This Is Going To Be The Fifth Time We Do It.

"Damn, nice abs boy." I stated, admiring my new reflection in the car window.

I flexed my new muscles and admired my youthful face. I looked pretty damn sexy now. I took a selfie, making sure to keep the sunglasses over my eyes so no one would notice their new color.

"Hey Christian! What are you doing man?" One of his friends called me over, trying to get my attention.

"Uh, nothing man. I'll catch up in a minute." I called over, seeming to put him at ease as he turned around. "Just gotta admire the goods first. Hope you don't mind me wearing you around boy."

I put the tank top back over my torso and smirked one last time in the reflection. Time for a little fun being in my 20s again.

ALL MY COP STORIES

Wow, I just realized I have 3 stories about cops being replaced. I updated them with corrections.

GOOD COP, BAD COP was my first:

PERFECT COVER

SWAT SWAP - my latest.

What the hell? One minute I’m sitting at my office desk regretting my life, wishing for more excitement, wondering how the years past me by so fast. Next thing I know my vision is obscured by a helmet and I’m sitting on a motorcycle. How’s this happen? Not that I’m complaining. My body hasn’t felt this good in well over 25 years. Those two decades of doing nothing other than hunched over a computer typing my life away, really adds up on a persons body. But I didn’t feel the back pain or the constant fatigue I’d grown accustomed to. No, instead I felt energetic, strong, youthful vigor rushing through me. My mind completely consumed by the feeling of the leather on my bare skin. Wait, bare skin, was this dude going commando in his gear? A quick unzipping confirmed that he was only wearing a chain between the leather and my new Adonis body. The cool air on my torso sent waves of arouse up my body. I’m not sure how this happened but somehow my prayers were answered, and I’m not complaining. I wonder if this guy was somewhere trapped in my 47 year old flabby body typing away in a sad florescent lit office cubicle. On cue his phone began to start running. An unknown number. My number. That answers my question. But honestly I couldn’t care less. And by the feeling of my growing member straining against its leather confines, I have more important matters to attend to.

WHAT ONE DOES FOR LOVE

Jordan had been working as a model for several years. It started as something casual but soon his beautiful Latin body became famous and brands raffed it off. He quickly gained fame and fortune, and it may have gone to his head a little. After years of care and training he had gone from the sweet boy he once was to a fucking hot play boy.

However, Jordan was no fool. He knew perfectly well what was happening and at that moment he didn't care. But now years later he had realized that he lost many things along the way.

He moved away from his family, and his childhood friends, and as for love, well, since his body and attitude were so superficial, the girls he hung out with were too. They were with him for his body and his money. But as the years went by and Jordan was looking for something deeper than just sex, which was not difficult to get because he was very well "hung."

Jordan realized that he had become so abstracted from the real world that he had lost his ability to relate to the world outside of the show. That wasn't a problem until he met her. It was unintentionally, a simple act of fate, but in one of his photo sessions, Jordan had bumped into her, who worked in the photography studio, in the image editing studio. It was a resounding crush of love.

She was about his age, but she didn't look like any girl he'd ever been with. She was dressed very neatly but you couldn't say that she was a sexy woman, by usual standards. But for Jordan she was a world.

Months passed and although Jordan tried to get to her on several occasions he was always rejected. Last time she had told him that she could never be with someone with so much money and so little brain.

Jordan wasn't stupid, he never was. It's just that he had spent so much time in fame that he no longer knew how to act in any other way, in a more humble way. However Jordan found a solution to that. Ed.

Ed was one of his "admirers", not to mention stalker. Jordan knew he wasn't dangerous, but sometimes it was annoying to have someone like that chasing him around like a paparachi. However from what he could see, Ed had no problem interacting with people. He was friendly and respectful, just as you would expect from someone who didn't have an image like Jordan's. Ed almost fainted when Jordan knocked on his door one night.

After trying to calm him down, Jordan offered Ed an impossible deal. Jordan needed Ed to posses him. That is, he needed Ed to take care of Jordan's body.

Ed couldn't believe what he was hearing. His sexual fantasy was in his house, telling him that he would give him his body.

It took Jordan a while to explain the situation to Ed. He wasn't going to give him his body, he was going to share it. So Jordan, or rather, Ed, could gradually establish a relationship with her crush, and Ed could live the life of his dreams. Ed accepted without hesitation.

The process, far from being "magical", was painful, especially for Jordan. The body tends to reject an invading soul, and not resisting is very complicated. But in the end Es was in, and with Jordan too tired it allowed him to explore that new body well.

The next morning Jordan let his new "partner" drive. Ed tried various poses and juice in the shower only to head to his new closet. He was very clear that he wanted leather. It was his great fetish, and with that body it would look incredible. After a dance and some sexy tight pants, "Jordan" was ready to conquer the heart of his beloved, and maybe his body too.

Fatso's Ghostly Escapade!

It has been a while since Fatso the big blue ghost has enjoyed himself with a delicious hunky fleshie to inhabit, and he has been itching to get back out there and have the time of his afterlife.

Usually, Fatso possesses a fleshie alongside his two brothers, Stinky and Stretch, however, this time Fatso went on his own outing so he could have some more privacy in whatever activities he had planned.

Fatso decided to fly out to the busy street of Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles, a place that is packed with fleshies all eager to see the sights of the city of angels and stars.

Fatso flies over the herds of fleshies invisible to not cause a scene, the big guy is looking for a certain kind of fleshie, a fleshie who is beefy, hunky, and would make any man stare.”Let’s see what I get today. This time I do NOT want the fat guy!” Fatso intends to take over the sexiest fleshie he can find so that he can become the talk of the town.

Fatso keeps on his search when he sees something that almost makes him reveal himself out of excitement, Fatso sees his next victim. The man is tall, dark, and handsome with bulging muscles and a face that can get anything he wants.

Fatso’s eyes pop out of his head as he ogles the fleshie up and down.”Ooh! Look what we have here… the man of my dreams! Hubba Hubba!” The man walks across the street wearing all gray and black with a leather jacket as he seems to be in a rush. The fleshie jumps into a cab as Fatso decides to join in on the ride.

Fatso sits next to his soon-to-be body in the backseat of the car as his fleshie gets comfortable and opens up his phone. Fatso thinks to himself, “Now why were you in a rush, you sexy slab of meat…”

Fatso peaks at the man’s phone as he opens up an app that is quite familiar with Fatso, the yellow app known as Grindr. Fatso scoffs, “Hahaha now THIS is what I am talking about! Fleshie you are PERFECT! I cannot wait to get my hands on you big guy!” Fatso is getting hornier and hornier as he thinks about squeezing inside this hunk of a man.

Fatso wants to see what his fleshie has in mind as he sees the fleshie messaging someone. The messages read; “Hey r u on ur way Brandon?” “Yup just got in the cab, can't wait till you see you” “Can't wait I'm waiting in bed”.

Fatso sees these messages, “Ohh I see fleshie… ‘Brandon’ is on his way to a hookup, well I hope there is room for a THIRD! Bahahaha” Fatso laughs to himself as the car shakes slightly from his large vibrating form.

Brandon gets to his destination as Fatso trails him, Brandon enters the apartment complex and gets rings to get inside. As Brandon walks in he seems to have to use the restroom so he runs over to the bathroom to relieve himself before he makes his way to his hookup’s room. “It's time to get this show on the road fleshie! Haha!” Fatso knows it's time to take over his fleshie as he prepares to take possession of Brandon. 

Brandon gets into the bathroom and quickly takes a piss as he lets out a sigh and zips up, before he leaves the bathroom he makes sure he looks in the mirror. Brandon is checking himself out when he hears some noises coming from a closed stall. “What was that?” Brandon questions as he turns his head to a stall he knows was left open when he first walked in. The stall looks like it's shaking and rumbling causing Brandon to want to take a closer look. “Is someone there?” Brandon walks up to the stall and opens the door to see no one. “What the heck is going on?” All Brandon sees is an empty stall as he notices the toilet is vibrating, Brandon steps forward until he is standing above the toilet looking down into the bowl.

“Hey fleshie… turn around…”

Brandon whips his head up and quickly turns around with a confused look on his face as he sees a large pudgy ghost with piercing orange eyes looking directly at him almost completely blocking the stall door.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! What are you?!” Brandon shrieks

Fatso laughs and grins, “The name’s Fatso, and you caught my eye you sexy fleshie!” Brandon tries to run out of the stall but Fatso bounces Brandon back like a giant balloon which causes Brandon to stumble onto the toilet behind him.

“Oh Fleshie, why leave so soon, it's only the beginning of our fun escapade together, or should I say… MY fun escapade INSIDE you!” Fatso starts to move closer to Brandon.

Brandon looks up at Fatso while he scoots back as much as he can, “What do you want from me?! This can't be happening!” Brandon looks terrified as Fatso gets up close and personal with him, rubbing his ghostly belly against his knees as the chubby ghost gets eye-level with his prey. Fatso looks Brandon in the eyes, “Hehe Possession is 9/10s the law and you are ALL MINE!” Fatso charges back as Brandon goes wide-eyed. “NOW OPEN UP FOR FATSO!” Fatso flings forward towards Brandon as Fatso slams into Brandon’s crotch looking for his way in.

Brandon tries to get up but the immense force of Fatso keeps Brandon stuck on the toilet seat. Fatso phases through Brandon’s jeans and finds Brandon’s flaccid rod, “Ooooh! Why hello there big guy! Hehe, don't mind if I do!” Fatso begins to press against Brandon’s rod as his head slurps in. Brandon moans and chills from the sudden cold and rubbery feeling of Fatso entering into him. Brandon immediately freaks out and pulls down his pants to see Fatso slurping inside him, “AHHH GET OUT!” Fatso continues to laugh as he slowly sinks into Brandon’s rod which causes Brandon to go hard and feels Fatso enter into his stomach. 

Brandon watches in horror as Fatso’s bulbous stomach slams into him, Brandon begins to push against against Fatso with his hands, “Get off of me!” Fatso starts to come back out of Brandon as Fatso groans slowly, “Awww come on Fleshie, let me in, I promise I will take great care of you!”

Fatso pops out of Brandon’s crotch as Fatso has a scolding look on his face, “You think are can keep me out fleshie, I’ll show you what it means to be taken over!” Brandon quickly gets up and makes a run out of the bathroom as Fatso flies forward and bodyslams into Brandon’s back causing Brandon to hit his head against the door and fall backward on his back. Brandon is in a daze as he opens his eyes and sees Fatso above him.

Fatso grins, “Thanks for making this easier for me fleshie, now open wide 'cause I’M COMING THROUGH!!!” Fatso dives down into Brandon’s mouth and he slams all his ghostly weight onto Brandon as his head and arms immediately go down into Brandon’s throat, “Now this is what I am TALKING ABOUT! Hahaha!”

Brandon cannot speak a word as he feels Fatso wiggle down his throat and feels Fatso begin to once again fill up his stomach. Fatso continues to flow into Brandon as his belly wiggles and squeezes slowly getting more and more of his ectoplasm down into his victim’s muscular body.

“GET READY FOR FATSO! BAHAHAHA!” Fatso laughs as Brandon groans in discomfort as he feels more and more of Fatso squeeze and rub against his insides. Fatso continues to squeeze and wiggle for a while until what is left is Fatso’s tail, “There we GO!” Fatso’s tail slurps into Brandon’s mouth and wiggles down his through with a popping sound.

Brandon’s eyes go wide as he immediately gets up off the floor now feeling extremely heavy and full since he is now carrying all of Fatso inside him. Brandon groans, “Ughhh I feel weird, please get out…” Fatso giggles in response, “Sorry fleshie but I am already getting VERY comfortable in my new home! You won’t mind if I stay for a while right?”

Brandon wobbles as he stands up and feels Fatso wiggling and moving in his body, he suddenly hears Fatso moan as he feels a lurch in his stomach and his body begins to move on its own. “Time for Fatso to take the reigns fleshie!” Fatso blurts out as Brandon’s body flails around the bathroom while both Fatso and Brandon groan and moan.

Brandon flings to his left and hits his stomach against the sink, “HEYYY there's precious cargo in here!” Brandon continues to shake uncontrollably as he feels Fatso move and expand in his body, almost like he is being put on like a suit. Brandon feels Fatso’s head squeeze into his own as he sighs, “Please don’t do this…” Fatso exclaims, “Don’t worry fleshie, Fatso is going to take GREAT care of you! Now let me take the driver’s seat for a while.” Fatso moans and lurches over as Brandon is gone and fatso is in control now.

Fatso walks up to the mirror in his new body examining himself and his sexy muscles and chiseled face, “Wow… never been in a fleshie this sexy before! This is going to be an amazing night!” Fatso gets a notification from the phone in his pocket and it reads, “Hey man what is taking so long, I'm ready to be fucked!” Fatso gets excited, “Ooh this is going to be fun!” Fatso walks out of the bathroom ready for his escapades.

(Un)touchable Fiancé

Read Part 1

Thank you for reaching the first 500. I hope you like the sequel you've been asking for.

"You're really okay with this?" Austin asked, his tone low. "With me being him?"

Eli nodded, slowly. His voice came quiet, tight. "I want you even more because of it."

Austin didn't react right away. He simply stood there, framed by the mirror. His body—broad, sculpted, veined—was frozen in a moment of self-worship. The gold chain resting against his collarbone caught the light, swinging gently with each breath.

Behind him, Eli sat on the bench—shirtless, flushed, and silent. His eyes didn't move. He watched like the moment might vanish if he blinked.

Austin flexed—just one arm, slow and deliberate. The muscle swelled beneath his skin, perfect and unhurried.

"You still breathing back there?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the mirror.

Eli swallowed. "Barely."

A smirk crept across Austin's face. Not playful—measured.

"Good," he said. "That's how it should be."

He ran a hand slowly over his chest, down across his abs, watching his own fingers trace the hard lines. "You know what's wild? I look like this, and somehow it's your sister who got the ring. Not you. But you're the one in here, watching me like I'm a god."

Eli didn't respond.

"God damn," he muttered, almost to himself. "I really do look better every day."

Austin stepped toward him.

"Look at me."

Eli obeyed.

Austin leaned in, close but not touching. "You'll come crawling back again. Because you don't want kindness. You want this. My voice in your ear. My hand on your throat. This body. This ego."

He licked Eli's forehead—not tenderly, but like sealing ownership.

Eli's voice came, small but thick with tension. "I saw you last night. Through the door. With her."

Austin grinned, teeth flashing in the mirror. He didn't look at Eli—he didn't have to. "Yeah? You watched the whole thing like a little perv? That door wasn't closed by accident."

Eli flinched, cheeks burning.

Austin finally turned, walking slowly toward him, towel loose around his waist, droplets sliding down the deep grooves of his abs. "Let me guess—you were stroking it while I railed some random girl from the club? You couldn't help yourself."

Eli tried to respond, but the words caught in his throat.

"She was so easy," Austin said, standing over him now. "Didn't even ask my name. Just spread for the body. And you? You're sitting here begging for scraps. Watching me like I'm some kind of prize. Pathetic."

Austin grabbed Eli by the arm and turned him around with casual force.

"Come on. Bend over."

Eli didn't resist.

Austin smirked.

Eli leaned forward, bracing himself against the cold bathroom counter, breath shallow, heart pounding. Austin stood tall, his presence imposing. "I'm still not gay," he muttered. "But you were made to worship me."

Austin's hands gripped Eli's waist with quiet control—assertive, firm. His confidence wasn't loud; it didn't need to be. Then Austin began to move his hips forward, again and again. His hand reached around Eli's neck and pulled him back.

His gaze didn't shift to Eli. It stayed fixed on the mirror—on himself. On the way his shoulders squared perfectly, the way control fit him like a second skin. His reflection was the only approval he needed.

Eli trembled—not in fear, but in awe. Pulled into the gravity of the man behind him.

"You look better like this," Austin said in a voice low enough to make Eli's spine tense. "Bent. Obedient."

Austin growled against his lips. "Don't moan too loud. The same girl is still asleep in the other room."

————

Austin's days had rhythm—an unapologetic, alpha routine that never missed a beat. If Owen had once hesitated to slip into the full rhythm of Austin's life, that hesitation was gone. Now, he didn't just wear the body. He lived it. Owned it.

Every morning started with sweat. A run at sunrise, letting the sun catch every hard line of his body as he pushed himself down the neighborhood sidewalks.

Once Austin entered the open garage door, chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths, his brown tank clinging to every ridge of his body. Sweat darkened the fabric in streaks down his chest, spine, and armpits—fresh proof of his morning run.

Eli stood silently at the edge of the room, eyes locked on him.

Austin didn't look at him at first. He peeled off his running watch, unbothered, then finally turned his gaze to Eli—sharp, annoyed, knowing.

"You got a job to do, Eli. Don't just stand there drooling." he commanded, voice cold and clipped.

Eli flinched at the command—but his breath caught in his throat at the same time. He nodded quickly and moved forward, eyes fixed on the soaked outline of Austin's torso.

"God, my scent," Austin muttered, pulling the hem up slowly. Eli's breath hitched again as each inch of sweat-slicked muscle revealed itself. The tank peeled off with resistance, clinging to Austin's back and armpits before he yanked it over his head.

He let it fall to the floor with a wet slap.

"Pick it up."

Eli obeyed immediately, fingers trembling as he lifted the still-warm shirt to his face. He pressed it against his nose, inhaling deeply, eyes fluttering shut. The salty, masculine scent hit him like a drug.

Austin watched him with open disdain. "God. You really are into this. You're not even trying to hide it anymore."

Eli couldn't speak—he was too overwhelmed. He just nodded again, clutching the soaked shirt like something sacred.

Austin raised one arm, slow and deliberate, revealing the soaked tuft beneath. The scent was stronger here.

"Go on," Austin said. "Since you want it so bad. Prove it."

Eli leaned forward, face trembling as he pressed into Austin's armpit, inhaling like it gave him life.

Austin sneered, barely hiding his smirk. "You're disgusting. And you love it."

Eli nodded again, eyes wide with reverence.

"Don't stop. Not until I say."

And so he did—worshipping the body, the scent...

————

Austin also worked as a fitness coach by late morning. Sessions took place in a sleek, private gym downtown—clients hung on his every word. Women flirted. Men tried to impress him. Austin teased, flirted back when it suited him, leaning fully into the role. He'd touch a client's waist to correct her form, let his voice drop when giving praise. And when he caught her checking out his arms or the sweat pooling at his chest, he never hid the smirk.

Afternoons were filled with errands, emails, and business calls—running the small online fitness brand Austin had built before Owen took over. Content planning, sponsorships, Instagram reels showing off his pump progress and morning ab checks. His DMs were a warzone of thirsty messages. He chose who to respond to with precision.

And then came evenings.

Austin often went out—but Eli didn't know where or with whom. What he did know was that in the mornings, random women sometimes emerged from the bedroom. Eli had long since accepted that Austin cheated on Iris regularly. Owen didn't hold back, using the body to its full, raw potential—sleeping with whomever he pleased.

Other nights, Austin played the part of the fiancé. Iris adored him. He remembered how she liked her wine, her favorite shows, when to compliment her dress. He kissed her on cue. Held her waist when her parents visited. Took couple selfies, posted with cocky captions. He even showed up for brunch with her friends—pretending he wasn't hungover from the night before.

Every version of Austin was a role Owen performed to perfection. The gym god. The charming coach. The flirty bad boy. The ideal boyfriend. The golden son-in-law.

And beneath it all, Owen smirked in the mirror.

Eli had become a regular fixture in Austin's house—not as a guest, but as something else entirely. He played the role Owen carved out for him: submissive, silent, always eager. He stayed in the guest room most nights, waiting for a single message from Austin to know when to be present, when to disappear, when to listen.

Austin never hid his disdain—his words were sharp, cold, often laced with casual homophobia. "You're lucky I let you breathe my air, creep." And Owen made sure those words came from Austin's lips with such authenticity it made Eli shiver.

And Eli loved it.

He loved serving under the illusion—the golden boy alpha who barely tolerated his existence. He loved the tension. The cruelty. The way Owen's intelligence laced every insult, making them cut deeper.

Sometimes, Austin would text him just one word: "Stay."

That meant Eli was to remain silent in the guest room while Austin brought home a girl from the bar. The moans would echo through the walls. The creak of the bed. The low grunts. The gasped praise—Eli heard it all.

And it tore him apart.

Not because of Iris. Not because of the girl.

Because it wasn't him.

He'd sit on the floor in the dark, fists clenched, head against the wall, drowning in envy. Wishing Austin would walk in and humiliate him all over again. Wishing he could be the one under Austin's grip. Pinned down. Owned.

Eli wasn't just obsessed.

He was addicted.

To the scent. The sound. The body.

To Austin.

To Owen.

Because now, the man everyone loved? That was him.

He didn't just become Austin.

He became something more.

————

There were days Austin played the role so well, Eli almost believed the lie himself. Whenever he showed up with Iris at the family house—clean-cut, confident, polite—he slipped into the real Austin's mask without effort.

He'd greet Eli's parents with a strong handshake, compliment the food, talk about crypto investments and gym progress. With Iris clinging to his side, Austin would chuckle at jokes, nod along to weekend plans, and throw a protective arm around her shoulders.

And to Eli? Nothing.

Sometimes a nod. Sometimes a curt "Hey."

The golden boy act was flawless.

Eli sat across the table, barely spoken to, barely acknowledged. Austin would look right through him during dinner. Smile at Iris. Toast with her dad. Pretend Eli wasn't even there.

Once, during a cookout, Iris was chatting with her mother in the kitchen, and Austin leaned against the doorframe, sipping from a beer bottle. Eli passed by, their eyes met.

"Don't get too worked up tonight," Austin said under his breath, his voice sharp and smug. "She's wearing lace for me."

He took another slow sip and walked away like nothing happened.

Another time, after a family board game night, Austin stood next to Eli in the hallway as everyone packed up. His voice was low, expression cool.

"You looked like you were going to cry when I kissed her goodnight. What's wrong? Jealous?"

And once, when they were all watching a movie together, Iris curled up under Austin's arm, Austin looked across the room to Eli, his expression unreadable.

Then he mouthed the words: "She moans louder than you."

Eli's stomach twisted with heat, shame, and longing. And when Austin returned to stroking Iris's hair like a perfect boyfriend, Eli could only sit in silence—haunted, aching, addicted.

Because no matter how well Austin performed the golden boy, those sharp moments of cruelty proved one thing: Owen knew exactly what Eli needed to hear to burn.

————

There were moments Eli couldn't tell where Austin ended and Owen began. He knew the real Austin had been cold, distant—never openly cruel, never dramatic. If he disliked someone, he did it through silence, through subtle power plays. The perfect image of masculine composure. He never needed to raise his voice to dominate.

But Owen… Owen gave Eli something different.

Something darker.

Living in Austin's body gave Owen permission to push the fantasy further, to explore what Eli secretly wanted: a golden boy with a monster lurking beneath. And so, when the two were alone, Austin transformed into something wild—unhinged, unapologetic.

He strutted shirtless through the house, sweat glistening from an afternoon run, cracking open a cold drink and letting it pour down his throat—down his chest, soaking into his shorts like he couldn't care less. He was a god with no grace. Loud. Cocky. Animalistic.

Eli watched, frozen with lust.

"Look at you," Austin barked. "Sitting there like a pathetic little fanboy. Waiting to lick up my sweat?"

Eli said nothing.

Austin leaned in, grabbing Eli's chin with just enough pressure. "You didn't know the real Austin. Just the curated one. But this is what you wanted." His eyes burned.

Eli nodded, breathless.

He flexed—slow, deliberate—then stepped closer, voice low. "The real Austin would've ignored you. Me? I watch you break."

And just like that, the cruelty turned primal. He grabbed the back of Eli's head and shoved him down, sweat dripping from his chest.

"You want the real thing?"

Eli didn't answer.

Austin smirked. "Then prove it."

And Eli did—because every sharp word, every grunt, every second of dominance… was devotion.

————

There were moments when Owen's exaggerated roleplay took over—loud, taunting, openly cruel. But there were others Eli craved more. The ones where he caught a glimpse of who the real Austin had likely been beneath the curated image. And it wasn't in private, but when Austin was surrounded by his best mates.

That was when Austin let the mask drop just enough.

He wasn't loud like them. He didn't boast. But he was the quiet leader—leaning back with his arms crossed, expression unreadable, letting the others bark and laugh around him. He chose when to speak. And when he did, they listened. That's when Eli saw it. The natural dominance. The way Austin didn't need to mock or posture.

But Nick? Nick was different.

Eli first met Nick at a boxing event. Austin had paid for Eli's ticket but told him to sit a row behind. "Don't make it weird," he'd texted.

Eli obeyed. And from there, he watched.

Nick was the kind of guy who didn't know how to tone it down. Built like a tank, forearms veined and bulging, his black shirt stretched tight across a chest that looked carved out of gym steel. His voice boomed over the crowd, even in the packed arena.

"Bro, that chick from Friday? Absolute smoke show. Tightest fuckin' body I've seen all month. Screamed my name like she was in church."

He laughed—loud, careless. Eli flinched at the sound, but also… couldn't look away.

Nick leaned over toward Austin, fist bumping him. "You get with that blonde again? The one with the fake lashes? Told you she wanted it."

Austin gave a small smirk and a slow nod.

Nick whistled. "Fucking savage. Bro, you live the dream. These girls are starving out here, man. I swear, give 'em a wink and they melt."

He leaned back, spreading out in his seat like the arena was built for him. Tugging at the collar of his shirt to reveal a bit more of his chest, Nick caught sight of a group of girls walking by and grinned.

"Watch this," he muttered to Austin with a wink, then stood up mid-row, swaggering down toward the girls with no hesitation, confidence practically dripping off of him. He said something loud—too loud—and one of the girls laughed, tossing her hair. Nick threw his arm around her shoulders like they'd known each other for years, spinning her toward her friends like a prize.

"Told ya I was gonna pull one," he called back over his shoulder to Austin, who simply smirked, watching the spectacle unfold with an amused shake of his head.

Nick whispered something into the girl's ear, then pointed toward Austin with a booming laugh. The girls looked over, giggling, before Nick made his way back up the steps.

"Bro's the silent killer," Nick said with a grin, clapping Austin on the shoulder. "All I gotta do is point, and they're wet."

Then—he smiled.

It wasn't the kind of smile that invited you in. It was the kind that promised trouble. A flash of white teeth, confidence, and danger wrapped in testosterone and ego. Eli caught it from two rows back—and felt his whole body lock up.

The smile was erotic, magnetic. But there was something vicious in it. It wasn't meant for him. Nick hadn't even registered Eli's presence. But just seeing it made Eli feel exposed.

That smile was a warning.

He was the embodiment of danger and dominance, the kind of guy Eli knew would destroy him with a glance. There was no softness. No filter. No shame.

Eli couldn't help it—his stomach fluttered with something he hated admitting. Arousal. Terror. Obsession.

And from a row ahead, Austin glanced back once—just once—and caught the look on Eli's face.

He smirked.

Because he knew exactly what Eli was feeling.

Just then, Nick leaned over again, clearly enjoying the spotlight he never stopped demanding. Whatever he said was low and crude, just for Austin's ears—and Austin's expression cracked. The cool exterior gave way to something looser, rougher, like a mask dropped in the presence of a real friend.

"You're such a piece of work, bro," Austin said, laughing under his breath. He bumped Nick's shoulder, eyes lighting up with something rare—genuine camaraderie. "But yeah, she was into it. Said I ruined her for anyone else."

Nick let out a bark of laughter, no filter, no care who heard. "Classic. You and your damn cheat codes, man. Bro, stop hogging all the tens. Leave a couple for the rest of us degenerates."

Austin rolled his eyes but smirked, lifting his drink in salute. "Earn it like I did, asshole."

The two of them shared a look, a loud laugh, and suddenly Austin wasn't the polished, controlled version Eli usually saw. He was in full bro mode—smirking, flexing slightly as he laughed, leaning into Nick like they'd ruled every locker room they ever walked into.

It was jarring—and hot.

Because Eli had never seen Austin like that. He looked unfiltered. Real. Like this version of him had always been waiting under the surface.

————

When it came to Austin's friends, Eli hadn’t expected someone like Adam.

He'd imagined someone like Nick—or worse. Another alpha clone who acted like women and protein shakes were all that mattered. But Adam? Adam was something else entirely. He looked like he belonged in their circle—tall, athletic, lean muscle in all the right places—but his energy was nothing like the others.

He was open. Friendly. Grounded.

"Hey," Adam said, holding out a hand when Austin made the lazy introduction. "Adam. You're Iris's brother, right? Cool to finally meet you."

Eli blinked, surprised by the genuine smile. "Yeah—Eli. Nice to meet you too."

Austin didn't bother to chime in, already sipping from a shaker bottle and looking at his phone.

"Iris told me you were around a lot," Adam added with a chuckle. "Guess that makes sense now."

Austin shrugged, not looking up. "She made me promise to hang with him today."

"I don't mind," Adam said quickly. "Actually, I was about to hit the gym, but I can reschedule—"

"No," Austin cut in, finally glancing up. "We'll go. Just us."

Adam glanced at Eli, clearly not wanting to exclude him. "Unless you want to come too? It's chill either way."

Eli nodded, heart hammering. "Sure. Sounds good."

————

Eli was used to following Austin to the gym. There, he could drool over Austin's body without restraint. Austin, of course, rarely acknowledged him. It was a game for both of them.

But Austin always made an effort to keep Eli out of sight—to avoid unwanted attention. No one was supposed to suspect that a guy like Eli was hanging around someone like Austin.

Not even when Austin's younger brother suddenly appeared on the scene.

It had been a few days ago. Eli had just returned to Austin's place after working a grueling night shift, all he could think about was crashing on the couch for a few hours. The hallway was quiet, the familiar scent of Austin's cologne still lingering from earlier.

But as he stepped into the kitchen, the low hum of a blender caught his attention.

Someone was already there.

A guy leaned against the marble countertop, sipping a thick protein shake from a clear bottle. Tall. Muscular. Blonde hair, shorter on the sides, styled with effortless confidence. He wore a deep blue tank top that made his frame look even more pronounced—the kind of build that made gym influencers jealous. His skin glowed under the kitchen lights, arms veined, neck glistening.

For a moment, Eli thought Austin had returned early. But the posture was too relaxed. The expression too open.

The stranger looked up from his phone and gave a slow, assessing once-over. "Yo. You Eli?"

Eli froze. "Uh... yeah."

The guy nodded, offered a hand. "Justin. Austin's brother. Guess I'm the surprise guest today."

He smiled. Not like Austin's smirks that always felt loaded—this one was disarmingly warm, and yet... just as commanding.

Eli took the handshake, his mind racing. Austin had never once mentioned having a brother. And now here he was, in the middle of their apartment like he belonged. Like he'd been here a hundred times before.

Justin tilted his head as he took another sip from his shake. "Don't worry, man. He probably didn't mention me ‘cause I've been outta state for a while. Work stuff. Startup gig in Seattle. I just moved back this week."

"Oh," Eli said, trying to compose himself. "Cool. That makes sense."

It didn't. Not really.

Because now that he saw him, he couldn't stop seeing the Austin in him. Same sharp jawline. Same cut-from-marble build. But different all the same. Where Austin was intense, cold, even cruel—Justin felt grounded. Open. Like a guy who wouldn't put you down just for breathing next to him. But that familiarity in his voice, the shape of his arms, the way he rested his weight against the counter like he owned it—that was Austin.

And then, a flash—Eli remembered. A photo from months ago on Austin's Instagram feed. He hadn't paid attention to the second guy back then. But now... the resemblance was unmistakable. Justin had always been there, just outside the spotlight.

Eli found himself locked in place, eyes tracing every shift in Justin's posture. He hated how quickly his heart had started pounding.

"He told me you were staying here," Justin said. "Said you were the brother of Iris, so you are like family. That true?"

Eli hesitated. "I guess you could say that."

Justin's expression shifted slightly. Less amused. More analytical.

"Huh," he muttered. "Didn't think he'd keep someone like you around. Not saying that to be rude. Just... surprising, considering it's Austin."

Eli tensed. "What does that mean?"

Justin shrugged, letting the moment hang. "You just don't seem like the kind of guy he lets get close. He always had his... type."

Before Eli could respond, Justin stood and stretched, tank riding up to reveal tight abs and the dip of his hips. Eli tried not to stare.

Justin leaned against the doorframe. "You seem alright though. Maybe he's changed. Or maybe you just caught him in a generous mood."

Just then, the door opened behind them. Heavy footsteps. Austin.

He walked in, scanning the scene with narrowed eyes. His jaw tightened ever so slightly.

"Didn't realize we were having a family reunion," Austin said, voice clipped.

Justin turned slightly on the couch, grinning. "I was in the neighborhood. Figured I'd say hi. Didn't believe you were keeping Iris' brother as a roommate."

Austin's eyes flicked to Eli. Not pleased. Not surprised either. Just annoyed.

"Well, now you know," he said. Then, to Eli, "Got something to do or you just standing there for fun?"

The tension hung like smoke.

Justin gave a low chuckle. "C'mon. Don't be like that."

Austin grabbed his keys and turned. "We're heading out."

"Where to?"

"Gym."

Justin adjusted his shirt. "You're not coming?" he asked Eli casually.

Austin cut in. "He wouldn't lift a bar if it had gold on it."

Justin laughed, short and sharp. "Damn. Brutal."

But Eli caught the flicker of something else in Justin's smile. Not just amusement. Something colder.

And then they were gone—two forces of nature moving out the door, leaving Eli standing in their wake.

————

But with Adam in the gym this place became something else entirely. Eli had been there countless times with Austin alone—but never like this. The two of them fell into rhythm instantly, spotting each other, trash-talking between sets.

"You're slipping, man," Adam said, racking his weights. "That last incline was sloppy."

"Bullshit," Austin replied with a smirk. "You're just jealous I've still got the better chest."

"You've got the better ego, maybe."

Eli hovered at the edge, pretending to be into his cardio, but his eyes kept drifting back. To Adam's shoulders. The way his chest swelled with each rep. The defined lines of his arms when he racked a barbell.

And that smile.

Friendly. Real. Like he didn't have anything to prove. Eli could see why Austin kept him around—it grounded the whole dynamic. Even if Austin was colder now, Owen still respected the bond.

"You sure you're good over there?" Adam called out at one point, looking toward Eli on the treadmill.

Eli nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm just doing cardio."

"No worries. Just let us know if you wanna jump in."

"He won't," Austin muttered to Adam. "He's more of a watcher."

Eli flushed but forced a laugh. Adam gave a brief glance—confused, maybe—but didn't press.

The rest of the session, Eli tried hard not to stare. He focused on keeping his form tight, wiping sweat often, hoping Adam wouldn't catch a glimpse of the way his eyes lingered.

But when Adam peeled off his sweatshirt halfway through the workout, revealing that sculpted torso, Eli's stomach twisted. Not with lust alone. But with guilt. Guilt that he craved something pure—and turned it into his black fantasy.

Adam caught his eye at the water fountain later, offering a kind smile.

"Hey, if you ever wanna tag along for a workout or just talk fitness, I’m around," Adam said, easy and sincere. "No pressure, man."

"Yeah," Eli replied, his voice catching slightly. "That... that’d be great."

And as Adam turned back toward Austin, laughing at something stupid he said, Eli knew he was doomed.

Because there was something about Adam—the body of a god, the soul of a saint—that made Eli want to be good. Even if he couldn't stop living his fantasy.

————

The morning sunlight was already sharp when Austin walked through the front door, a tailored camel coat hanging open over a white V-neck tee and slim jeans. The collar of a leather jacket peeked out from under the coat, framing his jaw like armor. His boots clicked sharply against the floor. He looked annoyed. Not furious—just mildly inconvenienced, like whatever girl he'd left in bed wasn't worth the Uber back.

Eli stood in the hallway, breath catching.

Austin looked like a walking ad for danger and dominance. The coat framed his broad shoulders perfectly, the jeans hugging his thighs just right. The way his hand casually tugged at the hem of his shirt made the moment feel choreographed—effortless and commanding.

"What?" Austin asked, catching Eli's stare, voice flat and cold.

Eli blinked. "N-nothing. Just... welcome back."

Austin grunted, grabbing a protein bar from the kitchen. "I am going to the gym."

Eli's heart jumped. He opened his mouth to beg—then stopped.

"You're coming too," Austin said casually, already peeling the wrapper. "Don't look so surprised. Even Adam'll be there. Figured you'd enjoy that."

Eli stiffened.

Austin turned, a lazy smirk on his lips. "You really think I haven't noticed how you act around him? The good guy. The sweet one. Bet you dream about thanking him on your knees, huh?"

Eli flushed, lips parting, but Austin didn't wait for a reply.

"Just remember your role," he added, stepping closer, eyes sharp beneath the edge of his coat. "You're my servant. You don't get to choose who turns you on. I do."

————

The gym air was thick with testosterone and pre-workout fumes.

Adam greeted Eli the moment they walked in. His smile was just as warm, his handshake firm.

"Hey! Good to see you again, man. Glad you came."

Eli melted. "Thanks. You too."

Austin slipped between them quickly, clapping Adam on the shoulder. "Let's get started. Bench first."

The two dove into their rhythm—warm-up, plates, reps, low banter about stocks and macros. Eli stuck to cardio, eyes tracing the two of them. Adam was all focus. Form perfect. Eyes kind. Even as he tried to include Eli with little comments, Austin pulled him away.

"Let him run. You're here for a real workout."

Half an hour in, Austin left for a moment and Adam turned during a water break.

"You and Iris get along well?" he asked Eli.

"Yeah, she's great."

"That's good. I've known Austin forever. If he's serious about someone, I wanna know the people around her are solid. You seem... grounded."

Eli smiled faintly. "I try."

Adam clapped his shoulder. "Keep trying."

Austin returned minutes later, scowling as he saw the two of them mid-conversation. His voice was clipped. "You done bonding yet?"

"We're good," Adam said easily. "Just chatting."

Austin gave Eli a look. The kind that said: mine.

———

Eli slipped into the restroom to catch his breath—but the moment the door clicked shut behind him, he froze.

Nick.

The beast stood shirtless, entirely absorbed in his reflection.

Under the harsh, sterile locker room lights, every inch of his carved physique was on display. He wasn't posing for anyone. This wasn't vanity. It was reverence—toward himself.

Nick grinned at his reflection. Not with arrogance, not with menace - just a quiet, deeply satisfied grin. Like a man who is proud of the temple he has built. As if the mirror only reflected a pale version of who he thought he really was. As if he knew he could never reflect the full power.

Then his gaze wandered upwards and caught on Eli through the reflection, who was playing with his own bulge with his hands.

The mood changed instantly.

"What the fuck do you think you're lookin' at?" Nick growled, stepping forward, veins popping along his neck.

Eli's breath caught.

Nick advanced like a charging bull. "You some kinda fuckin' creep? You wanna stare at me like that, you better be ready to deal with it."

Eli stumbled backward.

"Eyes down, freak," Nick snapped, voice rising. "You hear me? You think this is a fuckin' show for you to jerk off to?"

Eli bolted for the nearest stall, slammed it shut, and locked it. His pulse hammered as Nick's voice echoed through the room.

"Sick little bitch. Don't even belong in this gym. Stay the fuck away from me."

Eli crouched in silence, breath ragged, humiliated. The cold tile pressed against his back as he stared at the closed door of the stall, his thoughts racing.

Why the hell is Nick here?

Finally, with a shallow breath, he stood. His legs were stiff, his heart still hammering in his chest. Carefully, he unlocked the stall and pushed it open just an inch—then another—peeking out as if the air beyond might bite.

Empty.

He stepped out slowly, shoes echoing faintly on the tiles. No sign of Nick. Just the afterimage of that confident grin in the mirror, etched into his mind.

————

Back in the gym, Nick was nowhere to be seen. Eli hoped—prayed—they'd missed each other. Adam greeted him with a warm nod, like nothing had happened. Eli forced a smile, but the question burned in his throat.

"Did you know Nick was here?" he hissed at Austin, voice low.

Austin smirked, tossing a towel over his shoulder like it was nothing. "I know."

Eli blinked. "You... what?"

Austin's smirk didn't fade—but his gaze sharpened, cool and annoyed. Eli flinched, instinctively taking a step back. Without another word, he returned to the treadmill, head down, heart thudding.

Just as he reached for the start button, a voice rang across the gym floor.

"Yo!" Nick barked, striding in like the space belonged to him. "What's up, bros?"

The dynamic shifted instantly.

Austin leaned back into his relaxed dominance, arms loose, grin sharp. Nick took up space—loud, physical, unfiltered. And Adam? He moved with effortless calm, fitting into place like the final piece of a puzzle.

"You made it," Austin said, smirking.

Nick flexed one arm casually. "You think I'd miss a pump with my boys?"

Adam chuckled and pulled out his phone. "Alright—squad shot. Let's make it official."

He took the selfie—all three flexing in front of the dumbbells.

They looked like gods.

Still on cardio, Eli listened in on their locker room banter. Nick was loud, throwing weight around with a theatrical grunt after every set. He thrived on attention, barking jokes and jabs, flexing whenever a mirror caught his form. Austin smirked along, occasionally adding a low comment that kept the rhythm going—cool, detached, but fully present.

Adam, meanwhile, balanced the chaos. Calm and precise, he moved between sets with silent discipline, re-racking Nick's weights without a word, adjusting posture when needed. He didn't compete for the spotlight—he just existed in it naturally. And somehow, that dynamic worked. Nick's storm, Austin's swagger, and Adam's grounded control—they weren't just friends, they were a unit. The kind Eli could never touch.

Nick moved on to dumbbell presses. Each rep was a performance. Sweat rolled down his chest as Adam hovered behind him, hands guiding for perfect execution.

"Keep it clean," Adam said. "Full range. No swing."

Nick grunted, pressing harder. After the set, he tossed the dumbbells down with a thunderous crash. "Fuck yeah! That's what I'm talkin' about!"

Then came the deadlifts. Every rep was a thunderclap. Every growl exaggerated. Adam coached him softly between breaths, calm and precise.

After the final set, Nick roared loud enough to echo across the gym. He stood tall, sweat clinging to every cut of his chest, breathing heavily—an animal momentarily satisfied.

Then his eyes found Eli again.

The moment stilled. Nick's smile faded, jaw setting. Without a word, he dropped the bar with a clang that made heads turn and stormed across the gym floor, his footsteps as heavy as his mood.

"You again?" he growled, voice low, teeth clenched. "You some little gym perv?"

Eli froze. His body stiffened, breath caught in his throat.

Nick advanced. "I catch you starin' one more time, I swear, I'll drag you outta here myself."

Before he could close the gap, Austin intercepted—cool and calculated.

"Chill, Nick," Austin said, blocking his path. "Didn't know some random dude could break your temper like that."

Nick's nostrils flared. "Bro, he's been watchin' me all day like I'm some strip show."

Adam joined them, calm as ever but with purpose in his tone. "What's going on here?"

"This boy here's about to get a lesson in boundaries," Nick snapped, eyes still locked on Eli.

Eli's eyes found Adam's, pleading silently. Adam's return gaze was calm and grounding. He offered a small smile—gentle, almost brotherly. A quiet message: I've got this.

Adam then slipped between Austin and Nick, placing himself directly in front of Eli. He flexed one arm slowly, each movement deliberate, and looked down at Eli with a smile that was all golden charm and quiet dominance.

"You think Eli's ready to suck me off?" he said, voice smooth, grin sharp like a knife wrapped in velvet.

For a heartbeat, the world stilled. Eli's breath caught.

That smile—so warm before—now dripped with something dark. The curtain was pulled back.

Eli's eyes darted to Austin, desperate for clarity—but all he saw was approval. The same look Austin wore when admiring his own reflection: proud. Possessive. Unapologetic.

Austin rested his arm on Adam's shoulder—casual, commanding. "What do you say, Eli? I let my boys test out some new pills. Ones that let them possess bodies—even without the natural gift. Then I gave them the same formula I used."

His smile curled, slow and deliberate.

"Let them borrow a few... golden specimens."

Suddenly, Nick roared like a wild animal, tensing every muscle group. "God, this dude is so full of pure aggression." He laughed like a maniac, checking out his reflection again. "But who cares when you look like that—glorious as fuck. Can't get enough. If I didn't keep these new instincts under control… well, let's just say you wouldn't be standing there, Eli. And I'm not even talking about his thoughts. Dark. Cocky. Just the way I like it." He smiled in a way Eli could only read as threatening.

He laughed to himself, then turned back to the mirror, grinning. "And this face... yeah, no wonder people cave the second I flash a smile. Guess how many pussies that smile has already brought me."

His gaze slid back to Eli, the mood shifting—cold, sharp. "But every time I see you? It just boils in me. Why'd you have to walk in—staring like the creep you are—right when all those memories kicked in?"

Adam's smile twisted—cool, sharp, but carrying a sneer just beneath the surface. "Stop your bitching, Nick. At least the guy you're riding wasn't some puppy-dog do-gooder. You think playing Mr. Perfect was fun for me?"

He shook his head, flexing his jaw as if shaking off a bad taste. "All that grinning. All that ‘Hey Eli, how's your day?' crap. I had to sit there pretending to give a damn—like I didn't want to roll my eyes every time he opened his mouth."

Adam glanced back at Eli now, his voice thick with sarcasm. "You seemed to love it though. Thought Adam was your sweet little gym hero, didn't you?" He laughed, but there was no warmth in it. "God, that act was suffocating. No wonder he was always so quiet."

He leaned forward, voice low and mocking. "Hope you enjoyed it, Eli. Because that version of me? Gone."

Austin stepped back, eyes gleaming. "You didn't really think I was gonna keep all the fun for myself, did you, Eli? Those pills cost a fortune. But for my boys? Worth every cent."

He winked at Eli.

"Now I've got the full squad. The new golden boys. And you? You get to watch."

Eli's world shattered.

All three jocks stood before him—smirking, flexing, reborn.

"Do you think anyone will stop us if he sucks us off here and now?" Austin laughed, and there was a certain curiosity in his voice.

Adam leaned in with that familiar warmth—the one Eli used to trust. His tone was soft, almost apologetic. "So, Eli… mind if I go first?"

He smiled kindly, just like the old Adam. "I mean, come on, I've always been nice to you, haven't I? Always friendly. Always respectful. The good guy."

He chuckled softly. "Bet I was your favorite squad member, huh? The one you looked up to while pretending not to drool."

Eli blinked, caught in the familiarity—until Adam's expression twisted.

The smile he wore—so warm, so practiced—snapped into something else. A sneer. Cold. Sharp.

"Yeah," Adam muttered, his voice dropping as his smile turned cold. "Fuck this Mr. Nice Guy act."

He stepped in closer, his body towering over Eli with casual dominance. His fingers came up—soft at first—brushing Eli's cheek in a mockingly gentle stroke.

"You liked it, though, didn't you?" he whispered. "That sweet, humble Adam. The one who smiled at you like you mattered."

Then his thumb pressed under Eli's chin, forcing his head up.

"So how about you thank me for all that fake kindness, huh? Get on your knees like the grateful little bitch you've always been."

He gave Eli's cheek a patronizing pat—more firm this time, like ruffling the hair of a child he barely tolerated.

"You never wanted Adam. You wanted me," he said, his voice like velvet draped over barbed wire. "to treat you like trash."

And with that, he smiled again.

In the background, a guy tried to pass the group—but Nick had already made it clear, with nothing more than a glare and a subtle shift in posture, that he needed to take the long way around. No room for questions. No room for interpretation.

"Gosh, fuckers," Nick muttered once the guy was out of sight, shaking his head. Then, with a mocking smirk, he turned to Adam. "Hope you're not planning to let him suck you dry. Just look at him—guy's practically shaking."

As Adam chuckled darkly, Nick took a slow, deliberate step back—circling around Eli like a predator eyeing weak prey. His heavy breath grazed the back of Eli's neck before he spoke.

"Just know," he growled, voice close now, breath hot against Eli's ear, "if you screw this up… I'll tear you apart."

Austin, watching from the side, let out a slow, amused breath—his smile tired, but proud.

————

The gym lights were soft in the late afternoon, casting long shadows across the polished floor. The room echoed with the rhythmic clank of weights and the distant thump of bass-heavy music. At the far end of the free weights area, Justin stood shirtless in front of the mirror, glistening with sweat.

He admired himself—shoulders pulled back, arms flexed just enough to make every vein pop. There was no shyness in his expression. No modesty. Just pure, wordless satisfaction. His shorts clung to his chiseled frame, abs contracting with every subtle movement. It wasn't just a glance—it was performance.

"Damn," he muttered, smirking as he twisted to check out his back. "What do you think, bro?"

Austin stood next to him, chewing gum with the same casual rhythm he always used when pretending not to be impressed.

"You've been killing it lately," he said—voice low, casual, but with a glint of approval.

Justin chuckled and struck a full front double biceps pose. The lighting carved definition into every groove, like a sculpture under a spotlight.

"Yeah? Think I finally caught up to you?"

Austin tilted his head, smirking. "Not yet. But you're definitely getting cockier. I'll give you that."

They both laughed.

"You always had it easy," Justin said, still locked on his own reflection. "The looks. The respect. Girls. Status. Guess I just had to figure out how to take some of that for myself."

Austin raised an eyebrow. "I doubt you have any trouble with girls."

"Of course not," Justin replied, flexing again with a cold, arrogant stare. "Just look at me."

Austin didn't respond right away. He nodded slowly, studying his brother through the mirror.

"You really like being you now, huh?" he asked finally, his tone more thoughtful.

Justin met his gaze. For just a flicker—barely a heartbeat—something else passed through his expression. Then the smirk deepened.

"Let's just say… I finally get why you enjoy walking around like a god," Justin said. "Can't blame me for loving it."

Austin let out a dry, knowing laugh. He slung his gym bag over his shoulder.

"Well, looks like you finally fit into my selected circle. Nick and Adam are already at my place. You coming?"

Justin didn't answer right away. He gave one last flex, ran a hand down the center of his abs, watching the muscles tighten beneath his touch. His smile, this time, wasn't just confident.

It was Eli's.

He turned to Austin, his voice calm—almost reverent.

"You always make sure I feel good, brother," he said, drawing out the last word with a knowing, intimate edge. "Don't think I'll ever get tired of that."

Austin grinned. "Wouldn't want you to."

Always Save Before You Exit

Kenny was tired of the drudgery of life, working, gym, his nagging girlfriend, even his friends were boring him. It didn’t matter that he was good looking, rode a motorcycle, he was just bored, which wasn’t helped by his tedious construction job.

He’d heard of a new service where you could rent out your body, you’d set the price, set all the limits, and if any conditions were violated, the rental would automatically end. He’d been thinking of doing a trip across the country during the summer, and this would help him be able to afford it.

He set up an appointment and heard them out. He wasn’t sure, but he figured he’d give it a chance, he had nothing to lose, if no one liked his price or the rules, they’d turn him down. He started simple, no smoking, no unprotected sex, no tattoos or permanent marks, he opted to be unaware of the time he was being rented, he chose not to give the person access to his memories, and then shot for the moon with the rental fee, $1,000/day, clicking “Save” after each page. Once he got to the last page, he clicked “Save” once again and walked out, unaware he didn’t click “Submit.”

As he walked out, he didn’t see anyone else around, but that was a mix of adrenaline and tunnel vision, as there was an old, thin man sitting in the corner who entered the room next to fill out his profile.

When Icarus walked into the room, he noticed the computer was still opened to Kenny’s profile, and he could still make edits. Icarus went to town making changes, knowing he’d love to have Kenny’s body. He changed the limits, the rules, the settings, even the price. And then he clicked “Submit,” finalizing Kenny’s account, and setting up his own.

No less than an hour after he arrived home, Kenny received an email saying his body had been rented. The email noted the renter agreed to everything Kenny listed, and so if Kenny accepted, no further bargaining was needed. Kenny was prompted with a warning when he clicked accept “Warning: All rentals over five days required additional disclosures. Are you sure you want to engage in this rental? All rental funds will be placed in escrow earning interest until the end of the rental period. Do you agree?” Kenny happily clicked Yes. He was expecting to wake up a few days later, with a huge deposit into his account.

However, Kenny was instantly unable to move, with his body moving on its own. He was petrified, thinking something had gone horribly wrong. His body was moving without him in control, he could hear his voice talking, “Hmm, this feels so good. This voice is so deep, and I’m so young and hot. This is the best use of my annual bonus from work. I don’t regret spending 7Gs got this body.” Kenny realized he never looked at the rental time, but figured while he hated this arrangement, it would only be for a week. His body went into his bedroom and jerked off, several times, with Kenny feeling it each time. Then his girlfriend came home and Kenny heard his voice say “Hey Clarice, want to have some fun?” To which he thought ‘how does he know her name?’ She relented after a few minutes and they fucked, over and over, with her moaning how much better it felt than usual. Kenny also realized how good it felt, and that his body wasn’t wearing a condom.

Kenny realized how much he’d fucked up. Whoever this guy was, he somehow had access to all Kennys memories, Kenny was aware of the rental, and apparently none of the rules were in play. Kenny felt his body smoking like a chimney, felt tattoos being applied, felt his body fucking like crazy, his girlfriend, random women, even men. It wasn’t until the eighth day Kenny was scared, as he was still unable to control anything.

This hell went on for days beyond count. Kenny eventually gave up and retreated into the recesses of his mind. Until finally, he woke up and had control. He woke up to kids running around, jumping on his bed.

His phone, which he knew was his, but it was much different and high tech-y pinged, “Thank you for using our service. The rental fee of $7,300 plus 5% annual interested has been deposited into your account. We hope you enjoyed your rental.” And “A deposit of $19,369.08 has been made to your account.”

Kenny ran from bed and looked in a mirror. He was old now, grey hair, leathered skin, he felt a craving for a cigarette which he instinctively lit, and he saw tattoos covering his arms and chest.

He ran to the rental office to demand answers. It turns out he now had six kids, from four different women, still the same shitty job, and the same bike. It was only then that he was shown a copy of his rental agreement. “No rules, full awareness, full memory access” was all that was written, not the pages of rules he set up. And then he saw that the rental amount was different too, rather than $1,000 per day it was $1. Kenny had given up twenty years of his youth for $7,300, and while that almost tripled in size, he now had a huge family, a bad job and a nicotine addition.

@malevessel for the picture and rental idea