My Shorter Boss

I was a bit late for the meeting. Actually it was not that important. I could have arrived late. It was just drinks after all. But my hands were sweaty and I had to keep focusing on the road.

I was still a bit incredulous that Jamie agreed to grab a drink with me. I know that he wanted to ask me about a project. Yet, I still do not understand why, amongst all the people of our team, he picked me. Everyone would have liked to help Jamie, the new manager. He had arrived just a week ago and he already made a great impression on everyone. He threw a great party at his house. And we were all jealous by the way he dressed, which is way swankier than the clothes we wear here.

And this time was no less different. Besides a white tee, he put on some designer jeans, a Louis Vuitton belt and some D&G sneakers that must have costed him a fortune. He was standing there, outside the bar, smoking, a drink in his hands. After I parked, we started chatting.

Then he came to the point. Jamie wanted to know about the gay bars in the area. He wanted to get laid. That came as a bit of a surprise, but I should have guessed it. Actually the way he dressed explained it all. Sometimes we're just blind to the obvious. The revelation aroused me. I felt my cock getting harder and curving inwards. I lingered over his neck and his bulging, waxed chest. I even found his large watch incredibly sexy. It showed how successful he was. Was I getting a crush on my new boss? No. I didn't want him. I wanted to be him. I was getting a boner because an idea came to my head.

When he went to the bathroom I followed him. 'You need to pee too, Ralph?' he asked. 'No, not really.' I got closer to him. 'I came here because I'm going to be you.' And it did happen. No magic words, no stupid talismans. My sheer will was enough to make my brain enter his head and take possession of that body. It was smaller. His fingers, for instance, were tighter. And I could see everything at a lower lever. I glimpsed at myself in the mirror and was amazed by the transformation. Jamie, in my old body, was a bit dazed. 'What the hell did happen?' I was already out of the bathroom. I put on Jamie's leather jacket and left. 'Barman, my friend Ralph is paying. I gotta go.'
Twentyfive minutes later I was in his house, contemplating my crotch.

I unzipped my jeans and came on the floor. I undressed and went to the bathroom. I started flexing. I took a picture and I sent it to Ralph.

He didn't like it.

 Crazy Ralph. When he arrived the police was there, waiting for him. The day after I had to sack him. Apparently he made a mess at the bar too, he punched two people, and I had to go to apologize. It didn't matter. I was ecstatic and I adored my new position as a manager. I was very good at it actually and everyone seemed pleased with my decisions. It's just incredible that I never knew that before as I never had that opportunity.

Yet what I really adored was going to the gym. I liked the gym before too, but now it was a different thing. People were looking at me in a sexual way. I felt I could control everyone's mind. And I couldn't stop taking pictures of myself.

I did that at home, too, spending way too much time finding the right position and changing tank tops.
I started uploading them on Instagram. Vanity, of course, but isn't it totally justified in my case?

The Photographer

 Hi! I'm Juan and I'm a photographer. You probably cannot tell my profession by looking at this horrible, hastily made self-portrait. but there's only little you can do with your iphone.

My shoots are actually quite elaborate. It takes me weeks to organize them. I bring props, I set the light. It's a lengthy process. But I'm not here to talk about my work (which is no longer my work by the way. Now I spend more time in front of the camera). I'm here to talk about my life-changing transformation.

It all happened when I asked a model agency to send someone for a few pictures for a little gay magazine. I was left free to do whatever I wanted. I have no idea why, but I decided to set up a little altar with flowers and give to the whole thing a sort of blasphemous feel. A bit cliché perhaps, but it turned out to be the perfect setting.

The door rang and this semi-god walks in. 'I'm Felipe,' and he stretched his hand. A beginner, I thought, with none of the exaggerated swagger of models. Good.

Within five minutes we were shooting. Felipe was on his knees in front of this makeshift altar. I asked to take off his shirt.

  That body was divine. I couldn't stop taking my eyes off of it. I was using the camera to indulge in my observations, as a tool to possess it. I moved the light. 'Felipe, lower your head.' He duly obeyed.

I kept on shooting, from every corner I could. I asked him to remove his pants, to lay on the bed, to show me his genitals, to touch himself, to feign orgasm. His body - between that of a boy and of a runner - was a never-ending source of visual  pleasure. I put a flower on his mouth and kept on giving him orders. He did everything I said.

Then we returned to the little altar. He didn't know what to do.

And it is at the moment that I ordered him. 'Lick the crucifix.'

'What?'
'It's just a piece of plastic. C'mon. Don't pretend you believe in these things.'

Felipe hesitated. 'C'mon', I insisted, 'I don't have much time.'

Felipe took the crucifix in his hand and looked at the diminutive Christ.

'Are you afraid of curses? Of hell?' Felipe got tense. I drew nearer to him, menacingly. 

He parted his pulpy lips. I could see his piercing on his tongue, but his hands were shaking a little. He brought the crucifix closer to his chin. And then he started licking it. At the beginning slowly, but soon he increased the pace. After a few seconds he was passing his tongue over the arms of the cross, as if it were a lollipop. I moved right in front of him, unzipped my jeans: his lips were on my dick. He kissed it, licked it and sucked it, making my penis larger and larger.

After a minute he raised his head. I did not look happy.

'It was not good?' he asked.

'You know you've done something very bad? Something sacrilegious, I'd say.'

'What have I done?'

'You licked the body of God. You fucking atheist.'

'No! I'm not. I believe in God.'

'This is even worse! You made angels weep. You're surely going to hell, you fucking idiot.'

'What? Why are you saying that? You told me to lick the crucifix!

'And you do everything I say! Whom am I? What's in your brain, you petty bastard? You violated the body of Christ. Do you know what that means? What were you thinking?'

Felipe started spitting and coughing.

'Oh fuck me. I did. Yet, I did.'

He was shaking. And sobbing. 'Oh stupid me. Ungrateful me. God, will you forgive me?'

'You're doomed, Felipe.' I squatted. My face was three inches from his. I could see his tears as large as pearls. 'God will get his revenge.'

I whispered those words very slowly to make the menace more palpable.

And it is at that point, when he was most vulnerable, that I turned into him and he into me. His chin was quickly covered in hair and his lips grew thinner. I felt my shoulder blades expanding, as if I were about to grow wings, and my tongue got pierced as if hit by an invisible nail.

It was painful, but the pain was mixed at an incredible pleasure, as if I were remade out of clay.

Felipe looked horrified. He looked at his larger hands, at his flabbier stomach.

'It's God's revenge,' I said. He almost fainted. Within five minutes he was gone.

Some people are just stupid. They don't deserve what they have.

Gym Buddies

I had been hitting the gym for three months and I could start seeing the results.

My biceps were growing, my shoulder were getting wider, my shirts started feeling tight. I liked that.
Oh, by the way, this is me, Simon. Or, rather, this was me before I quit this body.

I know I'm not badly looking. I'm young, I've never had any problem at getting girls. I was chubby when little but I by then had shed all the fat away. As an accountant, I was making good money. I'm sure some people would have loved to step in my shoes.
It's just that I grew this obsession for my trainer Ryan.
This is me and Ryan.

I bumped into him by pure chance in the bar round the corner from our gym. This is also round the corner from my house, so it's a pretty handy spot and I spend quite a bit of time there.
Anyways, I don't know where my obsession for Ryan comes from. He's definitely better built than I am, but I wouldn't say that he's much better looking than I am. Rather, I think I'm jealous of his attitude. Ryan is one of those people who take hundreds of pictures of themselves in the gym, who flex when someone else is taking a picture of them. He's a douche. I know that. He's also not that intelligent, but it does not matter. I loved his bravery for getting all those tattoos, his attempts to sounding ghetto, his reversed cap, in other words, his carelessness. My wardrobe was filled with preppy clothes. With loafers. I could never have pulled those basketball shorts off.
And, OK, I loved his body. Every inch of it.
So on the very night I bumped into him in the bathroom, we started talking. He told me about the supplements he was taking, his favorite sports, but I couldn't concentrate. I kept on looking at bits of his body, here and there, as if I were hypnotised. He noticed. 'So, you're into me, uh?'
We went to the bathroom. We locked ourselves in one of those cubicles and I started sucking his dick furiously. He put his hand over my head 'Go on, good boy.' Flashes of memories of the gym started hitting me. The one time I saw him naked in the changing rooms, all the times he took off his t-shirt and revealed that muscular chest covered in tattoos. I was sucking harder and harder. Ryan was moaning louder and louder. 'Continue'. I did. Faster, to the point that I felt his penis shrunk in my mouth. The energy was there. I felt I was making his body electric and we were reaching a blackout.
'Yes, yes, yes'. Electroshock. Ryan fell seated on the loo. I had come too, in my pants. The pleasure was unbelievable and I felt that my body was still hit by shockwaves. I lifted my eyes and to my dismay I discovered that Ryan was no longer Ryan. He had turned into me. I stood up and saw my bulging, tatted biceps. My heart was bouncing with happiness. I opened the door of the cubicle and started admiring my new body in the mirror. Wow.
Ryan opened his eyes and stood up. 'What the hell happened bro?' He didn't seem particularly upset. He started looking at himself at the mirror, too. 'Cool, I'm you. And I can now start getting a whole new set of tattoos.' This is certainly the reaction I was not expecting, but who cares? We talked a bit, but I was in a hurry. I wanted to get out of the situation and go home to enjoy my life as Ryan. We exchanged clothes, keys, tips.
When I arrived in Ryan's home, I took a shower and changed.

In my newly fitted gray tee, I went to one of the gay bars of the city and made out with a gorgeous Italian before ending up with one of the bartenders. Oh my. What a night.
The morning after I went to the gym an hour before Ryan's first client and started working out. As he did, I took countless pictures of me.

I now understand why he took so many. It's hard to resist narcissism with a body like this one. I stuffed my phone with pictures of myself. I didn't care. I could do whatever I wanted. I saw Simon later that day. He came to see me. He had enough of being me and wanted to switch back. But I told him that I did not know how. We went to my old house and I made him notice that he now had a better apartment and a better car. He seemed only half pleased. He sucked my cock tenderly while weeping and despite the pleasure I had in receiving a blowjob from my old body, it didn't work. It didn't because I didn't want to happen. With him I pretended I was surprised each time we saw each other. But in reality I didn't care. There was a point where he started training wildly at the gym. He got a cool tattoo on his neck. Weirdly, the discovery did not affect me. It left me totally cold, as if that body had no links whatsoever with me. One days things got nasty as I could hear him speaking badly behind me. I thought of changing gym. But after that episode he stopped coming altogether. I've no idea where he is now. I hope for him that he has accepted the change and is going on with his life as I'm doing with mine, which is fucking awesome.

At the Conference

I saw Jürgen at the conference. He was standing with the other journalists at the back, watching the politicians vomiting their promises. I couldn't really follow the debate. I was struck by his manly beauty, by his body and movements.

I kept looking at him. But I resisted for only a few minutes. After that I had to run to the public toilets and masturbate. His face filled up my imagination so perfectly that it took me only a few seconds to come. I was not even disturbed by the noise around me. I cleaned myself and left.
I thought not to think too much about him even if it was not possible. At dinner, I couldn't focus on the conversation with Gina, a colleague from Boston that I sometimes see at these gatherings, because a couple of German journalists who were sitting behind me were talking about him. Unwillingly I ended up discovering more than I wanted. Besides his name, I discovered he was not a journalist but an assistant producer. Single, gay. It was like hearing people ticking boxes. Damn. He was perfect.
That night it took me forever to fall asleep. I had to jerk off a couple of times to the point that just a few drops of sperm were coming out of my penis. I saw more porn that I had done in a long time and, as it usually happens, I went to bed grumpy and dissatisfied with my life. Porn often makes me feel this way.
The morning after I see him in the park of the hotel of the conference. He was speaking on the phone, while the rest of the press was having breakfast inside. He was so sexy in his tight white shirt and jeans. I gained some confidence and went to him.

He was just finishing his phone call when he noticed me. 'Hey.' I greeted him and made up a story that I was from the New York Times and needed a German producer for a series of videos for our online journal. He was very interested. Apparently this is exactly what he needed as he wanted a change of scenario. 'Good,' I said. We walked across the park, kept talking about ambitious, unreal projects, moving away from the hotel. He kept following me, believing everything I said and nodding, like a puppy. I was acting as I usually do during interviews, simulating a confidence that I obviously don't have. When we were out of sight from everyone, hid by a thick walls of trunks, I put both of my hands on his chest.
'What the fuck, man.' He pushed me away angrily but it was too late. His fingers shortened, his frame shrunk. 'What the hell is happening?' He lifted his eyes and saw himself in front of him. I had metamorphosed in Jürgen and felt a rush of energy going through my brain and veins. It was like being drugged. 'What did you do?' 'Isn't it obvious?' I replied 'I took your body.' 'But this is not possible!'
How to explain the impossible to someone who is unfamiliar to body swapping? One can refer to the usual stock answers. It's a dream. We'll switch back in a moment. But I was bored with these things and I walked away. He ran after me and that's where he made his mistake. In front of dozens of international journalists, a middle-aged and anonymous American journalist from Baltimore was running after a young, stunning German producer. No one realised that the clothes had remained the same, but his tight fitting shirt made him look even more pathetic and gay. When we were close enough to the public I turned to him 'Enough Andy, stop following me. I said no.' People stopped eating. There was awkwardness in the air. Gina stood up and went to him. 'Andy, what's going on?' I instead went to the reception, pretended that I had lost my key and easily got into Jürgen's room. I had to pack quickly and leave to my new life, but not after having contemplated my new body. God. I felt good.

Blind Date

This is me. This is not really the picture I have uploaded on the gay dating website. I uploaded that of a striking dark-haired man dressed in preppy clothes. So It's normal that Justin fell for it. We chatted for a couple of days and we agreed to grab a drink on Thursday. When I showed up - I was deliberately late - he was obviously disappointed but nevertheless agreed to finish his pint. We chatted a bit and took a photograph.

He's pretty hot, isn't he? Great build, great lips, great face.And he had interesting things to say. We talked for a while about skying and the problems of gay dating. I was making stuff up all the time just to keep him entertained. In reality I would have liked to know about his sexual fantasies. But I pretended to be interested in his gym regime and in Arsenal. Yet, I must have behaved just fine as at some point he said 'You know what? You're a nice guy. Why don't we get another pint.' 'Sure', I replied, pretending that it was just a normal thing for me to have a night out with a stud like him. We got another round and then another one.

And a forth, which is when he started making less and less sense (and it made sense that he didn't as every time he went to the bathroom or for a cigarette I kept on pouring my beer in his glass, so he really drank 5 or 6). Half an hour later I was in his house. We didn't have sex as he was so drunk that he passed out on his bed in no time, but it does not matter, I was in.
So I did what I usually do in these situations. I entered his body by kissing him. I could feel his lifeless limbs and opaque thoughts. I took control over his brain even if his body was obviously made numb by alcohol. His mind, in my previous body, was still dazed. We both fell asleep.
The next morning I could finally enjoy my prize. Thank God I woke up before him.

I inspected the place, scrutinized his wardrobe, went to his kitchen and got a snack. What a fabulous pair of pecs he grew. What a stud I was. I returned to his bed and tried some clothes. I decided for a tight gray cableknit sweater that enhanced my new frame.

I felt SO good I could not resist and jerked off right there. People who says that body swaps have always complications never tried them. They're the best thing ever. I could retain some of his thoughts, which are obviously bodily things, but these adapted to my new thoughts to the point that I was probably no longer Justin, but a new human being with stunning looks.

What happened afterwards is routine. The guy woke up and was horrified. He sobbed, he fought but I didn't care. I called the police and they took him away. He's going to go through lot of problems. His bad. I feel no remorse. People are born with stunning faces, other people are born with the powers to steal them. It's all natural, isn't it? I didn't put much thinking into his miseries. Rather, I spent the day studying my whole new life. It went so quickly and after a few hours I hit the gym and was ready to go out with my new self.

Tatted

We were having tea next to each other. He poured me a cup. 'Here you go. This is how I like it.' He then sat next to me, silent. It was weird being at Anna's place without Anna. It was probably also a bit rude of her to make me bring her bike back and not be present. But it did not matter. I was weirdly enjoying the company of Sam, her new boyfriend.
Sam had the whole package. The beard I was trying to grow but which I was years away from getting and a body covered in tattoos. He had a sleek haircut and took care of his great body.
Instead, I was scruffy and a bit flabby. I dressed without much thinking: flannel shirts and whichever tee I had at hand. Gosh, I wished I had his body. The desire was so intense that I my crotch started filling up.
I turned and looked at him. He stopped stirring his cup and raised his chin. 'What the fuck, Andy! You look creepy.' But he couldn't finish the sentence that something magic happened: I entered his body and he transferred to mine.
He started looking around confused, he raised his hands and looked at them. I didn't give him the time to even mutter a word. I hit him with my head and his upper body fell on the table unconscious. I then found some tape on a shelf and sealed his mouth, tied his hands and dragged him to the storage room. I did all this quickly, as if I had done it millions of times. It helped that I knew the house.
Then I went to the bathroom, undressed and took a photo of me.

I looked awesome. I had the right tattoos in the right places and the 6-pack I had always dreamed of. And that beard. I jerked off right there, over the sink while with one hand I was touching my new face and my hair. I was ecstatic. I had to take a picture and memorialize the moment.
I then took some wax and remodelled my hair, went to Sam's room and pulled out some fresh clothes. A white tee, a pair of jeans. I loved pulling the tight jeans against my thighs. I liked the pressure of the denim against my skin. Then I put on his battered Dr. Martens. I rolled the hems of my jeans. I took another picture.

It felt good. I felt like smoking. I grabbed a package of cigarette that was lying on the table, I finished my cup of tea, took Sam's backpack and went out, in the streets of London. I could see some girls staring. I felt invincible and mysterious. I felt I could finally do everything I wanted.

Another frame

Even if I try, I have the feeling I will never become a hunk. I do try to do push-ups and I run in the park, but my body always remain flabby. It's as if my body did not want to change. Anyway, so far, this is my best shot.

My older brother tells me to wait, that I'm still young, that I will develop a frame as impressive as those that I admire on the covers of Men's Health. He lent me his copies of the magazine, which I read religiously, from cover to cover. One day I even sneaked into his room while he was not there and put on his sneakers and his shorts. I did some crunches than I took the tube of protein powder he keeps on his shelf and served me a shake in the kitchen. I wanted to grow so badly.
And I wished I could be like my brother. My brother is a stunner. Look at him.

Then the very same day I don't know what took me, but I started plotting. I waited for my brother that night. He came back late, but thank god he slammed the door and woke me up. While he was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, I sneaked into his room and hid under his bed. He got back, tossed his shoes in a corner and lay on his bed. He took out his phone and started watching videos on it. I could hear men moaning and I moved my head a little, just enough so I could see what was going on. On the screen a man was touching himself. And so was my brother. The bed was shaking a little, gentle vibrations that somehow turned me on. Then I changed plan. I originally wanted to kiss him while he was asleep, but the video gave me an unexpected energy. I stood up and, as dark as a shadow, I grabbed his penis. 'What the fuck!' he shouted, but it was too late. I could feel my body transforming, my muscles growing, my head spinning. His body turned more and more flaccid, like a balloon that is deflating. My hair grew shorter, my chin square. I could feel my rib cage changing position.
I grew taller and so did my grin. 'What the hell is going on', he squeaked. 'Hey, this is not my voice!' he said horrified. 'What is happening?'
Quite frankly I did not know. He had turned into my small little me and I had acquired his body, his shredded, unbelievably muscular body. 'WHAT DID?' 'Sshhh'. I put my hand on his mouth.
'You don't want to wake up mam and pop, do you? Don't worry. It's just a dream.'
He shook his head. It was not just a dream. His tears started flowing across my fingers.
'Don't worry, everything will be fine tomorrow.' I hugged him. I hugged that little deflated, ill-formed balloon. I didn't like it. I didn't like touching that ill-formed body, but I stayed there and waited until he stopped sobbing.
'Everything will be OK. Do not worry a bit.'
He nodded. 'Now, go to your room. And put some clothes on. We don't want people to find us this way. Then it will look even weirder.' He nodded even if he could not stop weeping. I kept him close to me and accompanied to what was once my room. I put him in bed. I kissed him on the forehead and also on the mouth. Why not? I thought.
I closed the door behind me. He was still weeping. I could hear him. So I went to bathroom and turned the shower on. I took a picture of me and then jumped in the tub. I touched myself. I spread my hands all over that ripped surface that was my body. Then I dried with a towel, I put on a tee and a leather jacket and went out. I could not wait to have men drooling all over me.