Changing Rooms

I'm one of those who really cannot remain serious in front of the camera. I know that I do not look, well... that impressive. You know such things. And despite I like baseball hats, I like jewellery and, especially, I like to take pictures of me, I always remain somewhat disappointed by the final result. Nothing quite fits the way it does on others. Caps look stupid on me. And when I try to look natural, I look even more artificial. I just don't have it. I know I don't have it. So I don't smile. I don't try to look cool. I just make faces and forget the second after.

My younger brother phoned to say it was on its way. It was peculiar we spoke so often but since the past two months - since the funeral of his mother - we had grown closer. It started from him. He asked me if we could hang out a bit on a Saturday and then we ended up spending the whole day together. It was actually nice. My brother does not have that many friends. He's pretty much always at the gym. He's very scrupulous at following his schedule. He does not drink. He hardly goes out. He has no girlfriend. He says it's because he has acne, but I don't think so. I think it's because of the amount of time he spends at the gym. Gym can be isolating places.

On that Saturday we started doing things like friends more than brothers. We went to the mall and bought stuff. As I said, it was nice, that time and the few other times after that. I expected  that today would be no different.

We were in Topshop. Around us lots of boys trying on clothes and looking at themselves in the mirrors. A couple of kids next to us kept on swapping clothes, pulling their tank tops and shorts from each other. It was sexy. They were fit, young and careless of everyone else. It was just the two of the and I got turned on by watching them. I kept on looking at them every now and then.

I picked a military green jacket and pulled the curtain of the changing room. I saw myself in the mirror and asked my bro to come in to see the fit.

'Yeah, not bad.' he said. 'Try it on' I said. He seemed hesitant and then he said 'sure, why not?' He tried it on and of course it looked so much better on him than me. 'Yet not with that black henley. You need something cooler.' and I gave him my striped tank top. It was weird, me trying to repeat what the younger kids were doing close to us. My brother looked at me for a second puzzled, but he had seen the kids too so he took off his top showing his bulky chest covered in tattoos. Wow! I never quite realised how shredded my bro was.
He put on my tank top and I put his henley on. It had short sleeve and it definitely didn't fit my frame. And I had a bit of a pouch. I then gave him my hat and he gave me his beanie. We switched everything, watches, jeans, socks, shoes and we were having a blast of a time. He even gave me his chains and bracelets and laughed when he saw me putting them on. I looked so weird and yet I loved the feeling of wearing somebody else's clothes.

But it is then, in the frenzy of the moment, in the joy of putting on clothes that belonged to somebody else that I felt my body started changing. I felt I got shorter and lighter. I felt my chest getting hotter and raising, like a bun in the oven. I looked at my brother. When he turned to me to see how his jeans fit I saw stubble on his face. His acne was gone. His eyebrows had grown thicker, his nose longer, his eyes opaque and sadder.
We both turned to the mirror and discovered that we had switched bodies.
I was him. I had turned into my younger, fitter brother.
'How's the fit?' asked the sales assistant from the outside. 'It's OK,' I replied quickly and pulled the curtain open. Now it was public. We had switched bodies and no one could have known. Two guys had entered the changing room and had emerged the same way. The sales assistant asked my brother 'how's the jacket?' He was under shock. It took him a good three seconds to reply. 'It's OK. I'm taking it.' The sales assistant brightened up and took it to the cashier. My brother reached for my wallet in the back pocket of the jeans he was wearing as if he had always knew where it was. 'Are you sure you want to buy it?' I asked. 'Yes, Jim. I'm sure.'

Jim. That was my brother's name. Why did he call me that way in front of those people? No one could know our names. Was he trying to tell me that he was fine with the transformation? It almost seemed that by saying them out loud he aproved of the transformation.
Behind us, in the line, were the two fit kids in their original clothes. Or had they swapped too and I could not know? Perhaps I looked at them a bit too intently as one of them stared back and winked at me. I half smiled and then looked back at my body. My chest was bulging. I touched them: they were full and ripped. I touched my abs. The same. My penis started to grow inside my pants. The kid noticed and looked amused. I winked back.

After paying my brother and I hardly spoke. 'I'll see you later Jim. I need to think. I'll give you a call later.' That was weird, very weird actually. But quite frankly that was what I wanted. I wanted to stay alone with my new body. I run to the bathroom of the mall and locked myself in the toilet. I took off my beanie, pulled my top and marvelled at what I saw.

I was a fucking model. I had never realized my brother was so smoking hot.
Ok, I had some zits here and there, but they'd go in time, I thought. I was just 18 after all. I could not believe myself. I liked everything about it. The way the clothes fit, my trimmed hair on the sides, my chains, my lips. I felt a phone in the pocket and snapped a picture. Then I turned and jerked off. My penis was large, much larger than the one I used to have. It was actually not large, it was thick. It was difficult to keep in just one hand. I felt amazing. After coming I put my hand on my face and felt my chin, my cheeks, my lips, my teeth. I was touching my face for the very first time. I came again. And again. It was like a never-ending rush, a constant stream of energy, which came from touching various parts of my body, of my new amazing body.
I zipped my jeans and left the bathroom. My head was spinning. I saw a health shop, went inside and bought a massive jar of protein powder. There was no way I would let this hot body go away.
Then I went shopping. I needed new clothes. Something that I always wanted to wear.

I bought a new tank top and skinny jeans and a hat. And while doing that I checked out guys, who checked me back in return. I felt awesome and I could not wait to make out with anyone. I went out, in the street and aimed aimlessly, just feeling good, just adapting to my new life as Jim.

A&F - Part 1

I'm proud of Adam. He worked out for six months, he didn't touch a drop of beer and got in. It's not the easiest thing in the world to become a model at Abercrombie&Fitch, but he did it and that was why went out to celebrate.

I got him a bottle of Moet. 'Finally, you can drink alcohol again.' We toasted.
'C'mon bro, there's no reason to unbutton your shirt' I mocked him 'you'll now have to show your chest all the time.' He laughed while finishing his glass. 'It's funny you say that, but you know what? I can't button this shirt anymore.' 'What?' Yeah. I grew so much in the last few months that my shirts do not fit me anymore. I suppose it's good I'm in retailing now.' I smiled, but while I was swallowing the last drop of champagne I peered at this chest through the stem and foot of the glass. It was big. It was enormous. He did work hard, I could see that. And I was not the only one noticing. The girls in the room were turning their heads and, in my grey sweater, I started feeling like a grandpa. 'Do you want another one?' I asked him. 'No, thanks. I should really get going. Tomorrow's my first day and I shouldn't compromise my work with more wine.' We left. More heads turned.

That night, while I was masturbating in the bathroom in my pj, I thought of Adam. I thought how it would be to turn into him. I often think of body swaps when I'm jerking off or when I'm having sex. There's nothing else that is more successful at turning me on. Perhaps it's just insecurity. I don't put too much thinking in it, but it just works like magic. Over the years I have even trained my head so that my fantasies have become more and more convincing. I can add quite a bit of detail and I have perfected my favorite scenarios. That one was a simple one. I was just imagining of being where I was, in the bathroom, and slowly turning into him. I pictured my chest growing, my viewpoint raising, my hair getting shorter. I imagined my voice growing deeper, full of testosterone. I fancied getting rid of all my boring clothes and wear a pair of A&F slippers and one of those checkered shirts. They're quite tacky actually, but as Adam I would not mind tackiness. I would be so thankful for the transformation that I would embrace the whole aesthetics in full. I swore that I would have been as dull as required. I just wanted his body.

I came. A streamer of sperm popped through my penis and fluttered in the air. For a moment I was in ecstasy. All my muscles were contracted. I still felt like Adam and my right hand left my penis to touch my chest, which I still thought bulging. I love that weird sensation after you come when you're suspended between fantasy and reality. The thing is that my pecs were bulging. I opened my eyes and I was Adam. Holy crap! It did happen! Holy fucking crap! I could not believe it. I had a six pack, I had those juicy arms and those round, ripped shoulders. I truly could not believe it.

I took my phone. I was about to call him. But then I thought why should I? Instead, I took a photo. Actually, I took hundreds of photos. I went to bed at 5 that morning after jerking off five, six times and posting countless pictures of me on the internet in new profiles that I set up every ten minutes.

The morning, after merely three hours of sleep, I felt like shit. I woke up with those huge puffy eyes and put on the first t-shirt I could find and which nicely squeezed my muscular body. Even if tired, I was still pretty pleased with my new body.

But I had to go. I ran to the store on Madison Avenue and got a full training and my uniform. 'We'll deduct it from your salary,' told me this handsome guy with a half smile. A red checkered shirt, a pair of denim and those slippers that I found so tacky. Exactly what I wanted. I slipped into those and felt invincible, like a member of a party of untouchables. After a couple of hours I was at the entrance, taking pictures with little girls. They were all so excited to touch one of the untouchables and I loved their flattery. I even squeezed them next to me, squeezing my chest to make them feel what a real man feels like.

I blinked, I grinned. I was flirtatious. I flirted with everyone, mothers and daughters, boys and girls, and I was good at it. I got winked back. I got smiled back. A gorgeous black man turned his head to check me out. Good. It felt good. I chatted with another guy so sexy that  I would have licked his dick right there in front of everyone. The thought of it was so overwhelming that when I went to the bathroom I jerked off in seconds. I had to release all the horniness I was accumulating on that dreamy day by seeing those fit bodies, those dazzling white smiles, those checkered shirts, all identical. I cum a second time and for the first time I was thinking about the body I was in. I was thinking to be Adam. Were my fantasies finally matching the reality? Did I overcome my own insecurity?
I started wondering, but what I should have really wondered about was the power of my imagination, because the real Adam was waiting for me in front of the bathroom. [to be continued...]

Buff

The awesome thing about being buff is the boost you give to your self-confidence. With those pecs and biceps and abs you don't care about anything anymore. It feels normal to go outside shirtless, it's OK to flirt with the bartender. You feel invincible, that you can do anything and you no longer care about other people's judgment. That's at least what I felt since I got this body.

I got three days ago and there's no way I'm going to give it back. I'm sorry for my bro Ryan, but he has to deal with it. Shit just happens sometimes. He didn't end up in a terrible body after all. I was fine with my body. I got quite a few guys and, to say the truth, my boyfriends were better looking than Ryan's. But that's probably because Ryan never needed boyfriend and I'm certainly not going to stop sleeping around.

Anyways, it all started three days ago, I was saying. Ryan and I went out with our friend Stacy, who had just been fired. It sucks, I know. We were having drinks and we were fooling around. W

We commented on a couple of funny youtube videos in the darkness of the bar and did all we could to cheer her up. We danced a little. We made fool of ourselves. Ryan got a superlong straw just to make her laugh. We asked her countless questions. It only half worked. 'I'm going home, guys. Thanks for the drinks and for your awesome support.' We begged to stay a little longer. It was only 9pm after all. There was nothing to do. And that's at that point that Ryan said. Wait: we need you to take a picture of us. It's for this face-swap app which I've just downloaded and it's totally cool. She nodded and took a snapshop of us.

Ryan then opened the app and showed how he could flip our faces and move his on my body and viceversa. The result was more pathetic than funny.

'Thanks for trying Ryan, but I'm OK. Rally.' She kissed him on the cheek and left the bar. He was stirring nervously his drink with the straw. I looked at him.
'What's this button?' I asked while pointing to this flashy red on the display of his phone. It said 'transform'. 'I've no idea,' he said intrigued and he clicked. Soon I felt an unbearable pressure on my face, as if I were parachuting or diving, which lasted just a moment. I turned around, no one seemed to have noticed a thing. We life in the bar went smoothly, as just a minute before. I turned my face and I got slapped.
'What the hell!'
While opening my eyes I got confused. In front of me there was my body, in my blue V-neck, with my drink. I looked at my hands. I was holding this drink with this ridiculously long straw. And I had these bulging pecs. I raised my head. We had switched bodies. Oh geez.
We went to the bathroom and talked animately for a while. I couldn't stop looking at myself in the mirror. Holy shit. I had the best body I had ever seen. 'Ryan, can you stop flexing? It's really not cool. I'm talking.' 'I'm sorry bro,' I said 'but it feels good. It feels SO good.' I was smiling in a way that must have looked rude. 'It's not funny. We need to find a way out of this.'
We used the app again, but searched for solutions online. Nothing.
While he was looking at websites, I lifted my eyes and met those of this handsome guy who started at me intently. I rubbed my hand over my chest and he did the same over his crotch. Gosh, it was sexy.
'Can you stop doing that? We need to find a solution.' 'Oh sure. Sorry.'
After two hours we still had not found anything. We went home together. As I was going to uni, it was not that I had to wake up early or anything and I could have spent the night at Ryan's. Oh well, that was now my place actually.

After half an hour, he knocked at the bathroom door. 'Ryan, what the hell are you doing?'
What do you think I was doing? I was doing what every other guy would have done in my shoes: I kept contemplating myself at the mirror and jerking off. 'One moment. I said.'

'What are you doing?' 'Nothing' I said. 'Where you masturbating.' 'No!' 'Oh my god. Yes, you did!' 'No. I didn't' What the hell! He became hysterical. He wanted to see my penis as he was sure that I had jerked off. He went on for 10 minutes, after which I agreed to take off my pants.
'I knew that!' he cried with a victorious smile. 'I knew that!' he repeated to my face, which I took and lowered. 'It's OK, babe, I said. You won.' and, while keeping lowering his head: 'Now, suck.'
at first he hesitated but then he did. He started sucking and sucking.
Oh my. It felt good. I kept pushing his head against my crotch. I wanted to reach the back of his mouth with my cock. I wanted to hit the back wall of his larying with my penis, I wanted to wreck his vocal chords. I wanted him to stop talking. I started pushing his head harder and faster.
'Wait Ryan! Not so fast. I'm suffocating.' I didn't care. Lord, it felt good. 'Wai--- Ry---wha----ck'
I came in his throat, splashing his mouth and teeth. Wow. It felt good.
I released my grip. He stood up. 'What the hell Ryan, did you want to kill me?' He started yelling and went on for a good ten minutes, after which someone knocked at the door.
'Fuck'. It was the neighbour. 'I'm sorry. I'm trying to sleep, Ryan. Could you please stop doing whatever you're doing?' 'Oh. I'm terribly sorry. I didn't noticed the time, but do not worry my friend is leaving.' 'What?' I grabbed his stuff and put him at the door. After three minutes I locked the door behind me. He kept on knocking, complaining. I just put my headphones on and started listening to music. After fifteen minutes he was gone. I sat at my computer and started looking if there was someone only ready for a hookup.

Quick Swap

It was one of those days. I didn't sleep well and, I don't know really why, but when I don't, I find myself daydreaming. I imagine of swapping bodies with everyone I see in the streets. I watch a lot of porn, more than I have the force to admit. I complain, I blame it on whatever, but I know it's because of sleep deprivation. And still, I do not do anything to sleep more.

I can not focus on my studies so I leave the library and go to the gym. I push hard, but I really can not perform. I turn on the volume of my iphone, but despite how loud the music I cannot erase my crappy thoughts.

I waste three minutes undecided as to what song to play next, when across the gym I see this blond guy in a striped top.

Holy Fuck! I'm like star struck. I cannot take my eyes off him. I run on the treadmill, I row, but every other minute I find my eyes returning to him. The way he moves and lifts weights is amazing. I had never seen someone like him. He passes his hand through his hair and I almost come. I'd better go, I think.

I go to the changing room. I take off my shirt and, as usual, I take a picture. (I know I'm fucked up, leave me in peace). 

And it is at that moment that I see him coming to the changing room. I hide inside one of the toilets and spy him. The guy opens his locker and takes out a bottle of water. He returns to the gym leaving the locker open.

I come closer and open it. Inside there's his gym bag, his boots, his clothes. Hanging from the hook a 

beanie. I put that one when I see the guy is back. 'What the fuck!'

I don't know what to do and I punch him in the face. He falls to the ground. I drag his body into one of the toilets. Other people are coming. I hold my breath. I hear voices, the noise of objects getting dropped, of zips getting unzipped. And I'm here with this hot body in my arms. It is at that point that I kiss him. My body metamorphoses into his.

I quickly take his clothes off and put them on. His white underwear, his jersey trousers, in whose pockets I found his black iphone. I do not bother about his striped top but I keep the beanie on.

The voices grow quieter. I put my clothes on him and leave the toilet.

Wow. At the mirror, looking back at me there is this hot blond guy.

I get back to the locker and quickly gather my stuff, among which I find a wallet. 'Travis' That's my name now? After a few hours I am in an apartment I have never seen, playing with a wardrobe that is definitely not mine. I don't have baseball hats. I have never been in New York.

It's like playing with dolls. I put stuff on and off for hours and take pictures of me all the time. By looking here and there I start getting a sense of whom Travis may be, but I also think that I can now turn it the way I want. Is this another chance in life? I hope at least I can sleep better, finally.

Radiations

John and I were best buddies. We went to high school together, we go to gym together, we even go to the solarium together, which is where this story starts.

I'm the blond, he's the dark one. I know, I always liked John. There is something about him - his clean face, his careless hairstyles, his icy eyes, perhaps - that just takes me. But he's practically married with Simon now and I'm with Patrick anyways. We did make out once, but that was almost two years ago. A drunk night. I don't even think he remembers and I should forget as well, actually.
Anyways, we were both tanning when something went horribly wrong. There was an outage, we stayed in the dark for almost a minute. 'Don't touch yourself,' shouted John. Oh John's off-putting remarks. That's probably why I like him.

After a moment, the power returned, but I felt almost bombarded by rays, as if I were hit by high-intensity rays. I felt like I was Peter Parker before becoming Spiderman. I cannot tell for sure, but that's when I think everything started.
Dizzily, I left the bed and went to the changing room. 'Did you feel that weird sensation too?' asked John while we were waiting for our credit card to go through. We parted ways. We'd meet later at the club anyways.

I went to Topshop. I tried on a smart blue shirt and a blazer.

 I felt like dressing up as the venue we were going to was fancy. In my ripped jeans and tnned Oxford brogues, I felt sexy. The guy outside of the changing room must have felt my confidence because he gave me that look. 'What are you looking for?' I whispered, while handing him some of the items I was not going to buy. 'Flirty' he said, surprised. After he hanged a shirt on a hanger, he swiftly touched my crotch. I looked at him. I was horny. I could have fucked him right there, in front of every one. But I gave him half a smile and went, like the bitchy customer I was.

John arrived at the club late, as usual. The funny thing is that we were both wearing the same types of clothes. A dark blue jacket, a blue shirt. We looked like twins. 'We know each other too well,' he said while I was passing him a beer. We sat. 'I know, we're like a married couple,' I echoed. The occasion required a photograph.

We had a great time. I cannot even count how many beers we had. We talked about our respective partners, the problems at work, that stupid new policy at the gym. We caught up as we hadn't done in a long long time. But we also chatted with people and danced. 'Lady Gaga! C'mon John, let's party!' I hardly waited for his answer to be on the dance floor, swinging and jumping.

It is because of that euphoric state that I kissed John. My lips landed right there, on his open mouth while he was talking to me. And he kissed back as he grabbed my ass with one hand and the back of my neck with the other. It was long, too. Our tongues were playing and there was an unexpected synergy in our kiss, as if we had been practicing it for years. After I pulled my face away from his I started felling lightheaded.

I went to the bathroom to get some fresh water. While I was resting my arms on the sink, with my face still dripping, I noticed that the skin of my left hand was peeling off. Within 30 seconds the skin of my hand started looking like the skin of a chicken that has been roasted for two hours. I could break it like paper. Within two minutes the same happened to my arm. In five minutes my whole skin fell apart, as if it were a shell of some sort, revealing a whole new layer of fresh, tight skin together with a new body.

I was John. Oh my god. I had turned into mother fucking John. I could not believe it.

It is at that time that John entered. 'Are you OK? You've been here for an awful amount of time.'

I turned to him and that is when he realized that something went wrong. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink. 'Oh my fucking shit. You're me. And I'm you. I'm YOU!' 

While I had turned into John, John had metamorphosed into me. He was shaking. 'Do not worry John, everything will be alright.' I made him sit and hugged him for a long time. He started sobbing. It took over two hours to relax him. I told him that we would switch back anytime tomorrow and that to find out how I had to look for a spell. The task was daunting, but by no means impossible.

The thing I did not tell him is that I had no intention to search for that crazy formula. Indeed I never did.  Not for a second. To be in John's body was just amazing, why would I give that up? Already on the very first few hours, while I was still shocked by the whole thing, I received more horny looks that I never received before and I'm not a bad-looking guy! Or perhaps I did not really receive them, but it was John's body that made me believe that. Being confident, even supremely so, can transform the way one  looks at the world and at myself.

We agreed to continue each others' lives and after I kissed him goodbye. I went home. I literally counted the seconds before reaching for John's door keys. Once in, I realised that Simon had left the tv on and he was sleeping on the sofa. Poor Simon, whom would he believe tomorrow? I looked up and took a picture of me at the mirror right after the entrance. 

Cool, I felt I had become an unbeatable catch. I could not resist it, I went to the bedroom and stripped myself. I looked at my abs and my bulging chest. I kept on observing every inch of my new body. I took some photographs and sent them to some random guys. To one I even wrote: 'Check this out, from Mr. Shredded.'

And it's then that I felt this urge to call my old me. 'Yeah? Steven here.' 'It's me - well, you - Steve. You know what? I've realized that I would like to fuck you tonight.'

Steven did not seemed shaken in the slightest. 'Come over, he said' in the traditional John's voice he was good to imitate. I went to his place and he opened the door, shirtless.

I really wasn't half bad. Why was I complaining so often about my old body when I inhabited it? I was fit! Or was it John speaking in my head? Did John have a crush on me? Oh well. It didn't matter anymore. Or perhaps it did because when he opened the door shirtless, I almost assaulted him, covering him in kisses and quickly removing his pants. Did John like me? It was so intense and urgent. We didn't even go to the bedroom, we made out right there, by the main door, surrounded by shoes and wet coats and umbrellas. Before that, I took his penis in my mouth and, after licking it and smelling the crisp odour of (unwashed) pubic hair - I sucked it as if I were slurping a piece of ice. 'Good boy,' he said. I grinned I returned to sucking. He moaned. I took his penis in my right hand and started masturbating him, faster and faster, while with the other hand I was caressing his inner thighs. He came on my face, his sperm forming a white spiderweb between my nose and my eyebrows.

A few moments later, while I was coming back from the bathroom, he said. 'You do realise that you'll dump Patrick, I'll dump Simon and we'll finally become a couple. You could move here.'

The sentence excited me beyond belief (a couple? the two of us?) even if I took it as mere flattery at that time.

'And you know,' I continued, 'that we won't.' He stopped smiling. 'I'll remain with Simon, who is a fucking hot model, and make out with him in every single room of the house until I tear him into pieces?' 'What the fuck are you talking about?' now he was getting angry. Without even turning my face, I finished him: 'I'm telling you: I'm never going to give you this body back.'

Happy Birthday

The night was a blast. Everyone was having a good time and I was in a great mood, half drunk and full of energy.

Marco, on my left, patted me on the back: 'Again, happy birthday bro, get another shot.' We turned towards the bar and swallowed another drink. 'Gosh, Marco, it hurts.' I know!'
For a second I was so dazed I could not even see the letters on his Abercrombie sweatshirt.
'Sean, c'mon it's your birthday. Tell me what your real wish. I wanna really make this day special.'
I could hardly stand. 'What are you talking about? You already gave me an awesome gift. That's enough.' 'No, no. I mean, I really want to give you something special. Just name it. Please, just tell me. No matter how crazy it is. I wanna know.'
I paused for a second. Fuelled by the alcohol, I confessed. 'You know what, Marco? I'd really like to be you for one day. I'd like to wear that sweater, your black converse and that Louis Vuitton belt that makes you look like a douchebag.' Marco laughed. 'I'd like to drive you bike and even make out with your girl.' I realized what I said. 'oh! I'm sorry.' He took it with a pinch of salt: 'Do not worry. I take it as a compliment.' 'No, but really, I should not have said that. I never meant to...' 'Sean, it's OK. Do not worry. Come with me instead.'

I followed him to the backyard. The music made the whole bar vibrate as if the walls were made of paper. Marco lit a cigarette. He took a drag. Then he gave me the cigarette. 'C'mon smoke.' 'But I don't smoke, Marco.' 'Try.' And while I was coughing he took off his sweatshirt. 'What the hell are you doing? It's freezing here!' 'Don't ask questions. Put this on and give me yours. Give me also your glasses and keep on smoking.' I started laughing. What was he doing? It didn't matter. I duly followed his orders. I removed my shoes, I took off my pants and threw them on the ground. I started putting Marco's clothes on, starting from his underwear, which nicely wrapped my ass. Then the socks, then I buckled the LV belt. I put on his tee, his sweatshirt. I kept on smoking, or pretending to. I was excited. The whole thing was kind of crazy, typical of Marco. God knows what everyone would think once we re-entered the room with each other's clothes. I started imitating his swagger and his voice. 'Hey Sean. I'm Marco, nice to meet you,' I said.

We started laughing and returned inside for another celebratory drink. While inside, no one said anything about the clothes. Felicia patted on my shoulder 'Marco, how long do we need to stay? I have exams tomorrow.' I turned to her pretending that I was actually her boyfriend. 'We can go whenever you go baby.' 'OK, let's go then.' She took my hand and dragged me towards the exit. 'And you're drunk. I told you hundreds of times not to call me baby.'
I turned towards the exit. No one was noticing that the birthday boy was leaving? Weird. But it was wonderful to be touched by Felicia. Why was Marco not saying anything?

Just outside, while Felicia was unlocking our bikes, someone took a snapshot of me and her. Only the day after did I realise that I had turned into Marco.

I realised it while looking at my shoes. I was wearing Marco's chucks.

I always liked them. Many times I wished to secretly sneaked into his bedroom while he was in the bathroom and put them on, just to feel what it was like to be in his shoes. But wait! I was in his shoes. I had slept in his shoes. What happened?
I started touching my body. It felt so different. It felt trimmed, shredded. It felt as if I had slimmed down of three sizes overnight. I felt light. I touched my flat stomach, the LV buckles. I touched my penis and I gasped. This was not my penis. I was not circumcised. I brought a hand to my mouth only to realise that it was not my hand. I stood up. With my eyes still sticky with dreams I went to the bathroom and discovered that I was in Marco's body. I could not believe it. I had a little golden chain around my neck and those irresistible dark eyes. I had a defined chest and a killer smile.
It was the best feeling in the world. I felt I could do anything.

I went to the kitchen, where Felicia has left a cute message: 'had to sit the exam, see you later love.'
Another bit that felt good. I went back to the room and put my earplugs on. Music roared in my head. I got dressed. I left for school.

Everything seemed new. People looked at me in a different way. That very feeling - that I was miles away from my previous life, that I could do things in a wholly different way, that I was no longer bound to myself, to my history, to my DNA - was the feeling that turned me on, more on than any ripped body ever could. I had to unload. I went to the bathroom of the library and, after locking myself in, masturbated in front of the mirror. In front of my gorgeous face it took me a nanosecond to cum. Gosh. That was good.
Outside the bathroom door, in front of shelves of folders, was Sean.

Well... I mean Marco in my old body. 'Hey. How's it going? Liking the new body.' 'It's OK,' I said. I had no intention of revealing how excited I was. 'Just OK?' 'Yeah. Your body does not deal well with maxi hangovers right?' He laughed. 'Well... don't worry. It will take a second to switch back. We can actually do it here in the bathroom.'
'Ah, it's funny you mention this bathroom, because just now on the paper roll I found a super-cool thing in it that describes exactly how I feel now.' 'What do you mean?' and he opened the door.
He opened the door and did not get it straight away. He turned to me. 'You see, Sean: I'm keeping this body. Thanks for an awesome birthday.'

The Steamy Room

We were training in the gym as usual, me and Greg. It was another usual Monday.

'We're doing arms today', said Greg, patronising. 

He very often had that tone, of a father teaching his little son, but I didn't mind it. He was still very nice of him to go at my own pace. It took me twice the time he took Greg to lift those featherlight dumbbells. Gosh, they seemed so heavy.

Every time after doing his set, he stood next to me, in his black tank top and black beanie, encouraging me to lift weights one more time. 'C'mon Alex, you can do it,' he encouraged me. 

It was patronising, of course. But it was also very nice.

The best part of every workout was however the sauna afterwards. We went there fully dressed, careless of the rules of the gym. In the afternoon it was only the two of us anyways. We usually stayed there for 10 or 15 minutes, until the heat started really hurting.

We usually sat next to each other. His bare shoulder touching mine. We kept our eyes closed and enjoyed lengthy flights of imagination. Sometimes we did not even exchange one word.
On that Monday, I do not know why, I thought it would be nice to wake up in Greg's body. It's not something I put much thinking into. If I were really to choose a body to swap, I'd have picked a taller, more handsome one. Yet, on that day I had a strange fascination for my buddy. I felt my penis getting harder. I was indulging a little too long in this thought when Greg patted me. 'C'mon Alex, let's go. I'm hot.'

We left the steamy room and it's then, when I was standing up, that the unbelievable happened. Out of the mist, I reliazed that I had turned into Greg. I had his cap and tank top on. We looked at each other, but we didn't scream as characters do in the movies. Rather, we were silently stunned. Greg, in my body, was looking intently at me. 'Gosh, it looks so different from the pictures I usually take of me. I'm not that pretty after all.' I was speechless. We turned to the mirror.
'Gosh I have to take a picture,' he said. I did that too. Someone entered in the bathroom.

'Oh Fuck. What can we do now?'
'What kind of stupid question is this, Greg' I said. 'How the fuck can I possibly know what to do after swapping bodies?' I didn't know know where the tone came from, but I was only half displeased of having shushed Greg.
'Well, my mum is coming to pick me up in 10 minutes,' I said trying to convince me that everything was still normal. It was at that moment that Greg gave me his hoodie. 'Oh well, I suppose this one now belongs to you.' He instead picked my backpack. We had exchanged everything now.
It was awkward. And yet, I felt weirdly turned on.
We agreed to call each other later on. We knew our respective parents well enough to play along for one night. We had the same homework to do. It would not have been difficult to fake it for as long as we stayed in each other's feet.

But, man, what I did not realize was how much I loved being in Greg's body.
Once home, the first thing I did was posing in front of the mirror. I stood there for at least ten minutes.

My room was a mess, but who fucking cared with those arms and that flat stomach? I must have taken fifty pictures, excited as I was by my new frame. I then ran to the bathroom, took off my tank top and gasped at my own sight. I was shredded!

I leaned out, shouted that I had to take a shower and shut the door. I removed my pants and weighted my new round long penis. I then turned on the shower and starting masturbating over the tub. I moved my hand over my ripped body, enjoying it as if it were the body of a person I was making out with. I was making out with myself. And I often took pictures as a way to show that there was something outside of myself. I still could not believe I was there, in that body!

I was still in this euphoric state when Alex called me on the mobile. We chat for a long time, finally agreeing to see each other the morning after, at a café nearby. I nodded to everything, but I couldn't care less. The morning after I put on a pair of red jeans and a hoodie and went straight to school. Alex found me around lunchtime while I was talking to a girl.
'What the hell is wrong with you?' he said. 'Nothing Alex. I'm sorry I was late this morning.'

'You call me Alex?'

'And what else should I call you? Dumbass?' I grinned and shrugged away. 'See you later.'

I disappeared in the crowd of high school kids.