We Did It, Fellas! Heres To 300 Followers! Thank You For All The Support

We did it, fellas! Here’s to 300 followers! Thank you for all the support

If you want to keep helping me and support my hobby, I opened up a ko-fi account for tips. Don’t feel obligated to pay but it’s always appreciated it.

The next goal is 500 followers. Wish me luck and I hope you continue to enjoy my writing.

After waking up in an unfamiliar body and in an unfamiliar time, you were struck with deep fascination at the situation you were currently in. You had often loved to see samurai films and anime, so to suddenly find yourself in the body of one was nothing short of a dream come true. Though the more rational part of your lust-filled mind urged you to find the way to return home, the sight of your hunky, sweaty body clad in just a fundoshi was enough to shut down any concerns you might’ve had.

Tomorrow was the time to worry, for tonight was to relax in the onsen! It was time to explore and put the katana between your legs to good use.

Switch bodies or possess a cowboy with a habit of wearing only jockstraps or a samurai who wears only fundoshi?

Hmmm…you really got me here. I have to say I love a good time travel body swap. Two superb options, but what will they do in my body (do I trust them)? How kinky to think of either of them wearing their favorite undergarments parading around as me…

I’ll switch bodies with the samurai who only wears the fundoshi. A beefy one too. Let’s make the swap happen right after he’s finished his training for the day. I’d love to admire my chiseled form in it right before I strip it off and enjoy the sauna

FEStival Fiasco

Part 4

She was born an Elite. Female or not, she was destined for greatness. It was because of that privilege that Zathina knew the consequences should she fail in her mission.

With a sway of her hips and a few sensual looks, the male was completely under her spell. After that, all that Zathina needed to do was stand by and let the man drag her to his little den for a rendezvous. After what was little but a “pump and dump,” as she heard the man’s friends joke about while she was flirting with him, Zathina took her chance.

The man bit his lower lip, a ridiculous and toothy grin on his face as he dropped his boxers and climbed on top of the female body Zathina was inhabiting. He leaned down to kiss her, to explore her mouth. In that instance, Zathina swiftly flipped him over and held him in a chokehold. The shock on his face lasted only an instance, but she still savored it. Now that he was in her grasp, she easily slithered into his mouth.

“Hrgh...! Urrghh...ohhhhh...”

Sighing, Zathina stood up from the couch, breathing heavily as she relaxed her suddenly sore muscles.

A quick and effective transfer was all it took for her to now be in the body of a rugged male, not unlike her classmates.

While Zathina would have preferred to succeed in the body of a female to prove a point, taking even the slightest risk of a disadvantage was a fool’s choice. Still, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the lack of strong and powerful women. It was only through her own skill and talent that she was able to make warriors out of this species. “It’s a festival,” she reminded herself as she strolled through the grounds. “Not an army.”

On the battlefield and in covert operations, the luxury of choosing a preferred host would not be there. As a promising soldier, Zathina would not make the mistake of expecting it so. Instead, she kept a close eye on more powerful hosts while remaining observant of the competition. If anyone tried to sabotage her chances, she would strike back with greater force. The professor would approve.

Goosebumps appeared on her host’s skin. One of her own was close. While failures such as that worm could not recognize the slight shift in the air when another was nearby, Zathina was different. Picking her classmate from the crowd wasn’t difficult. One only needed to keep an eye on the crowd to see whoever stood out.

Her eyes locked with another man’s--and he smirked at her. She could only think of one who would hold such a shit-eating grin. “Arcturus...” she whispered. She split off from the crowd and walked towards the edge of the festival grounds, and Arcturus followed.

2nd in the class, just barely above the worm. He was Zathina’s only real competition in a hypothetical even and fair competition. However, in anything except their assignments, she paid him no mind. His ego was about as large as Alcor’s, and he had only half of Zathina’s skill and talent to back it up. She was aware of the sheer anger at holding second place for once in his life, but she didn’t care. A loser was a loser; status be damned.

Once the two were far enough from the festivals that it was but white noise in the wind, Zathina leaned against a nearby tree and addressed Arcturus. “I was expecting a sneak attack,” she said, turning her cool gaze towards his still-smirking face. The beads of sweat that trailed down his forehead betrayed his easy-going visage. “You were never able to beat me in any sparring match.”

The smile became forced as wrinkles from stress and age began to show. “Is a ‘Hello, Arcturus,’ too good for our number 1 in class~?” he said, always trailing off his sentences with what he must believe was the flair befitting of an Elite. Zathina always had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. “Silver tongue’d as always. I must say, it truly is wonderful to finally have a chance to converse with you after out last exam. I’m not used to being second place for...” he kept the smile up, but his fists trembled with anger as he uttered,” for as long as I have been attending this academy.”

“Is it the first time you’ve met your superior?”

“An equal? Yes, it must be,” chuckled Arcturus. “A female one at that~!” he exclaimed, as though the very idea was enough to signal the end times. “And on top of that, you’ve blatantly disrespect me by declining invitations to my dinner parties every. Single. Time.” 

Scoffing, Zathina said, “We’re warriors. Soldiers. Playing at parties and other frivolous nonsense just distracts us from our duties.”

“My my, what would your father say about this?” When Zathina’s eyes widened, Arcturus chuckled. “Oh, did I hit a nerve~? This must be the first time I’ve gotten any kind of rise out of you.” Snickering, Arcturus paced around the greenery as he spoke, like he was giving a speech. “What must the old general think, seeing his precious little girl act in such an unbecoming way for her role in society.” His tittering turned into a full-on belly laugh as Zathina’s expression shifted into one of pure hatred. “Oh...! Oh my... you say that I’m playing, but here you are acting as if you can carry out your father and brother’s wills.”

“Did Alcor tell you this?” said Zathina through gritted teeth.

“That scum?” Arcturus said with a sneer. “No. I had to do a little digging on my own, but what fascinating little details I’ve found. When I first heard about you, I was surprised that there was an Elite I hadn’t met. Now I know why.” With a year’s worth of undue resentment, Arcturus hissed, “A disgrace worm like you should just crawl on the ground and die like the filthy deviant you are. Not even your own mother loved you enough to remain by your side.”

Zathina didn’t rush at him. To do so would mean turning her back and spitting on the dignified way of her family and the remaining honor she had as an Elite. However, to slug the tree next to her with as much force as she could muster up and have it tumble toward Arcturus’ general direction wasn’t unbecoming of a warrior. The little satisfaction she got from his panicked fleeing wasn’t much of a victory, but it was all she could take from now.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a crushing weight of his words deep inside of her heart. Scars long-thought to have healed re-opened, but she refused to cry and scream as she did all those years ago. Zathina would no longer be weak. She had promised her late family that much.

With a sigh, she returned to the festival ground and continued her work on the assignment. Time was running short, and she needed to ensure her victory. Elite or worm, nothing would stand in her way.

Hello again, same anon from yesterday. I definitely respect your choice to keep the story a standalone. I've really been enjoying your work and look forward to seeing what else you post.

Thank you! I'll keep on working hard and improving.

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

My Reflection in Your Eyes

On a typical Sunday evening, David sat by the unlit fireplace and skimmed through another novel he had bought on a whim. After several pages of an uninteresting romance between a dull man and a heroine with more fingers than brain cells, his mind began to wander back to his husband, Jack. For whatever reason, the man was in a foul mood after a visit from his nephew which eventually resulted in a shouting match the night before. Before the yelling could get too out of hand, David left the house to rest his pounding head. When David asked about it right before bed, Jack just huffed and avoided the question with low grunts. The following morning, Jack just sulked in bed and refused the lazy sex on a Sunday morning that David offered.

“So grumpy,” muttered David as he set his book aside. Due to the summertime, the sun was beginning to set close to around six. “It’s not April that’s the cruelest month, it’s June,” he mused, writing down such thoughts in his little pocket notebook. The retired life wasn’t nearly as glamorous as he hoped. The days grew long yet ended in a blink. His body reeked of sweat yet lacked the satisfaction of accomplishment. The most joy came from the climax that came from the sex Jack didn’t seem to want anymore.

Finally surrendering to the never-ending heat, David thrust his shirt off and tossed it to the floor, not bothering to put it in the laundry hamper in their room. He didn’t want to see Jack just yet. For the time, he wanted to cling onto his pride as a man; even if it was just for a minute longer.

However, all that went by the wayside as a low and muffled moan came from their room. At first, David stared at the door, puzzled. Was Jack masturbating? David was certain that Jack had kicked the habit months ago. With a furrowed brow and mounting irritation, David began to suspect that it wasn’t pleasure that Jack was sick off, but of David himself. Another long moan caused David to tense up. Did he climax? In their 20 years of marriage, David had never been able to coax such a pronounced reaction from Jack.

“I’m coming in!” Even when he wanted to just burst into the room and possibly call out his partner, David still felt necessary to announce himself out of respect Jack’s privacy. What he found was his husband breathing deeply and covered in a coat of sweat, skin gleaming in the fading sunlight. His hairy chest was covered with fresh cum. "Well, good to see someone's in the mood," joked David, glancing around at the room. No signs of anyone else. No discarded clothes nor any hiding places “Were you hoping to rev me up?” said David, almost cringing at the hint of desperation that slipped out without intent.

The only response David received was an unfocused stare from Jack, as though he was in a trance. “Jack? You okay?” said David, some of his anger forgotten.

Jack blinked and shook his head, eyes finally turning to David with an amused glint. "Sorry, guess I was a little excited," he said with a sheepish grin, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck and completely ignoring the drying cum on his chest. Swinging his legs over the bed, he strutted over to David, emphasizing the still hard cock as it bobbed up and down. “So how’s my favorite man in the whole world doing?” he said, brushing his chest as if trying to clean up his mess.

David cocked an eyebrow. “Jack, are you sure you’re okay? You seemed like—” his words were cut off as Jack leaned in for an uninvited kiss. Not quite done, Jack began to rub his chest and slowly massage and knead the flesh. David moaned into Jack’s mouth as the latter took dominance and work wonders with his tongue; far more than ever before. At a painfully slow pace, Jack's hands worked David's body and made their way down until they arrived as David's hardening cock. Once their kiss broke, a thin stream of saliva still connecting them, David was far too caught up in a wave of lust to continue worrying.

“I-I thought you weren’t in the mood,” was all David was able to stutter out as Jack led him over to the bed.

“Guess I had a change of heart.” For whatever reason, Jack laughed as he tossed the stained sheets to the side. The two threw themselves onto the bed and a night of pleasure and screaming ecstasy ensued.

Past midnight, Jack climbed from his bed and stretched. He scratched his pits and explored his coarse yet still pleasurable new body. "Not bad, old man," he said, wriggling his toes and laughing at how smooth everything was. Glancing over, he chuckled as he spotted the passed-out David after several hours of making him a cock sleeve. “Nighty-night, Davy.”

A few minutes later, a knock interrupted his “Jack’s” self-exploration. Grinning ecstatically, he opened the window and assisted a younger man to slip into the room. “How’s he feel, Jordan?” asked the young man.

“Oh, much better than I thought, Terry,” said Jordan, enjoying just how sensitive his father’s skin was. “My old man’s such a nice trip. This weight feels nice,” he said, lightly slapping his stomach, enjoying the muscle hidden by the layer of fat that came with age. “Jack’s over there. Go ahead and jump into him. Got him cumming so hard he won’t be able to put up much of a fight.”

Terry, the amateur bodysnatcher, nodded. He wandered over to the bed while stripping his clothes ad muttering the incantation under his breath. “Let’s dance, old man,” he said, getting a running start before cannonballing onto David. The older man woke up with a shocked start.

“UWOHH, oh my GOD!” shouted David. When his eyes opened, he saw a young man’s upper half sink into his torso as if his flesh was nothing but water. “Wh-Whaaaa…!” said David, convulsing and trembling as another man rearranged himself in his body. His back curled into a perfect C as his hips thrust into the air before collapsing onto the bed over and over again. “H-Heeeelp… Jack…” David turned his head, nearly vomiting as he felt another human being rearranging himself in his own body. However, all David saw was his husband grinning maniacally and rubbing his own cock as he was taken over.

Jordan sighed and sat down by his father’s desk as Terry did his job. He felt accomplished. It wasn’t as difficult as he initially believed, but the sense of success mixed with the eroticism of using his father for his own perversion drove him mad with joy. Just yesterday, Jordan arrived at his father's home with grievances. "Why was my cut of the inheritance so massively shrunk?" he came, voice already dripping with venom as Jack had expected.

Sighing, Jack rubbed his temples and said, "Your sister's still not over her illness. With the fear of rising hospital bills—"

“Bullshit,” said Jordan, voice rising. “She’s always been your favorite. Always gotten the most love. And now she’s getting the most money.”

“I don’t favor either of you,” Jack tried to argue. “Have you ever read The Prodigal Son? It’s similar to—”

“I’m so sick of your half-assed non-answers!” Jordan cut in again. The two continued to argue back and forth for several emotionally charged minutes until the two were hoarse and exhausted. Sweat lingered on each of their brows as their chests rose and fell. They never stopped glaring at each other.

Eventually, Jack said, "Get out. I’m sick of your damn attitude,” he said, turning away from his son. “You’re out of the damn will until you fix your sick viewpoint.” Jordan scoffed and turned towards the door. Neither of them looked at each other, burying any regret with their rigid pride. To see the other’s eyes would risk catching their own reflections.

Jordan, however, decided to sink into that reflection. Using lock-picking skills he picked up during some early days of truancy, he broke into his father's home. David was an early riser while Jack sulked in his bed, eventually falling asleep. Once Jordan saw David leaving the house, he sneaked towards his father’s room and stood over the sleeping man. He climbed onto the bed and wrapped his sleeping father’s arm around his shoulders and cuddled with him for a few precious seconds. Magic, theft, and crime were forgotten as he indulged in that brief return to a peaceful childhood.

“I’ll always love you,” he whispered before slithering into his father’s body through his side and armpit. The man awoke with a start, thighs trembling and toes curling as he struggled through the process. Jordan sunk deep into his father and his own delusion with a crazed glee.

“I’m done, babe,” said Terry, snapping Jordan out of his thoughts. David’s body seemed to glimmer in the moonlight, chest waving as Terry posed erotically to stir up Jordan. “We look real good, Jor—Jack. But, I’m not quite satisfied just yet.” Licking his lips, Terry fell back onto the bed, legs spread open and hole in full view. “C’mon, let’s get busy.”

Jordan grinned and walked over to his partner. He passed by a mirror, catching a glimpse of himself—his real self—for just a moment. “What’s wrong?” asked Terry, but Jordan shook his head and dove into his fantasy, content in fogging up his reflection with his father’s stolen pleasure.