Wrestling With Some Feelings Was A Request From @lurkinglizards Btw! He Gave Me The Idea And I Wrote

Wrestling with some Feelings was a request from @lurkinglizards btw! He gave me the idea and I wrote it

If you wish for some more stories like that, I’m accepting commissions on my ko-fi page. Feel free to take a look.

A little low on inspiration. Send in and submit some requests, I’m interested in hearing what y’all want

My Reflection in Your Eyes

On a typical Sunday evening, David sat by the unlit fireplace and skimmed through another novel he had bought on a whim. After several pages of an uninteresting romance between a dull man and a heroine with more fingers than brain cells, his mind began to wander back to his husband, Jack. For whatever reason, the man was in a foul mood after a visit from his nephew which eventually resulted in a shouting match the night before. Before the yelling could get too out of hand, David left the house to rest his pounding head. When David asked about it right before bed, Jack just huffed and avoided the question with low grunts. The following morning, Jack just sulked in bed and refused the lazy sex on a Sunday morning that David offered.

“So grumpy,” muttered David as he set his book aside. Due to the summertime, the sun was beginning to set close to around six. “It’s not April that’s the cruelest month, it’s June,” he mused, writing down such thoughts in his little pocket notebook. The retired life wasn’t nearly as glamorous as he hoped. The days grew long yet ended in a blink. His body reeked of sweat yet lacked the satisfaction of accomplishment. The most joy came from the climax that came from the sex Jack didn’t seem to want anymore.

Finally surrendering to the never-ending heat, David thrust his shirt off and tossed it to the floor, not bothering to put it in the laundry hamper in their room. He didn’t want to see Jack just yet. For the time, he wanted to cling onto his pride as a man; even if it was just for a minute longer.

However, all that went by the wayside as a low and muffled moan came from their room. At first, David stared at the door, puzzled. Was Jack masturbating? David was certain that Jack had kicked the habit months ago. With a furrowed brow and mounting irritation, David began to suspect that it wasn’t pleasure that Jack was sick off, but of David himself. Another long moan caused David to tense up. Did he climax? In their 20 years of marriage, David had never been able to coax such a pronounced reaction from Jack.

“I’m coming in!” Even when he wanted to just burst into the room and possibly call out his partner, David still felt necessary to announce himself out of respect Jack’s privacy. What he found was his husband breathing deeply and covered in a coat of sweat, skin gleaming in the fading sunlight. His hairy chest was covered with fresh cum. "Well, good to see someone's in the mood," joked David, glancing around at the room. No signs of anyone else. No discarded clothes nor any hiding places “Were you hoping to rev me up?” said David, almost cringing at the hint of desperation that slipped out without intent.

The only response David received was an unfocused stare from Jack, as though he was in a trance. “Jack? You okay?” said David, some of his anger forgotten.

Jack blinked and shook his head, eyes finally turning to David with an amused glint. "Sorry, guess I was a little excited," he said with a sheepish grin, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck and completely ignoring the drying cum on his chest. Swinging his legs over the bed, he strutted over to David, emphasizing the still hard cock as it bobbed up and down. “So how’s my favorite man in the whole world doing?” he said, brushing his chest as if trying to clean up his mess.

David cocked an eyebrow. “Jack, are you sure you’re okay? You seemed like—” his words were cut off as Jack leaned in for an uninvited kiss. Not quite done, Jack began to rub his chest and slowly massage and knead the flesh. David moaned into Jack’s mouth as the latter took dominance and work wonders with his tongue; far more than ever before. At a painfully slow pace, Jack's hands worked David's body and made their way down until they arrived as David's hardening cock. Once their kiss broke, a thin stream of saliva still connecting them, David was far too caught up in a wave of lust to continue worrying.

“I-I thought you weren’t in the mood,” was all David was able to stutter out as Jack led him over to the bed.

“Guess I had a change of heart.” For whatever reason, Jack laughed as he tossed the stained sheets to the side. The two threw themselves onto the bed and a night of pleasure and screaming ecstasy ensued.

Past midnight, Jack climbed from his bed and stretched. He scratched his pits and explored his coarse yet still pleasurable new body. "Not bad, old man," he said, wriggling his toes and laughing at how smooth everything was. Glancing over, he chuckled as he spotted the passed-out David after several hours of making him a cock sleeve. “Nighty-night, Davy.”

A few minutes later, a knock interrupted his “Jack’s” self-exploration. Grinning ecstatically, he opened the window and assisted a younger man to slip into the room. “How’s he feel, Jordan?” asked the young man.

“Oh, much better than I thought, Terry,” said Jordan, enjoying just how sensitive his father’s skin was. “My old man’s such a nice trip. This weight feels nice,” he said, lightly slapping his stomach, enjoying the muscle hidden by the layer of fat that came with age. “Jack’s over there. Go ahead and jump into him. Got him cumming so hard he won’t be able to put up much of a fight.”

Terry, the amateur bodysnatcher, nodded. He wandered over to the bed while stripping his clothes ad muttering the incantation under his breath. “Let’s dance, old man,” he said, getting a running start before cannonballing onto David. The older man woke up with a shocked start.

“UWOHH, oh my GOD!” shouted David. When his eyes opened, he saw a young man’s upper half sink into his torso as if his flesh was nothing but water. “Wh-Whaaaa…!” said David, convulsing and trembling as another man rearranged himself in his body. His back curled into a perfect C as his hips thrust into the air before collapsing onto the bed over and over again. “H-Heeeelp… Jack…” David turned his head, nearly vomiting as he felt another human being rearranging himself in his own body. However, all David saw was his husband grinning maniacally and rubbing his own cock as he was taken over.

Jordan sighed and sat down by his father’s desk as Terry did his job. He felt accomplished. It wasn’t as difficult as he initially believed, but the sense of success mixed with the eroticism of using his father for his own perversion drove him mad with joy. Just yesterday, Jordan arrived at his father's home with grievances. "Why was my cut of the inheritance so massively shrunk?" he came, voice already dripping with venom as Jack had expected.

Sighing, Jack rubbed his temples and said, "Your sister's still not over her illness. With the fear of rising hospital bills—"

“Bullshit,” said Jordan, voice rising. “She’s always been your favorite. Always gotten the most love. And now she’s getting the most money.”

“I don’t favor either of you,” Jack tried to argue. “Have you ever read The Prodigal Son? It’s similar to—”

“I’m so sick of your half-assed non-answers!” Jordan cut in again. The two continued to argue back and forth for several emotionally charged minutes until the two were hoarse and exhausted. Sweat lingered on each of their brows as their chests rose and fell. They never stopped glaring at each other.

Eventually, Jack said, "Get out. I’m sick of your damn attitude,” he said, turning away from his son. “You’re out of the damn will until you fix your sick viewpoint.” Jordan scoffed and turned towards the door. Neither of them looked at each other, burying any regret with their rigid pride. To see the other’s eyes would risk catching their own reflections.

Jordan, however, decided to sink into that reflection. Using lock-picking skills he picked up during some early days of truancy, he broke into his father's home. David was an early riser while Jack sulked in his bed, eventually falling asleep. Once Jordan saw David leaving the house, he sneaked towards his father’s room and stood over the sleeping man. He climbed onto the bed and wrapped his sleeping father’s arm around his shoulders and cuddled with him for a few precious seconds. Magic, theft, and crime were forgotten as he indulged in that brief return to a peaceful childhood.

“I’ll always love you,” he whispered before slithering into his father’s body through his side and armpit. The man awoke with a start, thighs trembling and toes curling as he struggled through the process. Jordan sunk deep into his father and his own delusion with a crazed glee.

“I’m done, babe,” said Terry, snapping Jordan out of his thoughts. David’s body seemed to glimmer in the moonlight, chest waving as Terry posed erotically to stir up Jordan. “We look real good, Jor—Jack. But, I’m not quite satisfied just yet.” Licking his lips, Terry fell back onto the bed, legs spread open and hole in full view. “C’mon, let’s get busy.”

Jordan grinned and walked over to his partner. He passed by a mirror, catching a glimpse of himself—his real self—for just a moment. “What’s wrong?” asked Terry, but Jordan shook his head and dove into his fantasy, content in fogging up his reflection with his father’s stolen pleasure.

Don’t Use the Shower at Night

Lionel walked through the locker room with an exaggerated swagger, his towel nearly slipping off his swaying hips. Just a step behind him was another man named Maxwell, his fluffy hair bobbing up and down as he emulated Lionel’s strut with perfect accuracy. His expression remained completely stoic despite his expression gait, and his eyes seldom blink. Soon, the pair stopped in front of the sole shower stall still being used.

Leaning against a wall, Lionel commented, “Your hair’s just too cute, Maxie. It’s so nice when it just moves like that,” he said, chuckling as Maxwell simply nodded. “I’m glad we met in this gym, Maxie, but… don’t you think there’s someone else who should join this li’l group of ours? No reason it can’t be more than two.”

A flicker of light appeared in Maxwell’s dull eyes. His lips curled up into a smirk mirroring that of Lionel’s. “Sure thing, boss,” he said, his gruff voice sounding faint from disuse. He stepped forward, towel falling onto the floor. He drew the shower curtain back with a swift flick of the wrist.

“Woah, man, what the fuck?!” said the younger man, whipping around to face Maxwell. “H-Hey, what the hell’s wrong with you? Go away!” Despite the desperation in the young man’s voice, Maxwell just stepped forward, ignoring the stream of hot water on his skin. “Hey, you there, help me out here!” The young man looked to Lionel in desperation. However, Lionel just grinned as the outline of his hardening dick became clear through the thin towel. “Just relax,” he told the young man as Maxwell pinned him to the wall. “This can be fun of all of us. Stop. Struggling. And relax.”

“B-Bro, please…!” was all the young man was able to do as Maxwell forcibly brought their lips together beneath the hot, steamy water. Their tongues wrestled and fought for dominance as the young man screamed into Maxwell’s mouth until something surged forth. “HRGH! HHHMMMMFFF!”

Lionel let out a pleasured moan as the slimy substance that composed his soul traveled down the young man's throat and began to spread throughout his trembling body. The odd substance began to invade and rewire each of the man's cells. Every time without fail, Lionel enjoyed the sensation of his consciousness flooding another's.

“Good job, li’l Maxie,” Lionel said to his first convert. Fully aware that there was not a shred of the old Maxwell to respond to his praise, Lionel still enjoyed the little replay that came with controlling multiple bodies. The rippling of Maxwell's biceps as he pinned the young man to the wall as well as the hair that adorned his head all confirmed to Lionel one thing: he had made the right choice conquering this one.

Speaking of conquering, Lionel leaned his head back and let out a moan, toes curling and eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as a stream of information reached his consciousness. The sensation of filling another always gave him such a rush of pleasure, like he was breeding someone’s hole. “Mm, so your name’s Jacob? Not a bad name, and not a bad looker, either,” said Lionel, grinning.

Maxwell leaned back, licking a stray film of orange good from his lips while his victim convulsed against the wall. The process always took a few seconds at least, but Lionel was slowly becoming faster. Soon he’d be able to convert others in no time at all. However, “It’s just not as much fun,” he said out loud, sticking his tongue out as he savored the last remains of resistance from Jacob finally fade. “So, Jacob my friend, how do you feel about joining li’l ol’ Maxie and me? We’re cruising around and thinking of picking up a few more buddies. You in?”

"Uh, ohhh… urgh…" Jacob still moaned as he went through the last of the shakes. He cracked his neck, shuddering before opening his eyes, giving Lionel yet another set he could see through. For a moment, there was the tiniest hint of an orange dye in Jacob’s irises, but it soon vanished. “Sounds like a bitchin’ time, boss,” said Lionel’s newest husk, adopting Jacob’s personality. “But why don’t you let me finish up my shower? Actually, do you mind joining me? Need someone to wash the small of my back.”

“Do you mind, Maxie?” said Lionel, knowing the answer already but still enjoying the little show he was putting on for himself. Maxwell shook his head, hair bobbing the whole time. “Well then, let’s get acquainted.”

The Cavern

Jackson had been looking forward to this camping trip with his friends for months. After a delightful night of stargazing and sharing creepy stories in the dark, Jackson woke up early and decided to go for a swim at a nearby lake. Stripping to just his swimming trunks, he cannonballed into the water. Shortly after landing, however, he noticed an odd substance dye the clear lake a sickly green. Before he could rush back to the shore and leave, he felt an odd sensation in his shorts. “Wha-OH!”

“Nrgh, urgh…!” Jackson gritted his teeth as he felt something slowly slide and invade his tight hole. His cheeks grew red both from the arousal and shame of something slithering inside of him. However, he couldn’t move; completely powerless to stop this invader. “H-Help…” he managed to wheeze out. The camp was too far for any of his friends to help. All Jackson could do was throw his head back and let out another low moan as the slimy creature reached his brain.

“Mm…oh…” The entity engulfed the entirety of Jackson’s brain, hijacking his personality and memories for espionage and impersonation. After a few more shudders and stretching, the entity cracked his new neck and opened his new eyes. “You’ve got friends here,” he said, cackling to himself. “They’ll be nice vessels for some friends of my own.” He made his way over to the shore, not bothering to hide the hard-on in his trunks, and walked to the camp.

“Guys, the water feels great!” he called out with Jackson’s good-humored nature.

Festival Fiasco

Part 5

Ever since his birth, the fateful worm had known nothing but darkness. Most of his days were spent in shrew-like bodies and digging tunnels for the foundation of their society. His job, like many others before him, was to search for precious metals in abused and dangerous mines. Several of his fellow worms passed away due to collapsing tunnels or pockets of earth full of poisonous air.

“We are many,” a worm twice his age told to him, “and we are weak. Disposable. Worms in the dirt that the Elite walk on. We matter as much as the rock we mine, and so we are in these caverns.” Not too long after passing on that wisdom, the older worm perished in a cave-in. The fateful worm was no surprised, as so many of their kind died everyday that learning names was far too tiring. It was better to have nothing than to constantly lose someone every day.

Then, on a fateful day, the worm overheard two passing Elites. “Centaurus,” one of them said, chuckling as he uttered that name, “is what those humans call one of our suns. Our sacred stars that lie above even Elites! Can you believe they have the audacity to even try to christen it with a name? Absurd.” The two walked away, laughing at the new species.

From then on, a small fire burned in that fateful worm’s heart. It was a completely foreign feeling, but he loved it. “Centaurus,” he said to himself as best he could, each syllable eliciting joy in his heart. “Centaurus, Centaurus. Cen-tau-rus…!” As he repeated that word to himself in the coming days, his gaze turned upwards, focusing above the dark rock ceiling he had always known. The next few months were spent digging his own personal tunnel, barely managing to hide his progress from the managers who watched his progress. It was difficult to dig through the dirt and stone upwards, but the name gave him hope and strength that he had never known before.

Finally, Centaurus emerged from the earth. He pushed through the final layer of dirt and emerged onto the surface. The air tasted fresh and untouched by dust. His panted heavily, enjoying each new sensation as he trekked through the alien world—his own home. The sky was grey and a light breeze coursed through barren field he wandered. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, he saw the first few rays. In the horizon, the sun began to rise.

“Heyyyyy~! Ya gonna wake up or am I gonna have to throttle ya, Centy?” Centaurus’ slowly opened his eyes, hands curled up in irritation as the annoying voice bounced off the walls. “There you are! About time. You sure like to keep everyone waiting, huh?”

“…Phecda.” Centaurus blinked to refocus his vision. Before him was an older man wearing a doctor’s coat, a stethoscope, and nothing else. He strutted over, balancing shifting from the balls of each foot.

“You never talk to any of us,” he began, pacing along the walls of the room, gaze wandering all over the white walls. “Yet, you remember each of our names so well! Your behavior is always so interesting, Centy~! I’ve never seen anything like it.”

With a grunt of effort, Centaurus swung his legs over and tried to leap at Phecda. However, the moment he launched himself off the bed and his feet touched the ground, he stumbled and fell to the floor. “The hell…?!”

“You. Are. Exhausted,” said Phecda, leaning over Centaurus, their faces just a few inches away from each other. “Absolutely washed up. It’s a miracle you’re even alive.” Phecda hopped back as Centaurus swung a slow and sluggish fist at him. “You can barely even fight. It’s honestly a shame to see you like this.” For a moment, Phecda’s fac fell before his expression lit up with his usual disgusting cheer. “I wonder what Zathina would say if she saw you. Or dear ol’ Arti. He’d get a real chuckle out of this,” he said, giggling as Centaurus leaned against the bed like an old man who couldn’t get up on his own.

“If you’re gonna kill me,” he said in-between pants, “just go ahead and do it. Anything’s better than listening to you yap and yap.”

“Ohhh, booo~!” said Phecda. “That’s such a boring thing to do, Centaurus. Why would I kill my most interesting research subject.” Once again approaching, Phecda leaned in and grabbed Centaurus’ face in a sharp vice-grip. A glint that never failed to send shivers down Centaurus’ spine appeared in Phecda’s eyes. The grin was gone, replaced by a twisted and frustrated grimace. “I would love to take you apart to finally learn how and why you tick, but that would ruin everything. No, I must observe you without interfering. Without letting those ridiculous fools getting in your way so you can flourish. Those Elites are so concentrated in status and let promising subjects just die in those worthless mines of them. God, I wish I could take them apart too so I could show our worthless world what trash truly looks like.”

Centaurus tried to scream or shout, but he couldn’t stop trembling. His muscles wouldn’t move or respond. If Phecda truly wished, Centaurus would end up as the subject of vivisection. However, no such carnage occurred. Centaurus still breathed.

The two stared at each other for a while before Phecda’s face broke into another gleeful grin. “You flinched~! You’re so cute when you’re scared, but not as cute as Arcturus when everything’s falling apart around him. Phecda let go of Centaurus and stepped back, pacing the room with that ridiculous gait again. “Don’t worry, Centy. I just took you to my host’s apartment so you could get some rest. If either Zathina or Arcturus found ya with no energy, who knows what they would’ve done!” He shook his head in disapproval. “No, I learned so much from you, and yet there’s still more I want to discover.”

“What are you—”

“Please, indulge me, Centaurus,” said Phecda, turning to face Centaurus again, who flinched. “There’s a discovery I believe I have stumbled onto, and I was hoping to use you as a sort of ‘wall’ to bounce ideas off of. Maybe we could even collaborate,” he said, emphasizing the last word.

Moving his hand over his hairy and borrowed legs, Centaurus could feel just a bit of sensation return. If he could just stall this conversation out, he could make a break for it. “Fine,” he said, scoffing and turning his face away. “Start rambling, ya freak. If you get close to the mark, I’ll tell ya. In exchange, just lemme go, all right?”

Phecda cocked his brow, head tilting in confusion. “Oh, that sort of cooperation is unexpected. Wonder if you’ve found some sort of escape route you want to distract me from?”

Centaurus kept his face neutral as Phecda wandered the room, running his hands over the walls. As expected, Phecda knew very little about his own host’s home. “Either way, I guess I don’t really care. All I wanted was a chat. Whatever you do afterwards isn’t very important. Although…” Phecda shook his head. “Doesn’t matter! Let’s great started.”

“Shoot.”

“How did a being like you,” began Phecda, “with very little chance of mastering his craft might I add, ever become masterful enough at possession to rival of Elites like Arcturus or Zathina? Isn’t it curious? I often pondered that between classes and experiments. How was that possible? It’s like a homeless man having more skill than a dedicated kung-fu master.” As if to emphasize his point, Phecda performed a crane stance, the flaccid dick flopping as he lifted up his leg.

“You watching earth TV?”

“It’s nice to have in the background as I work,” said Phecda as rubbed the back of his neck. “But the point is, things weren’t adding up. I threw a few theories around. Time travel, secret training from special ops, all sorts of nonsense. It was more like a little pet project than anything else. Try not to feel so special, Centaurus.”

Rolling his eyes, Centaurus said, “Nice to know I’m such high priority for ya.”

“Well, at first it was.” The dangerous glint in Phecda’s eyes returned. The atmosphere grew heavy as his footfalls grew harder and more intense. “Then I saw the effect you had on Arcturus. That’s when it really got interesting.” Phecda continued to pace around the room. The amusement and nonchalantness of his expression faded. “I grew up together with him. I’ve observed him. He was always so dull. So boring. Just another by-product of our society. Nothing more. But then…! Oh, you made his interesting, Centaurus.” Without warning, he sprinted over to Centaurus and grabbed him by the shoulders. Centaurus could feel Phecda’s warm breath on his face. “Just by existing, just by being skilled, you began to break the little peanut-brain that that fool had. Just by being, you made him fascinating,” he said, eyes shining with wicked intent.

“Wh-What the hell do you want…?” said Centaurus, his heart racing. Goosebumps spread throughout his body. He had seen such an awful personality from Phecda before, but this was simply on a level he could have never seen coming. “What do you want from me, Phecda?!”

“I… just want you to go about the same as you always do!” said Phecda, releasing Centaurus. “I want to witness your potential, that’s all.” He merely shrugged, expression perfectly nonchalant. The sudden changes in mood only served to give Centaurus more anxiety. When would Phecda go in a rage? It was effective torture strategy, but Centaurus was wondering if that was even the goal.

In that brief period, Centaurus realized that Phecda was silent and just staring at him. Suddenly, embarrassed, Centaurus said, “You’re… seriously freaking me out. But, you’re fine with me winning this whole thing? Letting me get the chance to become a Dreadfighter and serve the Emperor directly? That’s fine with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” said Phecda. “You don’t have the skills of Zathina or even Arcturus, but you have good skills. And your head’s not up in the clouds like those two.” He threw his hands up into the air, eyes rolling as he spoke. “Always about honor and status with those two. They’re like broken records. Really, at least having someone like you around will keep things interesting. Besides…” Narrowing his eyes, Phecda said, “Someone who is willing to throw away everything for success is perfect for Dreadfighters, isn’t it?”

Flinching once more, Centaurus tried to back away further onto the bed. “So you figured it out.” Hiding anything from this madman would just agitate Phecda and make the situation worse. “Yeah, I throw just about everything at it when I possess a host.”

“Elites like us are specifically taught not to do that,” said Phecda. “If you try and force a connection with a host, you risk losing yourself. It’s like mixing two paints and hoping that the colors will remain pure. And yet… you still continue to do that. Every time, you allow your consciousness to meld with your host’s just for a tiny advantage. Why is that?”

Not wanting to face Phecda, Centaurus pointedly turned his head and stared out the window. The sun was beginning to set. Just a few hours longer and the festival would be over. His host still wasn’t fully recovered, but that was no longer his main concern. Thoughts and fears he had been burying deep inside of him finally emerged with little resistance. “Ya said it yourself. To risk everything for just that chance for success. That’s all it is. As simple as that.”

Pouting, Phecda said, “It’s so boring when you try to say it like that. At least do it like those detective shows where they have the lead talk about it in great and exciting detail!”

“My life isn’t a show, freak,” said Centaurus. “Just… I don’t have anything else, Phecda. If I don’t become a soldier, if I don’t prove my worth, then…” he paused, unable to say it. I’ll be just a worm. He shut his mouth and refused to let the words continue.

“I see. You’re a product of our society as well.” Phecda nodded, as if the world suddenly made complete sense to him. He spun on his heel and faced the wall, expression hidden. “Don’t kill Arcturus, Centy. He’s boring sometimes and crazy at others, but I still like him. You make him fascinating, but if you make him dead I’ll tear you apart and eat you, okay?”

The usual mania in his voice was gone. For the first time since they had met, Phecda spoke in a serious tone. “Yeah, sure. Wasn’t planning on killing the guy, anyway. He’s a piece of shit but like… no one that needs to be killed.”

“What’re you going to do when it’s just you and Zathina left?” asked Phecda, still hiding his face. “Do you think you can beat her?”

Centaurus ran a hand down his borrowed hair, a habit of his host. “I don’t know. But, I’ll give it a try, even if it kills me.”

“You’re desperate.”

“When you’ve got nothing else to live for and everything on the line,” said Centaurus, “wouldn’t anyone?”

“…Well, to see that realize…” Phecda turned around once more, smirking as he approached Centaurus. “You need your energy. I just happen to know a neat way for humans to generate the chemicals we feed on.” The doctor’s coat billowing as he strutted over, Phecda kneeled in front of Centaurus and began to lower his pants. “Just lean back, stare up at the ceiling, and relax. I’ll take it from here.”

“…You’re a real weirdo, y’know that?”

“Why thank you. You’re a real weirdo as well, Centy.” Phecda leaned in and kiss Centaurus’ lips, to the latter’s shock. “Keep being interesting. Worms don’t make for such fine test subjects, I promise you that much.”

Kindness came from such interesting places, Centaurus mused.