FEStival Fiasco

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.

Festival Fiasco

Part 5

Ever since his birth, the fateful worm had known nothing but darkness. Most of his days were spent in shrew-like bodies and digging tunnels for the foundation of their society. His job, like many others before him, was to search for precious metals in abused and dangerous mines. Several of his fellow worms passed away due to collapsing tunnels or pockets of earth full of poisonous air.

“We are many,” a worm twice his age told to him, “and we are weak. Disposable. Worms in the dirt that the Elite walk on. We matter as much as the rock we mine, and so we are in these caverns.” Not too long after passing on that wisdom, the older worm perished in a cave-in. The fateful worm was no surprised, as so many of their kind died everyday that learning names was far too tiring. It was better to have nothing than to constantly lose someone every day.

Then, on a fateful day, the worm overheard two passing Elites. “Centaurus,” one of them said, chuckling as he uttered that name, “is what those humans call one of our suns. Our sacred stars that lie above even Elites! Can you believe they have the audacity to even try to christen it with a name? Absurd.” The two walked away, laughing at the new species.

From then on, a small fire burned in that fateful worm’s heart. It was a completely foreign feeling, but he loved it. “Centaurus,” he said to himself as best he could, each syllable eliciting joy in his heart. “Centaurus, Centaurus. Cen-tau-rus…!” As he repeated that word to himself in the coming days, his gaze turned upwards, focusing above the dark rock ceiling he had always known. The next few months were spent digging his own personal tunnel, barely managing to hide his progress from the managers who watched his progress. It was difficult to dig through the dirt and stone upwards, but the name gave him hope and strength that he had never known before.

Finally, Centaurus emerged from the earth. He pushed through the final layer of dirt and emerged onto the surface. The air tasted fresh and untouched by dust. His panted heavily, enjoying each new sensation as he trekked through the alien world—his own home. The sky was grey and a light breeze coursed through barren field he wandered. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, he saw the first few rays. In the horizon, the sun began to rise.

“Heyyyyy~! Ya gonna wake up or am I gonna have to throttle ya, Centy?” Centaurus’ slowly opened his eyes, hands curled up in irritation as the annoying voice bounced off the walls. “There you are! About time. You sure like to keep everyone waiting, huh?”

“…Phecda.” Centaurus blinked to refocus his vision. Before him was an older man wearing a doctor’s coat, a stethoscope, and nothing else. He strutted over, balancing shifting from the balls of each foot.

“You never talk to any of us,” he began, pacing along the walls of the room, gaze wandering all over the white walls. “Yet, you remember each of our names so well! Your behavior is always so interesting, Centy~! I’ve never seen anything like it.”

With a grunt of effort, Centaurus swung his legs over and tried to leap at Phecda. However, the moment he launched himself off the bed and his feet touched the ground, he stumbled and fell to the floor. “The hell…?!”

“You. Are. Exhausted,” said Phecda, leaning over Centaurus, their faces just a few inches away from each other. “Absolutely washed up. It’s a miracle you’re even alive.” Phecda hopped back as Centaurus swung a slow and sluggish fist at him. “You can barely even fight. It’s honestly a shame to see you like this.” For a moment, Phecda’s fac fell before his expression lit up with his usual disgusting cheer. “I wonder what Zathina would say if she saw you. Or dear ol’ Arti. He’d get a real chuckle out of this,” he said, giggling as Centaurus leaned against the bed like an old man who couldn’t get up on his own.

“If you’re gonna kill me,” he said in-between pants, “just go ahead and do it. Anything’s better than listening to you yap and yap.”

“Ohhh, booo~!” said Phecda. “That’s such a boring thing to do, Centaurus. Why would I kill my most interesting research subject.” Once again approaching, Phecda leaned in and grabbed Centaurus’ face in a sharp vice-grip. A glint that never failed to send shivers down Centaurus’ spine appeared in Phecda’s eyes. The grin was gone, replaced by a twisted and frustrated grimace. “I would love to take you apart to finally learn how and why you tick, but that would ruin everything. No, I must observe you without interfering. Without letting those ridiculous fools getting in your way so you can flourish. Those Elites are so concentrated in status and let promising subjects just die in those worthless mines of them. God, I wish I could take them apart too so I could show our worthless world what trash truly looks like.”

Centaurus tried to scream or shout, but he couldn’t stop trembling. His muscles wouldn’t move or respond. If Phecda truly wished, Centaurus would end up as the subject of vivisection. However, no such carnage occurred. Centaurus still breathed.

The two stared at each other for a while before Phecda’s face broke into another gleeful grin. “You flinched~! You’re so cute when you’re scared, but not as cute as Arcturus when everything’s falling apart around him. Phecda let go of Centaurus and stepped back, pacing the room with that ridiculous gait again. “Don’t worry, Centy. I just took you to my host’s apartment so you could get some rest. If either Zathina or Arcturus found ya with no energy, who knows what they would’ve done!” He shook his head in disapproval. “No, I learned so much from you, and yet there’s still more I want to discover.”

“What are you—”

“Please, indulge me, Centaurus,” said Phecda, turning to face Centaurus again, who flinched. “There’s a discovery I believe I have stumbled onto, and I was hoping to use you as a sort of ‘wall’ to bounce ideas off of. Maybe we could even collaborate,” he said, emphasizing the last word.

Moving his hand over his hairy and borrowed legs, Centaurus could feel just a bit of sensation return. If he could just stall this conversation out, he could make a break for it. “Fine,” he said, scoffing and turning his face away. “Start rambling, ya freak. If you get close to the mark, I’ll tell ya. In exchange, just lemme go, all right?”

Phecda cocked his brow, head tilting in confusion. “Oh, that sort of cooperation is unexpected. Wonder if you’ve found some sort of escape route you want to distract me from?”

Centaurus kept his face neutral as Phecda wandered the room, running his hands over the walls. As expected, Phecda knew very little about his own host’s home. “Either way, I guess I don’t really care. All I wanted was a chat. Whatever you do afterwards isn’t very important. Although…” Phecda shook his head. “Doesn’t matter! Let’s great started.”

“Shoot.”

“How did a being like you,” began Phecda, “with very little chance of mastering his craft might I add, ever become masterful enough at possession to rival of Elites like Arcturus or Zathina? Isn’t it curious? I often pondered that between classes and experiments. How was that possible? It’s like a homeless man having more skill than a dedicated kung-fu master.” As if to emphasize his point, Phecda performed a crane stance, the flaccid dick flopping as he lifted up his leg.

“You watching earth TV?”

“It’s nice to have in the background as I work,” said Phecda as rubbed the back of his neck. “But the point is, things weren’t adding up. I threw a few theories around. Time travel, secret training from special ops, all sorts of nonsense. It was more like a little pet project than anything else. Try not to feel so special, Centaurus.”

Rolling his eyes, Centaurus said, “Nice to know I’m such high priority for ya.”

“Well, at first it was.” The dangerous glint in Phecda’s eyes returned. The atmosphere grew heavy as his footfalls grew harder and more intense. “Then I saw the effect you had on Arcturus. That’s when it really got interesting.” Phecda continued to pace around the room. The amusement and nonchalantness of his expression faded. “I grew up together with him. I’ve observed him. He was always so dull. So boring. Just another by-product of our society. Nothing more. But then…! Oh, you made his interesting, Centaurus.” Without warning, he sprinted over to Centaurus and grabbed him by the shoulders. Centaurus could feel Phecda’s warm breath on his face. “Just by existing, just by being skilled, you began to break the little peanut-brain that that fool had. Just by being, you made him fascinating,” he said, eyes shining with wicked intent.

“Wh-What the hell do you want…?” said Centaurus, his heart racing. Goosebumps spread throughout his body. He had seen such an awful personality from Phecda before, but this was simply on a level he could have never seen coming. “What do you want from me, Phecda?!”

“I… just want you to go about the same as you always do!” said Phecda, releasing Centaurus. “I want to witness your potential, that’s all.” He merely shrugged, expression perfectly nonchalant. The sudden changes in mood only served to give Centaurus more anxiety. When would Phecda go in a rage? It was effective torture strategy, but Centaurus was wondering if that was even the goal.

In that brief period, Centaurus realized that Phecda was silent and just staring at him. Suddenly, embarrassed, Centaurus said, “You’re… seriously freaking me out. But, you’re fine with me winning this whole thing? Letting me get the chance to become a Dreadfighter and serve the Emperor directly? That’s fine with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” said Phecda. “You don’t have the skills of Zathina or even Arcturus, but you have good skills. And your head’s not up in the clouds like those two.” He threw his hands up into the air, eyes rolling as he spoke. “Always about honor and status with those two. They’re like broken records. Really, at least having someone like you around will keep things interesting. Besides…” Narrowing his eyes, Phecda said, “Someone who is willing to throw away everything for success is perfect for Dreadfighters, isn’t it?”

Flinching once more, Centaurus tried to back away further onto the bed. “So you figured it out.” Hiding anything from this madman would just agitate Phecda and make the situation worse. “Yeah, I throw just about everything at it when I possess a host.”

“Elites like us are specifically taught not to do that,” said Phecda. “If you try and force a connection with a host, you risk losing yourself. It’s like mixing two paints and hoping that the colors will remain pure. And yet… you still continue to do that. Every time, you allow your consciousness to meld with your host’s just for a tiny advantage. Why is that?”

Not wanting to face Phecda, Centaurus pointedly turned his head and stared out the window. The sun was beginning to set. Just a few hours longer and the festival would be over. His host still wasn’t fully recovered, but that was no longer his main concern. Thoughts and fears he had been burying deep inside of him finally emerged with little resistance. “Ya said it yourself. To risk everything for just that chance for success. That’s all it is. As simple as that.”

Pouting, Phecda said, “It’s so boring when you try to say it like that. At least do it like those detective shows where they have the lead talk about it in great and exciting detail!”

“My life isn’t a show, freak,” said Centaurus. “Just… I don’t have anything else, Phecda. If I don’t become a soldier, if I don’t prove my worth, then…” he paused, unable to say it. I’ll be just a worm. He shut his mouth and refused to let the words continue.

“I see. You’re a product of our society as well.” Phecda nodded, as if the world suddenly made complete sense to him. He spun on his heel and faced the wall, expression hidden. “Don’t kill Arcturus, Centy. He’s boring sometimes and crazy at others, but I still like him. You make him fascinating, but if you make him dead I’ll tear you apart and eat you, okay?”

The usual mania in his voice was gone. For the first time since they had met, Phecda spoke in a serious tone. “Yeah, sure. Wasn’t planning on killing the guy, anyway. He’s a piece of shit but like… no one that needs to be killed.”

“What’re you going to do when it’s just you and Zathina left?” asked Phecda, still hiding his face. “Do you think you can beat her?”

Centaurus ran a hand down his borrowed hair, a habit of his host. “I don’t know. But, I’ll give it a try, even if it kills me.”

“You’re desperate.”

“When you’ve got nothing else to live for and everything on the line,” said Centaurus, “wouldn’t anyone?”

“…Well, to see that realize…” Phecda turned around once more, smirking as he approached Centaurus. “You need your energy. I just happen to know a neat way for humans to generate the chemicals we feed on.” The doctor’s coat billowing as he strutted over, Phecda kneeled in front of Centaurus and began to lower his pants. “Just lean back, stare up at the ceiling, and relax. I’ll take it from here.”

“…You’re a real weirdo, y’know that?”

“Why thank you. You’re a real weirdo as well, Centy.” Phecda leaned in and kiss Centaurus’ lips, to the latter’s shock. “Keep being interesting. Worms don’t make for such fine test subjects, I promise you that much.”

Kindness came from such interesting places, Centaurus mused.

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

Wrestling With Some Feelings

Wrestling with some Feelings

“Wh-What are you doing…?" Ahmed moaned as a trail of slime slid into his singlet. Just the very touch caused his body to react with an eruption of pleasurable waves. He collapsed onto the locker room floor, slowly humping the floor to get any sort of friction on his hardening dick. "Haa… aahhhh...haaa…! This isn't… right." Ahmed bit down on his lip before letting down another desperate moan. So caught up in this invasive bliss that he didn't even care when the slimy creature squeezed itself into his leaking cock. Instead, he welcomed it. Thoughts of championships and the thrill of victory soon vanished beneath a blanket of ecstasy. "Ah! Ahhh! H-Holy fuck, I'm—!"

Ahmed wasn't able to finish as his body yielded to the enigmatic invader. His vision swam and he felt dizzy until he collapsed on a puddle of his precum. Ahmed's body convulsed on the ground, unable to even call for help, until he suddenly became rigid, back arched as if mid-orgasm. Then, he relaxed. Slowly, he rose from the ground and took a peek inside his wrestling singlet. "Damn kid, you got a sweet-ass body," he said, stretching his body and letting out a satisfying grunt as something popped. His more reserved personality and mannerisms were completely gone, as though it was someone else entirely. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna stay here forever. Just long enough to throw that match with Clay tonight. Can’t let my son lose that scholarship. You understand, right?” Adjusting his singlet again, the man in possession of Ahmed, Jerry, let out a sensual groan. “Ohhh, and maybe take advantage of this little body for a while. Not every day an old fart like me can be a young and sexy college stud for a few hours."

There was still time until the match, and considering how it would just be throwing the match to Clay, it wouldn’t take much effort. For now, Jerry could relax and enjoy what Ahmed's body had to offer. Grinning, he squeezed Ahmed's meat through the fabric and threw his head back in a low moan. "You're so lucky, being so sensitive. C'mon, let's get real acquainted."

Clay’s father had to struggle to keep his erection down as Clay seriously manhandled him the whole match. Each of Ahmed’s nerves seemed to be turbo-charged and Clay’s rough hands only seemed to aggravate that. With every slam and struggle—every time flesh met flesh with a flash of friction, Clay’s father found himself growing flushed. Didn’t even have to try that hard to throw, his over-horned body did the job for him.

Was it the spell or perhaps something more? Either way, soon Jerry found himself pinned to the mat with his son sneering down at him. The ref called the final point, and that was it. Jerry walked back to the locker rooms, ignoring the calls from his coach and friends. He couldn’t risk anyone catching on to his lack of disappointment.

To make sure the locker room would be empty, Jerry took an extremely long shower—checking his goods one last time before he would have to leave and return home to congratulate his son. Towel around his waist, he made his way over to the locker only to meet a meaty arm blocking his way. 

"Gotta say, kinda disappointed in your performance today, Ahmed," Clay said with a glare.

“Oh, Clay! Uh, wh-what can I say? Performance anxiety,” Jerry said, shrugging.

Clay tilted his head in confusion. “The hell’s happened to you? All jumpy and squirrely.” He took a step forward, cornering his father against the lockers. “You sick or something? Honestly looking real weird.”

Swallowing, Clay’s father said, “Um, I suppose you just have the magic touch,” he said, mind racing to come up with a lie that would be somewhat believable. “Body got all hot and cold with you manhandling me like that.” Jerry prayed that his face and ears weren’t turning as red as he thought they were.

Clay nodded to himself while squinting as if deciphering a difficult piece of text. "That so…?” Hoping that was enough, Jerry began to walk away. However, Clay slammed both of his arms against the lockers, pinning his father completely. “All you had to do was ask,” Clay whispered, his incredulous look turning into one of passion. Without a word, he leaned and kissed Jerry on his borrowed lips. Too shocked to even fight, Jerry leaned back and shut his eyes. What did this rush of passion mean? It was as if a dam had suddenly burst open.

Caught in this stream of passion, Jerry met Clay's kiss with equal aggression. It was as if he was possessed by whatever sentiments Ahmed had locked away deep inside of his subconscious. Either way, Jerry couldn’t even bother trying to resist the youthful hormones that danced in every inch of his hunky, borrowed body.

“Damn, you taste real fine,” said Clay, leaning away to stare at the giddy, bubbly mess that was Jerry. “Your lips feel so nice. Bet they’d be even better wrapped around my dick,” he said, slapping his thigh as he said so. Jerry glanced down and saw his son’s fully erect cock straining against the confines of the singlet. Wordlessly, he nodded and got down on his knees. The taste was so salty, but he didn’t mind it at all. Hearing his son’s pleasured moans and the cock threatening to unhinge Ahmed’s jaw was enough to get Jerry’s own dick hard.

“Make me see white,” Jerry breathed as he drew back with a pop. He spread his legs, trying to show as much of his ass he could. “Fuck me hard, Clay. I don’t think I can live without that cock inside of me once.”

“Say no more.” With a grunt of effort, Clay lifted Jerry up and placed him down onto one of the benches. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice and gentleman-y like.” Leaning up to steal another sensual kiss, Clay teased the rim of Ahmed’s hole with his cockhead. Jerry moaned and bit down on his lips. He took a few breaths, trying to relax, before just leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "Hold on, relax," whispered Clay, using a finger to loosen him up. "Got some lube in my locker. Give me a sec."

“You have what?” Jerry exclaimed as Clay briefly walked off. “H-How often do you do this here.”

Once Clay returned, he just grinned and said, “Enough.”

Though Jerry wanted to continue asking his son, the finger that penetrated him had another idea. Jerry, nearly cross-eyed, immediately tightened as a reflex. He leaned back, moaning like a slut as Clay slipped in another finger. Then another. “F-Fuck, I-I’m fucking cumming!” Jerry shouted as his dick erupted with shot after shot of pent-up aggression.

“Damn, came from just fingering?” Clay grinned. “Hope you still got fuel in the tank, Ahmed. I still haven’t got a chance to shoot my shot.”

Breathing heavily, Jerry nodded as he spread his legs even further. Despite his climax abating, the sensual haze in his mind didn’t leave. Instead, he felt as though he could cum again and again that night. “I’m still not satisfied. Split me in half, Clay!” He moaned. Although the more logical part of Jerry's mind screamed and begged, he didn't give a shit. He just wanted this hunky hole filled and his son's cock was the one thing that could fix that.

Clay wasted no time. He spread Jerry as much as he cut and gave a slow, experimental thrust. When Jerry didn't scream, he slowly picked up the pace. "Mm, yeah. Nrgh, fuck yeah," he grunted with every thrust. There was no reason to go so quick that it would take away from the passion. As promised, he was gentle with strong, rhythmic thrusts. Jerry met each one with the same rhythm. Every nerve seemed to be on fire as Clay's cock filled him—as though Jerry was finally complete. With this body and this cock inside of him, he was reaching Nirvana.

After what seemed like a lifetime of pleasure, Jerry noticed Clay’s core tightening. His face was flushed and his body was covered in a sheen of sweat. “I’m—nggh—I’m gonna blow my load. Want me to cum inside?” Jerry quickly nodded. Clay grinned. “Good answer.” With renewed vigor, Clay continued plowing into Jerry as he babbled nonsense. “C’mon, Ahmed. Scream for me.” He said, slapping Ahmed’s quivering thighs.

“Oh my god,” said Jerry, covering his face to hide the tears. He was elated and embarrassed all at once. His own offspring was smashing him and all he could do was moan and allow it to happen. It had been years since he had sex this good, and he knew that Ahmed felt the same. No, for Ahmed it was even more intense. Somehow, Jerry understood that Ahmed had never had sex before. Now, at that moment, Jerry was losing his virginity for Ahmed. With that in mind, Jerry could feel his climax swiftly approaching.

“I'm gonna nut! I'm gonna—MMM!" Jerry stopped as Clay suddenly embraced him with a long, intense kiss. Unable to handle the heat and the passion any longer, Jerry climaxed. Both of their bodies became drenched in semen, but neither of them cared. All they wished was to taste as much of themselves in that kiss.

Sorry, Ahmed, thought Jerry, lemme just stay in this body for a little while longer. I’ll leave tomorrow in the morning. Promise.

Wrestling with some Feelings was a request from @lurkinglizards btw! He gave me the idea and I wrote it

If you wish for some more stories like that, I’m accepting commissions on my ko-fi page. Feel free to take a look.

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.