Last Seandays: Taking Your Medicine

I watched Robbie Schnyder, quarterback for the school, from the bleachers as the team practiced. He was amazing at all the school's sports, in fact they had a whole cabinet dedicated to his trophies. He was a good looking fuck as well, not that I looked ugly or anything, it's just he was going places--I wasn't.

It was his last year at college, he'd already got university covered and--I heard--a modelling career.

I glanced at Robbie's girlfriend, a few seats away--Kirsty Williamson. She was beautiful; lean and shaped perfectly, but she had a reputation, a gold digger. She glanced over and smiled. I wondered how many guys she'd been with, and whether Robbie even knew. She pouted and blew me a kiss, I felt my cheeks start to flush.

Last Seandays: One story, two endings

Something different this time. This story has two endings, in the comments vote for your favourite. Collan's holding the fort next Seanday because I'm on holiday (maybe as someone else!).

-----

The phone buzzed in my pocket, hooking it out I checked the display--a message from Jackson. I muttered to myself *fucking idiot*.

I jammed my knee into the back of the giant below me, he cursed at me threatening me and my family--but I didn't give a fuck. I'd been out in the open for too long, and I needed a new identity one that I could slip so deeply into that nobody could sense me, not even the Doppel Agents.

"Shut the fuck up," I yelled, "you wouldn't be threatening me if you knew who I was. In fact you'd be begging me leave you alone."

Seanday Swap: His and Hers, pt2

READ PART 1 HERE

"Cody, you look so hot babe," I said with a chuckle.

"What have you done?"

"I swapped us, don't you like it? I thought it would be fun for a while. We can swap back later." I turned and flexed, I had no intention of giving back his body. He was young, strong and a wealthy entrepreneur. I looked over at Cody who was beginning to explore his acquired body.

"Holly fuck, this is real!"

"Real as anything," I added. I watched him fondle what used to be my breasts, he looked up at me and blushed. "It's OK," I laughed. "We are really going to have some fun, go into the bedroom and get familiar with your new self."

I watched as he bounded off to the bedroom. I got to my feet, and felt a little light headed at my new height. I shook myself, feeling my new weight, damn, it was good to be a man again. I towelled off the sweat and pulled on another shirt, it fitted perfectly. Retiring to the den I booted up Cody's laptop and methodically changed all his passwords.

Seanday Swap: His and Hers, pt1

I watched Cody prepare his weeks meals, he was dedicated, and focused on just getting big! I smiled recalling his early years, he'd grown so much, not only in size but he'd learnt so much. He'd even started a franchise, and lived a lifestyle that wanted for little.

It was rare to see him in a shirt, he'd normally be in just a vest or go topless. That was part of his business, showing others what they could achieve if they trained with him, followed his diet plans.

I'd met him at the gym earlier, he was having some "me time". He was working his chest, one of my favourite body parts. He smiled when he saw me, perhaps dreamIng about the many things I'd promised him.

"Hey babe, come to see your man work out?" he asked with a coy smile.

"yeah, come to see the body you're building for me," I replied.

"Aw babe, you know I do it all for you. Come sit with me for a while." He patted his leg, it was thick with muscle. I sat down, and he wrapped an arm around me and kissed me on the cheek. He pulled me in close. I knew he was strong, but he was incredibly gentle. I took a breath, and revelled in the combination of expensive cologne and his beastly musk.

Seanday Treats: Soldiers Life for Me

Lucy laid in the bed enjoying the luxurious red sheets and the way the room was furnished. It was the best room in the hotel, it had cost her all the money his had, but it was worth it.

She looked over at the dark skinned soldier laying next to her. "Damn, you really are built." It wasn't a lie, Ricks was in prime shape, more than Lucy had dared hope for.

"I think I'm right saying you enjoyed your last night on this world," Lucy murmured, "I'll guess I'll find out for myself in a while."

She pulled back the sheets and stood for a moment, basking at the vision of Ricks' perfect physique. "Of you'll do fine," she said.

Lucy was lean, more like a swimmer. At only eighteen, she'd not been with anyone like the twenty-six year old soldier before.

Holiday Body Bundle

Since I've been really busy recently and therefore really slacking on posting, I figured I would post several shorts in one post as an apology gift/Christmas gift to the visitors, each with their own sort of holiday theme. Also, I wanted to thank all of you for being so welcoming with my addition here and for enjoying my posts! Love you guys! Hope you all have a happy holiday season! Anyways, on with the stories...

~~~

Elliot woke up Christmas morning with a stretch. He walked through his little apartment from his room to the living room and saw the little bag sitting on his dining room table. The big man up north came through again. He excitedly approached it and tore through the tissue paper. At the bottom of the package was a small pair of blue striped briefs.

Music Festival

“How about this one?” Lauren asked in her new deep voice as her body made the final changes into Christian.

“Well,” started Georgia slowly, “I mean, Christian’s fine, but not a complete stunner. If we’re going through with this, we’re going all the way.”

“Fine,” Lauren sighed as she took off Christian’s gym shorts as her body shortened, muscles disappeared, groin contracted, hair lengthened, and breasts/bum inflated back to normalcy. Sighing she added, “Just more time for more changes. I’ll never get used to that. Love it!”

Two days ago, Lauren and Georgia had an issue. There was a music festival coming near where they lived. All of their favorite bands would be there, there would be camping, plenty of time for them to experiment with drugs, but each of their parents had said no. They said that kind of environment wasn’t safe for two girls to go alone; you never know what kind of creep might be lurking in the crowd. As much as they hated it, Lauren and Georgia knew that they were right; most guys have no clue how to keep it in their pants when they see a female. But Georgia had a solution. She had begun reading online about some body morphing spells that could be advantageous for her and Lauren, you just needed a personal item from one person and chant some words into it then use it. Lauren and Georgia devised a plan to tell each of their parents that they would be staying at each other’s houses during the weekend of the festival, but they wouldn’t be there. Now, Lauren and Georgia were in the boy’s locker room, trying on different players for size as the football team was out on the field practicing.

Seanday Startup: The Front, pt1

"I like the idea, targeted personal training. It's a demographic that isn't saturated," Marcus said with a nod after looking at my business proposal. "This is very impressive, how old did you say you was?"

"I didn't," I replied. "But I'm nineteen."

"Do you have anyone in mind to run this business?"

"I'm going to be running it. I've studied the market and know how to get the clientele."

Marcus sucked on his lip. "Jason, I'm damn good at marketing. Built my own business over the past fifteen years, but not even I can sell your preppy, just out of college image to the people you're aiming at."

I looked down at my smart, but casual attire. "But--"

"Jason, it's not just your clothes. I think you should get someone more appropriate for the market to front the company."

"This is going to be my company," I said in a raised voice. "There's only going to be one person at the top, and that's me."

"Ok, well I've got a suggestion," he pushed a business card towards me, "meet me here at nine tomorrow."

I looked at the card, Brunswick-Atlas, Social Engineering Specialists.

The Ride

I've been told that it's foolish to hitchhike in this day and age, but I actually prefer it as a way of meeting new people.

You really get to know someone on a long drive, much more than on a plane ride when the person next to you tends to watch a movie or read a book or pretends to sleep in order to avoid contact, and the whole trip is over in a few hours. Trains used to be my travel option of choice. You could spend days getting acquainted, and the private sleeping cars were perfect for my purposes. But times change, and I have adapted.

If there's one thing shape-shifters know, it's how to adapt.

Some people feel that hitchhiking is just too dangerous, and that you can never be sure what kind of person you're riding with.

That's why it's valuable to be able to read your companion's mind.

And as for being dangerous...well, I have yet to encounter anyone who I couldn't handle.

One of the perks of being able to change your appearance at will when you're hitchhiking is that you can tailor your image for maximum appeal to those most likely to offer you a lift. I had been wandering the midwest for the past six months and was yearning to see the ocean again, so I began thumbing my way westward. To improve my odds, I very rarely pose as a man. Even the meekest, most harmless looking nerd can be perceived as a potential serial killer when standing alone on the dusty gravel shoulder on a bleak Nebraska afternoon. Perhaps it's unfair, but I have also discovered that drivers also assume that a man should be able to figure his own way out of whatever jam he finds himself in without anyone else's help. That's why, when I'm traveling, I generally choose to look female.

At least to start.

Customer Service

by Cris Kane

I pulled up to the gate in my rusted-out Mazda and pushed the buzzer for the intercom. When I didn't get an immediate answer, I double-checked the address, never having been to this part of Beverly Hills before. Finally, a deep voice crackled through the speaker. "Barry?"

"Uh, no, I'm Cameron. Barry couldn't make it today." My boss Barry usually did this kind of customer service appointment for our elite clients himself, so I was stunned when he asked if I could go instead this time.

I could hear the guy at the other end mutter "Shit" to himself before saying, "Okay, Cameron, come on in."

I heard a buzz and the wide gate swung open, revealing a lush rolling lawn sloping upward to a stunning modernist mansion. Whoever lived here must be flabbergastingly rich. I parked in the driveway and walked to the front door, feeling extremely underdressed in my hoodie, board shorts and Vans slip-ons, until I saw the man of the house straddling the front doorway wearing nothing but a pair of orange briefs.

I had lived in L.A. long enough to become pretty blase about seeing famous people, but this was a major exception. Shane London had been my first major celebrity crush. He was only a couple of years older than me, but by the age of seventeen, he had already become a huge star playing Trace McCoy, the teenage sleuth who could turn invisible on the hit show, "Untraceable". As a short, scrawny geek in rural Idaho, deathly afraid that my peers would discover that I was gay, I would watch that show alone in my bedroom and nurse two impossible fantasies: that I could be Shane London or that I could be invisible.

Shane could scarcely have been more visible as he waited for me at the door. He stood over six feet tall, his well-defined muscles offering a thorough anatomy lesson on his lanky, no-body-fat frame. His shaggy brown hair was slicked back from a face that had only grown more handsome as he hit his mid-twenties. He stared at me with the slight smile of someone who was a bit less than bright or a bit more than stoned.

Most Wanted

 

I knew I was dying but it wasn’t my time I wasn’t ready. The words on my partners lips as she held my head as I slowly and painfully slipped away from physical presence as we know it.

“You can’t go.” she screeched as she sobbed into my chest “its not time, I’m not ready to let you go.”

I was a police man, with great prospects and career opportunities. At only 21 I had an amazing life ahead of me. I was with an amazing girl, we had just got our first place together, we had a baby on the way and were planning to get married in two weeks. Everything I had planned was working out to be true. That was until this sad day when I was shot by a crazed bank robber. He decided it was my time even though I had so much ahead of me. That wasn’t fair and I couldn’t let it happen. It wasn’t my time. But he shot me any way. It was a painful experience and the gun shot hit an important artery to my heart, I had minutes, not hours, there was no time to get me to hospital. I died in the bank where my fiancé worked, in her arms

Myth-conception

‘I was working in my lab late one night…..’

Dang! I can’t get that song out of my head. Since it is Halloween the radio station I listen to is playing “Monster Mash” non-stop. It’s just a silly little song that was one of my favorites when I was growing up. Everyone knows there’s no such thing as monsters, vampires, and werewolves, but still people like the supernatural. Just look at the current crop of shows on television. True to the song stuck in my head, I am working late but not in a lab. I am taking inventory at the store I own. The clock in the town square strikes midnight - I’m so out of here.

The full moon is shrouded by thin clouds, casting an eerie glow across the buildings and creating shadows in the corners and alleys. The night air is still warm, especially for October, yet a cold shiver is running down my spine as I make my way home. Everything is quiet, too quiet. Normally the walk home is pleasant but tonight I’m sure getting freaked out walking along the deserted streets. I nearly jump a mile when I hear a noise in the alley ahead. Stupid, it is only a cat foraging in the garbage cans. Almost home. Suddenly I hear footsteps behind me. I freeze dead in my tracks. I must just be imagining things. I start to walk again, although a bit faster now when I hear footsteps again. I pause, listening to the trees along the sidewalk rustle softly with a gentle breeze I haven’t noticed before, creating an animated show as the shadows on the moonlit streets dance to an unheard tune. More footsteps bring me out of my reverie. Home seems a long ways off as I try to keep a cool head. Snap out if, David. You’re letting your imagination get the better of you. My heart is beating fast as I slowly turn around; not really wanting to see what might be lurking in the shadows. I can make out something in the darkness just outside the halo of the streetlight, the form accentuated by the cold blue light of the moon. I want to run but I feel frozen in place, my legs refusing to move. The figure emerges into the light. There, under the soft glow of the street lamp, stands a young man. I almost laugh out loud as this is no monster waiting to get me. I have scared myself over nothing.

Gemini

Guest Post from BR.

I have always envied Jake. He is the star college basketball jock - tall, athletic, handsome. All the ladies want him (and a few guys, too). He also belongs to the coolest fraternity on campus. He has a steady girlfriend, Jessica, that he stays true to no matter what.

I am quite the opposite of Jake, being on the short and skinny side. I make up for my lack of athletic prowess by excelling in academics. Fortunately for me that asset helps me stay off many of the jocks' radars as I can tutor them in their classes. Jake is one of my pupils and by helping him I have earned his respect and trust. Jake is by no means stupid like most of the jocks I help, just a bit lazy when it comes to anything academic.

Jake at times half-jokingly teases me about being skinny or short or some other attribute I lack. I don't mind though. I think of him as a brother since I don't have any family of my own. He watches out for me when the other jocks are around.

I have three friends I hang with most of the time when I'm not busy in class or tutoring. They like to get into mischief, pulling pranks on the jocks. I rarely will go along with them on their pranks but now they decided to make Jake the target of their latest scheme. They want me to go as I know where Jake lives. I am reluctant to help as I really like Jake and don't want to prank him.

"Scared?” they taunt me.

"No," I reply, "but Jake is good to me."

"Chill." Tom, one of my friends, says. "Just help us get into his room. You don’t have to do anything."

So I go with them to Jake's room, not feeling at all easy with this and going only to stop them from doing any real harm to Jake's stuff.

I knock on Jake’s door to see if he is there. No answer. The door is unlocked so we enter.

Tebowing Cena

Continuation of Tebowing: http://maletransformation.blogspot.com/2012/09/tebowing.html

It has been months since I got to take over Tim Tebow. It is amazing to be in such a great football player. There has only been one big problem, I never get to actually play. I figured being as good as I am I would be starting every game but instead I am the backup and never get to play. I at least get to stay with the team and work out which is nice. I just want to get on the field and play!

As the season started to wrap up I was getting worried about what was going to happen with me. One day John Cena came to the stadium for a visit. Damn he is a real man. Built, successful, and doesn't take crap from anyone. I really started to think about how I had to be him.

Now that the season is over I know I am not going to be signed back with the Jets. This sucks! I took over Tebow to be number 1 and be a real stud. Now I am in Tebow and going to be without a team to play for. Sure I am still good looking but I really wanted to play football and get more famous.

So I finally made the decision I was going to get Cena and be on top of the game for once. I texted him telling him I really needed to talk and get advice. So we decided to meet at a bar. Not my most favorite place to even attempt to swap with him but I knew I had to. Tebow was heading towards not having a career anymore and I wanted one. After a few drinks we both started to relax and I knew one more and his studly body would be mine.

The last round I got while Cena was in the bathroom and I slipped a powder in his drink. I took the other powder and put it in mine without anyone knowing. We both downed our drinks and I knew I had 20 minutes to get Cena out of the bar before we both passed out. As we left the bar and were talking he made an interesting comment about how he wished he could have the future before him like I do.

I grinned at him and started to try to explain what was going to happen when we both suddenly blacked out. It was about 20 minutes later when I started to come to. I was feeling bigger and realized I was on the other side of the car. I looked over and there was my old body of Tebow.

Cena, now Tebow started to come to and started to freak out when he saw his own body looking back at him. I tried to explain what happened and he just kept telling me to swap us back. To bad for him there was no way to undo this. Once you swap from a body there is no going back. The body blocks you from taking control of it again.

I do feel bad that I took Cena's success but now I am on top. I think he is adjusting to being Tebow and working on finding a new team to play. It took him awhile to move on from being Cena but now you would never realize he wasn't really Tebow. I don't even think he remembers being in Cena before. I do remember while I was in Tebow and at time do miss it. But now I am bigger and more powerful and loving it!

The Pet, Part 1

By Seuzz

"Hey Jan," Michael said, bounding up beside the other student and clapping him on the shoulder.

"John," the boy corrected him. He gave Michael a narrow look.

Michael blinked. "I can never tell the two of you apart," he muttered.

"No one can," John said, relaxing a little. "You could look at my clothes, though." He plucked at his basketball jersey. "I'm the one who goes out for sports," he said loftily.

"If you two are identical, how come--"

"Jan just doesn't go for team activities. We play ball all the time at home, though." He and Michael continued walking along the covered portico in front of the high school, then turned past the band/orchestra room. "I bet he could kick your ass."

"I'd like to see him try," Michael laughed. "You should invite me over. Hey Kathleen."

"Losers." The two boys had to stop--less because they wanted to ogle the head cheerleader than because she had stepped right into their path and was imperiously shaking out her hair and adjusting her skirt before moving on. They turned to watch her go.

Michael nudged John. "You should invite her over to your house sometime."

"She'd kick my ass and then wouldn't show up," John sighed.

"Well, I'd show up if you asked me, though I'd punch you if you tried kissing me, you pussy gay-ass faggot!"

John flinched in surprise, but relaxed again at Michael's friendly grin. "Why are you here so late after school?" he asked cautiously.

"Detention. You know how it is." He swung his arm around and rubbed his shoulder. "Zelezny frowns on vigilante violence, but it's the only way to keep the plebes in line."

"I thought maybe you had football practice."

"Not today. Where you off to now?"

They'd come to the bike racks, and John was unlocking his. "Home. Eventually." He hiked his backpack up further onto his shoulders. "Probably just ride around a bit first."

"Well, I'll see you later," Michael said, and rubbed his nose with the heel of his hand.

John smiled weakly, then mounted his bike and pedaled away. He resisted the urge to glance back.

* * * * *

"Hey boy, I'm happy to see you too!" John exclaimed as he dropped the bike in front of the side gate. "Are you excited to see me? Are you?"

The golden retriever leaped at the fence, barking joyfully. John pushed through the gate and let the dog plant its paws on his shoulders, and he rubbed its ears and neck lovingly. "Did they feed you yet?" The dog barked again. "They didn't? What's wrong with them?" The dog bounded along happily beside him as he crossed to the plastic bin that held the dog food. From it he scooped two cups of feed into the dirty bowl, and Landru--named for the benevolent, omnipresent deity in an old science-fiction show--gobbled it down, seeming to forget its benefactor.

John passed into the house. "I'm home! Mom? Jan?" No one answered, but he wasn't surprised. He passed through the living room and into the back part of the house, to dump his backpack onto one of the beds in the room he shared with his twin brother. He opened the laptop and checked his email. There was one from his dad with the subject line "Do you need $$$?" He quickly deleted it unread, as he did with almost all his father's emails.

"Yo! You home yet?" a voice called faintly from the front of the house.

"I'm back here!"

Running footsteps heralded the arrival of Jan, who bounded into the room and leaped onto his own bed. "You didn't clean up after yourself this morning," he said smugly. "Mom is so going to yell at you."

"I'll tell her it was your fault."

"Oh, she knows whose fault it is," Jan gloated. "I told her." He laughed as John flipped him off.

They were both sixteen, and as Michael had intimated, identical in everything but their wardrobes: sun-bleached hair, rosy cheeks, eyes that twinkled and lips that curled with mischief and happiness. Both were lanky, with big wrists and elbows and hands and knees and feet, and both were thin like bows taut with latent energy ready to spring out. Jan drummed his hands on the bed. "So how was practice?"

"'s okay," John shrugged. "I ran into Michael Stroud afterward."

"Yeah? Your nose isn't caved in."

"He was actually nice to me."

"Pfft. Freak is bipolar. So what are we gonna do? Xbox?"

"I thought I'd take Landru for a run."

"Didn't you get enough running at practice? I wanna shoot guys."

"Where were you?" John asked, and a peevishness leaped into his voice "No one fed him."

"Who, Landru? That's your job. You're the one who wanted a dog."

"And when we got him, you did too. Don't you like Landru?"

"I love Landru. But I wasn't the one stupid enough to say 'Please mom, if we get a dog I'll feed him every day'!" Jan grinned.

"Well, you stay and fire up the Xbox. Get the first few levels cleared," John replied. "I'm taking Landru over to the field. After I take a long shit," he added.

* * * * *

Landru bounded and ran and sniffed and barked and chased after the croquet ball John had brought with him. He started at one point to run into the pond, but a sharp word from the teenager brought him back. After a good thirty minutes John said "Home, boy," and the dog ran off while his master followed at a much slower pace.

His mom was back by the time he arrived. "Set the table," she said from the kitchen as he walked past.

"Hi mom," he replied, stepping back to stand in the door frame.

"Hi honey. Set the table?"

He looked around. "Are we all eating together tonight?"

She looked up from the pot she'd set on the stove. "Don't you want to eat with your mother?" she said with the gravity of a woman who knows she is making her son feel guilty, and hating herself for it, but is unable to stop herself. When John winced, she relented with a sigh. "You boys can eat in your room again. Like always."

"Mom, if you want us to--"

"No, it's alright. I have some work I have to do anyway."

"Where's Jan?"

"I sent him to the store. How's Landru?"

"Exhausted. My brother will forget stuff, you know."

She gave him a look. "You wanna chase after him, hold his hand?"

"It'll piss him off," John grinned.

"Don't use bad words, sweetheart. He's got the list. But here--" She jotted on a slip of paper as the water heated. "You have money?"

"Enough for these things," John replied as he glanced at the list, and dashed out the door.

* * * * *

John was in the middle of his homework when he felt eyeballs on the back of his head. He looked around to find Jan in the doorway, frowning at him. "Are you pissed at me?" his twin asked.

"Don't use bad words," John replied.

"Fuck you," Jan retorted, then glanced worriedly over his shoulder. "Are you pissed at me?"

"Why would I be pissed at you?"

"Because you went to the wrong store and couldn't find me?"

"No, it's not that." John turned back to his homework, pencil poised thoughtfully over the paper. But when he turned back, it was with a seeming change of subject. "We should invite Michael Stroud over for some ball."

Jan's eyes widened. "Are you--" Again, he glanced over his shoulder. "Are you fucking nuts?"

"We can take him, the two of us. He doesn't do hoops. You can even be on his team. I'll still win." He smiled faintly. "Won't that be sweet?"

"He won't take us up on it."

"It was his idea."

"He won't remember. I told you, he's a freak, all mental." Jan waved his hands around his head. "And if you ask him, he'll try punching you but wind up hitting me."

"So we challenge him in front of his friends. He won't back down then."

Jan groans. "I don't want to have to deliver your eulogy, but if that's what you want to do," he conceded glumly. "Anyway, are we okay now?" John nodded happily. "Awesome. Oh, Mom's taking me to church with her. The choir director needs help moving stuff."

"Do I need to come?" John asked. His brother shook his head.

* * * * *

As John returned to his studies, Jan went out to the car. But instead of getting in the passenger side, he climbed behind the wheel. He then smoothly pulled off his baggy t-shirt and expertly slipped on a bra and blouse. As he shook at his hair he simultaneously plucked at his chest, and each time he did so, the fabric as it settled bulged out a little more, until it was draping over soft, maternal breasts. His hair fell lower and lower, covering his eyes and the back of his neck, and changing from a bleached blonde to a ruddy chestnut. His features bled and ran like mascara in the rain. But it was running in reverse, and when it cleared he was neatly and expertly made up. He slipped a few pins into his hair, then slid off his tennis shoes and pulled on the pumps that were in the floorboard. He was already in "mom jeans."

Then, as the spitting image of his and John's mother, he started the car and backed into the street.

* * * * *

Read part 2 and part 3 at writing.com

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!” 

Android

When the technology was finally available to capture souls of people who had recently passed away, The insurance market sky rocketed. There were multiple versions of an insurance policy based around one particular theme. It was easy for the companies to capture souls in, and each policy that was activated made it even easier to capture souls.

New Robotic android bodies were invented and the soul capture device (strangely named SED) was installed in every android body.

The insurance policy could only go so far and there was a monthly fee for it. The policy captured your soul in the event of a death. It didn’t matter how the death occurred, premature, un expected, old age. So long as the insurance company was notified within 24hours of a death, it could capture the soul of the body then use SED to implant it into a new body. At first it was thought it could be used in the bodies of coma victims, bodies that were still usable but mentally dead.

What were the android bodies though. Well that’s where things got interesting. There were not enough coma victims throughout the world to accommodate the amount of policies the companies were selling. Also, it was another way of making money. The generic android bodies were created in the model image of their founder.

People complained. People always complain, but they were unhappy that their new generic permanent body, a  body that could never change, grow, gain muscle, get old, get a sun tan, have ginger hair was their only option. They complained that they had gotten tattoos on their own body and were not able to get their new bodies tattooed, they felt they were due refunds from the insurance company, Even that women would have to become fully functioning men – able to procreate, but when they were a woman, they had a man who was able to procreate, now they had been put into a generic male android – a family suddenly was not possible.

Soon, there were multiple models on the market. Even this was still not acceptable. Even the government expressed its concerns stating that if crimes were committed they had no way of telling which android committed the crime.

Eventually, each insurance policy was sold with “a customise your body interactive package. “ Obviously this bumped the price initially, but soon it came down as more and more people were taking the opportunity to effectively live forever. No one minded. Although androids didn’t need to eat or sleep, they were able too so people still enjoyed going out. People didn’t mind working either and economics were fixed, as people did not work for wealth, they worked for enjoyment. The population was still 90% human and 10% android. This would never change.

The customise your body package was downloaded to your smartphone it allowed constant updates to your insurance body. But during the first run of the application you are greeted with a holographic image beamed from your phone.

The first activation required 5 hours of your time
It created a “dummy” body that must now be edited to each individuals wants and desires. It really was a dummy body. Almost pure white, with no hair or colour in its eyes. It did not even have a gender. It was voice prompted. The first instruction was…
“Please select gender.” I of course said “Male” The beam made adjustments to the image and gave it male features.
”Please select age.” “I said 25” The beam made adjustments to make the body look around the age of 25.
“Please select desired height.” I said “6ft”
”Please select skin tone 1for white – ranging to 20 black.” I went through 5 to 10 and eventually settled on tone 6.

There were multiple further questions and it took hours to go through them all and in the end I had apparently created a body that I would be placed in. It asked further questions, shoe size, eye colour, freckles ideal weight all kinds.

After the voice commands I was invited to examine the body and make further adjustments to it. Like if I wanted dimples, body hair. All I needed to do was say what I wanted and the beam changed the body to suit my wants. That’s what they were, wants, they were not needs, but when I died, this would become my own body and something I had to live with for many many years.

Although I had picked my perfect android body, it was still changeable. At any time I could re activate the program and make adjustments. Things like make my skin colour match that of the guy sat next to me. Or add a tattoo. Make me taller, shorter anything I wanted I could change.
I had made changes almost on a weekly basis. Only little tweaks, but I liked who I was going to be and almost couldn’t wait to become him. I thought I had created the perfect specimen. Insurance was invalid if suicide was committed so I just had to wait it out.

There are droid blogs where people discussed problems, gave advise and discussed ideals with each other. Also, obviously, people saw each other every day and would make further changes to there insurance body.
Eventually after 15 years of waiting I died, naturally at quite a young age. Exactly what the policy was designed for. An SED extracted my soul; my insurance company instantly created my insurance body. The SED was inserted into a steel plug on my insurance body and my soul transferred into the body I had created.

The doctors were there to observe and help as necessary but I had longed for this moment and I was more than happy and more than capable of controlling my new body. Sure it felt heavy at first but it was warm like a real body. It felt real, looked, sounded and smelt real. It was the new me and I was made up.

Should Have Thought Twice

by Erick S.

"There, there, sweetie," I said in a motherly tone, "You just lay down and relax now."

Jake struggled against his constraints, his screams muffled by the strap of tape across his mouth. The look of terror in his eyes was priceless. How could his own mother be doing this to him? But I could tell he was getting tired of fighting.

I caught my reflection in a mirror on Jake's door. His mom wasn't too bad-looking for an older lady. Bet I could use her body again to really fuck with some of my bros.

"Getting sleepy now, Jakey-poo?" I cooed as his eyes started to roll back in his head. I could tell now was the time to make my move before he passed out all the way.

I took a deep breath in, watching his mom's tits rise up on my chest. I held in my breath for a moment and then let it all out with one big exhale. I felt a rush as I exited his mom's body, separating from her as she fell to the floor. I gave myself a stretch. Wonderful that I could get my 6'2" muscular body inside her tiny 5'4" frame, but I definitely would have started feeling cramped in there after too long.

Although Jake had been nearly passed out, his eyes popped fully open again when he saw me.

"Yeah, kinda explains why your mom was able to pin you down and tie you up so easily, huh?"

I circled the bed, taking the little punk in. Kind of a prettyboy. Can't believe my sister was with a guy like him in the first place.

"So you're the shithead who broke my little sister's heart, huh?" I said, standing over him with my arms folded across my powerful chest. The little fucker was scared as shit, "Cheated on her? Though you'd play the field, huh?"

I ripped the tape off of his mouth so he could respond.

"Please..." he said, "I'm sorry --"

"Nah, too late for apologies, bro," I said, loosening the ties around his wrists and ankles, "I'm gonna make sure it's real hard for you to fuck around with girls from now on."

I held him down and took another deep breath. When I exhaled, I felt myself rushing into his body. I gasped and felt myself turned around, suddenly looking up at the ceiling. I looked down and saw Jake's body.

"Scrawny-ass motherfucker," I said with his voice.

I loosened the ties all the way and stood up, giving myself a second to get settled in Jake's body. It was always a bit nauseating for a second.

"You still in there, Jake?" I said, turning to the mirror. I knew perfectly well that he could see and hear and feel everything that I was doing with his body, "See, Jake, I know plenty of my gay friends who'd be into a prettyboy like you, and I'm going to make sure they all get their chance. And we're going to make some videos, and they're going to be all over the Internet."

I could feel him screaming on the inside. I simply grinned and stroked his goatee.

"And that's just the start of what I have planned for you, bro. Maybe you should have thought twice before you fucked around with my little sister."

What's Best For My Grandson

I only want what’s best for my grandson, Gregory. Always have, and always will. Well, that’s a grandmother’s job, isn’t it! Oh, and he’s always been such a good boy, and he’s turned into a fine young man. Why, it’s no wonder that he’s had his fair share of girls after his heart. My Greggy is quite the catch! So why, out of all the girls he could have chosen, did he chose that no-good tramp, Becky Stevens! Well, I’ll tell you what. When my Greggy announced that he would be marrying that little slut, I just knew I had to put an end to it. It may sound extreme what I’ve done, but I think you’ll agree it was the only way that I could really make sure that they didn’t go through with the wedding.

Yes, I swapped bodies with my grandson! At first, I’d only intended to be in his body just long enough to end things with Becky Stevens, and then I thought I’d switch us back and everything would be back to normal. But my, my! Being in my Greggy’s body these past few days has made me re-think some things. First of all, it’s wonderful being young again! Not to wake up with the aches and pains. To feel so able and athletic – and I think you’ll agree that Greggy is quite the athletic specimen! I thought it would be strange being a male, but in fact, I’ve found it to be very exciting! People certainly don’t treat me like a helpless old lady now that I’m a 6’4” strapping gentleman!

And Greggy doesn’t seem to mind his change either. Oh, of course I can see him struggling with the fact that he’s lost his virile, young body and he’s trapped inside the frail body of a 72-year-old woman, but with each day that passes, it seems that he accepts his new role more and more. Any lapses are certain to be attributed to the senile fantasies of an old woman.

Yes, I do think I’ll stay put for the time being, right here inside of my Greggy’s body. I only want the best for him, and right now I think this is the best thing.

Ab Contest

“Okay, boys,” I said, “Whoever has the best abs gets to buy me a drink!”

It was amazing the things I could get away with around guys at bars when I was wearing “Kristy,” the blonde bombshell with big tits. I could have them wrapped around my finger from the second I stepped in the door, and these guys were no exception. As they lifted their shirts, I took a quick glance at what they had to offer.

Timothy’s tummy was smooth and perfectly tanned, and Jeff  had a chiseled set of abs with a perfect treasure trail – but it was Adam’s hairy, muscled torso that was just perfect!

“Oh yummy!” I said in the girliest way possible, “I just love a man with chest hair!”

I reached out with my manicured, pink nails and ran my fingers along Adam’s chest. He didn’t even flinch. In fact, I think I saw his jeans tent out a little bit. If only he knew that it was another dude inside of this hot chick that was feeling him up

“Well I guess I won the prize then,” he said confidently.

“You sure did, stud,” I said with a wink, my voice coming out as airy and sultry as I could possibly make it, “Why don’t you come over to the bar with me and buy me that drink.”

He gave his buddies a high five and a knowing smirk as I grabbed him around the waist.

“You lead the way,” I said, pushing him into the crowd.

The bar was busy, and I knew I had only a split-second to act. As I lead him into the very center of the crowd, I took a deep breath and pushed myself into him. It had to be done quickly and smoothly, with no struggle. Thankfully, I’d had some practice.

In the blink of an eye, I was inside of Adam’s body. It was good to be inside the body of a very hot, masculine guy again. I grinned as Adam’s alcohol buzz washed over my body. He’d already had a few drinks. Nice. Giving myself a few seconds to collect my senses, I turned around and went back to Adam’s friends.

“Dude!” Timothy said, “Where’s the chick?”

“She ditched me, man,” I said, “Told me she was gonna go to the bathroom and I saw her walk out the front door.”

“What a bitch!” Jeff said.

“Yeah, she was a total bitch,” I said.

“Well, fuck her!” said Timothy, giving me a firm pat on the back, “Let’s go grab some more shots!”

“Sounds great!” I said, “You buying this round?”

“Fuck no!” he said, “I bought the last round! You really think that’s gonna work one of these times, don’t you!”

I laughed, knowing that I was slipping right into Adam’s life without a hitch. I could see myself spending a good couple of weeks as him, hanging out with his buddies, having a good time, finding a few hot chicks to fuck. Adam was a total party guy, and now that I was in his body, the fun had just begun!