A Little Low On Inspiration. Send In And Submit Some Requests, Im Interested In Hearing What Yall Want

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

Going from your header I guess you’re into the Monogatari Series? Was wondering if you were up for a Kaiki/Meme Oshino body swap?

I had to deliberate on this for a while because I do not have the confidence in my writing skills nor my skills in making puns with kanji in order to properly portray Nisio Isin's wonderful characters. I apologize, but he's just on a whole nother level, and I would not feel right trying to write in the same way Nisio Isin does.

Sorry to disappoint

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.

Couples Therapy

Marcus glanced at his client before going back to his notes. As usual, it was a young woman who looked as though she was on the verge of tears after giving him a mile-long list of grievances towards her husband. For the first few years, everything was like an eternal honeymoon until the two began to drive the other crazy. From the little info Marcus had, the blame seemed to rest on two personalities that didn't feel like compromising—as it usually was.

However, compromises didn’t put food on Marcus’ table, so it was in his best interest to pin the blame all on the husband. “Like my services advertise,” he told the wife, Julia, while sliding a sheet of his talents over to her, “I can fix your marriage to be as blissful as it was on your wedding night. All I need is your consent and I can shape your lover as you need him to be.”

The tears soon dried up. "Um, huh…?" Julia grew sheepish as her eyes skimmed over the sheet. Not good. "Shape him? My friend said your type of work was unique, but changing my husband…? I didn't hear anything about that."

Tilting his head, Marcus said, "Did you not notice how your friend's partner changed? He was happier, more agreeable, and far more pleasant overall. Always carried a strong conversation and had the manners of a perfect gentleman. Don't you want the same for your husband?"

“I-I thought you just gave them counseling!” Julia stood up from her chair, hands clasping her purse as though Marcus was a violent, money-hungry criminal. “This is crazy. A-And, honestly absurd. I'll have no part in this lunacy!"

“So you’re okay with your husband’s divorce?”

Julia stopped just before her hand reached the door. Though she didn't turn around, she said, "What do you mean?" Her voice was tinged with fear despite her attempts to hide it.

“When you made your appointment, I did a little digging on your husband,” said Marcus, lying as naturally as he breathed. “Digging into his soul, of course. My abilities allow me to do so.”

He stood up and strode over to Julia. “He’s growing increasingly dissatisfied with your union. Every little action, every little word, every little annoyance from you pushes him more and more towards the arms of another.” While Marcus remained stone-faced, he was smirking inside as beads of sweat cascaded down Julia’s brow. 

Perfect.

“A young woman your age already divorced? What will the neighbors think? Your friends? Your family? But,” he shrugged and made his way back to his desk, “if you insist that you don’t need my services, I can do nothing about that. I sincerely wish the two of you a happy marriage. However long it lasts.”

Julia excused herself to go to the bank but promised she would return with the payment.

Marcus’ target was a man by the name of Trevor. Attractive, admirable, and breakable. All it would require was a few weeks in his body and Marcus’ job would be finished. Julia had signed the contract, so his body was completely available.

That was the limit to Marcus’ powers. Without some sort of consent from one who at the very least shared the name or a bond with his target, he was unable to do anything. Now, all Marcus had to do was take over Trevor’s body.

But first, Marcus was curious about what was going to happen in their ordinary lives. While Julia had given him a whole list of things that she wished Trevor would do, Marcus skimmed it before throwing it away. For the most part, his clients didn't know what they wanted—and what they did was something ridiculous like 'makes me breakfast in bed every single day.' It was all nonsense straight out of a soap opera. Marcus preferred to just take a look at what pissed his client off and doing a few favors here and there. The only part of Julia's list that Marcus even remotely paid attention to was, "Being more open to pegging."

Other than that, Marcus would just sit by and watch how a typical morning went for the couple. He made his way to the address Julia had provided him during their meeting in an astral form and peeked into their lives.

“God, another spill, Jules?” Trevor groaned as he looked down at his stained pants. “C'mon." While Julia let out a stream of apologies, Trevor just rolled his eyes and said, "I'm trying to get a goddamn promotion here!"

“I-I’m trying…!” Julia said, backing up as Trevor grabbed the empty mug and smashed it on the ground. “Th-That was mine...”

“And so’s the mess,” Trevor shot back. “When you’re the breadwinner in this relationship, you can decide what does and doesn’t get broken.” With that, Trevor left to get changed while Julia cleaned up the kitchen.

That was all Marcus needed to see. The bastard needed a major attitude adjustment. His wife was a complete klutz, but there was no need to bite her head off for making a mistake. Marcus didn't feel any particular sympathy for Julia, but assholes like Trevor pissed him off to no extent. "Only natural," Marcus said to himself. "Assholes hate assholes. Don't like pricks like him on my turf."

Floating over to Trevor and Julia’s room, he admired the assets he would borrow for the next few days. Trevor’s pants were off, allowing Marcus to get a nice glimpse of the package he would be showing off for the next few days. Along with that were nice, juice thighs and a good chest peeking out of the nice polo shirt he wore. No longer able to resist, Marcus just dove towards Trevor.

"HNNG! What the fuuuuck?!" Trevor moaned as Marcus phased through his back. Entire body tensing up, Trevor stood in place, his back arching while his head was thrown back. Feet planted to the floor, he moaned in pleasure and panic. "Wh-Who the hell?! What the—HAA! Ahhh…! What the fuck are youuuu?!" Unable to keep his balance amidst the barrage of pain and pleasure mixing, Trevor collapsed onto his bed, convulsing uncontrollably as the foreign intruder wore him like a suit.

“Mmm,” Marcus moaned, rubbing his hard-on against the mattress. “Oh, that’s niiice. Thanks, Julia.” Still face-down on the bed, he spread his legs and let his hands wander towards a certain untouched hole. “Don’t worry, I’ll turn your hubby into the subbiest bottom in town.”

Purposefully ignoring Julia, Marcus left the house and headed towards Trevor’s place of work, relying on muscle memory and the information Julia had given him for navigation. Eventually, he arrived at some fancy insurance firm full of suits who looked like they could use a healthy dose of Viagra.

Once more, Marcus relied on Trevor's muscle memory to guide his way through work. And once settled into Trevor's impersonal cubicle, Marcus began his work. At once, he worked on smiling more in Trevor's body. Man was a creature of habit and the human mind was a sponge for information and mannerisms. Because of that, Marcus would adopt certain behaviors for the week or so he would be in his hosts' bodies. The end result was a spouse that would compliment their partner far more.

On all levels, it was wrong. However, Marcus continued without losing a wink of sleep.

After making sure Trevor was smiling more, Marcus also stretched and relaxed his muscle. "God, you're so tense," he mentioned as he rolled his shoulders back. "Or, I'm so tense." Grinning, Marcus continued chatting to himself. It was always fun getting into a role. Perhaps it was his theater kid days, but adopting a new identity was always fun. "I should get more into yoga," he said, stretching as much as he could in that uncomfortable suit. "Do some squats. It'll help me make my ass all nice and firm. Flexibility'll be nice in the bedroom for Jules," he proclaimed, repeating it to himself to make sure it remained imprinted to Trevor.

To make sure those thoughts remained in Trevor's head, Marcus headed off to the gym after each workday. He worked until Trevor's already well-developed muscles were pleasurably sore by the time he arrived back home. "Keep acting as though I'm Trevor," Marcus had texted Julia before. "It'll make it easier for these thoughts to stick to your husband." His words didn't ease Julia's awkwardness, but Marcus didn't mind. Working with pathetic actors wasn't anything new for him.

By the final day of Marcus' planned stay, Trevor's boss called him into his office. "You're not in trouble," his boss, a man by the name of Arthur said. "Just wanted to catch up with you, is all." His words were even, but Marcus noticed that his gaze was not. Arthur's eyes kept traveling and his fingertips kept grazing Trevor as much as they could while retaining that facade of professionalism. "I've noticed your recent change in attitude. Rumors travel quickly throughout the office."

“When there’s not much to talk about,” Marcus began, “it’s easy to become the talk of the town.”

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. “Your attitude and your tongue’s changed, Trey. I'm surprised but pleased. Productivity for the whole office has gone up this week. And your more positive attitude has really helped with that. I've noticed the environment in general is a lot less toxic."

“Sorry about that, sir,” Marcus said with a curt nod. Yet, he made sure to keep a cocky, inviting smirk on his face. The blood was rushing to Arthur’s cheeks despite his stony expression. “Hadn’t realized how much my attitude had an impact on the office. But I’m sure you’ll be just as satisfied as my wife about the new me.” By now, Marcus was happily rubbing his thighs, making sure they stood out alongside his bulge in those tight slacks he had purchased for Trevor. During the week, he had made a habit of dropping his things and bending over to reach for them in front of his various coworkers. If his eyes didn’t deceive him, he was certain about the office spent more than half a second staring at Trevor’s assets.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Nonetheless, just wanted to show my appreciation for this sudden turn. Always happy to see my workers in a relaxed, pleasant environment.”

Standing up, Marcus leaned in close to Arthur’s lips. “I can think of a few other ways you can show your appreciation, boss,” he whispered, unbuckling his belt. This same scenario had played out so many times Marcus was certain his gaydar was impeccable. “Why don’t you bend me over your desk and show me who the boss is?”

Arthur hesitated for about a second before locking the office door and tying Trevor’s mouth shut with his own tie. “Take! This! You! Slut!” Arthur roared as he pounded Trevor’s ass raw. Marcus, back arched, face pressed up against the cold desk, just moaned like a slut. He eagerly met each of Arthur’s thrust with his strong workout for his hips.

This is my favor for you, Julia, he thought as Arthur pulled on his hair. Your husband’s hole might not be as tight as you want it to be, but he’ll definitely be up for stuff up his ass by the time I leave.

"Make me your bottom bitch," Marcus begged, trapped in a nirvana of pleasure and pain.

The next time Marcus saw Julia and Trevor the two of them were walking down the back, arms linked. Both were smiling and laughing so animatedly that Marcus was certain the songbirds were jealous. On occasion, he spotted Julia lightly slapping Trevor's ass and her husband reddening like a tomato at the sensation.

Marcus returned home satisfied at another successful trip.

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.”

are you still taking requests?

Yes, I am!