Nman-blog - Hot Male TF Stories...

Magic Mustache - Chapter 2

A story commissioned by @beardobession. Read chapter 1 here to learn who these two handsome gentlemen are:

Cam saw Duke at the gym the next day, too. This wasn’t a coincidence. Duke was obviously an avid gymgoer. The way his pecs strained against his T-shirts told Cam that. If he was that disciplined with his body, Cam assumed that he was just as disciplined with his schedule, and he was proven right. The original plan was to show up at the exact time that Duke did, and “run into” him in the lobby. But Cam had been full of pent-up energy all morning and ended up going to the gym an hour early. He was on the weight bench when Duke finally walked in and he felt his heart skip a beat.

He decided to play it cool and finish his set before approaching, but a shadow fell over his eyes. Duke was standing over him, smiling, his beard freshly trimmed and looking oh-so sharp. “It’s Cam, right?”

Cam re-racked the barbell. “Yeah, it is! …How did you know my name?”

Duke’s face twitched. Cam couldn’t see beyond his thick beard (nor did he want to), but he could have sworn he saw a sliver of a blush on Duke’s upper cheeks.

“I… The guy at the counter told me. You’re new here, aren’t you? Do you need a spotter? I’d be happy to work out with you.”

“I actually do! I wanted to lift more than this, but was worried I might hurt myself. Thanks, Duke!”

Duke smiled. As he got set up, he leaned in close to Cam and murmured, “I wasn’t kidding about the mustache yesterday, dude, it looks dope.”

Cam wished he had a beard to hide his own blush. Hell, he wished he had a beard in general. But he breathed an internal sigh of relief at the compliment. That morning, he had been faced with a dilemma. When he woke up, another miracle had happened. He figured the Magic Mustache’s magic would extend only to his mustache. That felt natural, he’d thought, before realizing there was nothing natural about this situation in the first place. But when he woke up, with morning wood straining against his boxers, he felt the unmistakable scrape of stubble on his chin and cheeks.

After jerking off once (OK, twice), he had decided to shave everything but the mustache. At least for today. It was rough going, as the stubble felt even thicker than when he had woken up just an hour ago, but he wanted to highlight the growth that Duke had liked, in order to see if he caught his eye again. He didn’t know how well his plan would work!

———

After a successful workout with Duke (at one point a drop of sweat had slid down Duke’s cheek and through his thick beard, plopping onto Cam’s lower thigh - he had to pretend he suddenly needed to stretch so he could wait for his boner to go away), Cam was in the locker room shrugging on a shirt when the other man emerged from a shower stall, wrapped in a towel. “Do you wanna grab a smoothie?” Duke asked.

Cam was awestruck by the sight of his bulging chest and toned abs, all covered in a dense layer of brown hair. He admired the flowering vine tattoo that snaked up the side of Duke’s firm stomach, trailing down to his hip where it vanished behind the white cotton. He wanted to see how far down it went. He… hadn’t been listening.

He snapped his dropped jaw shut and looked at Duke, summoning his most innocent expression. “What was that?”

Duke chuckled. “Let’s get a smoothie. My treat.” He threw on his clothes (the vine went all the way down his upper thigh, Cam was glad to report) and the pair headed out.

As they walked along the street, Cam lingered in front of the cigar store, staring lovingly at their wares.

“You into cigars?” asked Duke. “I partake only every once in a while, gotta keep my body clean, you know? But I can buy us a couple if you want to try them out?”

Cam could hardly believe his luck. “Y-yes, that would be great, man! Thank you! I’ll pay you back.”

Later, they strolled toward Duke’s apartment, which backed up to an alley. When they entered the alley, the cigars bulging in Duke’s back pocket, Cam made him laugh so hard that smoothie shot out of his straw and all over his front. Panicked, Cam rummaged through his shiny new gym bag (purchased yesterday once he realized he’d be going more often) for the Tide Pen he always kept handy.

“Sorry, sorry!” He leaned closer to inspect the damage, not realizing that Duke had already bent over, and their faces were now just inches apart.

Cam laughed nervously. The smell of fresh strawberries overpowered him. “There’s smoothie in your beard.”

Duke didn’t move. “Do you want a taste?”

Cam couldn’t speak. All he could muster was a nod. Then his mouth was engulfed in Duke’s, his tongue already exploring, teasing his lips open. Cam had kissed guys before. He’d felt those fireworks before. But this was something else. The internal fireworks were bright, and that felt familiar. But this was the first time he also felt the sonic boom of their explosions spread across his skin. Duke’s beard prickled against the bare skin of his chin, his mustache cushioned by Cam’s own, the strands intermingling and dancing across one another, sending tingling jolts of electricity straight through Cam’s body to his dick. He grabbed the back of Duke’s head and let the man’s tongue roll across his own, his boner stiffening and rebelling against his loose gym shorts.

As they kissed, Cam’s face began to tingle more and more. He thought this was the result of beard rash, something he’d read about and definitely wanted to experience someday. But when Duke put a gentle hand on his cheek, it rasped against stubble. His stubble was back! After just a few hours! Fuck yeah, he wasn’t gonna have any choice but to grow a beard. Cam’s boner twitched and pre-cum began to stain the front of his boxers.

In that moment, he realized something. Experimentally, he grabbed Duke’s other hand and placed it on his crotch. Duke obliged him and began to rub his hard dick, the silky texture of his boxers slipping and sliding over his shaft. Cam took both of his hands and began to run them through Duke’s beard while they kissed, enjoying the way the hair, still damp from the shower and smelling sweetly of strawberries, slid across his skin like a paintbrush.

With his right hand still half on Duke’s cheek, he reached out his thumb and touched his own cheek. With a tingle of pleasure, he realized that his stubble was indeed thickening. In fact, it couldn’t even be called stubble anymore. It was a short beard that was becoming incrementally longer, millimeter by millimeter, the hairs slightly curling as they reached greater and greater lengths.

Duke pulled back and started, staring at Cam’s face. “Cam, your beard. Do you know-“

“I know,” Cam interrupted him. “I’ve found it’s best to go with the flow on this. Please don’t worry about me, I’m loving it.”

Duke shrugged. “If you say so. Wanna come upstairs?”

Cam considered what he’d just found out. The more turned on he was, the more he thought about facial hair when he was turned on, the more his own would grow. “Fuck yeah,” he said.

Duke and Cam didn’t have full-on sex, but Cam was having enough new experiences for one day anyway. But Duke did blow him, and Cam was secretly glad that he had offered. He bunched his growing beard in one hand (it was long enough to bunch - the strands were now softening with length, becoming less like a Brillo pad and more like a field of grass, tickling his fingers as he moved) while he felt up Duke’s own beard with the other. The hairs around Duke’s lips thrilled against the skin of his cock, and he felt like he was a machine gun of precum spraying endlessly into Duke’s willing mouth.

When Duke reached up a hand to touch Cam’s chest, he paused for a moment, glancing upward, before returning to his work. Fuck! Cam hadn’t even noticed! The same pinpricks of stubble that he had found on his cheeks that morning had begun to grace his entire chest, swirling around his nipples. As he watched, they poked out even further, becoming dark, feathery flecks that made it look like he trimmed regularly. As if he would ever do that.

He felt up his own chest, enjoying the way the short hairs flicked against his hands, adding texture and dimension to every inch of skin they covered. He came without warning, sending spurt after spurt of cum into Duke’s eager, waiting mouth.

After he returned the favor, Duke showed him how to properly light a cigar and the two of them took deep puffs out on the patio. Duke had warned him that the first time he tried a cigar, he would probably hate the taste and might even burn his throat, but he felt perfectly at ease with a stogie in his hand, shooting the breeze with his gym buddy? Fuck buddy? He supposed it was both, and a glowing sense of pride suffused his body as he blew out an expert smoke ring.

————

Needless to say, Cam went back to Duke’s every day after that. They didn’t smoke again (he was thinking once a month might be the best move, but he yearned for that smoky, rich flavor to roll through him again), but they sure did everything else again. And again.

He opened his computer a few days later, running his fingers through his now luxurious chest hair, which was beginning to curl into hypnotic patterns against his skin. New stubble was now blooming across his stomach, which was already feeling tighter after so many days of strenuous workouts in a row.

A notification from Amazon popped up. “7 day review hold has elapsed. Here is your original product review for Magic Mustache. Would you like to edit or publish as-is?”

Cam clicked the “edit” button and changed the review to just one word: “Life-changing.”

SEPTEMBER

Alex dragged his suitcase into the dorm, sweating with the effort, as the summer heat hadn’t quite burned away in Boston yet. His dad had offered to help him move his stuff, but he wanted to handle it on his own. It was such a rush feeling truly independent for the first time. He just hoped his roommate was nice.

When he returned to the curb to grab the last of his stuff, he heard a whistle. He turned to see a scruffy looking redneck leaning against his rusted-out scrap heap of a car. The fuck was this guy doing here? He looked totally out of place. So disheveled and hairy and totally unkempt. Alex didn’t like the look of him one bit.

The man touched the brim of his cap and asked in a thick Southern twang, “Alex, right?”

“…yeah, I’m Alex.”

“I’m your roommate, man! Cam! Nice to meetcha.”

Cam pulled Alex into a bear hug and Alex grimaced.

“What’s the matter, Alex?”

Alex gave him another once-over and decided that, while there was plenty to be concerned about here, one thing stood out above all else.

“The beard, man. I hate beards, they make guys look all scruffy and dirty. I don’t want to invite friends over and have them think you’re going to rough them up or something. The rest I can deal with, but the beard is a no-no for me.” Alex was telling the truth. He’d always favored the clean-cut look with a fervor that bordered on religious zealotry. His own stubble grew in so thick that sometimes he’d shave twice a day to make sure he was looking fresh and worthy of his place in upper-crust social circles.

“No worries, man.” muttered Cam. “I’ve got just the thing for that.”

A razor, Alex presumed. What else could he mean?

Magic Mustache - Chapter 1

A chapter commissioned by @beardobession:

Cam’s mom had asked if he wanted to get grad photos taken, but he shuddered at the thought that the way he looked, even at 18 years old, would be commemorated for all time. He looked nothing like the “barely legal” dudes he watched in porn videos all the time, with bulging muscles covered in hair, even the ones billed as twinks capable of light stubble, but most bursting forth with manly facial hair designs from goatees to mustaches to full-on beards. He had a sneaking suspicion that most of them weren’t actually 18, but that didn’t prevent him from being jealous.

That’s why his finger was hovering over the “Add to Cart” button on an Amazon product called Magic Mustache, which claimed - under the banner “Barbers Hate This!” - to be such a realistic-looking false mustache that you could fool anyone in your life into thinking you grew it yourself. Cam wasn’t trying to gaslight anyone or nothing, but last year all the boys in his small Virginia town had participated in Movember and he was the only one who didn’t sprout a single hair. He was hoping to be able to make himself a new man when he started college in Boston in the Fall, and maybe a few pictures with the mustache would convince people he was able to grow one but had merely elected to shave it off.

Fuck it. He added it to the cart and made the purchase.

Ding dong!

He ran to the front door and opened it, expecting to see one of his friends. Instead, a package was lying on the doorstep, with a Magic Mustache logo emblazoned on the top. No fucking way. He had just gotten Amazon Prime the other day and hadn't used it yet, but he didn’t think it worked that fast. 

He rushed upstairs and ripped open the package, dumping the contents onto his unmade bed. It all seemed simple enough. He applied the provided spirit gum to the back of the strip of false hair and affixed it onto his upper lip. He let it dry for five minutes before he rushed into his bathroom to check it out.

He looked… idiotic. The mustache looked like a bad prop from an elementary school play, the stiff bristles looking unnaturally shiny and incredibly fake. Tears welling in his eyes, he reached up to remove the waste of money from his lip. It wouldn’t budge at first, so he tugged harder. And harder. Eventually, in a rush, the whole thing was ripped from his lip, leaving a small cut behind where the gum had pulled at his skin. He tasted copper.

He crumpled a piece of toilet paper and held it to his cut, dejectedly throwing the now ruined Magic Mustache into the trash can. 

The next morning, still mad, he loaded up Amazon so he could leave a one star review. When he pressed enter, a pop-up window read “Holding review for 7 days. This seller has requested that users only review their product after the one-week return window has closed. You will be contacted after one week and have the opportunity to edit and confirm posting of this product review. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

Frustrated, he decided to open up the selfie camera and take a picture of his cut to add to his review when he was finally allowed to publish it. But… the cut wasn’t there. He poked and prodded at his upper lip, wondering if the lighting was wrong for the camera to pick it up. But no, the cut had simply vanished. His fingertips still felt something off though, and he realized they were scraping against just a few light pinpricks of stubble.

Holy shit! He rushed to the bathroom and flipped over the reversible mirror his mom always used to pluck her eyebrows. They were tiny, but they were really there! He had stubble! Just a sparse smattering of dots, and who knew if they would grow in any further, but holy shit! They were fucking there! Cam let out a whoop, using every bit of air in the lungs that had won him the hog calling contest at the county fair three years in a row.

He poked at the stubble again, enjoying the unfamiliar feeling. His dick grew stiff in his jeans, imagining what he might look like with a full, legitimate, I-grew-it-myself, honest-to-goodness mustache. He palmed his cock, his body surging with pleasure. He reached back up to rub his lip again, only… there was more stubble now. Not, like, a lot. But he could have sworn there was only a thin strip right below his nose, where Clark Gable might have grown his mustache. But now the rough dots had extended about halfway down his lip. Was it… Could it possibly be…

He decided to spend the day at home, poking at his upper lip every 20 seconds to see if any new growth had appeared. His dick quickly deflated when he realized this was going nowhere, but the energy from his initial excitement was still coursing through his body. He felt fidgety, pumping with adrenaline, and he decided sitting in one place was not the move.

Maybe it was actually time to use the gym membership his older brother had ironically gifted him for Christmas. He felt like he could run 18 miles. He walked to their local gym, which was just a couple blocks away, next to the cigar store. He always thought that was an ironic juxtaposition, but he found himself lingering in front of the shop window a little longer than necessary, wondering what one of those huge stogies might taste like. When he arrived at the gym, he flashed his card at the bored looking teenager behind the reception desk. He hopped on the first free elliptical and began to pump back and forth, enjoying the freeing feeling of the air flowing past him. 

He almost smacked himself in the face when the dude walked in.

Boasting a haircut with the sides shaved and longer, floppy locks on top, as well as a thick beard with a poofy mustache, this guy was Cam’s perfect guy. His nightly fantasy. The kind of guy he could wake up to every morning. Fuck, he was tenting his basketball shorts.

Luckily, the elliptical he had chosen had a wall on one side and another machine strategically blocking the other, so nobody could see his boner as long as he was on the machine. But he couldn’t leave or do anything else until it died down, or he would melt into a puddle of shame. He decided to just pretend everything was fine and keep moving. His hard dick felt a little weird bobbing against the inside of his shorts, but not bad.

He was hoping his boner would go away quickly so he could make his escape, but the dude took up residence on a stationary bike right across from Cam, giving him a perfect view of the way the hairs of his mustache rippled every time he exhaled with the exertion of his workout.

Cam wondered what kissing that mustache would feel like. Hell, he wondered what having that mustache would feel like. He tried to imagine his brand new stubble eventually growing into something that luxurious and supple. He thought about the tiny dots spreading, eventually claiming his entire lip, top to bottom. He imagined the follicles germinating, tiny hairs curling from them, straightening up and reaching for the sun. At first they would be entirely separate stalks of stiff hair, but as they lengthened and softened, they wouldn’t be able to help tangling into one another, softly brushing against themselves, sending a tingle down into his skin. If he closed his mouth, he would be able to feel the bristles tickling the sensitive spread of his lower lip.

He could almost feel his lip buzzing with the image he had conjured in his brain. His dick was abuzz that whole time, feeling more and more needy and stiff with sexual tension. He decided to derail his train of thought and focus on what classes he was going to choose for his electives in the coming semester. Eventually, his boner subsided and he subtly adjusted his underwear to find a place for his now soft dick.

That’s when the hot guy got off his bike and walked right up to Cam’s elliptical.

“Nice handlebar,” the stranger said.

Cam was confused. Was this dude complimenting the handlebars of the elliptical he was holding onto? He supposed the grips were really nice and had a good ergonomic design, but it wasn’t like it was his machine or anything. He wasn’t sure what the guy was after, but someone hot was talking to him, so he just smiled awkwardly and said, “uh… thanks.”

The other man smirked. “The name’s Duke. Maybe I’ll see you around!” With that, he strode over to the back of the gym, disappearing behind the door to the pool area. Cam felt his jaw gaping open and snapped it shut, embarrassed. It took another 30 minutes of elliptical to stifle the boner that had re-emerged at this interaction, so it took 32 minutes before he noticed something weird in the gym mirror as he was leaving. 

He had a mustache. A thick stripe of brown hair completely engulfed his upper lip, curling up at the ends thanks to the hairs’ sheer length and volume. He ran his fingers through it, the soft bristles caressing his skin and parting from the movement like he was Moses with the red sea. He gave the curled ends a little tug and felt a slight shudder of pain roll through his face. Fuck, this was real. Could the Magic Mustache actually have been… magic?

Continue to Chapter 2

What Do You Desire?

"Look man, I told you I don't really swing that way. So can you ju-" "What is it that you desire?" It was such a simple question but it was the last thing John expected to be asked while he was out at the club with some friends. They all eventually split off though and that was when the handsome man dressed in a suit had come up to him. The last thing that John wanted was to be hit on by a guy, even if he did find it flattering. But the moment he told the guy for the third time that he wasn't interested, the man stared into his eyes and spoke in that silky smooth voice.

"What is it that you desire?"

"I...Desire...?" John blinked as he stared at the man, it was suddenly getting harder to think the longer he stared into that deep brown. It was so hard to think about anything, do anything but focus on that captivating gaze and think about desire. He was a nerdy guy who didn't look like he much belonged at the club, only going out because one of his roommates had pushed him into it, trying to get him laid. But there was no luck, he was too nervous and too shy. He hadn't even realised that the man had somehow ebbed him into a dark alleyway close to the club, where nobody else was around.

"I think you desire being told what to do..."

No way, John never liked it when people told him what to do. Even at work, he always hated faking a smile, as if he was looking forward to being ordered around by his boss. He blinked, thoughts feeling muddied and unclear for the first time that night.

He suddenly found himself giving a dumb smile, one that was full of compliance, the grin that told somebody that he had nothing going on. Whether it was a drinking contest or a kiss, he looked dumb enough to do it without thinking, because he didn't think.

Wait but that wasn't right. John...didn't he have a PhD? He looked up, last dregs of intellect forming into realisation as his eyes widened while he stared at the handsome man.

"In fact I think you desire to kiss me with those full lips..."

Full lips? John was sure he was the type to have thin lips, there was barely any desirable features on his face. But the more he thought about it, the more he could feel how his lips grew wider, somewhat heavier as he reached forward, like his body was magnetically attracted to the man. He kissed him like he hungered for it, he kissed him like he wanted to test out these new lips and moaned at how good it felt to kiss a man.

"Enjoying yourself? I'm sure, since you desire to be with men after all, don't you?"

He did. He loved to be with men. God, he was such a slut for men even. He wanted to have them in every orifice, their dicks down his throat and up his ass. As the man slapped his ass, he could feel, much like his lips, the ass cheeks swelling as he moaned and let the man palm him, fingers pushing against his...pants?

No...He wouldn't be wearing pants out to the club. More like shorts, denim shorts that hung tight onto his inflated juicy cheeks and could show off his legs.

"Mmm and of course with such a handsome body, every man wants to be with you. You desire men to worship your body."

He loved it when men worshipped his body. John no longer was scared of sex, of the intimacy of having another person in their bed. In fact beds were somewhat a rarity, alleyways like this and nightclubs was where he loved to get fucked after all. But it made sense, since his club was a place he worked.

"In fact Javi you desire a job where men admire your body." He did! It's why he had asked the man if he could work at his club after all, simply titled LUX, an erotic venue where he could strip and dance for men, gyrate his hips that started to fill out slightly. As his skin grew less pale, like someone who regularly went outside instead of the nerd that stayed at home, his hips gyrated beneath the man's touch.

His skinny body grew into one that was far more muscular and lean, memories of studying at the library replaced with fucking his personal trainer and working out together at the gym. In fact, John Javier realised that he loved the gym a lot. He never had any desire to not exercise, because it just meant that he could look even better for all his clients.

The slight tan spread over his body as he moaned and groaned underneath the man's boss's touch.

"And you desire to service me, to kiss me, to work for me..."

Javier's cock had grown, not only bigger from how horny he was getting, but from the transformation itself. All the changes were making his mind be wiped away, his tired eyes suddenly looked slightly more youthful, wrinkles from stressing and bad skincare smoothed over. Suddenly he wasn't some late twenties grad student but instead Javier was a young twenty-something dancer as his thoughts slowly began to transform into espanol.

It made it harder for John to think, harder to enfocar, harder para resistirlo, harder hacer cualquier cosa, so hard ya que no puede parar, HARD hasta que no puede resistir y debe ceder as his cock throbbed.

"I think you desire to let go, to cum..."

And with one final kiss, one final command, Javier moaned into it and let himself give in entirely. He moaned, the last dregs of John his old self filling his cock as he came everywhere, all over his boss and himself. It was just so hard not to, especially when he was only wearing denim shorts and sandals, moaning and begging for more as he held onto his boss, completely changed.

"Oh fuck boss, that was tan bueno," Javier giggled as he looked down at himself and the mess he had made, needing to head backstage and clean himself up. It wouldn't be the first time he and his boss got together in the alley, but it wasn't his fault, his boss was just a total hottie and he was an airheaded himbo who would do whatever his boss asked.

From nervous nerd to a hot himbo, Javier was no longer the same man that walked into LUX. But then again he knew that no men who ever came in were the same when they came out and he couldn't be any happier.

After all, this is what he desired.

For a whole library of hot stories like this, be sure to check out The Craftsman on Patreon.

Merging

My boyfriend has a unique skill. You see, he is able to combine his body with someone elses, merge with them to create a new man. He never likes to do it for long though. If he stays merged for too long he runs the risk that people might notice that he, or whoever he's merged with, is missing. That's why after a year of dating he reveled his ability to me. The feeling of merging was like an orgasm he told me, and he didn't want to give it up. But he also didn't want to go around merging with random people and have me worrying he's disappeared and come looking for him. So we struck a deal, he would always let me know if he was going to merge with someone. It turned out though that we enjoyed merging with each other so much that he only rarely merges with anyone else.

This is what we look like usually, when we are ourselves. When we started dating we were much smaller. But my boyfriend had been merging with personal trainers so he'd have access to their knowledge and would be my personal trainer. He had done that for a couple years until we had packed on enough muscles to our liking. I admit, we are pretty hot and as a dual income household with no kids, we really did have a pretty sweet life. But that didn't stop us from mixing things up. See when we merge my Colombian body with his English one, we end up becoming an equally hot Mexican-American guy.

We spend a lot of time in our merged body, who we named Alberto. Whenever we go on vacation the first thing we do is merge and spend the whole time as Alberto. It saves money on hotels and travel, not that we needed to, but it also meant that we could go out and party and bring whoever we wanted home with us and not worry about the hassle of a threesome. We also spent a lot of our time at home as Alberto. We'd come home from work and merge together, watching in the mirror as our two muscular bodies slowly shrink into each other. As our faces morph together growing Alberto's stylish moustache, and our dicks combine to create Alberto's larger appendage. We would dress ourselves in clothes we grab from the wardrobe we have especially for Alberto's clothing since he is smaller than our actual bodies. The evenings are easier merged, it's easier to cook food for one, we don't have to compete for space on the sofa, and we don't have to debate what movie to watch as our minds are merged and we pick what Alberto would watch. Sometimes we even forget to unmerge before we go to sleep, which makes for a confusing morning as we try to do our two separate morning routines in a single body.

We'd had this routine for several years now, and as fun as it was. My boyfriend did miss the wider array of bodies he could be in when he merged with other people. And I was also curious what it would be like to merge with someone else too. That's where Zach came in.

My boyfriend and I had met him at our local gym. We had a similar gym schedule so we'd often run into Zach during our evening workouts. We'd built a polite friendship over the past months and even gone out for some drinks before. He would tell us about his dating life and we'd give him advice about which ever guy he was pursuing at the time. We'd never fooled around before or anything but that was about to change. Zach had never met Alberto before, but my boyfriend and I knew enough about Zach to make sure we could score a date with him and take him home as Alberto.

So one note we merged and headed to the gym as Alberto. Zach was clearly waiting for my boyfriend and I to show up, probably eager to talk about some dating woes. But when we struck up a conversation with him as Alberto we knew all the right things to say. Zach opened up to us, unaware of who he was talking to, over the course of our workout that evening and once we were done and headed to the changing rooms I (I guess my boyfriend and I) knew Zach was eager to get some action in the showers. We found him in a shower stall in the corner naked and already hard and quickly dropped the towel from around our waist and began making out with him. Zach was so distracted by making out and rubbing his hands over our body that he didn't notice as our chests began to sink into each other. His hand no longer just running over the top of my skin but moving around inside my body. Within a few minutes you couldn't tell that two people were hooking up in the shower but rather a disfigured lump of flesh. Our new combined body began to take on a human form again. The torso began to expand, less defined than either Zach's or Alberto's but still covered in muscles with a layer of fat over the top. Large biceps became adorned with tattoos and our new body grew taller than either Alberto or Zach had been before. A thick mane of graying hair grew from our head as thick stubble grew from our jaw. Alberto's moustache appeared on our upper lip and our face aged as wrinkles appeared. In our mind Zach's personality and memories began to mix with Alberto's to create a new persona, a mature man who enjoyed the finer things in life but also one who came home with a different guy each weekend.

Our new body finished up in the shower and headed back to the changing rooms to grab a pair of gray sweatpants that belonged to my boyfriend from Alberto's locker. That evening the three of us enjoyed some of the most intense sex with Zach's roommate. The next morning we headed back to my boyfriend's and my apartment to decide if it was time to unmerge. But standing in the mirror examining ourselves, our new personality decided he wanted to enjoy this life a little longer. He knew eventually he'd have to let Zach, my boyfriend and I backout again. But he knew that my boyfriend and I had unlocked a new desire in our relationship to bring a third into our merges more, and that Zach would want to be involved regularly.

If you ever see the three of us merged somewhere, come say hello. We'd love to add you to our body as well and see what we become.

A man stumbled through the alley, his lungs burning and his heart racing. His vision blurred, he couldn't tell if it was from the tears streaming down his face or the alcohol coursing through his veins. The cold, hard pavement beneath him did little to steady his shaking hands as he tried to fish out his keys. Suddenly, a bright light shone down upon him, and before he knew it, strong arms were lifting him off the ground and slamming him against the brick wall. The world spun, his head pounded, and the last thing he remembered was the voice of the officer, young and unsympathetic, telling him to get a hold of himself and get out of here.

The next thing he knew, he was in the cop's body, looking down at his own, bruised and battered, lying unconscious on the ground.

Confused and disoriented, he felt the weight of the gun holstered at his side and the badge pinned to his chest. The officer's voice echoed in his mind, telling him to not get caught up in this life again. He glanced around the alley, still reeling from the sudden body swap, and decided it was time to get out of there.

He climbed into the cop car and took a moment to familiarize himself with the controls and features of his new body. The car was in great condition, just like the officer's. He started it up and drove off, carefully navigating through the city streets. As he drove, he tried to make sense of what had happened and how he could possibly get back to his own body.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden urge. He glanced down at his crotch and felt a stirring in his pants. He felt the officer's urges. He fought against the feeling, trying to focus on finding a way to switch back. But the urge grew stronger, and before he knew it, he was pulling the car over to the side of the road and unzipping his pants.

He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, trying to block out the sensation of her touch on his skin. The cop car felt hot and claustrophobic, and he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. He closed his eyes and let go, giving in to the pleasure that coursed through his body.

The release was brief but powerful, and as it subsided, he felt a sense of shame and disgust wash over him. He sat up and wiped his hands on his pants, trying to erase the memory of what had just happened. He knew he needed to get out of the car, away from the officer's urges. He reached for the door handle, but before he could open it, a thought occurred to him.

He could use the cop's resources to find a way to switch back. With determination, he started the car again and began to drive through the city, searching for any clue as to how he could return to his own body. The weight of the gun and the badge seemed heavier than ever, a constant reminder of the life he had left behind.

As he drove, he caught sight of a mirror and gasped. His face was the same as the officer's, the same features that had berated and threatened him only hours ago. He reached up and touched his own face, feeling the unfamiliar skin. It was like looking at a stranger, someone who had taken over his life