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**
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I used to think Chase had the perfect body, but ever since I swapped with him, all I can think about is trying to make it better. I probably spend even more time in the gym than he did before, and the first thing I do after a workout is snap pics and pour over all of the the things I need to improve. When I’m not at the gym, I’m online looking up new workouts and diets and supplements to help sculpt every little muscle on my body. I don’t have time for anything else. I need to get bigger, more shredded. Compete in more shows. Get on a magazine cover.
All I wanted when I swapped with him was a hot body for the beach.
“Well… You got the new body you wanted.”
“Man, I dunno. I mean. You know? It’s different.”
“Yeah! A little! I mean. I think you look great.”
“Oh yeah?” Tony puffed up his chest and flexed a bicep, “Don’t think I look like too much of a thug or nothin’?”
“Whoa,” Jake felt himself turning red, “They didn’t give you a shirt or anything?”
“Naw. I guess this is what the guy was wearing when he came in and signed up. You think maybe we could head back to the apartment now?”
“Yeah,” said Jake, “Um. Do I still call you Tony?”
“Yeah. I’m still Tony. I’m still me. Just with a new body. A’ight? We good?”
“Wow. Even the way you talk,” said Jake, “It’s so different. I mean. It’s just going to take a little getting used to, that’s all.”
This summer was amazing. All the weekends at the beach. The parties. The girls. Building my body at the gym with my bros. It sucks that next week we’ll all be back in school. Only I won’t be one of them any more. It’s back to being old Mr. Walters. Teaching math. Going home at the end of the day and seeing that tired face in the mirror once again. Until next summer when I can take over another student’s body.
Next summer can’t come soon enough.
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.
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