LIKE MY BROTHER

 "What the hell did you do to me?" I asked, staring into the mirror at some skinny dude dressed up like he was going to some kind of reenactment shit.

"I gave you what you wished for," the genie said, crossing his arms and about to zap out.

"Wait, this is not . . . I wished that I was a Marine like my brother. This is not that."

"No, no . . . you said you wished you were a Marine and now you are. You're just a Marine in 1776, and a quite handsome one at that. Corporal William Daughtry is very popular with his commanding officer."

"What does that mean?"

"Why don't you look over at that handsome soldier across camp. The one with the piercing eyes and muscular everything." The genie nodded across the camp, tents lining muddy ravines as other guys like me, I guess,  were congregating. Then I saw the chap the genie was speaking of. He was dashing.

"Why, he looks most dapper," I said, catching myself as my accent shifted into something not quite American. "What? I'm British? I'm not even American? What have you done, and..." My eyes wandered over the soldier in his flawless uniform, and I swallowed hard as he looked at me with a hungry smile and reached for his crotch, rubbing it as he licked his lips. I was immediately hard. "Well, shite. I'm a fancy, aren't I?"

"You are quite fancy," the genie smiled. "Glad I could make all your wishes come true. I'll come back and check on you in a few weeks or months. Who knows? Enjoy!" He winked before disappearing in a cloud of green smoke as the soldier from across the way approached.

"Good day, Corporal Daughtry," he said, smiling as I got even harder. Fuck, I wanted his beautiful British cock inside me so bad.

"Doing quite well, Sir. Is there anything I can do for you today, Sir?" I reached for my own crotch and winked at him.

"I do have some maps that need attendance in my tent."

"Is that an order, Sir?" I asked, my accent almost feeling natural to me now.

"It is."

"Of course, Sir. Quite happy to oblige, as always." I followed my commanding officer to his tent and five minutes later, I was bent over his desk taking him deep, following orders like the proper Marine I was.

AMERICAN CHARLIE

I have a British friend, Charles, who allows me to use him as a skin suit every now and then. He loves the way it feels, and I love wearing him. I’m more of a bear type guy, but he’s not, so he’s always skintight when I pull him on, but I never let my body really FILL his up. I’ve never allowed my muscle and bear fat to affect the way I look when I’m Charles, but I always wonder what it would be like . . . if the two of us were to actually merge. 

In fact, I'm in the mood to be Charles right now. I go and find him. It doesn’t matter where he is. I can be at his side in a matter of seconds. 

He’s at home, getting ready for work, wearing one of his lovely suits. He sees me in the mirror and I see a faint smile ease over his face. He knows what’s coming, and he loves it just as much as I do. I give him a wink before tapping him on the back. He instantly empties into a suit, falling to the floor. 

I slide him on, my legs pushing into his. My cock sliding into his. Everything's so tight, my larger body and muscles straining to fill him up. My bear stomach stretches his out, and I let it, my muscular bear arms filling his up. Finally, I slide his face over mine, and look into the mirror to see him staring back at me, but he’s a bit bigger than he was before. 

My muscular bear bod forces his to be the same. The thickness looks good on him . . . or me. I lick my lips, staring at this new version of Charles. This bear version with thick muscle and soft, pink, sensitive nipples. I round my fingers over them, the sensation pulsing through me like lightning.

Yeah, it’s still him, but a different, merged version. Then I get an idea.

“Shall we play a bit more?” I ask, his accent holding strong as I smile into the mirror. The rush of Charles’ excitement pulses through me. He’s a skin suit, but he’s still here. I can feel him, and he loves every moment of this.  

“Okay,” I smile, his accent suddenly fading. “I feel like Charlie here is more American than you.” I smile, running my fingers over my lip, a thick mustache appearing as my new accent teases a more southern flair. “Yeah, Charlie here’s a good Texas man. Works on a ranch, sweating in the hot sun all day.” I reach down with Charlie’s new, meaty hands and rub my thicker cock. It’s twice the size with me filling it up. I close my eyes for a moment, reality shifting around me before I open them again to find myself looking in an older, rustic mirror. It’s hanging on a wood paneled barn wall. 

I can’t help but smile, adjusting the western hat perched on my head, my muscular bear frame struggling against the tight denim shirt. I still see pieces of Charles staring back at me. Same eyes. Same furrowed brow, but this American version is the best of both of us. I smile at my reflection, knowing that Charles is still there with me, deep inside. 

“So, what do you think, bud? Charlie’s got a lot of work to do.” I smile, tossing him another wink, and I feel Charles’ excitement wash through me. “Yeah, we might have to stay here for a while, see what kind of trouble we can get into.” 

I adjust my hard cock in my tight Levi’s and brush my hands over my mustache before straightening my hat. “Let’s get ‘er done.”

BULLLIED TO BULLY

From TRAVIS THE DEMON, a blog I loved and miss quite a lot. Please message me, Travis!

CHAV

From TRAVIS THE DEMON, a blog I loved and miss quite a lot. Please message me, Travis!

COSTUME SHOP - MR. CARSON

BEING WILLIAM

You’ve always desired to have the ability to CHANGE, to become someone other than who you are. We’ve all fantasized about it. We’ve all wondered what it would feel like to live in another man’s skin, to feel another man’s clothes on a foreign body, to hear a stranger’s voice leave your mouth. And, especially, to see a new reflection in the mirror and wonder WHO he is and what it would feel like to walk in his shoes … to live his life.  But today, this desire will come true. It already has.

You find yourself standing in a strange place. It looks to be some kind of men’s store, suits lining the racks around you as you look down at your body. It’s very different than the one you’re used to. You find a perfectly tailored suit. You’re tall, fit. You look at your hands. Strong, well-manicured. You’re not quite sure who or where you are, but soon find a mirror on a nearby wall and see your reflection for the first time.

It’s unlike anything else to see yourself for the first time … in this new body. You’re in your early thirties with a perfect haircut and ice blue eyes. You’re quite handsome and can’t help but move your hands to your unfamiliar face … to prove to yourself that this IS you now. You’re dashing. That’s the word that comes to mind as you rub your shortly trimmed beard, your full lips smirking as you wonder what you look like OUT of these clothes.