Changing Rooms

I'm one of those who really cannot remain serious in front of the camera. I know that I do not look, well... that impressive. You know such things. And despite I like baseball hats, I like jewellery and, especially, I like to take pictures of me, I always remain somewhat disappointed by the final result. Nothing quite fits the way it does on others. Caps look stupid on me. And when I try to look natural, I look even more artificial. I just don't have it. I know I don't have it. So I don't smile. I don't try to look cool. I just make faces and forget the second after.

My younger brother phoned to say it was on its way. It was peculiar we spoke so often but since the past two months - since the funeral of his mother - we had grown closer. It started from him. He asked me if we could hang out a bit on a Saturday and then we ended up spending the whole day together. It was actually nice. My brother does not have that many friends. He's pretty much always at the gym. He's very scrupulous at following his schedule. He does not drink. He hardly goes out. He has no girlfriend. He says it's because he has acne, but I don't think so. I think it's because of the amount of time he spends at the gym. Gym can be isolating places.

On that Saturday we started doing things like friends more than brothers. We went to the mall and bought stuff. As I said, it was nice, that time and the few other times after that. I expected  that today would be no different.

We were in Topshop. Around us lots of boys trying on clothes and looking at themselves in the mirrors. A couple of kids next to us kept on swapping clothes, pulling their tank tops and shorts from each other. It was sexy. They were fit, young and careless of everyone else. It was just the two of the and I got turned on by watching them. I kept on looking at them every now and then.

I picked a military green jacket and pulled the curtain of the changing room. I saw myself in the mirror and asked my bro to come in to see the fit.

'Yeah, not bad.' he said. 'Try it on' I said. He seemed hesitant and then he said 'sure, why not?' He tried it on and of course it looked so much better on him than me. 'Yet not with that black henley. You need something cooler.' and I gave him my striped tank top. It was weird, me trying to repeat what the younger kids were doing close to us. My brother looked at me for a second puzzled, but he had seen the kids too so he took off his top showing his bulky chest covered in tattoos. Wow! I never quite realised how shredded my bro was.
He put on my tank top and I put his henley on. It had short sleeve and it definitely didn't fit my frame. And I had a bit of a pouch. I then gave him my hat and he gave me his beanie. We switched everything, watches, jeans, socks, shoes and we were having a blast of a time. He even gave me his chains and bracelets and laughed when he saw me putting them on. I looked so weird and yet I loved the feeling of wearing somebody else's clothes.

But it is then, in the frenzy of the moment, in the joy of putting on clothes that belonged to somebody else that I felt my body started changing. I felt I got shorter and lighter. I felt my chest getting hotter and raising, like a bun in the oven. I looked at my brother. When he turned to me to see how his jeans fit I saw stubble on his face. His acne was gone. His eyebrows had grown thicker, his nose longer, his eyes opaque and sadder.
We both turned to the mirror and discovered that we had switched bodies.
I was him. I had turned into my younger, fitter brother.
'How's the fit?' asked the sales assistant from the outside. 'It's OK,' I replied quickly and pulled the curtain open. Now it was public. We had switched bodies and no one could have known. Two guys had entered the changing room and had emerged the same way. The sales assistant asked my brother 'how's the jacket?' He was under shock. It took him a good three seconds to reply. 'It's OK. I'm taking it.' The sales assistant brightened up and took it to the cashier. My brother reached for my wallet in the back pocket of the jeans he was wearing as if he had always knew where it was. 'Are you sure you want to buy it?' I asked. 'Yes, Jim. I'm sure.'

Jim. That was my brother's name. Why did he call me that way in front of those people? No one could know our names. Was he trying to tell me that he was fine with the transformation? It almost seemed that by saying them out loud he aproved of the transformation.
Behind us, in the line, were the two fit kids in their original clothes. Or had they swapped too and I could not know? Perhaps I looked at them a bit too intently as one of them stared back and winked at me. I half smiled and then looked back at my body. My chest was bulging. I touched them: they were full and ripped. I touched my abs. The same. My penis started to grow inside my pants. The kid noticed and looked amused. I winked back.

After paying my brother and I hardly spoke. 'I'll see you later Jim. I need to think. I'll give you a call later.' That was weird, very weird actually. But quite frankly that was what I wanted. I wanted to stay alone with my new body. I run to the bathroom of the mall and locked myself in the toilet. I took off my beanie, pulled my top and marvelled at what I saw.

I was a fucking model. I had never realized my brother was so smoking hot.
Ok, I had some zits here and there, but they'd go in time, I thought. I was just 18 after all. I could not believe myself. I liked everything about it. The way the clothes fit, my trimmed hair on the sides, my chains, my lips. I felt a phone in the pocket and snapped a picture. Then I turned and jerked off. My penis was large, much larger than the one I used to have. It was actually not large, it was thick. It was difficult to keep in just one hand. I felt amazing. After coming I put my hand on my face and felt my chin, my cheeks, my lips, my teeth. I was touching my face for the very first time. I came again. And again. It was like a never-ending rush, a constant stream of energy, which came from touching various parts of my body, of my new amazing body.
I zipped my jeans and left the bathroom. My head was spinning. I saw a health shop, went inside and bought a massive jar of protein powder. There was no way I would let this hot body go away.
Then I went shopping. I needed new clothes. Something that I always wanted to wear.

I bought a new tank top and skinny jeans and a hat. And while doing that I checked out guys, who checked me back in return. I felt awesome and I could not wait to make out with anyone. I went out, in the street and aimed aimlessly, just feeling good, just adapting to my new life as Jim.

A&F - Part 1

I'm proud of Adam. He worked out for six months, he didn't touch a drop of beer and got in. It's not the easiest thing in the world to become a model at Abercrombie&Fitch, but he did it and that was why went out to celebrate.

I got him a bottle of Moet. 'Finally, you can drink alcohol again.' We toasted.
'C'mon bro, there's no reason to unbutton your shirt' I mocked him 'you'll now have to show your chest all the time.' He laughed while finishing his glass. 'It's funny you say that, but you know what? I can't button this shirt anymore.' 'What?' Yeah. I grew so much in the last few months that my shirts do not fit me anymore. I suppose it's good I'm in retailing now.' I smiled, but while I was swallowing the last drop of champagne I peered at this chest through the stem and foot of the glass. It was big. It was enormous. He did work hard, I could see that. And I was not the only one noticing. The girls in the room were turning their heads and, in my grey sweater, I started feeling like a grandpa. 'Do you want another one?' I asked him. 'No, thanks. I should really get going. Tomorrow's my first day and I shouldn't compromise my work with more wine.' We left. More heads turned.

That night, while I was masturbating in the bathroom in my pj, I thought of Adam. I thought how it would be to turn into him. I often think of body swaps when I'm jerking off or when I'm having sex. There's nothing else that is more successful at turning me on. Perhaps it's just insecurity. I don't put too much thinking in it, but it just works like magic. Over the years I have even trained my head so that my fantasies have become more and more convincing. I can add quite a bit of detail and I have perfected my favorite scenarios. That one was a simple one. I was just imagining of being where I was, in the bathroom, and slowly turning into him. I pictured my chest growing, my viewpoint raising, my hair getting shorter. I imagined my voice growing deeper, full of testosterone. I fancied getting rid of all my boring clothes and wear a pair of A&F slippers and one of those checkered shirts. They're quite tacky actually, but as Adam I would not mind tackiness. I would be so thankful for the transformation that I would embrace the whole aesthetics in full. I swore that I would have been as dull as required. I just wanted his body.

I came. A streamer of sperm popped through my penis and fluttered in the air. For a moment I was in ecstasy. All my muscles were contracted. I still felt like Adam and my right hand left my penis to touch my chest, which I still thought bulging. I love that weird sensation after you come when you're suspended between fantasy and reality. The thing is that my pecs were bulging. I opened my eyes and I was Adam. Holy crap! It did happen! Holy fucking crap! I could not believe it. I had a six pack, I had those juicy arms and those round, ripped shoulders. I truly could not believe it.

I took my phone. I was about to call him. But then I thought why should I? Instead, I took a photo. Actually, I took hundreds of photos. I went to bed at 5 that morning after jerking off five, six times and posting countless pictures of me on the internet in new profiles that I set up every ten minutes.

The morning, after merely three hours of sleep, I felt like shit. I woke up with those huge puffy eyes and put on the first t-shirt I could find and which nicely squeezed my muscular body. Even if tired, I was still pretty pleased with my new body.

But I had to go. I ran to the store on Madison Avenue and got a full training and my uniform. 'We'll deduct it from your salary,' told me this handsome guy with a half smile. A red checkered shirt, a pair of denim and those slippers that I found so tacky. Exactly what I wanted. I slipped into those and felt invincible, like a member of a party of untouchables. After a couple of hours I was at the entrance, taking pictures with little girls. They were all so excited to touch one of the untouchables and I loved their flattery. I even squeezed them next to me, squeezing my chest to make them feel what a real man feels like.

I blinked, I grinned. I was flirtatious. I flirted with everyone, mothers and daughters, boys and girls, and I was good at it. I got winked back. I got smiled back. A gorgeous black man turned his head to check me out. Good. It felt good. I chatted with another guy so sexy that  I would have licked his dick right there in front of everyone. The thought of it was so overwhelming that when I went to the bathroom I jerked off in seconds. I had to release all the horniness I was accumulating on that dreamy day by seeing those fit bodies, those dazzling white smiles, those checkered shirts, all identical. I cum a second time and for the first time I was thinking about the body I was in. I was thinking to be Adam. Were my fantasies finally matching the reality? Did I overcome my own insecurity?
I started wondering, but what I should have really wondered about was the power of my imagination, because the real Adam was waiting for me in front of the bathroom. [to be continued...]

Buff

The awesome thing about being buff is the boost you give to your self-confidence. With those pecs and biceps and abs you don't care about anything anymore. It feels normal to go outside shirtless, it's OK to flirt with the bartender. You feel invincible, that you can do anything and you no longer care about other people's judgment. That's at least what I felt since I got this body.

I got three days ago and there's no way I'm going to give it back. I'm sorry for my bro Ryan, but he has to deal with it. Shit just happens sometimes. He didn't end up in a terrible body after all. I was fine with my body. I got quite a few guys and, to say the truth, my boyfriends were better looking than Ryan's. But that's probably because Ryan never needed boyfriend and I'm certainly not going to stop sleeping around.

Anyways, it all started three days ago, I was saying. Ryan and I went out with our friend Stacy, who had just been fired. It sucks, I know. We were having drinks and we were fooling around. W

We commented on a couple of funny youtube videos in the darkness of the bar and did all we could to cheer her up. We danced a little. We made fool of ourselves. Ryan got a superlong straw just to make her laugh. We asked her countless questions. It only half worked. 'I'm going home, guys. Thanks for the drinks and for your awesome support.' We begged to stay a little longer. It was only 9pm after all. There was nothing to do. And that's at that point that Ryan said. Wait: we need you to take a picture of us. It's for this face-swap app which I've just downloaded and it's totally cool. She nodded and took a snapshop of us.

Ryan then opened the app and showed how he could flip our faces and move his on my body and viceversa. The result was more pathetic than funny.

'Thanks for trying Ryan, but I'm OK. Rally.' She kissed him on the cheek and left the bar. He was stirring nervously his drink with the straw. I looked at him.
'What's this button?' I asked while pointing to this flashy red on the display of his phone. It said 'transform'. 'I've no idea,' he said intrigued and he clicked. Soon I felt an unbearable pressure on my face, as if I were parachuting or diving, which lasted just a moment. I turned around, no one seemed to have noticed a thing. We life in the bar went smoothly, as just a minute before. I turned my face and I got slapped.
'What the hell!'
While opening my eyes I got confused. In front of me there was my body, in my blue V-neck, with my drink. I looked at my hands. I was holding this drink with this ridiculously long straw. And I had these bulging pecs. I raised my head. We had switched bodies. Oh geez.
We went to the bathroom and talked animately for a while. I couldn't stop looking at myself in the mirror. Holy shit. I had the best body I had ever seen. 'Ryan, can you stop flexing? It's really not cool. I'm talking.' 'I'm sorry bro,' I said 'but it feels good. It feels SO good.' I was smiling in a way that must have looked rude. 'It's not funny. We need to find a way out of this.'
We used the app again, but searched for solutions online. Nothing.
While he was looking at websites, I lifted my eyes and met those of this handsome guy who started at me intently. I rubbed my hand over my chest and he did the same over his crotch. Gosh, it was sexy.
'Can you stop doing that? We need to find a solution.' 'Oh sure. Sorry.'
After two hours we still had not found anything. We went home together. As I was going to uni, it was not that I had to wake up early or anything and I could have spent the night at Ryan's. Oh well, that was now my place actually.

After half an hour, he knocked at the bathroom door. 'Ryan, what the hell are you doing?'
What do you think I was doing? I was doing what every other guy would have done in my shoes: I kept contemplating myself at the mirror and jerking off. 'One moment. I said.'

'What are you doing?' 'Nothing' I said. 'Where you masturbating.' 'No!' 'Oh my god. Yes, you did!' 'No. I didn't' What the hell! He became hysterical. He wanted to see my penis as he was sure that I had jerked off. He went on for 10 minutes, after which I agreed to take off my pants.
'I knew that!' he cried with a victorious smile. 'I knew that!' he repeated to my face, which I took and lowered. 'It's OK, babe, I said. You won.' and, while keeping lowering his head: 'Now, suck.'
at first he hesitated but then he did. He started sucking and sucking.
Oh my. It felt good. I kept pushing his head against my crotch. I wanted to reach the back of his mouth with my cock. I wanted to hit the back wall of his larying with my penis, I wanted to wreck his vocal chords. I wanted him to stop talking. I started pushing his head harder and faster.
'Wait Ryan! Not so fast. I'm suffocating.' I didn't care. Lord, it felt good. 'Wai--- Ry---wha----ck'
I came in his throat, splashing his mouth and teeth. Wow. It felt good.
I released my grip. He stood up. 'What the hell Ryan, did you want to kill me?' He started yelling and went on for a good ten minutes, after which someone knocked at the door.
'Fuck'. It was the neighbour. 'I'm sorry. I'm trying to sleep, Ryan. Could you please stop doing whatever you're doing?' 'Oh. I'm terribly sorry. I didn't noticed the time, but do not worry my friend is leaving.' 'What?' I grabbed his stuff and put him at the door. After three minutes I locked the door behind me. He kept on knocking, complaining. I just put my headphones on and started listening to music. After fifteen minutes he was gone. I sat at my computer and started looking if there was someone only ready for a hookup.