure the group held together. Terry revealed to the rest of the guys that he was bi, and was surprised that they were OK with it--even Mark.

Threesome

Note: Inspired by Mr. C. and his writer’s guild. Thank you, gentlemen.

      Mr. Cavanaugh made his way to Chris Pratt’s trailer. Still in the guise of the hot young actor KJ Apa, it was a breeze for him to get on any shoot he desired. Normally he would hang around to watch the proceedings but today he was on a mission and couldn’t waste any time. After finding Chris’ trailer he knocked on the door, waiting for the actor to open up.

     The door finally opened, Chris looking ruggedly handsome in his Starlord costume as he greeted KJ.

     “KJ? What are you doing here? Want to come in?” KJ started up the steps but stumbled, albeit on purpose, as he reached the top. Concerned, Chris rushed out to help the lad to his feet. “You alright?”

     “Fine. How are you feeling, Chris?” That was a strange question, Chris thought, but then he noticed something odd happening to him. His bare arms were turning silvery, like chrome, and getting thinner and hollow.

     “What the…?” but before he could complete his sentence he found himself falling to the ground, his hands and feet transforming into shiny chrome forks supporting tires. The costume he had been wearing disappeared, leaving only his ass covered in black leather. In a matter of seconds where one of the hottest actors had been standing now sat a metallic midnight blue Harley just begging to be ridden.

      Abandoning the bike for the time being, KJ went to find the next part of the triad he required. Chris Evans was already on set in his Cap costume shooting an intense action scene when KJ wandered over.