Second Career as Chester Bennington

By Slick Psych

Last night, I had knocked out early from my retirement party, satisfied, but bored. Not much left to do, after my wife passed on a few years ago. Yet, somehow, I woke up with a nasty hangover. Once I came to and splashed water to clear my vision, I found myself looking at a very different reflection. The guy I now saw looking back was a lot younger and quite heavily tattooed. I now have several of those piercings that young men are so fond of nowadays. I somehow knew I shouldn’t be complaining, though, to find myself in a much more attractive body. Nice and fit and skinny too. Perhaps fate had given me a second chance at a new career. And maybe a more fulfilling sex life. I already feel a lot more energy than I did when I was his age. And young men seemed to be a lot more open to homosexuality these days, especially in the more alternative scene. I vaguely recall this attractive Asian guy, now that this body’s memories are starting to come to me. Looking at my new reflection, I think I’ll do fine for myself as this “Chester” guy. Yeah, I like that name. Now to go into the stall and see what I’m now packing.

Seanday Shorts: Hit and Miss

I stood there sweating like a pig at the slaughterhouse, a bitter taste in my mouth. Breathing heavy I studied my reflection in the gym's mirror opposite.

Slowly I ran my tongue across my lips and then grinned at the cut of my abs. I'd worked hard to get this body, and it was all mine. Raising my chin smiled and traced a thumb slowly down my pec admiring the way my bicep tightened, and then felt tightness in my shorts. I felt my cheeks flush, and I looked around with a guilty smirk.

"Looking good," a voice whispered. I hadn't even noticed Dominic sidle up next to me carefully looking over my reflection. I'd known him for a couple of years now, he was into sports gear--loved his Adidas. He was a fit guy, not built but lean with heaps of endurance, and kinda cute.

"Thanks," I replied with a shrug, I thought for a moment and added, "looking good yourself."

"Thanks," he replies with a mischievous grin. He leaned in to whisper something, and I leaned over. "He's a proper little fighter."

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Caption This (21st Apr)

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Becoming Travis Barker, Part 3

By Slick Psych

Can’t believe it’s been almost a year since I took over Travis’ life. Glad that Doc dealt with DJ AM, and “my” wife and I came to an arrangement. The Blink-182 boys are reunited, and it’s like old times again. Amazing how much energy the guys still have to fuck around. And who’d believe my boy Tim here was a total bottom in bed. He might be playing the tough boy now, but he takes it like a bitch in the sack. We threw some pants on for the show, but afterwards, we’re going to be wanting to burn off that energy again on the tour bus. And I can show off these sick tats, piercings, and mohawk like the fucking rockstar I am. Almost want to just pull those boxers down right now and shove this 8 inch uncut dick right up in his hungry hole. Plenty of time to fuck around, though. Damn, I love this life.

Becoming Travis Barker, Part 2

By Slick Psych

A couple months in and I’m finally starting to get the hang of this new body and my new rock star lifestyle. Love his DGAF attitude and these sick tats. “Self Made.” How fucking ironic. The skin’s fully healed and memories fused, with no trace of my fat old body left. Only a couple problems, though. His old buddy, DJ AM, was having trouble remembering me surviving the crash and might have to be dealt with. Also, that bitch of a wife of his, Shanna, who has trouble with the fact that Travis would rather be fucking around with his Blink boys than her. Still can’t remember how they had kids, but I’ll have to ditch the girl for more fun with my buds Mark and Tom. This drummer’s rhythm and attitude serve as well pounding skin as they do pounding drum skins. Excited to be going on tour again.

Becoming Travis Barker, Part 1

By Slick Psych

Fucking body suit process didn’t heal right. Guess Travis’ crash had an effect on the suit creation process after all. Doc told me he’d never made a skin suit out of a guy who had died with so many burns before, so it may be taking a while for it to heal. Still, Travis’ plane crash and hospitalization was the perfect cover for me to take over his life. Any gaps in my memories or strange behaviors could easily be explained away while the suit fuses with my body. Anything to get out of my boring desk job as an fat middle-aged accountant. Now, let’s see if death affected Travis Barker’s legendary drumming skills or if enough memories were transplanted successfully.

Sunday Reloaded: Room Mates

It had been great since the coach changed all the room allocations for the football team. To help with their grades he'd insisted that there was one nerd to every two jocks.

I had to move in with Trey and Wilson--linemen, two heavy built fuckers. When I first moved in they treated me like a servant as did most of the other jocks with their new room mates.

That was until I used a little trick I'd inherited from my parents. From the age of fifteen, I found that I could get inside other people. Sometimes I would just hide, other times I would take control and be them. From seventeen, I realised I could tweak their memories and remodel their personalities.

I have to admit, it didn't take long for me to lose my patience with both of them. So I jumped Wilson when he returned from a party drunk. He was the bigger of the two, and I knew his additional weight would be useful tackling Trey when the time came.

Caption This (14th Apr)

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Sunday Reloaded: Touch and Feel

I was walking down the corridor at my gym, I'd just finished a heavy workout and decided to shower at home. The ones in the gym were full of office workers, and their drone of how much money they'd made that day just grated on me.

I threw my bag over my shoulder and admired my thick bicep in the mirror on the wall, not bad for a guy of my age I thought.

It was hen I caught the reflection of a young guy checking me out, and I felt my cheeks warm as I blushed. Something about him looked familiar. But I couldn't quite place it as he came level with me he stopped. "Do I know you?" He asked.

"I don't know, come to think of it you look familiar as well," I replied.

He raised a hand, and I was surprised when he grasped my bicep. I felt something like an electric shock, so much, so I dropped my bag. "Nice piece of muscle you've got there," he murmured.

"Who are you?" I stuttered, suddenly feeling weak.

Caption This (7th Apr)

** NEW STORY IN THE COMMENTS **

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The Lab

by Cris Kane

When he went into biological engineering, Bret had never expected to feel so inadequate as he did at his new job. In college, his classmates had been your average assemblage of nerds, geeks and introverts, with the occasional well-adjusted, reasonably attractive person to throw off the curve. Bret was glad that he had chosen to devote his life to science, where he would be judged by his mind and his ideas, not by his physical attributes or deficits. But his colleagues in the lab at NuGene were...extraordinary.

The leader of the team, Doctor Gupta, was a giant in his field...and almost literally a giant, towering over most of his employees at six foot ten with a powerful build that seemed impossible for a man who had to be in his sixties at least.

Only Dr. Gupta's assistant, Cedric, had the boss beat in the height department, his lean body topping out at seven feet even, not counting the spikes of his mohawk, his long muscular arms inked with elaborate tattoos.

Hayley, who worked at the station next to Bret, was "only" six feet tall (still four inches more than Bret), with a meek demeanor that seemed at odds with the voluptuous figure which her tight lab coat only served to emphasize.

Even Min-Wan, who was only a couple of inches taller than Bret at five-ten, had a physique most gymnasts would envy. His crystalline blue eyes and wavy blond hair combined exotically with his more typically Asian features to give him a breathtakingly handsome appearance.

By contrast, Bret was so scrawny that he wore a belt and suspenders to keep his pants from slipping down, due to his flat, nearly-nonexistent ass. Horn-rimmed glasses dominated his pleasant face, and he kept his short brown hair slicked back. He tended to slump, which only made the height discrepancy with the others in the department more pronounced.

Seanday Shorts: Good Cop

It was the guys night out, and we gonna fuck up the town big time -- at least that was the plan.

The local cop are a real hard-ass, and we knew that he'd be on our case within the hour, so we had a plan. Make sure he was on our side, and left us to party!

We drew straws on who would be making him 'see our way', and I got the short straw! Fuck, although I have to admit I played it up a bit, this time I didn't worry.

We cruised the town looking for him, and found him in a parking lot next to the all-night grocery store. He was a giant, big and muscular.

As we approached, I gulped down the shit that would make it happen. The other guys kept away from me knowing its power.

We pulled up, and piled out of the car and approached Officer Jackson. "Sup' guys?" he chuckled, it was obvious he didn't feel threatened by a handful of teenagers.

"Can I have a picture? For my Instagram," I asked, as I walked towards him.

"Er, sure."