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long-bodyswap · 5 years

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Pool boy

This is one of the best stories i’ve ever found, i specially love it because of the details of the body exploration. Hope you like it too. I don’t have the credits.

Beauty comes with many flaws.

When you want what he’s got, you get the total package.

He was hard not to notice. Nothing but packed, dark chocolate muscle in short tight dark blue swim trunks, if you could call them “trunks,” more like a dark blue second skin over a bubble butt. You could see the dimples in his glutes, the trunks were so tight. Each day since I’d got to the hotel in Puerto Plata, he had arrived at the pool just after I’d come down from my room and settled into the lounge chair. I’d wanted a quiet hotel and this place was great. Nice rooms, a decent restaurant, the pool and a private garden. It wasn’t cheap, but I could afford it. Years of working and I’d made a ton of money. But, what did I have? No lover, and I was tired, out of shape. I looked 75—more than 15 years older than I was. My body was a ruin. I’d become the rich, ugly old geezer lusting after muscle boys; the guy I never wanted to be. I was tired of New York, and my pals had told me about a great “men’s” hotel in the Dominican Republic. Secluded, luxurious and filled with buff young male personnel—waiters, houseboys, yardmen. Not one of them older than about 28, most in their early 20s. You name it, and the hotel had him—all shapes and sizes from swimmer, to runner, to muscle boy, and all luscious, fully baked and ready to provide whatever made an old queen happy. They were all excellent at it if you could believe all of my friends from New York—and there were a lot of them who came here. My pals told me that the rent boys knew what you wanted even before you asked. The hotel was very popular with rich, old queens from the States and Europe—mainly the UK. Tons of frustration for me every time I looked around at the staff—but particularly the muscle boys, each one of those chocolate muscle hunks was my wet dream. I’d landed at the small international airport not far from town. Puerto Plata is far north from Santo Domingo, along the Atlantic coast. It’s one of the smaller towns, the resorts dominate the beaches while the rest of the population lives a much simpler life. The contrast is stark between the haves and the have-nots. On the drive from the airport, the transport van drove through the middle of town—only one traffic light. We hit a red, of course. Immediately, three morenos—that’s what they call the poor, working class here, began to wash the van’s windows. The hotel driver cursed at them, as the light changed he drove off. The ride to the hotel from there was through the poorest part of town, near the harbor. The poverty loomed large on each side of the road. Rundown houses, shacks and sometimes little shanties. I was glad to get to the hotel. After I checked into my room, I took a book and went down to the pool to relax. That’s when I fist saw that powerful, well-built chocolate body in the tight dark blue trunks. He’d come to the end of the pool and stripped off his sweatpants to reveal the tight blue swim trunks, cut just above his package and stretched tight on his thighs—so short it almost wasn’t on his thighs. It was amazing and I was hooked. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect form—especially compared to the body that I was in after years of neglect. I’d lifted when I was young—I wanted that perfect gym-boy body. But, I never had the genetics to bulk up. Not even with a little help. I’d given up. But, this chocolate body had it all—the genetics, the shape and the size. Just what I’d always wanted. I watched the tight ass in the dark blue trunks put down the pool brush and the vacuum. He couldn’t be more than 20, about 5’9’’, working at the hotel, but he was stunning. 220 pounds of hard-packed muscle, totally fat free. He rolled out the hose and then knelled down at the edge of the pool to attach the hose into the filter. He stood up and grabbed the long brush pole. He leaned over and changed the brush head for the vacuum head. Christ, you could see every muscle in his back—it was huge. The lats were like wings—spread out so far I swear he could fly. And no fat! The Christmas Tree just above those tight glutes stood out like a beacon. You had to want it to have muscularity like that. The diet alone would kill you, not to mention the hours of gym time. I doubted that I could ever be that dedicated to my body, but I wouldn’t have minded trying for a while. He stood up and grabbed the vacuum pole with both hands. He stood at the edge of the pool and began to clean the sides. Up he would pull the pole, high over his head, and then back down. Slowly moving around the pool and towards me. With each pass of his arms, you could see every muscle move in his back. The traps trembled as he pushed the pole down the side of the pool. God, they were like two huge ropes, starting at his neck and then running to his delts. Shoulders of a muscle god. The arms were perfect too. The outer tri’s were thick and defined. His upper arm swept down over the bicep perfectly, and his forearms were thick and huge. The wrists were wide—you could tell he’d been working his body since he was a teenager. You don’t get those thick wrists unless you had put a lot of stress on the joint while it was forming. He was slowly moving closer to me as he rounded the corner of the pool. It took him a good hour to clean the pool (which seemed a little too long to me), and then he went on to other duties at the hotel. Mostly, menial stuff. And, I wondered what else he did. It couldn’t be a great life. Down here most people were dirt poor, living in some shanty town, and trying to get out and to the States. When the other yard guys came around the pool, you could tell he did what they told him to do. Sometimes, they’d yell at him about forgetting one thing or another they’d told him. Too bad the great bodies always were a little dumb. As I stared at his huge chocolate body, I was getting noticeably hard the closer he came to me. “You like what he got?” a voice said in my ear—startled the hell out of me. It was the head housemaid. A big, smiling Dominican woman. She was holding a coffee pot and poured me another cup. “Sure,” I said. “Who wouldn’t, muscles like that are hard to get and hard to keep. I never had ‘em, but I should have tried. Money’s great, but a perfect body is better.” She smiled and said, “You watch him all de time, if you like what you see I could get it all for you, den we both be happy.” She smiled again and walked off. I sipped on the coffee—it was damn hot. And looked back to the pool. He had moved almost in front of me. The bubble butt was so close I could almost squeeze it. So, I continued my scan of the body. The back was massive. As I said, the lats were like angel wings and the taper to the waist was impressive. I swear the chest must be at least 54 inches with those lats; the waist couldn’t be more than 30 inches. And, those dark blue trunks. Christ, I wanted to run a finger down those tight cheeks. I could almost feel the muscle, just like it was mine. I could sure make that body into my wet dream. Maybe I should give it a try tonight, I thought. The legs were excellent too. You could tell that squats must one of his favorite movements. The top of the 30-inch thighs swept down to the knees from the wide and thick top to the end of the leg bicep. And, the calves! They must have been 18 or 19 inches, like little ledges of muscle, moving under the dark chocolate skin each time he stepped along the edge of the pool as he cleaned the sides. But, the ass was the best—just perfect melon-shaped glutes. He turned abruptly and looked right at me. The chest was massive. Square pecs, like slabs of muscle pinned high on him. The nipples were small and placed high up on the pecs, not at the edge like some guys. His areolas were like little chocolate pillows, a little puffy which was a clue that he was loaded with steroid of some type, maybe deca durabolin or primobolan. You couldn’t get that big without some juice like dec. The obliques were striated. He must have been doing side bends when he wasn’t squatting. More than that, it wasn’t a six-pac; it was an eight-pac. The abs were so chiseled that you could run your fingers over the ridges. Little valleys on each side of the ab. The lower abs descended into the dark blue trunks with little ridges. God this guy must diet like hell. “You watch me a lot,” he said. The grin was wide and he tossed his dreadlocks out of his eyes. Always wondered how these Caribbean guys grew those dreads so long. But you could tell from the look in his eyes that whatever was behind them was a dim bulb. His voice had jolted me back from my dreaming, and made me realize that I was watching more than just a body. There was a guy in it and he was trying to make conversation with me. “You’ve got a great build, and it’s hard not to notice that,” I said. “Lots of work,” I said. “You like my body? I been training since I was 15,” he said, “My name Tyrief. What’s yours?” Again, that child-like look. This guy must be just a little slow, I thought to myself, but the body makes up for it. What did my friends always say, you don’t fuck the brain, just the body. This guy was a good example—but the body more than made up for it. “I’m Ben Stratton,” I said. “Nice to meet you,“ he said. “When I’m done with de pool, and sweeping de paths, I done. I got to get home, eat and get some sleep. It’s impo’tant to get plenty o’ sleep when you growing yo’ body like I am. I train in the early mornin’ before I come here, about 5 at Delaney’s Gym near de harbor. I got to start training at night too next week. Got to get ready for de all Caribbean Bodybuilding contest. I come in second in de super heavy-weight class last year, and I know I gonna be first this year.” He smiled again, and you forgot about his low-watt bulb. The teeth were so white against that chocolate skin. Not super dark chocolate, more like deep mocha or the color of rich, dark coffee—and it shown like sable. He was gorgeous, more than I’d ever been. As he stood in front of me at the edge of the pool, I was totally hard. Nothing but about 240 pounds of solid, skin-tight muscle in front of me. As he talked you could see his eight-pac move in and out with each breath. His pecs quivered as he moved the pool vacuum pole nervously from hand to hand as he tried to make conversation with me. The veins throbbed and pulsated along his biceps and forearms. Like little ropes of man pleasure just under the chocolate skin. His face was strong and masculine. A wide, flat nose, flared nostrils, with high check bones. Dark, deep brown eyes—almost smoke black.. You could tell that he had mixed blood. Lots of African, some European settler—probably the white farm owner or maybe a sailor in Santo Domingo on leave—and then enough Caribbean Indian to give him those high cheek bones and that straight dark black hair. He was a perfect mix, what the world would eventually be. And it would be a beautiful world. When he was this close, you could tell that his hair was straight and that he teased it into those dreadlocks. His lips were wide, thick and full. The dark skin was lustrous, baby soft. He was a total Caribbean hunk, and I wanted him. He turned and went back to cleaning the pool. “I gotta get dis done,” he said. “See you tomorrow.” He stopped and turned to me. “What it like bein’ rich? I never had nothin’; just work and training. Didn’t even finish school, all de stuff confuse me and de teachers make fun o’ me. But once I start with de weights I get big so fast, no one laugh at me. I like dat so I stop school and work around de harbor. But wid out de school, I can’t get me no good job. I get dis job dis summer, and it pay ok. Just de pool and de yard. Big Betty like me to show of my body to you. She say you men like big guys like me. She pay me enough for a room, de gym and food. I don’t really need mo’ dan dat. Big Betty tells me she get me new job here soon, and den Big Betty want my friend Enrique have dis job. I tell him dat. But I make some money from the contest prizes, I came in second last time—I needed more size on my quads dey sezs. When I win me de super heavy-weight at de Caribbean Bodybuilding Championship dis fall, I use dat money to go to New York. You been dere?” “Yes, I’ve been there, but I’m not rich,” I said. “I got enough for me to get about what I want. I’m from New York City. A muscle hunk like you would do just fine—no need to be smart, just pretty.” Needed more size on his quads, I thought. Didn’t look like that now, so he must have been squatting hard the last few months. Not one of my favorite exercises, my thighs could never push through the movement—although I always gave it a good try. I wished I’d had thighs like those when I was squatting. I could have done something with those thighs—not to mention the rest of that body. But, time had passed me by and I’d lost my chance. If I could do it again with a body like that, I’d be a real size freak. The pool guy smiled and then he left me. He packed up his pool cleaning kit. God, he was beautiful, but you could tell he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. No wonder he hadn’t finished school. The boy was dumb and he sounded like the typical low-class Dominican morenos that had surrounded the hotel van at the traffic light—bad grammar and all. But, the body made up for all of that, hard firm-packed muscle. As to the “good job” he wanted, I could employ him for a few hours of fun tonight at a very decent wage. Maybe I’d get to be with my wet dream soon. I could take “dumb” and low-class if it had a body like that. Just needed to get it while it was young and hunky. I knew exactly what I wanted that muscle god to do to me, and how I wanted him to perform his part of my muscle-worship fantasy. “He pretty muscle boy, I bet you know what you want him to do to you. You want what all dat he got?” came a voice next to my ear which startled the hell out of me again. It was the head housemaid, and she was smiling. “What the heck,” I said. “Don’t creep up on me like that.” She just smiled and said again, “You want what all dat he got? I bet dat you know what to do with what he got too. Make an old guy like you crazy.” She was an odd woman, big and dark. You could tell she was in charge. All of the workers at the hotel ran when she talked. They all were respectful, but you could tell that she meant business and didn’t take any gruff from the staff. She smiled again and said “You want what all dat he got, I get it for you if you do what I tell you.” “Sure, I said, I want what every part of that muscle hunk—I want it all for me. How much?” “A thousand,” she said. A thousand, I thought. That was a lot for one night with a rent boy, but I had the money and, what the hell, the body was gorgeous, everything I ever wanted in one package. Just didn’t know if my old body could get it up for a stud like that. But, as I looked over at the end of the pool, he was crouched over packing up the pool kit. His back muscles moved with every turn of the pool hose—no fat at all and just ridges of muscles. He was squatted down and the bubble butt just screamed from those dark blue, skin-tight trunks. I could feel myself getting hard again. “OK, I said. A thousand is fine. When?” “I get things ready, she said. I come to you soon and you have the money ready.” With that, she walked over to Tyrief and talked to him. While she was talking she ran her fingers through his hair. He looked at her with a serious face and nodded, but you could tell he was tense. She ran her fingers through his hair again and he stiffened, she stuffed something in her pocket and walked off. After she had gone, Tyrief quickly picked up the pool kit and hurried past me to the pool hut. Each stride showed off the muscles of his thighs, moving below the fat-free skin. And, the glutes pumped in the tight trunks. He had the pool hose coiled over his arm, holding it in place. As he ran by me, the veins on his biceps showed against the tight dark skin of his upper arm. He was in a hurry, and didn’t look happy. The eight-pack was remarkable, though. Damn, I was hard again. The thousand dollars would be well-spent on that rent boy. With Tyrief gone, I went back to reading my book and was soon asleep in the lounge chair at pool side. That afternoon, I cashed some Traveler’s Checks so that I’d have the money for my little adventure. I doubted that the head housemaid would produce Tyrief for my pleasure. But, she was clearly the boss here and if anyone could get me what Tyrief had, it was her. Maybe I would soon be stroking those tight glutes through the skin-tight dark blue swim trunks, and running my hands over those perky chocolate nipples—running those dreadlocks through my fingers too. Time would tell if I got to spend the night with that body, and it would be a good story to tell my friends after I got back from vacation. The next morning, I went down to the pool as I normally did, and set up at the lounge chair. Right on schedule, Tyrief came out of the pool hut for his daily pool-cleaning ritual and I sat back to watch. He dropped the pool gear and came straight over to me. “Hello Mon,” he said and sat down next to me. Just looking at him, you could tell he had just left the gym. His muscles were pumped—not huge, just that full look when the blood has been pushed into each cell. The skin quivered a little too—the muscles were still tense under the skin. And, his smell was warm. He had that light musk smell coming off his skin that all chocolate guys had. Don’t know why, but just that musk smell mixed with his sweat got me hard. So that he didn’t know what I was thinking, I dropped by gaze from his face and it landed right at the center of those tight dark blue trunks. God, his package was huge. The bulge was impressive, and he was hard too. The long, thick outline of his erect member pressed against the fabric. I could only guess that the balls were fantastic as well. I was going to enjoy my time with him and that package. “Hey Mon.” Tyrief’s voice shook me back to reality. “Mon, you talk a lot to Big Betty.” “Who?” I said. “Big Betty, dat lady.” And he pointed toward the main hotel. You could just see the head housemaid walk through the door. “Oh, that’s Big Betty.” “Yeah.” Tyrief said. “She talk to you a lot and she nobody to fool with.” “Most folk say she got power and she up to no good.” “Really,” I said. “What has she done. She seems nice to me.” “I don’t know all de stuff. I only come here dis summer. De old pool guy, Carlos, got me dis job. I know him for long time from de gym, he get me started at de weights four years ago. He find me one day after school, cryin’, after de teacher make fun of me. He told me if I go to de gym wid him I get big and nobody bother wid me no mo’. Carlos work for Big Betty full-time now down at the house she keep in town, now dat I here. He still train at de gym, but he don’t talk to me much no more, he just tell me to keep trainin’, dat he leaving and dat I be takin’ his place. Don’t know what he mean, only thing new is dis job he got me. He not like he used to be when I first met him, when he first took me to da gym, before he move into Big Betty’s house and start to work for her full time. She keep dat house for de old guys, like you, to meet de boys. She try to get me to work for her all of de time; she say I got de body dat her clients would pay for. I don’t like her and I stay away. She not like that and told me she needed what I got and would get it. You seem OK and you should stay away from her.” He left me then and started his work. The dark blue swim trunks were stretched tight across his melon-mound glutes. God, they were great. I could hardly wait to run my hands over those glutes. When he turned, he saw me looking and grinned. He rubbed his eight-pack and said: “You should try keeping deze abs up, I do crunches every morning and night, and I don’t eat no junk. Sometimes I think dat dis more work than it worth.” With that he started his methodical cleaning of the pool. Moving along the side of the pool, reaching high into the air and pushing the pole down the pool’s sloping sides. With each swing, his muscles heaved and quivered. That body was worth all the work it took to keep it perfect. He was a muscle god, and I wanted all that he had. My wet dream was right in front of me and I wanted to see that dream every morning when I woke up. Maybe Big Betty could give that to me. I left the pool and Tyrief. I was hard and I wanted some relief. I couldn’t do anything in public and I needed some privacy. I went back to my room and opened the door. Big Betty was there, sitting on the bed. “What the..” I said. She looked hard at me and said: “You got my money?” “Sure, “ I said. “You got Tyrief ready for me? He says that you want him to work for you, but that he refuses. How are you going to get him for me?” “Oh, Tyreif gonna work for me for a long time. It all ready to give you what he got, if you got da money, and you sure you want dat muscle-boy body and all dat go with it.” I had the money in the desk drawer. But I wondered if that was what I wanted. I walked toward the desk and looked out the window. The late afternoon sun was out and Tyrief was still at his work. The sheer beauty of the guy was breathtaking. His dark skin shown in the sun and each muscle was defined by the shadows from the sun. Up, down, up down. His wings worked in rhythm with his enormous guns. His legs swayed from side to side as he crept along the side of the pool. I wanted all of that, the muscle, the dark skin—I wanted my wet dream to be with me always. “You got the money?” Big Betty said again. I continued over to the desk and got the money. She watched the money and smiled as I walked over to her. “You sure you want dis, all dat Tyrief got? Dat a whole different life and mind. She said. I though her remark was odd. Of course I wanted Tyrief. As my pals always said you don’t fuck the brain, just the body and a night with that body was going to last a life-time in my memory. Wet dreams are best when they stay dreams. I just hoped that I had a Viagra left in my toilet kit. I thought that I’d left some in the pill case. “You sure you want dis? When it done, it done.” “Yeah—I want it; I want it all. When?” “Tonight; after Tyrief get off work and go home.” “I come back.” She took the money and smiled at me. It was creepy and a shiver ran down my back. Maybe Tyreif was right. Big Betty wasn’t someone to fool with. I took a hot shower and went down to dinner. The weather was great, and I ate out on the terrace. Handsome waiters everywhere; not just handsome, gorgeous. Great bodies, but you knew that they were just that—great bodies with no future. Trapped in the Dominican Republic, no education and eventually their pecs would sag. One cute guy smiled at me—I’d seen him before. I knew his type. Grab himself an old gay sugar daddy and then get himself out of this life while he was still pretty and his body held up. The thought of that life hit me—nothing ahead of you and everything tied to your looks. Basically, you were a slave to your body as the only chance that you had for a better life. I left without finishing my dinner and started up the stairs. My life wasn’t the greatest, but at least I had stuff to look forward to. And tonight that might just be Mr. Tyrief---and then back to New York tomorrow. Big Betty was at the top of the stairs. “Where you been?” She said. “Not much time, Tyrief like to get up early so he get to da gym.” “We gotta be done b’for he wake up or it not work.” “OK….” I said as I opened the door to my room. “Where is he?” Big Betty looked at me and smiled. She pulled a little bottle out of her pocket and said: “It right here.” “What?” “You drink dis and dat give you all that you want and all dat I want. Just drink it and I give you all dat Tyrief got. I give it to you right now.” She went over to the door and looked out. Tyrief must be outside, waiting for me I thought. “Drink it quick, and you get what you want.” Maybe I didn’t need the Viagra if Big Betty is giving me liquid poppers, I thought. I unscrewed the cap and tossed the stuff down. “OK” I said as I handed the bottle back to her. “You can bring Tyrief in now, I’m ready.” Big Betty turned and looked at me. “You silly,” she said. “What you want from Tyrief in de bottle.” “I mixed de hair I took from him dat first day I talked to you; with my want potion.” “Dat mixture and de Voodoo give you all dat you want, and I get what I want too. I need another muscle-man at my house for de old guys, now dat Carlos want to go with his sugar daddy. He not so young anymore and de all want de young ones.” She made no sense. But I was starting to feel odd. The room was getting dark and I was unsteady on my feet. “What’s going on?” I said. “You just getting all dat Tyrief has—but only one of you be here. It gotta be done before Tyrief wake up or it not work and you gone.” She grinned and started to laugh. The pain in my gut was unbearable and I sank to my knees. It was getting darker and I couldn’t keep my dinner down. I vomited and rolled over. I couldn’t move my legs. “What did you do to me?” I cried. “I just give you what you want. I see you tomorrow; remember, come see me just as soon as you wake up. Don’t go no where but to me. I in the big yellow house down by the harbor.” Then I blacked out.

I opened my eyes. The room was dark and Big Betty was nowhere to be seen. I lay on the bed for a few minutes while I got my wits about me. I was naked, and I never slept naked. Moreover, the room seemed odd. The sheets were rough—the hotel prided itself on ultra luxury sheets and I had noted that. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. I took one step and fell over. Everything seemed wrong. I reached out for the bed to pull myself up and I hit a table. There isn’t a table near the bed in my room, I thought. Where the hell did Big Betty take me? I reached out for the bed, crawled over to it, but nothing was working like it should. “It must be what she drugged me with,” I thought. My legs were not going were I thought they normally should be. It was like they weren’t the legs I was used to. I hit the bed, reached across it and touched a wall. It was a single bed—not the king-sized bed in my room. “What the hell?” I thought as I pulled myself erect. As I glanced around, I could see a door to my left, and clothes piled on a chair near me. I began to walk toward the door, but I stumbled. My stride wasn’t as long as it should be—I was almost 6’2” and I took long strides, even if I was 60 and out of shape. I was taking baby steps now and my thighs were rubbing together. I widened my stance till my thighs stopped touching and slowly and carefully walked to the door. When I got to the door, I could see it was a tiny bathroom, about the size of a closet. The cheap sink was right in front of me. I moved carefully over to the sink. I seemed to be getting used to walking again. “God,” I thought, “how could you forget how to walk?” I reached the sink and turned on the water. I splashed cold water over my face and patted it dry with my hand—odd, my nose felt funny. Wider and flatter than normal, but it didn’t hurt. My lips felt odd too, thick and wide. “What the hell is going on—did Big Betty hit me in the face?” I looked up and could see the chain for the light over the dirty, stained sink. I reached up and yanked the chain. The single bulb lit up—no shade, just straight light from a 60 watt bulb. I looked straight ahead into the mirror and froze. My face—what the hell. That’s not my face. Dark skin, high cheek bones, a wide flat nose, flared nostrils, thick lips and the skin—deep, dark mocha brown, perfect without a wrinkle or a sag. Black dreadlocks fell around my neck. And then the thick traps swept away to the delts hanging on the corner of my shoulders. God, it was the pool guy’s face. “What’s going on?” I thought. And then I ran my fingers over my face just to feel. But, they weren’t my fingers. they were the pool guy’s thick, short muscular fingers. Tyrief’s fingers. I could see thick, wide wrists in the mirror too and I looked down at my forearms. They were dense, wide, enormous. The corded veins ran like ropes up to the biceps, and at my elbow they massed in a freaky knot. Fantastic. I felt my bi’s—they were like rocks. I looked in the mirror and made a muscle with my left arm. The two heads of the bicep were like mountain peaks. They must be 20 inches The man in the mirror held the muscles tense, and it was me in the mirror! I smiled and in the mirror you could see my white teeth flash against the dark skin. Beautiful. “What’s going on?” Just then I saw my chest in the mirror. Slabs of deep, dark chocolate muscle. And, those small perfect nipples. I looked again and the left nipple was pierced. A little sliver rod ran through the erect nipple head. I hadn’t noticed that before at the pool. I gently circled my nipples with my new thick fingers, and then gave each a long, hard squeeze. I could feel an instant surge of pleasure deep inside me and I began to get hard. “Hard?” I thought. Then it hit me, I was 20-year-old Tyrief. I had dreamed of playing with these nipples—I just didn’t think they’d be my nipples. I looked down between my legs to my crotch and there it was. 10 fat uncut inches. Better than I had imagined. I ran my fingers over my member and then felt my balls. They were huge. And, I was shaved—a real porn-star shave. I was stunned. What had Big Betty done? I didn’t get to fuck the pool guy tonight, I was the pool guy. My hand brushed down against my stomach and I felt them—my eight-pack. With the light from the 60 watt bulb I could just see all of my definition. I ran my fingers along each ab. I could feel the indentations and the ridges of my lower abs as they descended to my cock; I was getting hard again. “Christ, the ass,” I thought. I reached behind me with my new powerful paws and cupped my glutes. They were rock hard and supple. I massaged my ass, and then I ran my fingers along each curve of my glutes. No fat, just muscle, so the dimples of my ass were wide and deep. “My legs,“ I thought and I ran my new short, muscular fingers along the outside sweep of each thigh playing with my quads. Then down along the back of my leg, caressing the hard fat-free hams. Finally, up along my inner thigh, feeling the thick and hard adductors. “Geez.” No wonder my legs were rubbing together, my thighs are huge. Oh—it’s all of the squats Tyrief said he does. Man, he’s really built a fantastic body. And, with these wheels, squats must be his favorite movement now. I walked back into the bedroom. It was little and crowded. I was walking a little better—but my thighs still rubbed together and I had to remember to widen my stance with every step I took. It was odd too, my arms were riding high. Tyrief’s wings were so wide, I couldn’t lower my arms completely. Odd feeling, but I was sure I could get used to it. When I reached the other door to the room. I felt along the wall and hit the wall switch. Light flooded the room and I looked around. It was small and cheap looking, and dirty--it was a mess. Clothes everywhere; weights on the floor and a cracked, full-length mirror in the corner. This muscle man didn’t have any money, and it showed. But, he had this body, and that was worth more than money to me. I walked over to the mirror and stood in front of it. This gorgeous chocolate muscle boy looked back at me. There in all my naked glory was Tyrief, the pool guy. And, I was looking out of his dark brown eyes. I hit a double biceps pose in the mirror. My peaks were fantastic, and my dark naked body showed off every muscle of my abs. I turned sideways and did a side chest pose. The pec line was amazing and the sweep of my lats perfect. My raised leg showed off the tight sweep of my thigh. No wonder Tyrief thought that he’d win his next contest. I relaxed and then did a lat spread. The hood that my lats made in the mirror started to get me hard. I looked down and my thick member was swelling, totally naked without any pubic hair. I was 20 and horny. I reached down and took my cock in my new muscular hands. I spit in my hands, and then I began a methodical rhythm. I felt pleasure all over my body. I stroked my cock with one hand and pinched my dark nipples hard with the other. My cock head started to come out of the foreskin—my old body was cut, and it was totally a new experience to see the foreskin slide back to reveal the head. Shit, and what a head it was—large and dark jet black. Deeper chocolate than any part of this body that I’d seen. The head almost looked like rubber, it was so hard and shinny. I stroked the head, and I felt an instant surge of ultimate pleasure. I came quickly after that, and the gush of come juice flowed down my palm, glistening against its light caramel color, so different from the rest of me, like the dark mocha on the back of my massive hands. I turned my hand over to see my chocolate skin, and then back to see my caramel, almost creamy, palm. God, I was a chocolate Caribbean hunk with a perfect body—my wet dream. Big Betty really had given me all that Tyrief had. I’d come once in this chocolate muscle-boy body and I wanted to do it again, and again, and again. I needed to do as much with this body as I could before Big Betty switched me back. She didn’t tell me how long I’d get for the thousand dollars. It probably wasn’t long. I looked at the clock. It was 4 in the morning. Big Betty had caught me at my hotel room door at about 10 last night. Only 6 hours ago. Wonder what my Ben Stratton body was doing right now with Tyrief in it—probably still sleeping. But, it was Tyrief’s gym time and I was awake. I wonder, I thought. It had been years since I was in a gym—but I knew the movements and with this body I could hit the weights like I’d always wanted to. A gym bag lay by a pile of dirty clothes. Why not---I might as well enjoy this body while I have it. A workout would be great. But I was naked and I need to get dressed. Where the hell did Tyrief say he worked out? I picked up the gym bag and on the side I saw a bunch of letters, but I couldn’t make out what they said. Must be the light I thought, and I looked at the bag hard, but the letters were all a jumble to me. I could just make out a capital “D” and then it looked like an “e.” “Delaney’s.” Yeah, Tyrief had said it was Delaney’s down by the harbor. How hard could it be to find my gym—I thought it, my gym, not Tyrief’s gym. But I was Tyrief, at least for now until my time ran out and Big Betty switched me back. I looked around for something to wear. I opened a drawer in the chest and looked in. Wow, Tyrief must be a little kinky and its not just the porn-star shave. The drawer was full of latex and toys. Dildos, butt plugs, and leather straps. I picked up some of the latex. Shorts, with a cock sheath molded right in. Tit clips too. Maybe I’d get to play with this leather boy next trip I took down here—or maybe I could find one of his leather pals today while I was still in this body. I shut that drawer and pulled the next drawer open. It was full of thong underwear. Not the plain kind, but silk or stretch lycra. This guy knew how good he looked. I grabbed a dark blue lycra thong and held it in my hand. He sure loves dark blue, I thought. I raised one of my massive legs and put it through the leghole in the thong. I pulled the other hole open and slid my other thigh through it. As I pulled the thong up my legs and over my bubble-butt ass, I reached down and held up my balls and 10-inch cock. The thong felt so tight against my skin and my ass as I pulled it in place. I adjusted my balls and cock in the pouch and then looked in the mirror. God, I was beautiful, a perfect man. Taught naked muscle everywhere, dark chocolate skin, and the thong showed off my package perfectly, like a posing trunk. I was in heaven—kill me now God, I thought. I’m the man I always wanted to be. I reached over and grabbed a spandex T-shirt. I pulled the Tee over my head and down over my chest. It fit like a second skin and you could see the outline of my nipples through the thin fabric, nipple rod and all. The fabric was tight over my lats. I was getting hard again and my member pushed against the confines of the thong. I grabbed some shorts lying on the chair next to the bed, and I noticed leather chaps in the pile of clothes. Tyrief must really be into leather and latex, and that thought got me even harder. But before I put on the sandals that lay by the clothes pile, just for a few minutes I ran my fingers over my feet. Between each toe, and then over the heel to my Achilles tendon. You could feel the strength and then I ran my fingers up my leg to my calf. It was like a shield-shaped hockey puck, hard and oval. I could feel the corded veins circle my calf. What a perfect body, I thought again. I stood up and just for fun, I reached down and placed my palms flat on the floor. My hams felt great, so flexible and my tendons stretched with a satisfying pain. I grabbed the sandals and put them on. It was almost 4:30; I lunged at the gym bag, scored it and then strode out the door. I was still having to think about walking. These legs were just so massive and different. I started to jog, maybe that will get me oriented to this body I thought. But, I had to keep my stance wide. The harbor wasn’t far and I jogged off down the hill. The houses on each side of the street were just shacks. Nothing looked good—just poverty and disrepair everywhere. Each step was exciting, though. I could feel my quads pumping and it was great. Each massive muscle was moving in harmony and I began to swing my arms too. I could feel my inner tri’s rubbing against my lats and I was starting to get hard again. Damn, I thought, you forget how horny you were at 20. I saw a big guy walking just ahead of me and as I jogged past, he said: “Hey, Tyrief, wait up.” “You don’t want to get there before your training partner do you?” I stopped turned and looked at him. He was huge too—light- skinned, with almost blond hair, and taller than me—or rather teller than Tyrief. He was about my normal size—6’2”. And, he must be about my—Tyrief’s age: 20 or year younger. He walked over to me, punched me in the gut and said: “Let’s get moving, the sooner we get done, the sooner we get in the shower.” I followed him down the street and said: “What body part are we training today?” It was the first time that I’d spoken and my voice was weird—it wasn’t my voice. Then I remembered—I was Tyrief and I was using Tyrief’s vocal cords to talk. So—this must be what Tyrief’s voice sounded like to him, because it sure didn’t sound like the voice I had heard when Tyrief talked, Odd, the books always said the voice is different when you hear it on the inside and it sure was. I had much to learn about this body, and I was just starting. I thought Tyrief was just muscle to look at, but this body was more than that—brain, genetics, and lots of other things. What more did I need to learn about my new bundle of cells? This big guy was my training partner and I didn’t know his name or where the gym was. I thought I’d just follow along. But he turned to me with an odd look and said: “What ‘body part’ are we training today? You nuts, why you talk like dat.” We always train legs on Thursday; just like normal. Knock off the funny talk; you’d better hit those wheels hard today if you think dey gonna grow. You lost last year because you had puny legs—no definition.” That’s right, I thought. Tyrief’s training for a contest to get the prize money to go to New York. The body I saw in the mirror looking back at me just a few minutes ago in Tyrief’s room was almost contest ready, and I knew I’d have a chance to win—no, no. I know that Tyrief has a chance. Just then, we arrived at a dark building and the big guy pushed the door open. I looked up at the neon sign to make sure it was Delaney’s. But the letters were all jumbled up and I couldn’t make sense of the sign. But, the big guy had gone through the door, so I went in. As soon as I cleared the door you could see the front counter and the weight stacks beyond. I passed the counter following the big, light-skinned guy. The man at the counter said: “You and Enrique better check in.” I nodded. So, my training partner’s name is Enrique. At least I knew that much. Enrique’s Tyrief’s pal—the guy he said was going to get the pool job after Tyrief gets his new job. Enrique was moving across the gym floor toward another door and went through. I followed again and we were in the locker room. “Get changed,” Enrique said. “We late starting. Go on; I’ll get changed and meet you by the squat racks just as soon as I’ve gotten dressed and put my stuff away; I don’t want to wrinkle any of my clothes,” I said. I put my gym bag down and started to untie my shoe. Enrique just stared at me while I took my T-shirt off and folded it. I opened my gym bag and took out a pair of red compression shorts. I laid those on the bench and then pulled out a pair of gym shorts. I laid them carefully next to the folded T-shirt. I sat down and bent over the gym bag and peered in, holding my hands in my lap. Then I heard Enrique. “Hey man,” Enrique said. “What’s wrong with you? You talking and acting all funny, like one of those old queens at your hotel. And, you moving all kinda jerky. Don’t scare me like that—Pablo started acting like that in da gym last year, ‘fore he went to live at Big Betty’s place permanent. You know he never been the same since dat; dat why I started to train with you.” I froze. Maybe he could tell I wasn’t Tyrief, and I wasn’t. I was a 60-year-old queen in a chocolate jock boy’s body. And, I wasn’t used to it. Christ, I could hardly walk without rubbing my thighs together. I looked him straight in the eye and said: “I fine. I just be practicin’ to get a better job at the hotel. “Dez old guys tip good and if Big Betty let me be a waiter, and act all fine, I could make mo’ money.” I was going to have to watch my expressions and movements better, I needed to pass as a Dominican moreno until Beg Betty switched me back. Tyrief was a poor, low-class working boy, and I needed to remember that. Enrique laughed, punched me in my eight-pack and said: “Get dressed and then let’s hit the floor.” I picked a dark blue shirt out of the gym bag and looked at it. I had thought Tyreif was a little kinky and I was more sure of it now. The shirt was a skimpy muscle tank top. I put it on over my chest and looked in the mirror. It had thin spaghetti straps over my shoulders and showed off my huge traps and gigantic delts. The back straps were cut deep, and showed off my massive wings. The front neck line dipped low on my chest—just above my nipples. As I raised my arms, the top of the shirt dipped below my nipples, showing off the silver nipple ring perfectly. Tyrief sure know how good this body looked. I pulled on the red compression shorts—Under Armour stuff. Tyrief at least spent what little money he had on good gym wear. I took a look in the locker room mirror. Tiny, loose muscle tank over tight red compression shorts—quite a vision. Then I pulled the white cotton gym shorts on, socks and shoes. I was ready to try out this body—maybe a two-hour workout would make me less “jerky” in my movements. I didn’t want anyone else to suspect that I was not the hot dark muscle hunk that I appeared to be. Minutes later I stood in the squat rack with three plates on each side of the bar perched on my shoulders. I looked straight ahead into the gym mirror in front of the rack. Enrique was behind, ready to spot me. Sweat was running down the crack between my pecs, and my dreadlocks were tied behind my neck. I watched in the mirror as this huge chocolate muscle god lifted the bar off the rack, stepped back and positioned my legs to squat. I couldn’t believe that it was me. The pressure on my traps was strong, but it felt good and these traps were thick enough for twice this weight. I moved my glance upward to get into position, and then I started the first rep. The quads felt so good, I almost wet myself. I dropped down just to where the strain began on my adductors. I drove the weight up, paused and then started down again. My heart pumped and I felt like I was in heaven—that was a big theme with me right now—heaven, and I wanted God to leave me here. 15 reps done. Enrique took a set, we added two plates, and I started again. It seemed like only minutes, but Enrique and I had done 10 hard sets of 15 reps, and I could feel it. The last five sets had been hard, and I felt like I was going to puke I’d worked so hard. But, I didn’t want it to stop, I felt so good. Enrique smiled at me. I’d been watching his body throughout all of the sets, and I could see that he knew it. I wondered what the relationship was between Tyrief and Enrique—I could take it to another level if the light-skinned hunk would let me. “You a demon this mornin’,” Enrique said. “If you keep this up, you sure gonna come in first in the Caribbean Bodybuilding nationals.” I smiled, and I felt like a god. The blood was pumped into my legs—they were screaming at me. As I looked at my thighs in the mirror, I began to see that I still needed more size. I was only 20, and with the right drive and training, I could get bigger. Then I caught myself, Tyrief could get bigger. I wouldn’t be in this body much longer after I found Big Betty, and I wouldn’t have the two or three years it would take for these quads to hit the next level. That would be Tyrief’s job, if he wanted to do it. I’d be long gone, and back in New York. Maybe he’d qualify for a contest in the States—I’d get a ticket to see just what he’d done with these wheels. Enrique and I moved on to hacks, then leg extensions, sitting presses, standing presses, the butt blaster and then standing leg curls. As I pulled the weight up on the leg-curl machine, I ran my hand down my hams. It wasn’t good form, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to feel the tight surface of my hams as they struggled to lift the weight up and to slowly lower it down. I felt so good now, moving with my body. As we started calves, I couldn’t even remember what Enrique and I had done as we moved around the gym, taking extra reps at each set. I looked over to my left at the guy doing lat pull-downs. He had quite a taper from his shoulders down. As he pulled the bar down, you could tell he knew what he was doing. Slow methodical movements, a squeeze to the shoulder blades and back up. He let the bar go and let his straps unwrap. He turned and I saw his face—it was the waiter from last night at dinner. I hadn’t notice his body before, and it was great—not massive though, more like a fitness model. Slender, fat-free and total muscle. His waiter’s outfit had hidden his beauty. He caught my eyes, stared straight at me, shook his head and laughed. No emotion, just a shrug and he went back to the lat pulls, slowly wrapping his straps around the bar. Enrique saw me looking, and said: “Pablo, he changed so much since last year when he went to live a Big Betty’s.” “He train real hard, but he keep to himself now, never want to go out wid me like he used to, just meet me here at de gym to train.” Odd—I wonder how many other guys from the hotel workout here? Just then, Enrique said: “Let’s finish it off with some curls.” We both went over to the weight rack and picked up the dumbbells. I grabbed two 75 lbs. rubber knurled weights, took the stance and watched my bi’s in the mirror in front of me. I needed perfect form, and I was getting it. As I gazed into the mirror I watched a beautiful chocolate bicep move—and it was my bicep. A massive chocolate mountain on an arm corded with veins. I watched my face smile, and the high cheek bones gave me a great look. I was gorgeous—for the first time in my life. I wanted to keep it. I noticed that a guy was staring at me. He was a tall, chocolate muscle boy too. A little older than Tyrief, maybe 27 or 28. He was as stunning as me—or rather Tyrief. Just a little older, a little thicker and a little more massive. Probably what I—Tyrief, would look like after another few years of training. He was sitting on a bench and must have just put the bar back into the stand after bench pressing. He motioned to me as I put the 75’s down. I walked over. “I see she got you,” he said. “You gonna have to play along with her, do what she sezs, or it be real bad for you.” “What are you talking about,” I said. “I’m just training like normal, and who is she?” “You may fool some of de guys in here, but not me and not Pablo or de other guys from de hotel, we know you not de old Tyrief. She say she gonna get you when you check into de hotel and she gonna keep you, like me, till she done with you. I be Carlos now—I can hardly remember who I was before. Dis body was the pool boy before Tyrief. But, I’m outta here soon, I did my time with her. After a couple years in dat body, you’ll forget who you were too. You start being just dis guy in dat body, who you be now. Tyrief be my replacement, you need to start lookin’ for yours.” He stood up abruptly and walked away. I had no idea what the guy was talking about, but Enrique walked up to me right then. “Come on we been here way to long, an extra hour,” he said. “We gotta shower and get to work; we got no time to eat. Big Mike’s ready for us; we gotta get a hit.” I followed the big guy toward the locker room. God, he had a great ass. I wondered how long Enrique and Tyrief had been pals and training partners, I hoped there was more. We got into the locker room and stripped off our clothes. I was still impressed by the size of my cock. The porn star shave really showed me off, and I noticed that Enrique was looking my way. I put a towel around my waist and stood up. Just then, Big Mike came through the locker room door. He held two syringes and some white boxes. He came over toward me, ripped open one of the boxes and took out a glass vial. A paper fell out of the box at my feet. I touched my puffy chocolate areolas and knew what I had suspected was true. This body wasn’t this big all by itself. Big Mike must be my connection—but this was the Dominican Republic and things were different here. Besides, I thought, if I was Tyrief, I’d want to get as big as possible any way I could. I lived one life, and if I had it to do again, I’d benchpress my brains out, stick whatever I could in me to stay huge like I was now, and then check-out at 30. Life was better in a huge, handsome body. Everything after that was a letdown. I picked up the paper that had dropped from the box of dec that Big Mike had taken the glass vial from. I started to read it. But, something was wrong. I could see the lines fine—not blurry or out-of-focus. However, the letters were all jumbled up and didn’t make any sense. Half of them were backward and the rest just ran together. What was going on? “Hey,” said Enrique. “Gimme dat. You can’t make no sense of dat stuff, you never could. Dat’s why you quit school, remember—all dat laughing when you tried to read. I’ll read it to you like I always do if you need to know it, but it’s de same shit we get every two days and I told you about it before. Dis isn’t de new shit that we gonna try in de next cycle.” I looked at Enrique and it hit me, the gym bag, the sign on the gym and now the paper. God—Tyrieff couldn’t read. The jumbled and backward letters. He must be dyslexic or something, and he wasn’t very bright either. No wonder he dropped out of school if the kids were laughing at him. Probably no remedial program at the school. What Caribbean nation spent money on poor chocolate kids—that’s why I—he, began lifting. Only way out was sports of some kind, and with this body the obvious way was body-building. He said he’d come in second in his last contest. And at 20, in a few years he’d his full size, but he was always going to be dumb and with a learning disability too. Not much of a future. Too bad for the kid. Shit, I was the kid. I couldn’t read, I not only had Tyreif’s muscles, I had his brain too. What the hell else bad went with this body? This wasn’t good. Maybe I’d see what I could do for this big, dumb guy after Big Betty switched me back. “Get over here and bend over,” said Big Mike and he motioned me to the bench. I walked over, dropped the towel around my waist and lay over the bench. Big Mike took the syringe and filled it from the glass vial in his hand. He held the vial up to the light and pulled the oil into the syringe. After it was full, he changed the drawing needle for the smaller needle, pushed out the air and went right to my ass. He rubbed my hard glute with alcohol and then stuck the needle in. I felt it go deep, and Big Mike drew back to make sure he hadn’t hit a vein. When he was sure, he pushed the plunger hard and I felt the oil flow deep into my glute muscle, taking the dec with it. “There,” he said. “Now it’s Enrique.” I moved off the bench. I could see myself in the locker room mirror, and I turned to get a shot of my ass. A small trickle of blood ran down my glute, not much. I felt the smooth texture of the skin on my glute and pressed my short, thick finger into the muscle. I could feel the little hard pearl that the oil and dec had made deep in the muscle. It would take a few days for all of it to be absorbed by my body. It would help me grow and I was strangely happy about it, I wanted to be as huge as I could get. I’d always wanted that. But, Big Betty would switch me back before that happened. Big Mike had finished with Enrique and he said to both of us: “You only have three shots left in this cycle and we should lay off for three weeks before the next. That cycle is gonna be longer and more expensive. You boys got the money?” Enrique told him we would get it, just like we had before. Enrique walked off toward the shower, and I followed. I walked into the shower stall and turned on the water, extra hot I thought. I’d never washed this body and I was looking forward to exploring all of me. Only four hours into this adventure and I’d experienced at lot. Give me many memories to think about after Big Betty switched me back. As the hot water flowed down my pecs, I felt like melting. The workout had drained me. My legs were screaming and my arms ached from the curls and dips. As I let the water flow down my chest, over my abs and onto my cock, I felt a kiss at the base of my neck, and two arms reach around me. “Hey lover, that was a bitchin workout. I never see you train legs that hard.” It was Enrique, and his two hands had clamped down on my member and my balls. His tongue was in my ear. “Enrique,” I said. As I mentioned his name, one of his hands left my cock and a finger pushed hard and deep up my ass. The pleasure was intense and I shuddered. “Dat’s right, buddy. It’s shower time when you and me get together. I need to thank you for getting me de job at the hotel. I watch you all de time when we train, and today it’s different, I know dat you want me right now, and it time. Dis is just the start. I stop by tonight when you get back from work.” And, he left the shower. So much had happened since last night, I sat down on the shower shelf and took a moment to think. I glanced down at my mocha quads. I flexed the muscle and watched it quiver. “Beyond marvelous,” I thought. Then I realized if I was in this chocolate muscle hunk, then Tyrief must be in my body. “God, “ I thought, “what were Tyrief and Big Betty doing with my body. Nobody at the hotel knew it wasn’t me. All of my business stuff was in the hotel room drawers. Big Betty could be cleaning out all of my bank accounts right now. I’d been playing too long with the body in the gym. It was almost 9 am, and the Dominican Republic was on the same time as New York. The markets opened in half an hour. My broker had an office in Santiago, which was not far from here. Tyrief in my body could be dumping all of my accounts. No wonder Big Betty wanted me in this body. She’d take my money, then switch me back into my body. Everyone at the hotel would swear I’d taken the money out of my accounts, the local broker would too. They probably had videos. And, it was my body that would be in those videos. It would just be Tyrief inside doing what Big Betty told him to. She was clever. She knew that this muscle hunk body would be too much for me not to play with. And, she was right. I’d fallen for it. Jacked off, worked out, and got groped in the shower. It was good, but it wasn’t worth all that I’d worked for. She’d switch me out of this chocolate god, and then I’d be a poor, old queen. I had to stop her. I needed to get to the hotel. I left the shower and hurried into the locker room to get dressed. Enrique was there, he was ready to get dressed, but we were still both naked. Nobody else was in the locker room. Enrique came over to me and said: “I’ve got to get out of here and you need to be at work. Do a good job on the pool.” He grabbed me into his arms, then cupped my right glute in one of his hands. With a hard squeeze to my ass, he kissed me and drove his tongue, hard. down my throat. As worried as I was about what Big Betty was doing with my body, this 20-year-old body responded immediately. My cock sprang to life pressing hard into Enrique as he held me tight to him, and I lunged my tongue down Enrique’ throat. I sucked hard and wanted more. I was harder than I ever been in my life and I felt totally different. I wanted Enrique’s hard, muscled body in my arms. I wanted to fill him with my cock and I couldn’t stop myself. This was different—not me, someone else. My body wanted relief and I wanted Enrique. I spun Enrique around and ran my finger over his ass. He moaned, bent slightly over and spread his cheeks. I was so totally horny that I forget everything, I took my thick short fingers and guided my cock into him. He braced against me, and I slowly thrust my cock into his ass. I pressed hard, and he gave way, letting me slide into him. My hands moved to Enrique’s back, his shoulders and then his nipples. Enrique stroked his own balls, while I rhythmically pumped into him. The pleasure spread throughout my body. Pleasure as I had never felt before. “God,” I thought. “It had only been a two hours since I’d jacked off with this body and I was totally jacked and ready to go again.” The pleasure keep mounting all over my body, into every nerve, and I came inside Enrique with a shudder. The feelings that came with this muscle-hunk body were extraordinary. I collapsed over Enrique’s back. He turned to me, and I could see the cum juice dripping from his hands. His face smiled, and he kissed me again. “Tonight. lover man, tonight.” he said. He let me go, quickly got dressed, grabbed his gym bag and left through the door. I stood there naked, with a growing hard on. I was ready to go again. I wondered how bad it could be to just keep this body and have this young stud’s life. Maybe I should just leave Big Betty alone and see how far I could get away from here with this body. Not too far with no money, I realized. And, with this brain, I wouldn’t be able to get much of a job to earn money. Not much for a dumb muscle boy to do without a sugar daddy to pay for the gym time and drugs. I dressed rapidly, stuffing the gym clothes into my gym bag. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice and act like an old queen with this muscle hunk body. It didn’t take me long to get to the hotel. I started up the hill from the harbor toward the hotel. As I walked, I realized that I wasn’t tired like the last time I make this trip. Hell, the last time I was a 60-year-old man. I began to run and tossed the gym bag over my shoulders. As I felt on the way to the gym, my legs were pumping, and I could feel the air surge into my young lungs, I could feel my heart beating too—strong and regular. Tyrief must do a lot of cardio. I thought. I’m not winded at all, and I feel like I could push it. I started to sprint and my legs pushed out straight in front of me. Too bad there aren’t any hurdles, and then I spotted a fence just in front of the hotel. I ramped up and tried it. My body soared over the fence and I landed hard on the other side. Directly in front of the hotel. I’d made it, and I was running this body like I’d been born in it and lived in it all of my life. Too bad I’d soon be back in my old body. This was getting to be fun. I looked around at the front of the hotel. There was quite a commotion, people everywhere. A police car and an ambulance. I took the gym bag off my shoulder and walked over to one of the policemen. “What’s going on?” I asked. The Dominican policeman looked me up and down, and then said: “Nothing your kind need to concern yourself with, get along with you.“ “This hotel isn’t for morenos like you.” I couldn’t believe what he was saying. Nobody ever talked to me like that before. Tyrief didn’t have to put up with this, did he? Not with a muscle body like this. I turned to the policeman and said: “Hey, what’s going on.” The policeman turned and looked angry. He said: “I told you to get away, moreno.” “You don’t move now and I take you in.” I didn’t know what to do, I had to get in to see Big Betty; besides, Tyrief had to get to work. Work, that’s it. “Hey Mon,” I said. “I work here, I clean de pool.” “Then go over there and use the staff entrance.” “That’s were moreno trash like you go in.” I should have known, the staff entrance. But, trash like me? That wasn’t right, Tyrief was beautiful, I was beautiful. But, apparently only light-skinned muscle gods went in by the front door. As I got to the staff entrance, a few waiters were milling about. I asked them what had happened. One of them said: “Some old queen from New York died.” “Happens every few years.” “Big Betty found him, she always does.” “Heart attack.” “Been dead for hours, since late last night.” “Stone cold.” “I saw him, he was all black and blue, mottled.” “He one dead guy.” “He name Ben Stratton." The name hit me. It couldn’t be, I wasn’t dead. I was right here, and I needed to get back to my real body, my money and my life in New York. My plane was leaving this afternoon, and I meant to be on it. All of this would be a nightmare I would soon forget. I turned and ran down the service corridor at the back of the hotel. I slamed open the door at the end of the hallway and fell over a gurney being pushed by two paramedics. I’d pushed through the door so fast—I forgot how strong this body was—that I turned over the gurney and landed on the floor with the whole mess on top of me. I tried to get up and pushed the heavy pile off my chest. It was hard and cold, and the cover fell off. Christ—I was staring at my face, and it didn’t look good. I felt the skin, stone cold and hard. What was going on? One of the paramedics yanked me up to my feet. He was angry. “What you doing you stupid Moreno.” “You made a mess and now you’re gonna help clean it up.” He turned the gurney upright and then motioned to me. “Grab his feet and lift him up.” I couldn’t believe what I heard, he wanted me to grab my dead body and hoist it onto the gurney. The other paramedic hit me in the back and said: “Moreno, I’d do what he says or we’ll have to take you in.” The reality of the situation was beginning to sink in. Ben Stratton was dead, and I was now the pool guy, a working-class moreno, someone to order around. I grabbed my ankles, no they were Ben Stratton’s ankles. But, I was Ben Stratton. I grabbed the dead guy’s ankles and on the count of three, the paramedic and I lifted the dead guy onto the gurney. God, he was heavy—no, I was heavy. The paramedic bent down to get the cover, and before he could cover the body I got a real good look. That was my face, my body. I ran my hands over the arms. They were rigid and cold. Dead. The paramedics covered my body and with a nasty look to me, they motioned to the door I’d just come through. “Hold that open, moreno.” One of them said to me. With that they went through the door taking my body with them. “Christ, what was going on? I needed to find Big Betty, fast. I ran toward the main hotel, toward the main dining room. At the door to the main dining room, the waiter from last night and the gym this morning, Pablo, was standing at the maître de station. He saw me, scowled, and motioned me over. I ran to him. “You better stop this,” Pablo said. “You’re gonna make Big Betty mad and screw it up for us all.” “What’s going on?” I cried. “Shut up, you’ll cause a scene. Big Betty will tell you everything. But, I won’t let you fuck this up. I been in this body six years, and just as soon as my replacement is ready, Big Betty gonna let me go.” “What the hell…who are you?” “Just like you. I came down here to find some chocolate hunk to sleep with. I met Big Betty and before I new it, I was the chocolate hunk.” “But who are you,” I asked. “I don’t remember anymore.” He said. “I’m this guy—this muscle boy, working out everyday and fucking old gay guys every night. That’s me now, and I like it. fine. I found me an old sugar daddy, and after my replacement is ready, I gonna go to my daddy in New York.” “Your replacement, who’s your replacement?” “You kidding? It’s Enrique, Tyrief’s training partner. I’ve been bring him along for four years, getting him bigger and more defined, just like Carlos did with Tyrief. We found you both at the same time at the gym—teenagers. Big Betty wants some light-skinned ass here now to go with all this dark chocolate. She’ll tell you what she wants you to find for your replacement when the time comes.” I didn’t know what to do—I couldn’t be stuck in this body. I needed to get back to New York and my life. I wasn’t planning to live the life of a poor, dumb muscle-head. What would I do? Big Betty came up behind me and grabbed by shoulders. “Where you been? I told you last night to come direct to me this morning. You gonna mess this up if you not careful.” “What did you do to me?” I cried. “I gave you what you wanted. Dat beautiful muscle-boy body. And, now you gonna give me what I need.” “I have to get out of here; I need to talk to the police or a doctor or somebody.” I said. “You got to talk to nobody but me. You Tyrief now and will be from now on. You talk to anybody about dis, and dey think dat you crazy. Lock you up and waste dat body in jail or worse. You stay here, work in de hotel and someday you can go. Just like Carlos. Find you a new life wid dat beautiful body.” “I won’t do it,” I said. Big Betty’s whole face changed, mean. She looked straight into my eyes and said: “You don’t do it, then I put somebody else in dat body. And, you be gone just like the old Tyrief.” “What?” I said. “Only one soul can live with the Voodoo change. The other is sacrifice. You be de next sacrifice if you don’t do what I tell you to. Life be fine in dat body if you play along with me.” Big Betty said. “What’s happened; why did you do this to me?” I said. “You wanted it bad or it would not have worked. De voodoo strong, but you had to want dat body for de potion to work. I need your soul in dat strong, young body to give de old gay guys what de pay for. You know just what you wanted before and now you have de body to give it to de old guys.” “Dis hotel mine now. I met de old gay queen who owned it—I saw him looking at de young men. I ask him what he give me if I give him a new body—one o de young men working at dis hotel. He tell me he give me de hotel and dat night I give him de young, chocolate body he want. He fuck every old guy at de hotel for de next week. He tell me dat we should keep de old guy happy and we make a fortune. He find two more old guys dat would stay and work if we change dere bodies with de young guys dat work at de hotel. Dey all happy and I make money. But, after a while dey forget dey old lives and just become different—dey think of themselves as de young man and dey don’t work as well with de old guys. I figure out dat I need to keep putting de old into the young body to keep de guest coming back. I let dem go to live dere new lives, and de all find some old queen to take dem away. Dat what happened with Carlos, and he find you to go in dat body.” “You Tyrief now, and you got all dat he had. Dat body muscled and hung, but you not very smart now. When you find your daddy to take you away, you better look for a smart one—you not gonna do well by yourself. And, you need to find me a new body for de future when you go. Start looking at de gym for a young guy like Carlos did. Train him—Carlos did real well with Tyrief. I can pay for whatever you need for de boy to grow. You one of de muscle hunks now for de guests—I need a muscle hunk as a replacement. De odder guys find replacements for de bodies. I cater to all types here and I need young body for each fantasy dat de old queens got.” Big Betty looked at me up and down, taking in all of my beauty. “Damm,” she said. “Dat body is perfect—I gonna be sorry to let you go in a few years. Don’t think dat you ever find a replacement as fine as you. You gonna make me lots of money wid dat face and de muscles. And, wid dat dick, you gonna make all de old queens scream. Now get to work. You Tyrief now and dat pool need to be cleaned. You late already.” Big Betty started to laugh, deep and long and looked at me with her eyes narrow and set. “Git along, Moreno. Your new life has just started.” She left me near the dining room and I knew that I was screwed. My old body was dead, and this life was all that I would have. I didn’t doubt that she would get rid of my soul if I didn’t play along. This body was too beautiful for her to waste and she needed to work it while it was young. She’d find another occupant for these chocolate pecs if I didn’t work out. And, given my choices at the moment, keeping these pecs and this eight-pack was what I wanted to do. I walked back towards the pool and saw Carlos looking at me. He smiled, nodded, and made a muscle with his arm. He laughed and walked away. He knew that I was stuck and that now he could leave with me as the new muscle god for the old guys to worship and play with. And, I knew just what those guys would want from this body—with this horny, chocolate muscled body, I’d be lucky if I didn’t give one or two of them heart attacks when I fucked them. I opened the pool hut door and walked in. I sat on the bench and thought about what Big Betty had told me. The Ben Stratton body was dead and with it my former life. I was stuck in Tyrief—hunky, dumb Tyrief. No brain, just a body, a low-class, moreno body—but what a body. As I looked up to the hut’s wall, the pool boy’s dark blue swim trucks, my trunks, were hanging on a peg. I reached up for them and then stared at them in my new muscular hands. “These are mine now,” I thought. I might not be that smart anymore, but I knew how good this Tyrief body looked in these dark blue trunks. I would need to remember that and work it to my advantage if I ever wanted to get away from Big Betty. What the hell was I going to do? My old life was gone. But, it was time to change and then clean the pool. I’d think about it later, after my night with Enrique. I might as well enjoy his perfect body until Big Betty stuck some old guy in that light-skinned hunk. I wonder who she’d picked for him—any old geezer would be happy with a young hunk’s body like that. Too bad I couldn’t tell Enrique what was in store for him—probably very soon. Maybe if I could, he’d fuck the hell out of this body while he still had the chance. I doubt the new occupant of that hunk-boy body would know what to do with it for the first few days—just like me. I’d have to teach him, I thought. And, that put smile on my face. I’d teach him very quickly how to use his new body—mostly to pleasure me. I needed to change, so I stripped. God, my cock was huge. It would take a while to get used to seeing it every time I stripped. I pulled the dark blue swim trunks up over the massive quads and my tight, gorgeous dark-brown ass. I tied the waist string around my narrow, fat-free 30-inch waist. I looked down at my crotch, at the outline of my member pressed hard against the dark blue trunks. “Funny,” I thought, “these trunks really show off exactly what they were designed to conceal.” I reached my massive new hands backwards and caressed my ass. It was hard and tight like I knew Tyrief’s ass, my ass now, would be. I’d wanted to stroke these dark blue trunks and this ass, and I was. I just hadn’t thought that it would be my ass that I was stroking. I picked the pool hose up and slide it over my arm. Yesterday I couldn’t pick up my suitcase and today my massive arms and back made any manual chore easy. Big Betty was right, I was a dumb, dark chocolate jock boy now, with no future unless I played along with her and did what she wanted. I’d gotten all that Tyrief had, just as she’d promised. Sure, the muscles were fantastic, but the brain was not firing on all cylinders which wouldn’t be good for finding work as more than a pool guy or a rent boy. Maybe I’d turn out like Carlos. 6 or 7 years as a rent boy, find my replacement, and then off with a sugar daddy who didn’t mind dumb muscle. I could get money that way. At least you’d have a few years on your own and I’d still have this body—she wouldn’t give it to someone else after I’d gotten into my late 20s. She only wanted young bodies, with an old gay guy inside. With this body, I had what these old queens wanted and with my old-guy memories, I knew exactly what they wanted without asking. Just what my pals had told me this hotel’s reputation was. Now I knew first hand how Big Betty and the hotel kept that reputation. It might not be so bad. Sure, I didn’t have the money that I had in New York when I was Ben Stratton. But that body was dead and if I showed up with this face to my bank or my broker in New York, I’d never get any of my money or my stocks. They wouldn’t even let me in my apartment with this dark chocolate body—however freaky muscled I was. If I thought Dominicans like that policeman were hard on a low-class moreno boy, New York would be 100 times worse . Life as a poor, dumb chocolate jock in the States would not be good, even if I could find Tyrief’s birth certificate and get a passport. I didn’t even know where I was born, what school I went to, who my parents were, or even if I had a driver’s license. Big Betty would fill in all of that. Besides, I had this great young body now. I had a second chance. I’d always wanted to be a muscle head, a freak. Being deep, dark chocolate was fine as a muscle boy—all of the recent Mr. Olympia contestants in the States had been black—some of them had come from the Dominican Republic and I was a Dominican moreno muscle boy now. I’d get used to it. This body was perfect to get me there and I was only 20, just starting on the years that could turn me huge. I could train like I always wanted to train, and I had the body to do it now—I could become the freak leather muscle daddy that I always dreamed of. What had Carlos said? Yeah—eventually your forget who you used to be and you start just being this guy, who you are now. Maybe I could just become Tyrief, and leave Ben Stratton far behind me. If I trained hard this summer, I’d get to compete in the Caribbean nationals and I knew that I could win, from there I could get back to the States. I thought about how I’d thrown the weights around at the gym this morning, and I wasn’t even sore now. That was only a few hours ago. I’d train and diet and pose like any dumb jock. Odd, I thought, I’d actually become my wet dream—a horny, freaky muscled dark chocolate guy. The only problem now was that I couldn’t fuck myself, just look at me in the mirror. I guess I’ll still be frustrated, even with these pecs and this ass. I grabbed the pool pole, brush and vacuum head, then walked through the pool hut door out to a new life. As I approached the pool to begin my duties as Tyrief, I noticed someone in the lounge chair I had used each day to stare at Tyrief and this magnificent body. He was fat and old, staring at me now. “Christ,” I thought, “did I look that bad to Tyrief?” A shiver ran down my spine. But, he kept watching me as I walked to the edge of the pool and laid the pool kit down. I knew how good I looked and I decided to give him a show. The dark blue swim trunks were as tight as ever, and I turned by back to him so that he could see the full glory of Tyrief’s ass—my ass. I bent over and moved the hose to the side of the pool and attached it to the filter. I squeezed my glutes hard so that the full effect was obvious. With my back still turned, I shook my head so that the dreadlocks fell over my shoulders, reached back and moved the dreads so that my traps and delts were perfectly displayed. Grabbing the pole, I moved the brush up and down the side of the pool, lifting my arms high. My wings popped out, and the sun hit the chocolate skin covering my guns. I knew the biceps were killer at this angle. I turned; he was still leering at me, but quickly looked away. I put the pool brush down, walked over to him and sat down on the lounge chair next to him---keeping my legs spread wide as I sat so that the full effect of my package was on display. God bless these tight dark blue trunks. Christ, he was fat, old and not attractive—plain ugly. He didn’t look like he’d ever been anything else. I locked eyes with his and said: “Hey, Mon, I’m Tyrief.” He just looked at me, mouth open. “Steve,” he said, not really sure of what to do. “You work here?” I looked straight at him with my dark brown eyes and said: “Sure, Mon. That’s why I do the pool. I’m here everyday, and some of the nights too.” If I was going to be Tyrief, I was at least going to speak proper English from now on—that much this brain could process. He reached out and put his hand on my thigh. It was fat, hairy, pasty white—age spots all over. But, the four gold rings, the square-cut ruby, and the two emerald-cut diamonds told me he had lots of money. He was staring at me, and I noticed that his gaze was not in my face but straight at my pecs—and right at the shinny silver nipple rod. My pecs were so massive, I looked like I had cleavage and I now knew what the gals meant when they said “Hey, my face is up here.” Just for fun, I twitched my pec muscles. I thought the guy was going to have a heart-attack. He started to drool. He was plain ugly, and he started to move his hand up my thigh toward my crotch. The pasty white hand moving up my rock-hard thigh was in high contrast to the deep, dark chocolate skin of my thigh, and I wanted more. I was a chocolate muscle man now, and I liked it. My member was stirring, and I was surprised how fast my 20‑year‑old body responded to any stimulation. He looked straight at me and said: ”I’d like to spend some time with you while I’m here.” I flashed him a smile with my bright white teeth, put my thick fingers over his and moved his hand over my rock-hard member so that he could feel me through the dark blue swim trunks. “Sure, I said, when?” And I knew at that moment that Big Betty was right. I was going to make her a lot of money.

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