Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write. Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!
(note: administrators reserve the right to delete what they consider inappropriate pictures in any comments)
**THE STORIES/REQUESTS ARE IN THE COMMENTS**
I used to work out for the same reason a lot of gay guys do, I guess; to fill out a tank top and to look cute at the beach. Just enough to keep up a decent six pack, a toned chest and arms. But now that I’m in my little bro’s body, I gotta say it feels pretty great to be working out for an actual reason. To improve my performance on the field. To make Coach proud. To be bigger than the other guys on the team. To get more chicks. And, yeah, I still look pretty fuckin’ good in a tank top.
“Masculinity in a Bottle” is how it was sold to me in that strange new shop in the mall. And, at 5’6” with a slight build, no muscle and no body hair to speak of, I figured I could spare the $35, if only to humour the strange old man who was running the shop. I did as he instructed and mixed the small vial with a glass of water before bed. I woke up like this. With muscles. And chest hair. And a beard. For the first time in my life, an actual beard. Everything about me was bigger, stronger, tougher. Whatever was in that vial, I had to have more. The funny thing is, when I went back to the mall, the shop wasn’t there any more. In fact, it was like it hadn’t even been there in the first place.
"Fuck. We're gonna make a killing. Look at these shots. We look amazing."
“You were right. We look fucking hot as twins. I mean, obviously I look a little bit hotter --”
“Shut the fuck up!” Josh laughed, “You know I made these suits look exactly the same.”
“Yeah, I guess I just know how to work mine better. That’s all.”
“You’re so stupid,” Josh smiled, and gave his boyfriend a loving kiss on the lips.
“You know we gotta be careful with that. Now that we’re ‘brothers.’”
“So what?” said Josh, “Hot twin brothers who happen to make out with each other? Like I said, we’re gonna make a killing.”
Plan B was simple. I'd found something on the internet, from one of the more shady groups. They'd discussed a serum, quite experimental and dangerous. The victim needed to be unconscious and immobile, it was just a case of injecting them and waiting. I didn't know how it worked, or even if it was reversible, but I wanted it so much.
The officer looked strong, I imagined pulling him on, tight and warm. His firm muscular body clinging to mine, as I slowly became the officer. But that was just the start, I guessed he didn't see front line, but I wanted to serve my country. Stage two was to interview prospective soldiers, and move into them. Using the officers memories I'd be able to pick the perfect soldier, isolate them and take their place.
The officer looked over my paperwork. "Mr. Wilks. Your answers are good, excellent actually but," he paused. "I feel that your answers aren't necessarily truthful."
I felt a bead of sweat trace its way down my forehead. I shifted in my seat and put a hand in my pocket grasping the taser tightly. The officer checked the paperwork tapping at a question and snorted a chuckle to himself. I took the opportunity and lunged at him with taser crackled into life in my hand.
Outside the office I tapped the pen on my lip, I glanced through the questions again. I knew what they were looking for; firm, pliable, but intelligent individuals. People they could mould into something purposeful.
I'd tried three times to get recruited, each time they'd rejected my application offering only vague excuses. I knew the look, a pitying glance even before they said anything.
I looked at the questions; all perfect answers, but mostly lies. I bit my lip, at the top of the page a space: your name. The computers would pick up my name as soon as they entered it, I needed a new one. I scribbled Jacob Wilks in the empty box and leaned back in the chair sighing, this would be my last chance. I had a plan B, but it wasn't something I wanted to pursue.
A desk jockey passed between us collecting the papers, he paused briefly to look at my questionnaire then back at me with a sceptical eye before leaving.
A buzzer echoed around the room. "Jameson, room three." My eyes flicked between the two waiting and then one stood up. A heavy set individual, with cropped black hair, he straightened his shirt and went through the door. I knew he was just the type they were looking for; I felt a tightness in my chest: envy, he was one of the lucky ones.
Lost in my thoughts, I never heard the remaining person called. When I looked up I was alone. My watch said 17:10, I knew I'd be the one last in.
**Buzz.**
I looked nervously at the desk jockey, and he nodded towards room three. Numbly I got to my feet, and stopped at the door wiping the sweat from my palms. I adjusted the bulge in my jacket pocket and with a deep breath I turned the handle.
Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write. Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!
(note: administrators reserve the right to delete what they consider inappropriate pictures in any comments)
**THE STORIES/REQUESTS ARE IN THE COMMENTS**
1.
2.
Time seems to stand still as the fabric of the coat begins to alter. It is becoming leather and as the change continues I can tell it is a motorcycle jacket, completely hugging my body. My shirt becomes a vest, my pants change to denim, and I am wearing leather boots. This time I do not have the sensation of spinning or blacking out. I can sense new memories invading my brain as my surroundings fade into nothingness. I blink and suddenly find myself in a garage wearing a motorcycle helmet and preparing to mount a beautiful metallic midnight blue Ducati Diavel.
This time I am a very well to do young man who comes from money and doesn’t need to work. I’m just on my way to meet up with a few of my buddies at a pub that is our favorite pickup place for hot women. I start the bike up and head out on the road, the engine sounding like music to my ears. My bike is my favorite toy. She handles so easily and obeys my every command effortlessly. The sensation of speed is incredible and much too soon I reach my destination. The bouncer is a pal of mine so I get to park where I know my ride will be safe. It’s time to hit the bar.
I stop off at the bathroom prior to meeting my friends at our regular table. Fortunately it is empty so I can get myself together before scoping out the babes. I see a very familiar visage in the mirror as I unzip my jacket, exposing the well-built torso bursting to get out of the tight black vest I have on. Might as well flaunt it I always say. This night promises to be fun.
“We need to talk,” Jay said when I came up the stairs.
I instantly remembered. My computer. I’d left it open. My heart sank.
“Jay, I can explain --”
“You’re into body swapping?” He asked, “You’ve got a lot of stuff about it saved on your computer.”
Oh, god. How was I going to explain that.
“So, you get turned on when guys can change themselves?” he continued, “Make themselves look like someone else?”
I stammered for a response.
“Like this?” he asked.
His body shimmered before my eyes and reconfigured itself into the exact image of Jake Bass.
“You had a lot of pictures of him saved, too,” he said with Jake's cute halfway grin.
“Jay?” I reached out to touch him. He quickly shifted back to himself, “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, now taking the form of a big muscle daddy. He must have seen that folder on my computer as well, “Let’s have some fun first, and we can talk about it later.”
I placed my hands on his large, hairy chest. I couldn’t quite believe myself, but it was all 100% real.
“I can change you, too,” he whispered.
I looked down to see my body covered in muscles and blonde fur. Our beards bristled against each other as we kissed. I knew I was in love.
I could have stayed there looking at Jeff’s perfect body all day if only his girlfriend hadn’t walked in. I had to act quicker than I’d wanted, pushing myself into Jeff’s body and re-animating him. I took a few heavy breaths with his athletic lungs. She couldn’t believe what she’d seen. Good thing is, no one else would believe her either.
“Why don’t you pack up anything you have here and take it home with you?” I suggested as I watched her eyes glaze over, “When you get home, you’ll take a nap, and when you wake up, you won’t remember any of this. Jeff Munzig is not your boyfriend, and never was. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she repeated in a monotone, “I understand.”
“Good girl.”
I watched her gather her few things and walk out the door in a daze. She’d be fine. I continued on with Jeff’s usual after-workout routine. Protein shake, supplements, and a shower. I couldn't wait for the shower.
Read The Other Mitchell (pt1) here
I frowned at the unconscious form in front of me. Somehow I'd expected it to be Gordon Black under my face. But it wasn't, and I was glad--he'd been my friend since middle school. "Who the fuck is this?" I barked at Danny.
He glanced over my shoulder. "It's Ryan Schuler."
"Who?"
"He's one of the basketball players."
"Ah." I recognised the face but couldn't put a name to it. "So he's on Gordon's team?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Shit. What's the connection, where does this jerk-off fit in," I muttered under my breath. "I don't want him running around as me. Help me get him into the back of the truck. We'll undress him there."
Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write. Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!
(note: administrators reserve the right to delete what they consider inappropriate pictures in any comments)
**THE STORIES/REQUESTS ARE IN THE COMMENTS**
UPDATE: POSTED THREE STORIES IN THE COMMENTS, Sean
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