Nodak-fun - Switcheroo

“What about him?” Karl stroked his square, stubbled jawline in the mirror and then turned to me for my approval.

“Yeah,” I said, “I guess.”

“You guess?” he said, “Jesus, Michael. You’re telling me this guy isn’t handsome enough for you? Fuck. I look like a fucking Ken doll.”

“I dunno,” I said. I searched for a compliment to give him, but I was coming up short. “You look good. You just look too… perfect.”

He rolled his eyes, sighed heavily, and slumped down a bit in his muscular frame.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “You want me to just change back into myself?”

No, I didn’t want that either.

“So, then, what?” he said. He held his arms out and shrugged his sculpted shoulders. “What do you want me to do, Mike? Who do you want me to be?”

It was an interesting question for him to ask, especially now that I knew he could literally be anybody that I wanted him to be. In the past hour, I had seen him shift into a parade of different forms right in front of my eyes. He had taken on the appearance of some of my favorite male models, bodybuilders, and Hollywood hunks. He had morphed into one fantasy guy after the other, but none of them seemed real.

“Can we try this again later?” I asked, “I’m sorry. This is just way too much for me right now.”

I watched him slowly shift back into himself. He looked deflated. Disappointed.

“I shouldn’t have shown you this,” he said. He had trusted me, shown me his gift, and I had met him with apprehension. I’m sure it wasn’t the reaction he had expected.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, “I’m glad you showed me. I just need some time to think about it.”

I looked him in the eyes to let him know that he hadn’t pushed me away. He smiled.

“Let me know when you’re ready to try it again,” he said.

I was just looking at new headphones. Could I get the yellow headphones? I need a new pair for the gym.

Hi. I’m sorry you waited so long for your gift, but I had a lot of unfinished business. Well. You want new headphones? There’s a pair of yellow headphones in the bag, but I have absolutely no idea what owning them will do. Will you take them to the gym? Whatever you say. I’ll follow you and see if you don’t mind. 

You’ve already changed into sports clothes and put on your new headphones. They played your favorite music, but suddenly you felt a slight dizziness and goosebumps coming from your head to the coccyx. You continue to do approaches, pulling iron, but at some point you realize that it became more difficult for you to carry out your approaches. You’re almost at the end of your strength and barely finish your 30 push-UPS…

You don’t understand what’s going on, but I can see what’s going on with you. All your muscles that you worked so hard at this gym are starting to melt. You become slim and thin with a small amount of muscle, which is only enough to pull up on the bar 10 times and boast to the beach with your skinny abs. Your sports Jersey turns into a black long sleeve t-shirt and your shorts into jeans. Your hair is getting lighter and longer. I think you should watch a couple of online lessons on long hair care now. Your face rearranges and becomes more refined and beautiful, as if you were created for the stage. For the stage? what were you just thinking? 

Oh yeah.. as it turned out, these headphones long time ago lost one of the members of the University drama club. His skills are yours and his roles, of course. While you cope with the influx of all the scenarios and roles, holding your head, let me capture you for my readers. Good luck ;)

Next Story - The Suitcase

I have decided what my next story is going to be. I will be continuing one of my favorite transformation stories and in fact one of the earliest I remember finding on the internet. It was written by J Reynolds over on Metabods. I included the original story links below but will be writing my own continuation within the universe.

https://www.metabods.com/stories/the-suitcase#Part_1

https://www.metabods.com/stories/the-suitcase#Part_2

https://www.metabods.com/stories/the-suitcase#Part_3

https://www.metabods.com/stories/the-suitcase#Part_4

Cross Contamination

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I’m fucking furious. To most people Jack Wilson is a hockey hotshot, but to me he is just my wife’s ex that can’t let go. She said they had another encounter, but wouldn’t go into details, saying it wasn’t just his fault. She couldn’t help herself, she said. Knowing how much she loathes him I suspect she was afraid of him turning violent. He is a star athlete after all, known to have punched more than a few players on the ice.

I know he’s training at the stadium right now. That’s how bad it has gotten, that I even know his schedule. I’m probably speeding getting there, but nothing else is important right now. I park the car in the huge, but almost empty parking. Neverending slabs of concrete to allow for the cars of thousands of cheering fans during game day. Well, I’m certainly not a fan. Still fuming as I exit the car and heading towards the arena I see him and a few others from his team running towards the same building from across the car park. They must be out for cardio or something. I stop and shout towards them “Hey! Jack!”

I can see them slow down a little, Jack saying something to them, and then breaking apart jogging in my direction while they continue at speed towards the stadium building. I remain still, just glaring at him as he closes in on me. He slows down quite a bit away and saunters towards me, still panting. He has an aura of smug superiority. He’s good looking, despite his matted, sweaty hair and week-old beard. It’s not just because he’s in top shape, but he has that classic athlete chin cut, and mesmerizing eyes to go with it too. He’s quite a bit shorter than me, and way denser and muscled, but I would bet my weekly martial arts practice can match him if needed. “Hey, cocksucker! You managed to find your way here,” he yells back at me.

“I want you to know…” “Shut up”

I don’t know why, but I can’t look away from his intense eyes. It’s like they can see into me, see every part of me. I’m frozen in place just watching him getting closer. “I said hey cocksucker. What are you waiting for? Go ahead and suck my cock.” He says this as calmly as he can, never breaking eye contact. I don’t think he blinks. I don’t think I blink. I slowly go down on my knees,  grabbing the hem of his sweatpants, and pull down. I still keep eye contact, so I have to feel my way for the waistband of his underwear to pull it down too. I can feel the heat radiate from his steaming body. There’s a smell of sweat, not the stale, musky kind, but from someone who showers every day and uses fresh clothes for each workout. He’s professional and they got staff. I can hear his heavy breath as he is still recovering from the sprint. And I can feel a rather large cock in front of me that is erect, or at least a good way there. I grab it in my hands and guide the tip to my lips and begin to lick it. It doesn’t really taste of much. I open my mouth and get more and more of his compression shirt wrapped abs and pecs in my view as I stare into his deep eyes, and take his big cock deeper and deeper into my mouth.

The tip reaches some point at the back of my mouth and I start to gag, making horrendous gurgling noises. I move back from him. “All the way. I want to be balls deep down your throat, cocksucker.” I do as he commands, and push it in again, further. It’s somehow much easier this time and my lips are tickled by his moist bush of pubes. I then start to work it, in and out, in and out. The noise I’m making is still horrendous. A wet, sloshy sound, and I hate it. “Yeah, you like that, cocksucker. Now, faster.” I grab him by the hip and increase the pace. I get lost in the actions, like nothing matters but his cock, the noise, and his eyes.

I don’t know for how long I was in a trance, but I feel him tensing up, pulling me tight to him, and shooting a big load of his cum down my throat. Suddenly the gaze that had held me like a vice breaks and he looks at my face rather than into my eyes. The spell is broken. I’m kneeling in a parking lot with Jack Wilson’s cock down my throat, and my nose nuzzled into his pubes. His eyes suddenly widen, and his face turns into horror, like he is looking at a monster. Everything is going like in slow motion. I begin to push him away, to get his disgusting cock out of my mouth as he shoots his second load. Somehow in shock I manage to breathe in his cum. He pulls away from me as well, and his third load ends up just next to me on the concrete. “Fuck!” he says, visibly upset. “It’s still in the bloodstream. Spit it out! Spit it out!”

I’m not sure I even have any in my mouth to spit out. It just went straight into my belly and into my lungs. Lungs that are desperately trying to cough up his spunky goo in phlegm-filled, deep whoops. “Fuck!” he shouts one last time, pulls up his sweatpants, and runs towards the Stadium building with one hand holding the pants up. I’m just folded over on my knees coughing and coughing while my mind is racing to make sense of what just happened. My chest is burning and I feel nauseated. There is the salty, bitter taste of cum in my mouth and a stench of athlete sweat as I gasp for air in between the coughs. I keep coughing, but less and less of substance is coming up. I spit out specks of Jack’s spunk on the concrete in front of me, and realize what she had meant when she said she couldn’t help herself. Did he fuck her? After what just happened I wouldn’t put anything past Jack, and there is literally nothing I wouldn’t forgive her for having done. She would have been helpless to stop.

I can feel my whole body burning as I get up from the concrete. I’m very aware how my clothes rubs against my body, like my senses have just gone into overdrive. Everything, every single muscle in my body feels sore. My head is spinning. Still coughing I stagger towards my car and get in behind the wheels. As I close the door the world goes silent. I can only hear my own exhausted panting. I’m confused about what is happening and feel sick as shit, but at least the world isn’t spinning anymore. Somehow I must have been poisoned. What did he mean with “in the bloodstream?”

I start the car and carefully drive from the parking lot and out in the direction of home. Perhaps I shouldn’t be driving at all. Crashing while driving is worse than crashing while sitting in a parking lot, but I really don’t want to have to call anyone for help. Not after what I’ve just been through. I so sympathize with the movie cliché of a girl sobbing in the shower. I only want to cleanse myself in any way possible. To get rid of Jack from me. Even now I can feel the smell of athletic sweat, like it was clinging on to me.

There is a big pop accompanied by one of the chest buttons on my shirt shooting off in the car. The pop isn’t so much heard as felt, as a reverberation in my body like someone just punched me in the chest, with dull spikes of pain in the joints. I swerve dangerously close to the side of the road. It feels like my shoulders pops into their sockets, like my chest just suddenly expands and the rest of my body catches up. There is no mirror I can look in, but I can clearly see something is off just by looking down at my body. What little movement I can make while driving the car feels different.

There is another big shift. Knees and hip joints this time, I think. I’m a little more prepared to handle that one without swerving, but this time I’m instead missing the brake pedal like the seat is set wrong. I scoot forward on the seat and reach the pedal. Now I’m getting real nervous what is happening. I’m almost home though, but I can feel my thigh muscles involuntarily flexing, my feet are hurting, and my stomach is gurgling like bad plumbing.

Her car is not home yet, thank God. I park mine as calmly as I can, screaming inside that I need to get inside and see what the fuck is going on. As I step out of the car I get a first inkling about the enormity of the changes. I almost trip stepping out of the car, and sit down again on the edge of the seat. The fabric on the trousers are straining, and I realize that my feet are probably hurting because they have swollen up inside the shoes. I try to kick off one of the sneakers, but it’s stuck enough that I have to untie them. My movements feel off. It’s not that it is hard to move. The opposite in fact, but different somehow. Me feet thanks me in relief as they are freed,

With the shoes off I awkwardly make my way into the house and step into the nearest bathroom. It’s me in the mirror, of course, but me 5-10 years younger. I’m touching my face in disbelief. But this isn’t just me regressed a decade in time. I was way taller than this then. Curious I unbutton the remaining buttons on my shirt and throw it on the floor. The chest and abs are not me 5-10 years ago. I’ve never looked this buff before. For one I’ve never had washboard abs, and the pecs and shoulders are wide and meaty. The arms more slender, though still muscular, and the core is built more for function than aesthetics. A bit too dense for the show off V shape. Dense, with a low center of gravity.

It’s the body of a hockey player.

I rip off the straining trousers and the socks. Sure enough, massive leg muscles, big thighs, big ass, big feet. Jack the fucking cheater is a fraud in all areas. Whatever the fuck he is taking must have concentrated in his balls, shot into my lungs, and from there gone straight into my bloodstream to do whatever the fuck it’s done to me. And there is nothing I can do to hurt him with it. Who would believe me? This is so far from any science I’ve heard of.

I take a closer look in the mirror again. Perhaps it isn’t all bad after all.

After The Halloween Party

I’ve always wanted to go to a Halloween party. The ones where everyone’s in some low quality costume, skin showing, loud music. Watching everyone get wasted and shit. But I’ve never been invited to one. It was hard to connect with these other people in uni. I didn’t feel the same as them. Maybe I had a bit of an old soul, or maybe I just hadn’t hit my peak yet. But I didn’t really feel like I fit in. 

You know who did, though?  My roommate, Maverick. 

He had always been the popular guy. The amount of times he’s hosted a loud ass party while I’m trying to have a chill weekend…He hasn’t been mean to me or anything, but even then, it’s bothersome. The stench of weed and drunk girls is always awful. 

This is my last year at uni, and I was determined to go to a Halloween party. A friend of mine sold some…suspicious objects. When I told him about my struggles, I remember him offering me what he called a “magic zipper”. He told me you could slap it onto someone’s back, and zip them down, and it’d empty them out into a suit. Like a wearable costume. “It’s in the spirit of Halloween, isn’t it?” 

Despite the Halloween spirit, the idea of turning my roommate into a bodysuit sounded evil. “Don’t worry, when you’re done with him, just take the suit off and peel the zipper off. Just don’t peel the zipper off while you’re wearing it…no way out then.” I thought it was a load of shit until he showed me his creepy collection of suits…including one of my professors, who had been “away on family business” for the past week. I knew he had to be telling the truth. 

And so, I waited for my roommate to come out of his room. I knew he was going to a party tonight. The door opened and my shirtless roommate walked out, giving me a glance and a smile. 

“Hey fam, gonna head to the party soon. Just gotta change.” I gave him an assertive nod and looked away, hearing him enter his bathroom while holding some clothes. I pulled the zipper out of my pocket, and gave a exasperated sigh. I was going to do it. 

Knock knock

“Hey fam, wh-!” I quickly tackled him into the wall and knocked the air out of him. Taking advantage of him being stunned, I forcefully spun him around and slapped the zipper onto his back. “What the fuck are you doing?” I started to pull at the zipper, opening him up from starting from the bottom. As I unzipped him, he visibly deflated and I could see him struggling to stay on his feet. “What? I-I can’t feel my legs? WHY CAN’T I FEEL MY LEGS? WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MAN?” I gave him a devilish grin. “Relax, it’s just for a night.” Maverick started to slouch as he tried to grip the wall for support as he legs crumpled, as if a pair of pants. He started to panic as he realized there was nothing left but his skin, watching as arms flopped and his fingers flailed emptily. I finally unzipped him up to his neck, and he collapsed over himself. There was nothing left of him but a skinsuit to wear. 

I lifted the suit up as his shorts and boxers slipped off effortlessly, revealing a lengthy package. No wonder he got so many girls. Maverick’s poor face sagged as the skinsuit hung around in the air, nothing inside. I carefully laid his skin on the floor, back facing upwards, and started to stick my legs into his, making sure to fit perfectly into the suit. Maverick worked out and had muscles, but he stayed lean, making the bodysuit a tight fit. My legs in, I pushed my ass into place, and used my own hands to slot my dick into his cock sheath. I watched it balloon back to a girthy figure, likely how Maverick’s dick would be if he was hard. His skin flopping over me halfway, I pulled it up and slipped my arms in, grabbing the back to tighten Maverick’s skin like a corset as his abs regained their structure. Finally, I grabbed the head of the bodysuit, hanging over my impressive chest, I slipped my own head face-first into it. Stretching and pulling at the skin, I looked  in the mirror and saw Maverick. No one but Maverick. I grabbed his phone, or rather, MY phone and made a funny face before snapping a selfie.

“Fuck, the party’s in 30. Better get dressed.” I took the boxers and the shorts Maverick was wearing and tossed them back into his room, then looked at the costume he had brought into the bathroom. Some cheesy, stereotypically revealing Halloween costume. Y’know what? Fuck it. When you look this good, you don’t need to follow the rules. I was just gonna go as “myself”, Maverick O’Hare. Looking like this, girls will still wanna fuck me. 

I put on a dapper looking button-up shirt and slacks, and looked at myself in the mirror. 

“Definitely gonna get fucked looking like this. Thanks for the costume, Maverick.” 

30 minutes later, walking to my frat bro’s house, and I hear blaringly loud music and people screaming. I knew I was at the right place. I rung the doorbell, and he greeted me in a low-effort Batman costume with his abs all out. “Maverick, what’s up, bro! What, uh…what’re you dressed as?” I gave him a mischievous smile, and simply said, “Maverick, that’s it. Listen fam, I’m just here to get laid. Don’t tell the girls.” He gave a cocky chuckle as he let me in. God, even though I was wearing Maverick, I was still…me. This kind of shit wasn’t my thing, but…at least I got to experience it. And I’d definitely be able to get laid tonight. So I stood by the drinks, downing cup, after cup, after cup. A girl in a skimpy cat costume, clearly drunk, stumbles up to me. “Hey Maverick…I’ve seen how you look at me. Why don’t we take this upstairs?” She giggles flirtatiously and grabs my collar, pulling me upstairs. We lock the door behind us and she pushes me onto the bed. It’s all blurry…I’ve had so much to drink. But I can still feel all the sensations. I can feel a tongue in my mouth as hands on my chest pull apart my shirt. I can hear a faint, “What the hell is this, Maverick?” A ripping sensation on my back along with a playful laugh…For the moment, the only thing I want is this woman’s body…

~

The sun shined directly into my eyes as I woke up. “Oh fuck…I didn’t mean to stay the night. I looked at the naked girl next to me, covering her up with the blanket as I stood up and pulled some pants on. 

“Wild night…I got the experience I wanted.” I walked into the bathroom and locked the door, speaking quietly so the girl wouldn’t be able to hear me. “You know Maverick, this body was nice and the night was fun, but…I miss my old life. This just isn’t for me. I can’t wait to take you off…” I reached behind me to feel for the zipper, but there was nothing. Wait…no. NO…THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING. I had too much to drink…I didn’t notice…it can’t be…? 

I walked back to the bed, where I saw the girl start  to wake up. I looked around, and spotted the zipper on the ground. “W-What the fuck? NO! I didn’t want to do this to Maverick! I don’t want this! Wh-what…no, it’s still just a suit!” I started tear out my hair, pull at my lips, trying to stretch Maverick’s finger’s off, looking for some sign that…that I was still wearing a suit, that I wasn’t Maverick, that I didn’t just permanently take my roommate’s skin…

The girl had woken up to my frantic scrambling. 

“Maverick? What are you doing? Your scaring me!” 

“What the hell did you do? Tell me you didn’t take that zipper off of me, please!” 

“W-what? That thing? I-I don’t know! It was like a sticker on you. It was part of your costume, right?” She attempted to make a light-hearted joke. “Don’t worry babe, it was past midnight. Halloween was over.” I was in complete shock, when she enticingly walked up to me and teased me with her tongue out, tracing my abs. “You shouldn’t wear costume to cover up this sexy body of yours.” 

“I…I don’t think I have a choice.”