Brandon Twice
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Escort Swap
🕑 Added 2023-10-25 21:31:02 +0000 UTCOutside the client’s house, a landscaper watering a bush lost focus on what he was doing as Dwight passed, his eyes gawking at the big physique lumbering by. Even in a baggy sweatsuit (which Dwight always wore in transit to muscle worship sessions, so the physique could be unveiled), his wide frame and solid build were evident. Dwight tilted down his sunglasses and winked at the landscaper, who had an impressively lean and muscular physique of his own (albeit a good 80 pounds lighter than Dwight’s massive body).
Duffel bag over his shoulder, Dwight punched the elevator button with his thick thumb. Two hours of muscle worship for $2000 was a pretty impressive job. In Dwight’s experience, sessions of that length tended to drag on. The client usually got all their little fantasies out in the first thirty minutes, even when Dwight urged them to slow down and take their time. Dwight would then unleash his own bag of tricks (such as pinning them down between his gigantic glutes or rubbing his abs against their face like a cheese grater), but that would still leave about forty-five minutes.
The trick, Dwight thought as he shuffled down the third floor hallway toward the client’s apartment, was in leaving them wanting more. If the client was willing, he had brought a blindfold; they could play “guess the bodypart” using only the client’s tongue as an interrogation tool. That could pass the time nicely. No matter what, in two hours Dwight would be $2000 richer.
He knocked on the door, taking a quick moment to take stock of his body: his trunks, beneath spandex shorts, were starting to get damp from the walk from the car. His pits were getting moist as well. He’d avoided deodorant per the client’s request and, while his big melon-sized pecs were due for a shave, he left them fuzzy. He had a photoshoot in two days–some gladiator themed nonsense for a supplement company–but he’d be shaved up and pristine by then.
The door opened to reveal the client, “Marv”--a doughy, balding guy with a white tank-top on. The man’s eyes went wide when he saw big Dwight filling up the door: “Geez, are you even going to fit through the door?” Dwight chuckled and shrugged his big shoulders. It wasn’t entirely hyperbole: he had to stoop a bit to get his 6’5” through, turning his broad beefy back a bit to squeeze it through.
Dwight took stock of the condo as the door slammed shut behind him: nicely furnished but minimalist, everything pristine with the exception of an open pizza box lying grease-stained and empty on the counter and a recycling bin mounded high with crumpled beer cans. There was a stark contrast between the immaculate dwelling and the slovenly man, scratching food crumbs from his mustache as he stared up at the mountainous bodybuilder before him.
“Nice place you got–” Dwight began as he tossed his duffel bag to the floor. He never finished his sentence, suddenly overwhelmed by a warm pinch at the back of his neck that made his vision go blurry. Suddenly he felt like he was blissfully floating, and if he squinted he thought he could see himself and Marv, as if he were drifting along the ceiling looking down at their bodies. He wondered if he was having a stroke or a heart attack, though he felt no pain… just pleasant weightlessness and the sensation of sliding through warm goo.
Then he felt himself crashing down again. His head throbbed for a moment, his stomach gurgling, as he struggled to regain composure. “What… what the–” he said, his throat scratchy. He felt like he was looking into a mirror… before him was… well, HIM; it was his massive, maroon sweatsuit clad body, though his own movements didn’t match the image he was staring at.
He rubbed his eyes, letting out a loud belch that stunk of corn chips and queso. His upper lip tickled. He gasped when he felt a tuft of thick, greasy hair there. His hands weren’t the thickly muscled paws of a man who had hoisted massive weights for his entire adult life; instead, they were pale, hairy, criss-crossed by dark blue veins. He had dark clumps under his fingernails.
Beyond his hands were a huge, bulbous gut squeezed into a white tank top. He grabbed at the mass, jiggling it as he started to process what he was looking at. His center of gravity seemed off. He seemed too close to the ground… limbs to thin, midsection to round… then he stared up again at the massive man–at HIS face, looming down at him.
“Sorry,” his own voice said back to him. “I don’t like small talk.” His giant body unzipped the sweatshirt and tossed it aside, flexing his arms, “NICE. These are gonna be fun.”
“Th-this isn’t…”
“--possible?” the man who looked the way he should said back to him. “That all falls under the ‘small talk’ heading for me–’This can’t be happening’ and ‘you stole my body’ and ‘turn me back’ and all that nonsense… skip it. I get two hours as you until I swap us back, so don’t waste my time with that boring stuff.”
The bodybuilder–Marv, in Dwight’s body, he finally put together despite the fog in his brain–walked through the condo shaking the floor with every step. He opened a door and ducked in. A flip of a switch lit up the room beyond and triggered a fan. “Nice,” Marv said. “VERY nice. How the fuck do you get this big?”
Dwight heard his heart pounding in his ears. He wanted to respond to the big man–wanted nothing more than to be NEAR the body that had been stolen from him–but he couldn’t help but squeeze his own soft, jiggly belly. The sweatpants Marv had pulled on before the swap didn’t fit the same way–baggy around the legs but tight around the waist. Dreading what he might see, Dwight pulled the waistband back. He recoiled at the pungent musk released, but his eyes went wide when he saw what Marv was packing. “Damn,” he said in a soft whisper.
“Huge cock, hunh?” Marv said as he walked back out. “Yeah, one of my TWO big blessings.. The other being the power to swap bodies of course. Yours is…” Marv reached down and grabbed the small bulge between his mammoth quads. “Well, not unsurprising. I’d imagine having a little dick had a lot to do with trying to get this huge, right? And from what I hear, steroids really does a number on you big guys’ balls.”
“I… my dick’s a-average,” Dwight stammered as a hand went to the top of his head. He gasped when he felt the sparse wisps across bald skin. “My legs are so big it looks small.”
Marv grinned, licking his full lips and sliding a finger along his–fuck, not his, MINE! Dwight thought–granite jawline. “Look, buddy, I’m looking down at your cock RIGHT NOW. Sure, the rest of me is huge now, but that cock is…” He chuckled–Dwight’s own laugh, turned against him. The now-portly man balled up his fists, fuming, but unable to muster the courage to do much else.
For the first time in his life, he felt too powerless to speak. Sweat started to bead at his temples as the space between his rolls started to dampen his shirt.
“So I’m out of here,” the bigger man said, patting his pockets. He pulled out Dwight’s car keys with a grin. “Which is your car?” When no response came, he shrugged his big shoulders. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll just click the alarm until it goes off.”
Dwight’s gut went cold as he watched his own body starting to walk away from him. The big man—damn, is this how big he was to everyone else?—turned around and crossed his huge arms. “You gonna come with, or just diddle around my apartment while I’m out?”
Dwight still didn’t move, but Marv grabbed Dwight roughly and guided the portly man down the hall. “Nope,” he said. I don’t trust you in here with all my stuff. Don’t want you having a tantrum or anything.”
“I-I’ll walk,” Dwight said, throwing up his arms. He was shocked how little resistance he was able to put up. Marv seemed so POWERFUL now, and Dwight felt so helpless. He caught a whiff of an unfamiliar scent—it must have been his, a slightly sour musk—and then another, one he knew: his own deodorant tinged with the scent of his own warm body. Something about smelling himself from the outside made his—or rather, Marv’s—huge dick twitch.
Outside, Dwight felt disoriented. He watched the landscaper gawking at Marv without even acknowledging the pudgy man struggling to keep up with the long-legged muscleman. Blinking, Dwight headed toward his car without a thought. He paused to wheeze, bending over to catch his breath. He felt like he’d run on a treadmill for an hour.
As he rose, still panting, Marv pushed him aside and got in the driver’s seat. Dwight felt uncomfortable getting in the passenger seat of his own car, but what other choice did he have?
“Sometimes I feel like I’m a babysitter for all the guys I leave in my body,” Marv said as he drove around town. “Gotta find something to occupy you guys while I get stuff done.”
“Other guys?” Dwight asked, imagining other for-rent muscle guys stopping by for a worship session and ended up in the same situation Dwight was then.
“Here we are,” Marv said, clicking the door locks. He hopped out, strutting over to Dwight’s door and yanking it open. He gestured with his rippling arm toward the entrance of a barbecue restaurant.
“All you can eat!” Marv said with a grin.
“But I can’t… I don’t…” Dwight’s protests were both related to his strict bodybuilding diet, but a jab from Marv’s muscular finger into Dwight’s soft belly immediately countered anything he had planned.
“Go on in and enjoy yourself,” Marv said. “I’m a regular here. Put it on my tab. Eat all the food you can’t enjoy when you look like this!” Marv his a double-biceps flex. Despite his situation, Dwight felt his big cock jump again. He couldn’t believe he was actually into his own body.
Marv pulled away in Dwight’s car, leaving the soft-bodied man to slowly waddle in. The barbecue did smell amazing. Plus, who cared what he ate? He could pig out without jeopardizing his bodybuilding gains one bit. Marv said it would only be for two hours; why not enjoy himself?
A woman who seemed to know him approached his table with a milkshake. He blushed as she slid it toward him. “You’re favorite, Marv!” She said with a grin. Her nametag read “Sharon” and her body was just as thick and round as Marv’s. He took a sip and a dollop of whipped cream fell from his lips. She reached out and wiped it off his man-boon, licking her finger before walking away.
“I’ll just start you with your usual,” Sharon said. “Two servings of your Mac and cheese. We’ll go from there, got it?”
Dwight licked his lips. He hadn’t eaten macaroni and cheese in YEARS! Now he could enjoy them guilt-free.
After the macaroni and cheese (plus ANOTHER shake), Dwight shuffled off to the bathroom, surprised at how many of this restaurant’s employees knew—and loved—him. After washing his hands at the bathroom sink, he glanced into the mirror and adjusted his shirt.
It took a full moment for him to realize that the man in the mirror wasn’t who he was supposed to be. It shocked him how easily he accepted the portly, balding man’s image as his own.
Two racks of ribs and a root beer float later, Sharon brought out the corn bread. “Big fella, you came in with a BIG hunger today,” she said as she sat down a pot of beefy chili, the scent of which nearly singed Dwight’s nose hairs. He had to unbuckle his belt halfway through the corn bread, and when a loud belch unexpectedly escaped his mouth, a number of the nearby waitresses and busboys all cheered and clapped for him.
Dwight was shocked when he saw Marv at the door. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to be there—that he wasn’t even in his own body! He struggled to his feet, groaning as he realized how stuffed he felt. He had barbecue stains all over his shirt, greasy finger streaks down his pants. Marv shook his head as Dwight waddled toward him.
“You fucking PIG!” Marv exclaimed as Dwight headed back for his car. He grabbed the handle to the driver’s seat, sighed when he found it locked, then sighed again when he realized the keys weren’t in his pocket. He caught a glimpse of himself in the car’s window. He was HUGE—significantly more bloated than when he’d arrived. He looked like a sloppy mess. As shame washed over him, he turned away from the image. Strong hands grabbed his midsection on either side and turned him back.
“Just LOOK at yourself!” It was Dwight’s own voice, but coming from behind him. His bulbous cheeks burned red as he realized how much he’d lost control when given an unlimited amount of food to eat. He was a sloppy mess! His gut stuck out twice as far as it was before! Muscular fingers grabbed handfuls of his flabby gut and gave it a jiggle. “See, you’ve got no self-control. You lack discipline! All you want to do is satisfy yourself like the sloppy little piggy you are.”
In the reflection, he saw three college-aged athletes with gym-bags slung over their shoulder. They slowed their gait to watch the bodybuilder shaming the slob, whispering and laughing to each other.
Dwight tried to remind himself that in his own body, he would have been the size of two of those men squashed together. It offered no solace from the humiliation.
“All right, get in,” Marv ordered. He was so confident, his voice so strong and commanding, that Dwight did exactly as he was told. At no time in his life before that day had he ever shown such submission. Here he was getting into his OWN vehicle on the passenger side while a man wearing his muscles and face drove him around!
The whole ride back to Marv’s condo, Dwight was only focused on the sauce beneath his fingernails, the stains on his shirt, and the throbbing cock in his pants. Fuck, how is this turning me on? He wondered. And yet every time he saw thick forearm flex as Marv shifted, every time he got a whiff of the bodybuilder’s natural stink, and every time he felt his own chubby fingers sink into his soft belly, the huge python in his pants would throb.
“You like this, don’t you?” Marv said after he’d parked. He reached down gently stroked Dwight’s gut. He leaned in close, Marv’s stubble–fuck, no, that’s MY stubble! Dwight tried to remember–gently scrubbing against his face. “Some big STUD teasing you because you can’t help shoving food in your face… y’know, when I’m in that body, I eat pretty healthy. But for some reason, every time one of you big muscleheads gets in there, you always end up stuffing yourselves. Helpless little porkers, that’s what you are. Just have to separate you from your precious muscles and you become the greedy little piggies that you are…”
Marv’s hand tugged down Dwight’s pants, gently tickling along the underside of his cock. FUCK, that dick was huge! Dwight was used to a small-ish cock, big enough for him of course but no more than a handful. Now, he’d need to hands just to take care of this monster!
Dwight whimpered as he felt Marv licking up the side of his neck. His eyes fell upon the veins in Marv’s forearm as he teased Dwight’s throbbing organ. It wouldn’t be long, Dwight knew. He’d never allowed a man to dominate himself like this before–teasing and frustrating him into a lather–but being in this body, his massive lunch still digesting in his belly as Marv reminded him just how squishy he was, and yet how hard his dick was… Dwight started moaning like he was in heat, biting his lower lip.
“Call me daddy, little piggy,” Marv ordered.
Dwight didn’t even think. “D-daddy…”
“Tell me to let you cum.”
“P-please, let me cum, daddy…”
“Fuck, you’re so horny!”
Dwight actually let out a squeal as a response. FUCK, he was so close! Why wouldn’t Marv just finish him off!
“You fucking love this! You never would have let me jerk you off before, but now, you’ve never been happier in your whole life.”
“P-please–”
“Say ‘daddy’!”
“Please daddy! Let me c-cum…”
“Finish yourself off, piggy.”
Now that he had permission, both of Dwight’s hands went to his desperate erection. He felt the moment beginning–the pressure started to reach an apex, all that pent up energy cresting toward sweet release, and then…
…he blinked. He was in the driver’s seat. Next to him, Marv was cumming ropes all over his body, moaning and bucking his hips as he came an incredible amount.
Dwight looked down at himself. All of his muscles, his big, solid body… and he was disappointed. He still felt all the desperation of the moment before without any of the resolution. Essentially, Marv had stolen his orgasm–the ultimate denial.
“Fuck, that was FUN!” Marv said, his own chunky self again. He clapped a hand down on Dwight’s thigh. “FUCK, big man! I like you! I like you a lot.” Dwight pulled off his own shirt, using it to sop up the sticky mess all over him. “JESUS, you sure did pig out, didn’t you!” He grabbed his gut and gave it a jiggle.”
Dwight had no words. He should be happy to be big and strong again, he knew, but he felt empty.
“That was… fucking glorious.”
“What did you… do… in MY body?” Dwight asked. The thought hadn’t dawned on him until he burped up the taste of an energy drink.
“Just went to the gym,” Marv said. “Worked out. Lifted weights, chatted with the big guys like I was one of them. Intimidated the cocky smaller guys. Got a guy’s number. It’s in your back pocket. He’s hot, bit shorter than you but thicker. Call him up. He was crazy about you.”
Marv started to get out of the truck. “Look, if you ever want to, y’know… pig out and jerk my cock, you just give me a call. But if you’re a little butthurt about this whole scenario and want to settle the score, I’d recommend you don’t. I can just as easily swap you into an elderly lady and LEAVE you there. You’re call, big guy.”
Marv held out a wad of bills and tucked it into Dwight’s pocket. “Thanks again, stud,” he said, hopping out of the car.
Comments
Henry Cavanaugh
Your body swap stories are always elite. Great work, bud!
