The Cavern

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.

Eight Guests a Party

Alan’s invader awoke late in the morning, just before noon. All the breeding and planning from last night, as well as converting Alan’s friend—whatever his name was—had all but exhausted him. Even so, as he awoke, he felt refreshed and re-energized. Everything had gone according to plan, even with the setback he had encountered one of Alan’s old friends. Soon, Forde’s friends would arrive and enjoy a night at the pool, where Alan’s invader left his awaiting spawn.

Although a small force, the fact that they would convert eight whole bodies in the span of just two days was a major boon for the invasion. While the four invaders gathered together to feed their hosts, Alan explained it to them all.

“Understood!” said Nolan, nodding. Ever obedient.

“Right,” said Alan’s friend. None of them quite knew what his name was exactly, and neither did Alan’s offspring.

Forde nodded, looking… sullen? That seemed to be the appropriate name for the emotion. “I understand, brother,” he said to Alan. Regardless of the emotion, he appeared to be obedient. “So your friend and you will hide upstairs while Nolan and I make sure that our friends swim in the pool?”

Nodding, Alan said, “It is absolutely vital that none of these prominent and virile hosts do not suspect anything until they are all infected. The moment one of them gets away as if able to warn the authorities, our invasion is finished.”

“Don’t worry,” said Nolan, “We don’t intent to let anything get in the way.”

Forde nodded, grimacing. “I’ll do my best, brother. I swear it.”

“Is that so? You should know nothing like that means anything to me, brother.”

Alan’s invader wasn’t sure why, but he could almost see the malice flash across Forde’s face.

Night arrived and the sounds of men filled the air. To keep themselves hidden, Alan’s invader and the invader who took over the other one hid in the room of Forde’s parents. They sat in the dark, the only light streaming was that of the moon and the lights from the pool below. Before the hour was up, they would no longer have to hide.

Alan’s invader looked through the window the various hosts talking, dancing, and merrily drinking as they unknowingly enjoyed their last night in this world. In a way, the sight was pitiful. Promising young men who have done nothing wrong will soon just become husks and the key to their species’ extinction.

“Something wrong, father?” Alan’s friend asked with a slight tilt of his head. “You seem concerned. I haven’t seen that from you.”

“Perhaps my host has affected me more than I initially believed,” said Alan’s invader. He took a seat on the king-sized bed and stared down at his hands. He thought about his fingers moving, and they did. It was a natural, instinctive movement, yet there was something truly miraculous about it. Yet, something about that bothered him. “When did I start believing these were mine?” he mused, eyes narrowing. “I think, therefore I am,” Alan’s invader muttered. He had no idea who said it, but his host considered it so important. “I am alive.”

“Of course you are,” his friend—no, his host’s friend—said with that same naivety his spawn often did. “You command us. You breathe. Of course you’re alive.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Alan’s invader said. When he looked down at that pool, there was a stirring emotion inside of his chest. Joy? No. Ecstasy? No, not that either. He thought about it for about 40 minutes until he spotted Forde’s friends jumping into the pool. “Ah, I think I understand.” The emotion he was feeling was ‘pride,’ for his offspring. The plan had worked as expected. Everything was going perfectly.

However, he couldn’t shake off a feeling of dread. Was it his host’s fear? Was it that the dawn of humanity’s destruction was upon them? Whatever it was, Alan’s invader didn’t mind. He pushed that worthless emotion to the pits of his borrowed mind left the room. His offspring followed close behind.

Alan’s invader arrived just in time to see the final moments of the conversions take place. One of Forde’s friends had made it all the way out of the pool, but it was clear in his writhing form and drool falling from his lips that he wouldn’t last long. “Hhhheeeelp,” said that man while Forde and Nolan merely looked on. Alan’s invader noted that he had never seen such a lack of emotion on Forde’s face before. It was completely blank, almost mirroring his own. There was a rush of relief but also disappointment. What set his brother Forde so far apart from all the others was gone. Though Alan’s invader couldn’t say there was true value behind that, it was a shame to see it go.

“It’s over,” said Forde, looking down at his convulsing friends as they suffered during their last moments. “It’s over, Alan.”

Alan’s invader nodded as he approached. He stood over the men as the last traces of their humanity left them. “You have done well, Forde.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“If that’s what you wish.” Forde balled his fists that at the response, but Alan’s invader didn’t pay much mind to that. He instead focused on the rising men as the first bits of awareness reached them. There were still plans to be made, but for now, everything was all right. His spawn would survive this cold and unforgiving world. No, they would do more than that. They would thrive. 

As these thoughts ran through the invader’s mind, he spotted the glint of a metal blade flash in the night.

He recognized just by the sight alone. The invader raised his hands in defense as Forde brandished a small and sharp night, easy to conceal. The sensation of dread returned, and the invader let out a cry of panic. However, before Forde could run him through, several bodies all pinned him down.

Now useless, the knife fell to the pavement with a sharp clatter that made the invader jump. Forde reached out for it with desperate fingers before Nolan kicked it out of reach.

“No…” breathed Forde. “Damnit, damnit!” he said, slamming his fist against the pavement as his former friends rose from their place.

Alan’s invader stepped forward. The knife hadn’t come anywhere near him, yet his skin was covered in goosebumps. Yet another new sensation. “Why did you do that?” he asked with a slight, quizzical tilt of his head.

“To stop the invasion!” screamed Forde. Something akin to desperation and pain danced in his wild eyes. “To stop you. I… look at ourselves, Alan. Look at what we are. I killed Forde, and I lead to all my friends dying.”

“So your plan was to kill me? Your brother, who chose you over all the others who died?”

“It was luck!” shouted Forde. “Y’know that more than anyone that it was only by luck that I was the one to take over Forde. Don’t pull that shit with me!” he said, trembling with rage. His cheeks were completely red and tears threatened to fall down his cheeks. “You didn’t save me. You don’t care about me,” he said, attempting to escape from his friend’s grip.

“You’re right,” nodded Alan’s invader. “I see now that I shouldn’t have cared about you at all.” Disappointment. It was an emotion that his host was intimate with. A disappointing child wasn’t anything new, and disappointment towards himself came as often as the sun rose in the morning. “You’ve always been so emotional. So much more human compared to everyone else. It is no wonder you’ve become the way you are now.”

Forde let out a few more staggered breaths before finally sighing. Head low and shoulder slumped, he asked, “Why am I alive? Why am I here? Out of all the members of our species that you could have saved, why was it me?” 

“I can’t say I know,” was the invader’s blasé response. “However, I do know this. Whatever happened, it was a mistake. I must’ve wronged you in some way, brother. That’s why you believe you’re Forde. It’s why you have these emotions.” The invader gently lifted up Forde’s chin so they were eye-to-eye, faces just inches apart. “You’re a danger to yourself and this invasion, Forde. We can’t afford you to remain alive.”

“A mistake,” echoed Forde. “Just a mistake. That’s all I am, then.” His voice, so filled with defiance and determination just minutes before, was now just a hollow whisper.

“Is this what you wanted?” demanded the invader, punching Forde’s stomach. Forde sucked in air through his teeth but didn’t scream. The invader scoffed and punched him again, but still nothing. “To die amongst your new comrades?” he continued. “Your fellow family?”

“No, I wanted you to die with me, brother,” said Forde, head low. “I want to die for the sins I’m carrying.”

“...You’re disgusting,” said Alan’s invader. “These emotions ruined your opportunity in this world. Even now, I can feel this disgusting human’s sentiments impede my thinking.” He looked up at the stars, where he was certain he belonged, and scowled. “I’m trapped in this in this filthy world, chained up by these petty sins my host refuses to let go. I’m chained to the earth and I can’t fly to the stars like we’re destined to do.” In that cloud of anger, the most visceral emotion he has ever felt, Alan’s invader wound his fist back and struck Forde’s cheek. “I won’t let your nonsense get in our way. I won’t allow you to disrupt my mission and prevent our species from taking its rightful place.”

Forde, still reeling from that blow, looked back up and glared at the invader. There was a tense moment, a brief hesitation, before he spat a glob of blood right at the invader’s face. 

Finally, the invader thought, that fire in his eyes returned. Forde lived once more. That was the last thing the invader wished to see from the brother he had saved. It was an accident, but I don’t carry any regrets, Forde. You carry a potential I wish I could understand, but I must fulfill my duty. Our people, my offspring, deserve the right to live and feel the pride I had the privilege to feel.

“Hold still, freak,” the invader growled as he held Forde’s squirming face still. “You’re wasting valuable resources. I’ll have to pry you out of that body myself.” Once more, the fear in Forde’s eyes returned, but the defiance never left. Even to the end, Forde remained steadfast and full of life. In a low whisper, one he wasn’t certain Forde would even hear, the invader said, “I’ll miss you, my brother. My friend.” The invader gathered himself up in his host’s mouth, growing lightheaded for a second. Then, he leaned in for a kiss.

“NOW!”

Surely, he would’ve seen this coming. Two of Forde’s friends grabbed his arms and pinned him down to the ground. With the surprise impact, Alan accidentally bit down on the slime and allowed the invader to spill onto the pavement. With little way to escape, the invader just lied on the ground, attempting to crawl back into its bleeding host with the speed of a snail.

Forde reached into his pocket and pulled out some kind of packet. The invader could only make out “SALT” before Forde pinned him to the ground. “DIE!” Was the last thing the invader heard from Forde as he shoved the packet into his pathetic, slimy body.

Alan’s friend fell to the ground as well, pinned down by some more of Forde’s friends. What had initially appeared to be the invader’s emotionless spawn revealed themselves to have a wide range of emotions, not unlike Forde.

Ah, a ruse, the invader thought as his body burned at the salt’s touch. How clever. So that’s why Alan’s friend arrived. A distraction to fill the pool with your own flawed, miserable, heartful spawn. He looked up at the weeping, blubbering Forde as Nolan pulled him in for an embrace. You win, brother. Humanity is saved. The burden of your own spawn and the burden of the dead now lie with you.

Why are you alive? Why are you like this? I couldn’t give you an answer, but perhaps you can find it on your own.

I wish you the best, brother.

And the invader stopped thinking.

Wrestling With Some Feelings

Wrestling with some Feelings

“Wh-What are you doing…?" Ahmed moaned as a trail of slime slid into his singlet. Just the very touch caused his body to react with an eruption of pleasurable waves. He collapsed onto the locker room floor, slowly humping the floor to get any sort of friction on his hardening dick. "Haa… aahhhh...haaa…! This isn't… right." Ahmed bit down on his lip before letting down another desperate moan. So caught up in this invasive bliss that he didn't even care when the slimy creature squeezed itself into his leaking cock. Instead, he welcomed it. Thoughts of championships and the thrill of victory soon vanished beneath a blanket of ecstasy. "Ah! Ahhh! H-Holy fuck, I'm—!"

Ahmed wasn't able to finish as his body yielded to the enigmatic invader. His vision swam and he felt dizzy until he collapsed on a puddle of his precum. Ahmed's body convulsed on the ground, unable to even call for help, until he suddenly became rigid, back arched as if mid-orgasm. Then, he relaxed. Slowly, he rose from the ground and took a peek inside his wrestling singlet. "Damn kid, you got a sweet-ass body," he said, stretching his body and letting out a satisfying grunt as something popped. His more reserved personality and mannerisms were completely gone, as though it was someone else entirely. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna stay here forever. Just long enough to throw that match with Clay tonight. Can’t let my son lose that scholarship. You understand, right?” Adjusting his singlet again, the man in possession of Ahmed, Jerry, let out a sensual groan. “Ohhh, and maybe take advantage of this little body for a while. Not every day an old fart like me can be a young and sexy college stud for a few hours."

There was still time until the match, and considering how it would just be throwing the match to Clay, it wouldn’t take much effort. For now, Jerry could relax and enjoy what Ahmed's body had to offer. Grinning, he squeezed Ahmed's meat through the fabric and threw his head back in a low moan. "You're so lucky, being so sensitive. C'mon, let's get real acquainted."

Clay’s father had to struggle to keep his erection down as Clay seriously manhandled him the whole match. Each of Ahmed’s nerves seemed to be turbo-charged and Clay’s rough hands only seemed to aggravate that. With every slam and struggle—every time flesh met flesh with a flash of friction, Clay’s father found himself growing flushed. Didn’t even have to try that hard to throw, his over-horned body did the job for him.

Was it the spell or perhaps something more? Either way, soon Jerry found himself pinned to the mat with his son sneering down at him. The ref called the final point, and that was it. Jerry walked back to the locker rooms, ignoring the calls from his coach and friends. He couldn’t risk anyone catching on to his lack of disappointment.

To make sure the locker room would be empty, Jerry took an extremely long shower—checking his goods one last time before he would have to leave and return home to congratulate his son. Towel around his waist, he made his way over to the locker only to meet a meaty arm blocking his way. 

"Gotta say, kinda disappointed in your performance today, Ahmed," Clay said with a glare.

“Oh, Clay! Uh, wh-what can I say? Performance anxiety,” Jerry said, shrugging.

Clay tilted his head in confusion. “The hell’s happened to you? All jumpy and squirrely.” He took a step forward, cornering his father against the lockers. “You sick or something? Honestly looking real weird.”

Swallowing, Clay’s father said, “Um, I suppose you just have the magic touch,” he said, mind racing to come up with a lie that would be somewhat believable. “Body got all hot and cold with you manhandling me like that.” Jerry prayed that his face and ears weren’t turning as red as he thought they were.

Clay nodded to himself while squinting as if deciphering a difficult piece of text. "That so…?” Hoping that was enough, Jerry began to walk away. However, Clay slammed both of his arms against the lockers, pinning his father completely. “All you had to do was ask,” Clay whispered, his incredulous look turning into one of passion. Without a word, he leaned and kissed Jerry on his borrowed lips. Too shocked to even fight, Jerry leaned back and shut his eyes. What did this rush of passion mean? It was as if a dam had suddenly burst open.

Caught in this stream of passion, Jerry met Clay's kiss with equal aggression. It was as if he was possessed by whatever sentiments Ahmed had locked away deep inside of his subconscious. Either way, Jerry couldn’t even bother trying to resist the youthful hormones that danced in every inch of his hunky, borrowed body.

“Damn, you taste real fine,” said Clay, leaning away to stare at the giddy, bubbly mess that was Jerry. “Your lips feel so nice. Bet they’d be even better wrapped around my dick,” he said, slapping his thigh as he said so. Jerry glanced down and saw his son’s fully erect cock straining against the confines of the singlet. Wordlessly, he nodded and got down on his knees. The taste was so salty, but he didn’t mind it at all. Hearing his son’s pleasured moans and the cock threatening to unhinge Ahmed’s jaw was enough to get Jerry’s own dick hard.

“Make me see white,” Jerry breathed as he drew back with a pop. He spread his legs, trying to show as much of his ass he could. “Fuck me hard, Clay. I don’t think I can live without that cock inside of me once.”

“Say no more.” With a grunt of effort, Clay lifted Jerry up and placed him down onto one of the benches. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice and gentleman-y like.” Leaning up to steal another sensual kiss, Clay teased the rim of Ahmed’s hole with his cockhead. Jerry moaned and bit down on his lips. He took a few breaths, trying to relax, before just leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "Hold on, relax," whispered Clay, using a finger to loosen him up. "Got some lube in my locker. Give me a sec."

“You have what?” Jerry exclaimed as Clay briefly walked off. “H-How often do you do this here.”

Once Clay returned, he just grinned and said, “Enough.”

Though Jerry wanted to continue asking his son, the finger that penetrated him had another idea. Jerry, nearly cross-eyed, immediately tightened as a reflex. He leaned back, moaning like a slut as Clay slipped in another finger. Then another. “F-Fuck, I-I’m fucking cumming!” Jerry shouted as his dick erupted with shot after shot of pent-up aggression.

“Damn, came from just fingering?” Clay grinned. “Hope you still got fuel in the tank, Ahmed. I still haven’t got a chance to shoot my shot.”

Breathing heavily, Jerry nodded as he spread his legs even further. Despite his climax abating, the sensual haze in his mind didn’t leave. Instead, he felt as though he could cum again and again that night. “I’m still not satisfied. Split me in half, Clay!” He moaned. Although the more logical part of Jerry's mind screamed and begged, he didn't give a shit. He just wanted this hunky hole filled and his son's cock was the one thing that could fix that.

Clay wasted no time. He spread Jerry as much as he cut and gave a slow, experimental thrust. When Jerry didn't scream, he slowly picked up the pace. "Mm, yeah. Nrgh, fuck yeah," he grunted with every thrust. There was no reason to go so quick that it would take away from the passion. As promised, he was gentle with strong, rhythmic thrusts. Jerry met each one with the same rhythm. Every nerve seemed to be on fire as Clay's cock filled him—as though Jerry was finally complete. With this body and this cock inside of him, he was reaching Nirvana.

After what seemed like a lifetime of pleasure, Jerry noticed Clay’s core tightening. His face was flushed and his body was covered in a sheen of sweat. “I’m—nggh—I’m gonna blow my load. Want me to cum inside?” Jerry quickly nodded. Clay grinned. “Good answer.” With renewed vigor, Clay continued plowing into Jerry as he babbled nonsense. “C’mon, Ahmed. Scream for me.” He said, slapping Ahmed’s quivering thighs.

“Oh my god,” said Jerry, covering his face to hide the tears. He was elated and embarrassed all at once. His own offspring was smashing him and all he could do was moan and allow it to happen. It had been years since he had sex this good, and he knew that Ahmed felt the same. No, for Ahmed it was even more intense. Somehow, Jerry understood that Ahmed had never had sex before. Now, at that moment, Jerry was losing his virginity for Ahmed. With that in mind, Jerry could feel his climax swiftly approaching.

“I'm gonna nut! I'm gonna—MMM!" Jerry stopped as Clay suddenly embraced him with a long, intense kiss. Unable to handle the heat and the passion any longer, Jerry climaxed. Both of their bodies became drenched in semen, but neither of them cared. All they wished was to taste as much of themselves in that kiss.

Sorry, Ahmed, thought Jerry, lemme just stay in this body for a little while longer. I’ll leave tomorrow in the morning. Promise.

FEStival Fiasco

Part 3 So Long, Space Cowboy

Alcor was an elite by name alone. Throughout the semester, he has failed to score higher than any of his classmates in all exams and assignments. Rumors flew about the academy of the first elite to flunk entirely, but Centaurus paid them, and Alcor, little mind. While Alcor’s haughty and elitist attitude certainly annoyed Centaurus, he did not face any physical or verbal threats from Alcor.

At most, Centaurus overheard Alcor say, "Bested by a female and worm of all things!" to himself when he believes no one could hear. If he did not go spend at least a few minutes every session of class saying, “I remember my father graduated with top honors at this academy,” and, “I believe I covered this subject with my private tutors,” he would’ve certainly faced the same scrutiny and violence that Zathina inflicted on Centaurus.

Because of that, Centaurus paid him no mind and Alcor did the same. Oddly, Centaurus got along best with Alcor, as there was never a day either of them ever fought or competed against each other.

Too good to speak to a worm? Centaurus idly thought as he strolled through the festival grounds. Stalls full of brightly-colored games such as ring toss and whack-a-mole gathered crowds while the scent of fatty, sweet, and salty snacks gathered their money. Centaurus smiled as he walked by and took in the sights of the people making memories with each other. Couldn’t hurt to indulge every once in a while, right?

He walked to a booth with just another player on the opposite side and paid to play a game. “So just gotta pop three balloons with these here darts?” he asked the booth’s owner, who nodded. “Gotcha, I’ll—“

“Unbelievable, this game is clearly rigged!” A haughty voice cut him off. The other player sneered at the booth’s owner—who now sported an exhausted look—and held his hand out. “Either you give me more darts to attempt this ridiculous game or you give me my money back, peasant.”

His vernacular was certainly similar to Alcor’s, but Centaurus remained silent to allow more slips of the tongue.

"Sir, this is your second warning," the booth owner replied with a monotone voice. "Another outburst like that and I’ll have to call security on you. You lost fair and square, and, frankly, I have no clue how to rig this game against you.” She glanced back and forth between the darts in Centaurus’ hand and the balloon on the opposite wall with a dumbfounded expression. “Seriously, none. The problem is your aim.”

“How dare you?” the haughty man said, teeth gritted at the poor girl. “My position is certainly above yours, peasant.” The booth owner narrowed her eyes, and Centaurus could tell she was ready to start beating the sucker to the ground.

“Now now, no need to have that kinda attitude," Centaurus cut in, hands raised in a peaceful gesture. It wasn't as if he had wanted to perform an altruistic task for the poor booth owner, but he did want to satiate his curiosity. “Hold on there, partner. Let’s try ‘n’ take it one step at a time. Now, the name’s Austin. Yours?”

“Hmph! Well, it’s rude to decline another’s request for your name after they offer their own. Fine, then. You may call me Milo. Milo Palmer. And you?” Milo cocked an eyebrow as he looked me up and down. “You… you dress very peculiarly.”

How often did a person, regardless of how sheltered they were, not recognize a cowboy? Not just that, but the attitude was familiar to Centaurus. All of it screamed ‘Mizar.’ However, Centaurus decided to play along. “I’m a cowboy, partner.”

“I’m not your partner.”

“And I wanna propose a li’l wager for ya.”

Centaurus internally grinned as he saw the glint in Milo’s eyes at the word. Mizar or not, it was clear that the one in front of him highly valued competition. “What sort of wager are you walking about, cowboy?”

“Austin. And we play a few rounds over here. If I win, we leave the booth peacefully. You win, then you can say that you’re certainly much better than these ‘plebians,’ as I’m assuming yer ‘bout to start callin’ them.”

Milo shook his head. “No no, I demand a much better reward than that.” With a smug, high-born smirk, Milo said, “Become my slave for the rest of the festival, and then I’ll agree to your terms, cowman.”

“Cowboy,” Centaurus said, rolling his eyes. “Well, don’t mind ‘em terms. I ain’t afraid of losin’.” Passing the booth owner, who now had gratitude in her eyes, some dollars, Centaurus asked for two sets of darts.

“Let’s rock.”

“Let us duel.”

To Centaurus’ relief, Austin was particularly talented in darts. Years of playing drunk and just barely avoiding poking someone’s eye out helped out quite a bit in this bet. In just a few minutes, all of his balloons were nothing but scraps of plastic on the ground while Milo failed to hit a single one. “Well, that prove it t’ya?”

At first, Milo didn’t say anything. He simply stared down at the ground, hands trembling. While the booth owner threw out an excuse to temporarily leave, Centaurus lightly tapped Milo’s shoulder. “D-Don’t touch me, cowman!” he shouted as he jumped back. “Don’t think you’ve beaten me simply because this game is fixed.”

With a bemused click of his tongue, Centaurus smirked and said, “So y’ain’t bad, the game is?”

“Well… the way I said it is certainly much more eloquent, but the general idea is certainly there." Thankfully, Milo chuckled at that. "But! I cannot allow this stain on my honor to continue. Please, let us continue with more duels at this festival. Surely I will be able to best you at all the others."

Again, Centaurus laughed. “If ya wanna keep playin’, just say so, Milo-man. I don’t mind.” By now, he didn’t doubt that it was indeed Alcor before him. The attitude and lack of social cues that only an elite with a silver spoon up his ass certainly fit. However, while being someone else, this was the first time Centaurus had ever had a decent conversation with him. “C’mon, let’s see what else we can play.” Once they were done fooling around, he was certain he could pull off the same trick as Mizar and eliminate him from the competition.

However, several games in, Centaurus found himself lost in the joy of the festival. “Watch this shit!” he cried out as he raised the mallet and slammed it onto the target. The bell rang, signaling his strength. “Hell yeah!” Making sure that Alcor was watching, he flexed both of his biceps. Alcor sneered.

Later on, during a large jigsaw event, Centaurus gritted his teeth as he tried to form the picture in his head. For whatever reason, Austin was just particularly challenged in putting the oversized puzzle pieces together. The colors and shapes just didn’t seem to match. That was one of the pitfalls of the way Centaurus took over hosts. Strengths and weaknesses all carried over to him. However, once he finally put it all together, he rose from his seat proclaiming, “Done!”

“Finally,” Alcor said, clutching two different prizes with a self-satisfied smirk. “I have my own areas of expertise, I’ll have you know,” said Alcor. For the first time since Centaurus had met the guy, Alcor truly did deserve that arrogant air. By the time they had finished most of the booths in the area, they were tied in wins.

“Goddamn. Yer a tough nut to crack,” said Centaurus while the two rested at a bench. For all their running around and eagerness to show off, the men now sat down, panting heavily as the summer heat bore down on them.

“And—ha—you—haaa—are certainly no mere cowman either,” said Alcor in between his heavy pants as well. “I have to admit, I sincerely thought that his whole festival was full of nonsense and clowns earlier, but now...”

“Now…?”

Chuckling, Alcor finished with, “Now I know it also has handsome yet foolish cowmen as well.” While Centaurus pouted, he added, “I had fun. Thanks, Austin.”

“Can’t deny it. I had a fun time too.”

They stared ahead in a comfortable silence—just gazing at the people passing by. The day was far from over, but Centaurus felt more tired than he ever had on this planet. However, it was a satisfying exhaustion. Like he had accomplished far more than his goal. “Hey—“

“Do you mind if we go to that booth next?” Alcor cut in, pointing ahead. Centaurus followed his finger and saw a cartoonist drawing exaggerated portraits of people. “I would like to see his rendition of you.”

Shrugging, Centaurus said, “Sure.”

After about 20 minutes, Alcor glared down at the drawing. The inking and proportions were certainly ridiculous, but Centaurus truly knew nothing about art. Austin knew even less. However, from Alcor’s reaction, Centaurus was honestly starting to believe that something was off about the illustration. “Hmm...” Alcor hummed, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Yes, there is,” snapped Alcor. “Follow me.” The whole walk Centaurus continued to prod and pester to understand what the hell Alcor’s problem was, but no dice. Only once they arrived at a nice, flat table did Alcor finally explain. “The drawing is inadequate.”

“Whu-?”

"Sit. Let me draw you." Producing a pencil from who-knows-where, Alcor began to doodle. Centaurus, not having a reason to deny the request, obliged. The two shared a few words, but Centaurus mainly focused on keeping still. He wasn't sure what he would gain from indulging in Alcor like this, but he did wish to satiate his curiosity. What exactly was he planning…? Unlike Centaurus, Alcor and the rest of his classmates rarely opened up to their host's mind as he did. They shouldn't have access to many skills or talents, and certainly nothing as delicate as art. Was Alcor simply like this?

After a while, Alcor finally announced, “Finished. Here you go, cowman. Tell me what you think.”

There was no arrogance in Alcor’s voice, and no lack of talent in his drawing, either. Centaurus stared at the man—at Austin—in silent awe. A lump of guilt built up in his throat and his eyes grew moist. Austin’s kind yet cocky smile, his warm eyes, and his powerful physique all translated well into the sheet he held in his hands. “Yer… somethin’ else… This is amazin’.”

“I appreciate it, Austin,” said Alcor. “I’ve wanted to be an artist since… since I can remember.” His voice was far away, as if he was caught in a dream. “The aesthetic, the beauty of the world… I’ve always loved it all. I worked hard, in secret. But that dream will remain unfulfilled.”

“Why? Ya got the talent, the skill. Ya got the drive, dontcha?”

“That’s not what I meant, cowman.” Alcor rolled his eyes. “It is not as simple as becoming an artist simply because I wish to. I have… responsibilities. I am an elite, remember?”

“With how often you repeated it, how could I forget?”

Coughing to hide the embarrassment, Alcor continued. “Because of my status, my family expects great things from me. Extremely great things, but I do not.” He furrowed his brow before frowning in thought. “No, my apologies. Allow me to rephrase that. My family expects me to obtain a certain position after graduating from my academy with flying colors, but if I’m being honest, such a thing disgusts me," he said, wrinkling his nose. "In the end, as the firstborn male, I am nothing more than a puppet for the position, just as my friend had become."

“Yer friend?”

Alcor sighed, smiling almost nostalgically as he spoke about his past. “She was a delicate flower. Gentle, kind, intelligent. We often played together when we were young. But, that never lasted. We became separated after a while. Recently, at the academy, I met her again, but she was completely different.” Lips curled up in a tight frown, stared up at the sky with a frustrated groan. “She barely even acknowledges my presence. It’s as though she became a completely different person. When I tried to ask her about that...” Fear appeared in his eyes, “she threatened me with physical violence. And there was clear power behind it as well. Nothing at all like the gentle flower I once knew.

Centaurus let out a grunt to indicate he was listening. The girl from Alcor’s past seemed like the exact opposite of Zathina, but there was no doubt that they were the same person. More surprising was how little shock Centaurus actually experienced. It made sense for a female elite to begin her life with little knowledge of violence or the drive to be a soldier, but then what changed? What caused Zathina to become like this?

“If I continue the path I am on, then my freedom will be stripped away from me,” continued Alcor. “Of course,” he added with a chuckle, “that’s ignoring the fact that I’m absolutely not fit for the position my family wants from me in the first place.” Centaurus did not join in. Instead, he gripped Alcor’s hand and squeezed it to both of their surprises.

“A-Ah...” Voice cracking for just the tiniest moment, Alcor said, “I appreciate you not laughing, and for listening. To be honest, this is the first time I’ve said any of this out loud.”

“Yer lookin’ a li’l bit more relaxed. Shoulders less stiff. Stick must’ve fallen outta yer ass when ya started talkin’.”

“Ha ha,” Alcor rolled his eyes and playfully slapped Centaurus’ arm with his free hand. “Shut up, cowman. Let me be as melodramatic as I wish to be.”

“So yer gonna run away? How?”

“I am not sure yet, but I am determined to try. Even if I am taken away and executed, I still want to try.” Alcor said those words, but he didn’t hide the way his hands trembled. “I want to find a way to draw the universe’s beauty. If I can’t draw and paint, then I might as well not even be alive.”

Centaurus looked back at the drawing Alcor made of them. There was an undeniable amount of skill demonstrated in such short time. A familiar emotion welled up inside of him. Envy. Once more, Centaurus was drowning in envy. Not just for Alcor's skill, but also the path he wanted to choose for himself.

However, as much as Centaurus wished to scream and shout, he found himself unable to. It should have been easy, to crush Alcor's dream by seducing him in such a way as to gain an advantage, but Centaurus wasn’t able to do anything. Thousands of scenarios played in his head, and all of them ended in his favor.

However, Centaurus instead said, “I’ll help you.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll help ya escape this hellhole of a future yer in,” Centaurus proclaimed. He extended his hand out for Alcor to shake. “To be honest, it'd be a shame if a skill like yours remains unfulfilled. And also, it’s the least he could do fer a dear friend.”

“Dear friend?” Alcor asked, raising an eyebrow. “You hardly know me.”

Centaurus shrugged. “What can I say? Kindred spirits, I guess,” he said, grinning at his very first friend. Though Alcor truly had no idea, Centaurus knew, and that was all that mattered. "Listen, lemme tell ya the plan." He leaned over and whispered a hazardous mess hastily cobbled together, but it was all Centaurus could do on such short notice and a person he needed to protect. Overall, it wasn't very complicated, but so much hinged on everything going exactly right.

It was a gamble, but Centaurus figured that, as long as he was in Austin’s body, he didn’t mind becoming the cowboy that rode off into the sunset with his ally just like in the films. Now all he had to do was avoiding perishing before his plan began.

“Yer a cutie,” Centaurus whispered to the man, licking off the last remains of cum. The man shivered in pleasure. “C’mon, let me give ya a taste of yer own milk.” Eager for more, the man swiftly dove into a kiss only to get a mouthful of alien. While Austin’s body remained crouched on the bathroom floor, the other man fell back. He struck the stall’s wall as his body convulsed and soon lost control of his body.

Centaurus shook the exhaustion away. "All right, one more," he said to his former body. His heart ached as he looked down at Austin again. The memories of his kindness nearly caused him to choke, but Centaurus swallowed down the guilt. There were more important things in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he said to Austin.

The two left the stall just in time to see another man exit the stall next door. Time was limited, so Centaurus and the mind-controlled Austin quickly jumped the man, covering his mouth to prevent him from screaming.

Austin and three bodies. That was the minimum that Centaurus would have to work before the chaos began. Not needing to fully dive and dissect the memories of the two men, Centaurus slithered back into Austin and began to put his plan into action.

While he worked to grab Austin’s motorcycle and park it on the outskirts of the festival, his two victims would set off the pieces. The three of them left at different times to not arouse suspicion. All of this just to fool their professor and their classmates.

At the very epicenter of both the festival and the crowd, Centaurus kept an eye out. It had only been a few minutes, so the venom’s effect should hold. Once a voice shouted, “What the fuck, man?!” he grinned and turned to walk away. Another rang out, saying, "I'll teach you to disobey me, worm!" with a tone that sounded just like Zathina. Might as well throw some bait in her general direction.

A few yells went out as a brawl began. With any luck, a small riot should snowball from the two bodies engaging in a fistfight. Through his peripheral vision, Centaurus saw numerous folk turn their heads to stare at the spectacle that unfolded before them.

Perfect, he thought. All Alcor needed was a spectacle to last for a few minutes. Of course, another body would make the situation ideal if Centaurus’ instincts were right.

There was a man on his own near the outskirts of the festival grounds. He stood on his toes as he tried to get a closer look at whatever the attendants were crowding around. Suspecting nothing, he approached Centaurus and asked, “Hey man, what’s going on over there?”

“Hmm? Oh, well… lemme show ya real quick," Centaurus grinned at the man. "C'mere. Don't wanna say it too loudly." Brow furrowed, the man hesitated before leaning in slightly. That was all Centaurus needed. Already, venom spread throughout Austin's system, mixing into the spinal fluid. He opened Austin's mouth and shot into the other's man's mouth as Austin held him close.

“HMPH! MMMPH!” Centaurus’ body strangled any of the man’s startled cries. He quickly slithered through the man and bit down on his brain. The man convulsed as he struggled to vomit the bug out but remained in place as Austin put him into a tight embrace.

“Calm down, li’l fella,” Austin whispered as the Centaurus took control. “I gotcha.”

Once the man’s limbs and core warmed under Centaurus’ influence, he nearly fell over. “F-Fuck, the fuck...” he gasped. A cold and hollow sensation spread washed over his new body. He could still feel the man’s body under his control, but alongside it was something completely foreign.

“Y’okay?”

“N-No, but that doesn’t matter right now,” Centaurus replied. “Can barely walk… y’know where to leave me.” Austin nodded and half-carried half-dragged Centaurus alongside him.

As Centaurus allowed himself to be carried, the sounds of police sirens echoed in the air. Security got involved and now the police were here to arrest those caught up in his little distraction. Despite the nausea that threatened to make him vomit, Centaurus couldn’t help but grin at how successful his plan was. The sirens would help mask the sound of Austin’s motorcycle run down the street.

“Tell me something, Austin,” said Centaurus. Was he feverish or just plainly ill? He couldn’t tell anymore. A numbing feeling spread throughout his borrowed body. He could no longer feel his fingertips. “I’m doing something good, aren’t I?”

“I think so.”

“Do you really?”

“Dunno. You tell me. I’m fully under yer control.”

“When’d you get so sassy?”

Austin shrugged. “Hard to say, maybe the venom’s startin’ to run its course. Still, what yer doin’… it ain’t wrong, but yer not doin’ it just cause you felt sorry for this friend o’ yours.”

Centaurus glared at the ground but didn’t respond.

“Not gonna go with him?” Austin asked. “Ya really wanna, dontcha? Leave everythin’ behind and run. Like the cowboys ‘n ‘em westerns ya love.”

Every bit of Centaurus wanted to shout, “Of course I will!” However, he remained silent. No matter how much his heart wished to cry out for the world to hear, he silenced himself and simply thought his plans over. After Alcor and Mizar, he would need to take down Arcturus, Merak, and Zathina will be last. Then, Centaurus could finally win. Victory was just a few hours away.

Centaurus vomited as Austin set him down. Centaurus now rested against a building housing more bathrooms for the festival-goers. Around the corner was the parking lot where Austin's motorcycle was already in place. Centaurus didn't doubt that Alcor had already arrived. “G-Get in position,” he said, gagging at the taste. “Y’know he’s waiting for you. Get.”

Austin hesitated for only a moment before nodding. The little venom Centaurus could afford to inject into him was no doubt at its limit. However, it only needed to last for another few seconds; but it would only be worth it if his gamble paid off. As Austin disappeared from view, Centaurus leaned back and shut his eyes. The numbness was deeply uncomfortable but soothing at the same time. Perhaps if he gave it his best shot, he could simply pretend as though he was merely floating through space on a ship.

“Such a dumbass,” Centaurus whispered to himself. “Wasting so much venom… 4 hosts in just ten minutes? Stupid dumbass...”

Austin’s cries were loud enough that Centaurus could hear them from so far away. However, he smiled. Alcor was so unsubtle and so unfit to be a Dreadfighter. It only furthered Centaurus’ resolve that what he was doing was right.

Then why the hell do I feel so shitty?

The roar of a motorcycle soon echoed down the road. Centaurus couldn’t see it. Even as he opened his eyes, he found his vision impaired. The world was nothing but blotches and mystifying shapes that all blended together. As expected, the sirens helped mask it. To the festival-goers who stood by the violence and police, it might as well have been a kitten’s purr.

“There you go, Alcor,” said Centaurus to nobody but himself. “Follow that dream of yours. Don’t look back at this worm...”

Austin—or was it Centaurus himself?—completely read him. The desire to run, to ride off into the sunset with his friend in tow, was tempting beyond belief. However, Centaurus knew that he could never do anything like that.

“All this worm can do is look upwards, Alcor,” he continued to chide himself. “I don’t… I don’t have anything inside of myself. No talent, no skill… I don’t have anything but this dream.” Without the idea of becoming a Dreadfighter, without that hunger for a better life, there would be nothing to define Centaurus. A dream or an obsession? Centaurus wasn’t sure at this point, but it was all he had left. No family, no money, and no other future. “Guess she was always right. Well, I knew she was right, I always knew… but just...”

Just once Centaurus wanted to forget that he was a worm. Just once Centaurus wanted that person to pretend alongside him that he could achieve something.

“Why can’t I have something?”

“My my, you’re in a real rough spot.”

A shadow washed over the mess of light and color that made up Centaurus' vision. Just by the sound of the voice, Centaurus felt a pang of annoyance.

“Come on, Centaurus! Lemme fix you up! Maybe even let me take a look inside of you. Hehe…! Don’t worry, I promise I’ll stitch you up. It’ll just hurt a liiiiitle bit. By the way, anesthesia's out of the question. Ahaha!”

With the last of his strength, Centaurus said one thing:

"So long, Space Cowboy," he said, wishing only the best for his one and only friend.

Hans Off the Computer!

The human mind, when boiled down to its most fundamental building blocks, was simply a system of ON and OFF switches. In that sense, it is functionally identical to that of a computer’s mainframe. When putting both of those thoughts together, the idea that the human brain can be completely digitized and transferred through networks isn’t too far-fetched an idea.

At the very least, that was the thought of Hans Hopper, a freelance software engineer. Currently, he was working at a computer repair shop to get some extra money and to kill time between projects—including his own.

“It could be possible,” he voiced his dreams to his boss, Carl, as they took a look at some guy’s gaming PC. The components were state of the art, some not even out in the market yet. Just the graphic card and motherboard made Hans drool at the sight. Streamers get all the luck, he thought. The owner, some small-name star with a big ego, took poor care of his machine, leading to landing on Carl's shop.

“Y’know, Hopper,” Carl began as he cleaned some dust off of the PC’s parts, “I think if you put that head of yours outta the clouds and into reality with the rest o’ us, you’d really take off. Least you wouldn’t be stuck in this freelancing business and get a real job like some o’ your peers.”

“And be like those corporate suck-ups?” Hans snorted. “As if. I’m not gonna be another cog in the machine. Now being in a machine." He grinned, already fantasizing about the things he'd do if he could ditch his flawed, physical form for a future full of infinite potential inside of a network. "That's what I'm after."

“Least those corporate suck-ups can afford their own places,” Carl sighed. “You’re still living with roommates at, what, 30?”

“...27, actually.”

Grinning, Carl said, “And there’s my point. At your age, Hans, I--” he paused as his phone began to ring with an irritatingly catchy tune. “Aw, shit. Lost track of time.” Before Carl ducked to the back of the store and towards the hall that led to his home, he glanced back and said, “Can you wrap up here and close the store, Hans?”

“You got it, boss," Hans said, waving him off. "Take care." Carl left without an answer, and Hans found himself alone with a PC he could only dream of. "Well well," he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a flash drive. "Looks like it's just you and me from now on. Let's see if what's under the hood's enough to get my program running."

While Carl had a point that Hans' dream was beyond the capacity of current human technology, the world of sci-fi and fantasy lacked such rules. "Just like that ol' title," he muttered to himself as he inserted the flash drive into a USB drive. "A machine can't act like a human mind, but it can calculate runes with no trouble. Sometimes when we can’t use tech to get somewhere, we gotta use shortcuts.”

This PC was his best chance to experiment on his little program to see if it worked. After checking to make sure the drives were all up to date and the whole thing was running smoothly, Hans executed his program. A few keystrokes later, a magic circle formed on the screen. “Let’s gooo—WOAH!”

Although Hans should have figured that the ritual wouldn’t be painless, having his physical form ripped apart and turned into data was nothing short of excruciating. Reforming himself later wouldn’t be any less unpleasant, but he could never turn down the chance to become data and revolutionize the field of… magic? Science? Magitek?

He witnessed his fingers slowly fade as if turning into dust and flow like a stream of water into the screen. As the entirety of his arms completely disappeared, sprites that resembled arms appeared on the screen. "L-Least it works?" Hans nervously said as more and more of his body faded away.

Eventually, Hans' ability to feel, taste, hear, and see waned as his body fully waxed into the computer. The sensation… was nothing. There were no nerves or sensors to feel with, but he could understand the data that his mind had access to. Overwhelming, yet the sensation felt like precious wine on his lips.

The network… Though small, Hans was amazed at how he could travel through the network of the shop—including Carl’s personal PC.

“No, no,” Hans realized he could hear. He saw Carl through the uncovered camera and heard him through a microphone that remained plugged in. For a tech-savvy guy, Carl was real lenient in terms of privacy. "C'mon, Elise, be reasonable here. We got a meeting with the divorce lawyer tomorrow. Can’t you have your little wine party another day?” Carl rolled his eyes as he pocketed his phone. “Fuckin’ bitch. Can’t give me a break.”

And now, as Carl sat down to work on his computer, Hans realized he could attempt the other upside of the ritual. With his mind now data, he could reach out and override the "data" that was another's consciousness.

“What the hell am I supposed to—MMGPHF!”

It wasn’t the most graceful exit, but Hans couldn’t deny the results. Black tendrils—an unnatural amalgamation of data and flesh flew from the screen and landed on Carl’s face, causing him to fly back a few inches. His body twitched and convulsed, back forming a C,  as Hans’ essence flowed into each of Carl’s orifices. Carl’s feet kicked at the ground, fingers gripping his chair’s armrests, as Hans’ essence attacked and invaded his brain.

“A-Ah, ahhh.” Carl helplessly moaned as Hans override any freedom and control over his body. After a few painful seconds with his back arched and his toes curling as the sensation of being overtaken overwhelmed him, Hans awoke in his boss’ body.

“Well, well,” said Hans, feeling his new arms. “Not exactly my first choice for a body, but not a bad test drive.” He stretched in the comfortable office chair, a gift from another customer. “Man, Carl, for an old guy you don’t feel half-bad.” Now realizing that he was alone, a mischievous thought crossed Hans’ mind. “Well, got some time to keep doing some more research on my little program. Maybe I can find a way to hack into other networks." Grinning to himself, he stood up and slowly stripped out of Carl's clothes. First, the shirt came off as the nipples hardened in the cool air, then the shoes were chucked to the side to allow his feet to breathe. The pants came off next, and finally, the underwear flew across the room as Hans embraced his newfound potential—and his borrowed pole.

“Who knew old farts like you still had crazy stamina like this!” Hans cried out, furiously and desperately thrusting into his grip as he jacked off his boss’ body. “F-Fuck! Fuuuuuck!” Hans let out a roar as he came all over his boss’ keyboard. “W-Woah. Gonna have to clean that up later. Dunno where he keeps his tissues, but...” Hans paused and grinned once more. This wasn’t his body, so what the hell? He bent down and began to lick the keys clean, making sure to savor his boss’ taste with each slurp.

The next day, he sat in his boss' room, giving another client's laptop a check-up. It was a Sunday and so the shop was closed, but Hans' mind was far too wired to relax by simply lying around the place. No, tinkering around and keeping his hands busy was how he would wind down.

Although, Hans remained without any clothes. The feeling of the chair against his naked skin was intoxicating. Never in his life had Hans worked in the nude, but he might have to start doing it more often as he tried on new skins. For now, though, might as well enjoy Carl’s life for a few more hours before trying on someone new.

Hans’ roommates were certainly appealing prospects.

Common Kurtosy

Request for @lurkinlizards

Lucas spent his whole life in love with Johnny—his next-door neighbor and best friend. Throughout his life, he spent his time slowly pining for the handsome boy now man during middle school, high school, and now university. Was it due to how similar they were? Or maybe it was the small differences that fascinated Lucas so? Either way, he knew that he could never deny his feelings.

Although Lucas spent his high school days and the first year of college experimenting and with little dates with girls and boys alike, the feelings remained true. And like that love, the silence endured. Lucas kept his feelings deep in his heart until the day came that Johnny revealed his own secret.

“Your dad’s a real catch,” Johnny said as Lucas’ father, Kurt, walked back to his bedroom to retire for the night. “A real-deal DILF, y’know. Mine’s just a string-bean.” Then, remaining completely casual, Johnny returned to playing games.

Perhaps it was the nonchalant nature of the confession, or maybe the fact that it was Lucas’ father that had unintentionally stolen Johnny’s heart, but a deep resentment festered in Lucas’ heart. Weeks passed, but the love and hate remained unspoken and unbending until a spell landed in Lucas’ possession.

“Take it away from me,” said a handsome, middle-aged man one; his eyes tinted with regret. He handed Lucas an occult book filled with spells and rituals. “Maybe you’ll use it better than I did. But I need that damn thing away from me and my… my son.”

Somehow, Lucas knew that the book was the real deal. Just the way each page seemed to quiver with some form of power as his fingers thumbed through was enough to convince him. There was something special in his possession and he could not wait to use it.

The target would naturally be his father, and the spell would be that to take over his body, permanently. The spell warned that it was irreversible, as it would swiftly kill the caster's body. However, Lucas had no intention of going back. While his life was aimless as he tried out what exactly engaged him during his first two years of university, his father continued to draw as a successful artist. And despite the years Lucas spent practicing, styling, and perfecting his own drawing methods, he couldn't hold a candle to his father.

So he would steal his talent, his life, and his best friend’s heart. While Lucas’ father slept, he conducted the ritual. His soul shed the complete burden that was his body and life. He stretched his essence as it rose into the air. It was as though he could finally spread his wings after being trapped in a cage.

However, Lucas didn’t dawdle for long. He flew through the walls of his home until he arrived at his father’s room—floating just a few inches above. Clad in just a pair of underwear in these hot summer months, Lucas stared down at his father’s body. His plump chest had a fine layer of hair and his strong jaw was accented by the stylized and thick beard. His face, always complimented with a kind smile, was always welcome wherever he went. All of these features only served to bolster Lucas’ envy and resolve.

Still, he dove onto this man, phasing through Kurt’s impressive chest, as the man shot up in shock. “Wh-Whu?!” he cried out, unconsciously planting his feet on the bed, legs spread, as control over himself swiftly dwindled. "Th-The fuck's happening to—ahh AAHHHH!" Kurt's consciousness quickly faded as Lucas stretched his soul throughout his father's body. It was as if putting on an old yet comfortable cloak that he had misplaced long ago. As the muscles warmed under Lucas’ control as his father, leaking drool and pre-cum, disappeared beneath the depths of his mind.

Lucas awoke and smiled. Somehow, wearing Kurt's smile was more comfortable than his own. He arose from his bed, astonished as to how simple and easy it was. Though Lucas was never ashamed of his own body, the ease of movement and vitality from Kurt's were intoxicating. "Oh, oh my god," he said. The sound of his new baritone sent erotic shivers down his spine. Finally, Lucas was in full control of his father and his fate. “Sorry dad,” he said, chuckling the whole time, “but look at it this way. I’m taking what is rightfully mine, is all.”

For most of the morning, Lucas walked up and down the halls of his home with a ridiculous, masculine strut. Each movement and pop of Kurt’s hot and hairy form was like a drink of ambrosia for Lucas. “Ahhhh…!” he exclaimed as he performed stretches that his old body would have balked at. “God, you feel so good, daddy!” Lucas laughed as he flexed his arms, licking the baseball-sized biceps. Then, he took each of his pectoral and began to massage them, flicking a nipple from time to time. With just that, he was already sporting a hard-on. “Your chest feels so good, dad. Holy crap, you’re so—ngggh—sensitive!”

Before his self-worship could continue, the doorbell suddenly rang. Lucas hadn’t realized that it was already 2pm. Johnny was here.

First, Lucas rushed to his father’s room to get dressed, but he was only just pulling his underwear up his legs before he paused, deep in thought. Why bother putting on so many layers when he’s gonna rip them off once Johnny was in his grasp? Grinning, lowered the underwear as much as he could before making his way towards the door.

As expected, Johnny was on the other side. The effect was immediate. His eyes bugged out and his mouth hung open in a perfect O as he stared at Kurt—now Lucas’—half-naked body. Lucas in particular noticed how Johnny’s gaze seemed particularly glued to his chest. “M-M-Mr. Miles! Hello! Uh, i-is Lucas home?” said Johnny.

Smirking inside, Lucas glanced over his shoulder, leaning against the doorway. "Hmm, might still be asleep. He'll probably be up later."

“O-Oh, is that so? Then, maybe I should just be going...” Johnny began to back away, Lucas placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Now now, no reason to turn tail and go. Lucas’ll be up soon. In the meantime...” Lucas’ pecs bounced to Johnny’s amazement. “Why don’t you keep me company, Johnny-boy?”

As if hypnotized, Johnny absentmindedly nodded and allowed Lucas to lead him inside. The two walked past Lucas’ original room, but Johnny did not protest. Instead, they made their way into Kurt’s room. The bed was made, the sheets were clean, and the room was ready for staining.

“Caught you lookin’ at me a certain way, Johnny-boy,” said Lucas, savoring the way he said his best friend’s name. “Thought I wouldn’t notice?”

“N-Not at all, sir,” said Johnny as several beads of nervous—or perhaps excited—sweat cascading down his brow. “B-But I did stare from time to time. I-I’m not gonna deny that.” He trembled, but the lustful smile did not lie.

“Well, what kinda fantasizes were you having about me?” Leaning in close, teasing Johnny was a small lick, Lucas whispered, “I’m curious.”

“I wanna worship ya! And then I want you to wreck my ass with that big-ass cock of yours!” Johnny’s voice lacked any shame or reservation. His eyes glistened with pure lust.

“Well then,” Lucas said, gently taking Johnny’s arm before pulling the two of them back. They fell back onto the bed, Johnny’s face landing on Lucas’ new chest. “Go right ahead. Show me what you’ve got.”

Johnny eagerly complied. He worked hard as he licked the pecs, not minding the carpet of hair on Lucas’ chest while massing and twerking the nipples. “You’re like a newborn on his mom’s breasts,” Lucas chuckled. “There ain’t no milk there.”

“I don’t care,” Johnny breathed. “Give me more,” he said, unbuttoning his jeans and slowly pulling them off while grinding up against Lucas’ torso. Each part of his body seemed to scream for more and more of Lucas. Not a single crease remained untouched.

Lucas moaned as Johnny continued to tease him. His father’s nipples were so sensitive, and just a graze from Johnny’s tongue sent him pre-cumming in his underwear. “God, you’re so cute worshippin’ my body like that.”

Johnny smiled as he sucked on Lucas’ chest.

“But, you ready for the real course?” The eagerness in Johnny’s eyes made Lucas laugh. “You’re so cute sometimes, y’know.”

Johnny responded by kneeling on the bed and removing his shirt and briefs while Lucas drank in the sight. He had often seen his best friend shirtless during the times they went running or swimming, but this was something else entirely. Now, Johnny was completely naked and aroused. At him--at Lucas. The way his lips seemed to quiver and his body trembled with both want and fear of what would come next only cemented Lucas' thoughts.

I made the right choice, he thought. No, I made the choice that was right for me. I deserve this.

Years of fruitless pining all disappeared with a single spell—and though more hardships would follow, Lucas embraced this moment of bliss with all his heart.

“Let’s make love,” he told Johnny.

Johnny bit his lip while Lucas soft muttered and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll be slow. I won’t hurt you. Nggh! Holy shit.” Lucas knew that Johnny was experienced, but somehow that hole wasn’t loose at all. He was tight and quite experienced, moving his hips in sync with Lucas’ thrusts.

"F-Fuck me, daddy, holy shit!" Johnny cried out, embracing Lucas with both arms and pushing himself more onto Lucas' chest. "Ah! C-C'mon! Fuck me harder."

“God, you love to beg!” Lucas yelled, trying to push more and more of himself into Johnny as if he was trying to possess him. “Scream harder for me, Johnny-boy. I want to hear how much you love my body. NGGH! How much you love me.”

Johnny let out another cry as Lucas thrust hard into his prostate. His pre-cum ran like a bubbling volcano. “I’m g-gonna cum! Kurt, d-daddy, I’m gonna—AHHH! I’m gonna cum!” Before Lucas could even react, Johnny wrapped his legs around his torso and pulled him in as much as he could. With another roar of ecstasy, Johnny screamed, “I’M CUMMING!”

Lucas grinned as he saw Johnny's sweat-matted face, almost convulsing as he sprayed his load between them. Just his voice and his eyes shining with ecstasy and pleasure were enough to push Lucas over the edge. With a manly roar, Lucas shouted, "Take on daddy's load, Johnny-boy!" he said, pushing Johnny's face onto his chest as he shot load after load into Johnny's waiting asshole.

The two of them lied back on the bed in each other’s embrace. Lucas knew that eventually this peace would end and he would have to suffer through the consequences of his spell, but for now, he could be in post-coitus alongside the love of his life. “Love ya, Johnny-boy,” he said, drunk in the moment.

“I love you too, Kurt,” Johnny said, smiling and cuddling close to him.