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.

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.