Just Another Cute Little Twink

God, I love switching bodies with Ethan. Fucking love it! I get to wear all of his cute clothes, his cute little underwear. I can drive around in his car and listen to Britney Spears as loud as I fuckin' want to, go to the mall with his friends and just openly check out all of the cute guys there. And then at night, I can go to any gay club that I want to and just shake my cute little ass for all the guys to see. Hell, if I want to make out with a guy right on the dance floor, I can do that too -- and not a single person thinks anything of it. Just another cute little twink doin' his thing.

And trust me, Ethan gets plenty out of being in my body too. He gets to be the big jock, have all of my muscles, strut around the school in my letter jacket. Blah, blah, blah. Yeah, all of that stuff is great, I guess -- but it's nothing compared to just really getting to be myself for once and getting to do all of the things I want to do in Ethan's body.

What The Label Wants

The label wanted a clean-cut, modern-day boyband. You know, like back in the days of 'N Sync and the Backstreet Boys. The only thing is, we didn't fit that mold at all. We were five black guys, straight from the streets of Detroit, ready to make our big hip hop debut. Yeah, I guess our image was a little rough. So, I mean, when the label told us that they just needed to "clean us up" a little bit, we didn't think anything of it. I mean, they were offering us this huge contract and everything. What were we supposed to do -- say "no"?

It wasn't five minutes after we signed our names on the paper that these guys in suits came in and ushered us off "to the studio." They loaded us up in limousines and everything, man. Askin' us things like if we were ready to hit the big time, ready to be stars. Champagne was flowing, everyone was partyin' -- and then all of the sudden, we all started feeling tired. "You guys have been through a lot today..." they told us, "You're probably just very, very sleepy..."

The next thing I know, I'm waking up in this sort of emergency room. I'm thinkin' what the hell happened... I'm able to turn my head left and right, and I see four other guys layin' beside me, but I don't recognize them. A doctor comes up to me and asks me my name. I hear myself saying "Joshua," but I know that's not my name. My name is D'Andre...

"Very good, Joshua," the doctor tells me, "Now, how old are you and where are you from."

I hear myself say that I am 18 and from Orlando, FL. Neither of those things are true... and it doesn't even sound like my voice... I sound like, I don't know, a white guy. My voice is all high-pitched and smooth and shit. But the doctor seems very satisfied with the answers.

"And I understand you recently signed a record deal with MBS Records?"

"Yeah," I hear myself say, "It's always been my dream. I knew if I worked hard enough and just believed in myself, it would really happen one day!"

What the hell kind of shit is this coming out of my mouth?! And why don't I sound like me!? And yet, all I can do is just lay there and answer her questions.

"Okay, Joshua," the doctor says, "Now just one final thing. I'm going to hand you a mirror. Due to the nature of the incident, you may find your initial appearance to be a bit... shocking. But you will, of course, accept any changes that you see. This is how the label wants you to look, and what the label wants is always best."

That last phrase really strikes a chord in my mind. Yes. She was right. What the label wants is always best...

She hands me a mirror, and I hold it up to my face. I don't know what to feel. The face looking back at me is not my own. The rough African-American features that I've known all my life are gone. Instead, I'm this white guy! This white guy with dark, spiky hair, and a really clean-cut face. I look down at my arms, these white arms with no tattoos, no street-earned muscles. I mean, the arms are toned, but they're like the kind you get from going to the gym a couple times a week. Not from having to defend yourself on the streets your entire life.

I open my mouth to speak.

"Who is this?" I ask, and now the voice that I've been hearing seems to match up perfectly with what I'm seeing in the mirror.

"That's you, Joshua," says the doctor.

"But my name is..." I try to remember what it is.

"Your name is Joshua," says the doctor, bringing the mirror away from my face, "And you are an 18-year-old fresh out of high school and ready to sing and dance and look good on the covers of teen pop magazines. You're very lucky, you know. You're going to be the sort of front-man of this band, a sort of modern-day Justin Timberlake. This is what the label wants of you, and what the label wants --"

"What the label wants is always best..." I finish her sentence in almost a monotone. And then I remember something, far in the back of my mind, "But what happened to Keshawn... and Tré-V... and Iverson... and Lil' D..."

"They are now Kevin, Travis, Ethan, and Matthew," she tells me bluntly.

I look to my left and my right again. That's them, I realize. These four guys -- my four best friends -- grew up with me in the ghetto, came up with me from the streets, and we were gonna make it big. And we were gonna be hip hop stars... Livin' the life, man... But they were all the same as me now. These fuckin' clean-cut white guys.

And then, once more, I feel very sleepy. I close my eyes and my mind is flooded for a moment with images of dance steps and singing lessons all throughout a childhood that isn't mine, and then a high school that I've never even been to before, and the four guys that are laying beside me and how we met there, and how the label picked us up after seeing us perform in a mall. None of it is true, I know that it isn't. But it's what the label wants, and what the label wants is always best.

Guitar Hero

"Son, I don't mind you staying home and playing video games since you obviously couldn't go to school today -- but until we figure out how to change you back, can you at least put on some clothes?"

"But Dad, what am I supposed to wear now, huh? All of my clothes would look silly on me since I'm not a little kid any more! I mean I have grown-up muscles and everything now. Oh! And look at this!"

"Whoa -- okay, son. Why don't you, uh... cover that up..."

"But why, Dad!? It's so neat! And it's so big, and look at how it has like all this hair on it! Is this what yours looks like, Dad?"

"Daniel! You are going over yourself up right now, young man, do you hear me? Or the video game gets turned off!"

"Awww, Dad! C'mon!"

"Upstairs. Now."

Craig watched as his son reluctantly put down the Guitar Hero controller and headed up the stairs.

"Damn..." he thought to himself, trying for now to hide the massive hardon in his pants, "That age progression formula worked even better than I thought it would. Look at that ass! Absolutely perfect! Now I've just gotta get him acting like an adult... Lucky I've got that formula ready to go as well..."

Just a Job

Just checkin' out the body they have me in for today's shoot. It's actually a pretty nice one, I have to say. Nice ass, cute face. It'll look real good on film. And it's much better than that European twink suit that they had me in last week. I swear they must have gotten that one from the bargain bin...

Can't wait to see what idiot costume they have me in, though, or what stupid scenario they have me acting out. By the looks of it, it's "college jock gets fucked by nerdy professor." But hey, at least I get to be the college jock and not the nerdy professor. And maybe they'll even let me stick around in the dressing rooms for a bit after the shoot, so that I can actually enjoy this body for a bit. You know, by myself, and not in front of a whole camera crew.

I tell ya, I thought getting into the porn industry would be exciting, and when I found this company that uses actors in bodysuits to portray all of its "stars," I signed a contract without question. But I guess when it comes down to it, a job's just a job...

Hop on In

"All right, son. You know the drill," said my dad, dropping his robe and turning his back to me, "Hop on in."

"You got it!" I said, stripping off my own clothes and stepping right up behind him.

I placed my hands on his back to let him know I was there. Then, he started slowly backing into me as I pressed myself gently forward, feeling my flesh melt into his as I went deeper and deeper into him. I felt his body coming more and more under my control, that wonderful feeling that I had been waiting for all week.

"All right, Dad," I said, taking a deep breath, "I'm about to go all the way in!"

"Go ahead, Son," he said, "And remember -- I'm only letting you use my body this weekend because I want to use yours next weekend!"

"You got it, Dad!" I said.

I gave him a light kiss on his back and then I plunged my head right in, navigating my way up through his body until my eyes matched up with his. After a brief moment of bluriness, I knew that I was now inside of my own father's body, controlling it just like it was my own -- and, oh, the things I had planned for it for the weekend!

The Personal Assistant

His devastating good looks, his gym-sculpted body, his million-dollar bank accounts, his fancy ski lodge in Colorado, his closets full of expensive tailor-made clothing, his cars, his care-free bachelor lifestyle, his voice, his handwriting, his smell even! All of it was now mine! I was now the man who for so long had treated me like complete shit as his "personal assistant." For years I had followed him around, catering to his every whim -- hating every humiliating second of it, but knowing that it would all lead to this very moment.

Now I'm the one in charge. Now I'm the one with the personal assistant, although he'll be lucky if I keep him around just long enough to show him how shitty it really is to have that body. After that, I could give a fuck what happens to him or what he does with my body. I'm gonna live my life the way I was always meant to live it, baby, and it starts right now!

Out Cold

"Um... so how long is he going to be like that?" said Trevor, after having witnessed our friend Mike deflate into nothing an empty shell.

"Dude, don't worry. He'll be out cold at least until tomorrow afternoon sometime -- plenty of time for both of us to try him on and have our way with him for the night!"

"But how are we gonna get him back to the hotel room like this?"

"Easy, dude," I said, "Just help me lift him up. It'll just look like we're helping out a good old friend who's had too many drinks. And then as soon as we get back to the room, what do you say you help me 'break him in' a little bit, huh?"

"You don't have to tell me twice!" said Trevor, lifting one of Mike's heavy arms over his shoulder, "Come on, let's help our good friend out here!"

Not Today

"Nope. Still don't want to swap back," I said confidently, walking out the door of the apartment that I had recently accquired along with this amazing new body.

I have no idea how it happened, honestly. I was just sitting in the park one day, watching this stud jog by, and then bam! I found myself in his body, shirtless and sweaty from the jog, my new young body looking so athletic and pumped-up. Across the park, I saw my old body suddenly jump up from the bench. God, I looked old. And frail. Especially compared to what I had now.

My old body came running towards me, yelling about me stealing his body and sounding absolutely crazy. One thing I know is that I felt a lot sharper in this body, and I knew that if I just played it cool, I could keep this body for as long as I wanted.

"Calm down, old man," I said with my new smooth voice, "I don't have any idea what you're talking about..."

And then I confidently walked away into my new life, finding that I was even starting to steadily accquire bits of this stud's memories and mannerisms the more that I lived as him -- making everything just all the easier.

Still though, he comes up to me in the street, begging me to give him his life back. Sorry, buddy. Not today, and not ever!

Never Good Enough

I can't believe this day has freakin' come! I spent my entire college career trying to win this award, but I was never quite good enough -- never good as my little bro, James, who only started swimming because of me in the first place. Who would have thought that he would have gone on to be this super-stud in the pool, sweeping up trophies left at right as I became known as "the other brother." Hell, I don't even think people knew or cared about the fact that I was a swimmer, too.

But now that I took his body from him, and forced him into mine, I'd say that things are turning around quite nicely. Today, I swam like I'd never swam before in my life -- I really put his body to the test and it felt amazing! The only thing greater has been standing here with this trophy as everyone gathers around us taking pictures. Even Mom and Dad are so proud me. As for James, I don't think he even came to this match, not even to watch. But I'll be sure to let him know how everything went just as soon as I get home.

Old Professor Jenkins

All right. I think everything's all set for the BBQ this afternoon. Burgers are on the grill, Beer is nice and ice-cold, got my "Phil" bodysuit propped up on the the back porch -- oh wait! I guess I'd better get that on, huh? Damn, I'm getting so used to spending time as this big, dumb stud that I forget sometimes whether or not I'm even wearing him! God, I'd love to spend the rest of my life as him -- just look at him! -- but until I can figure out how to make that happen, I've just gotta make the most out of the time that I do get to spend as him. And so, for another afternoon, I'll become "Phil" once again, a hot college jock just grillin' some burgers and chuggin' some beer with his boys -- none of them any the wiser that in fact their new buddy "Phil" is nothing but a bodysuit being worn by their own "old Professor Jenkins."

Morning Coffee

Swapping bodies with my dad has had a lot of cool perks. I mean, I obviously have all of these awesome muscles now and, like, everyone treats me like I'm an adult. And I get to use his credit cards when we go out to the store, and my signature even looks like his now. And I sound like him on the phone, and I get to drive his car, and I get to stay up however late I want and watch TV.

But one thing that really sucks is that I feel really sleepy in the mornings. I mean, I watch my dad in my body, like, jump out of bed every morning and he always wants me to wake up and take him to the park and play with him and stuff. And he goes straight to the cupboard and pours himself a bowl of Lucky Charms and runs up to his room and he's ready to go -- and I haven't even had time to sit down with my coffee and read the morning paper yet. What I wouldn't do to have his energy...

Thursday Nights

Thursday nights are the fuckin' best. It's the only night that me and my best friends Drew and Caleb get to go out together anymore, so you can bet we make the most of it. I'm talkin' about hittin' all the gay clubs in the area, staying up until five in the morning, gettin' drunk as hell... And we almost always go out like this, dressed in as little as possible, not afraid in the least to show off our bodies as we dance the night away.

That's why it sucks when Friday morning comes around and we all have to strip out of our bodysuits, peeling away the tan, muscular, smooth bodies as our white, flabby, hairy bellies flop out and the handsome, chiseled faces fold away to reveal those of three tired-looking men in their mid-40's. Then it's off to work at our various jobs, where we will all trudge through our workday -- all of us looking forward to next Thursday.