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rainydayandmondays · 5 months

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Thanksgiving Potluck

Summary: It’s time for the annual Thanksgiving potluck at work. Andy wants to make sure that he brings something special for you. You worked so hard, you deserve it.

Pairing: Andy Barber X Reader, Jake Jensen

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+ only. Explicit language, explicit sexual content, male masturbation, slight non-con

Author's Note: This came about after seeing a challenge to write a spicy Thanksgiving story. With the blessing of @georgiapeach30513 to use Andy Barber, this is what I got.

You had been planning the department’s Thanksgiving potluck for weeks. Running around, trying to get everyone to sign up to bring in something, even if it was just silverware and napkins. Andy never participated in these get-togethers. They were some weird kind of team building bullshit that he had never really subscribed to. Why play nice that one day, while all the remaining days everyone was trying to one up each other. Comparing their win-loss ratios like they were some goddamn a-list athletes. The fucking Red Sox, they were not.

But you had started earlier this year, right around Valentine’s day. He remembered your first day, you wore your pink button down shirt the first two buttons undone and your simple gold necklace nestled in the crux of your shirt. Your pencil skirt was knee-length but seemed to hug from your waist to your hips. He imagined his hands could skim down the sides of it as if it was a second skin. Then your sensible flats, all that up top and did you finish with three-inch heels? No, just sensible flats. The red nail polish on your fingers with a small heart decals on each ring finger, let him know that you enjoyed celebrating holidays.

He watched you as you grew into the department, quickly planting roots and befriending each person you met. You were easy to get along with, never really asked for much, but always willing to give. He had spent most of October working with you. You were assisting on the research for his latest case, spending nights in the conference room with law books spread out in front of the two of you and boxes of half-eaten Chinese in each of your laps. You had asked about his story as you took a break from the mind-numbing reading of passage after passage. He had given you the cliff-notes version. The “everything is pretty on the outside” story. Loving wife at home and kid excelling in school. It was easier that way. Even if he could tell you didn’t totally buy it, you let him lie.

You on the other hand, were open. Told him everything. You were a paralegal, barely starting out with dreams of making it to law school one day. A sick mother at home had meant your law school dreams had taken the back burner. Your mom had been part of the last of the baby boomers and their idealized version of marriage. She had taken care of the household, you and your dad. With her bedbound, your dad was completely lost. You took over and everything else had been pushed aside. No sign of any romantic partners or life outside of work and home. But the glint in your eye talking about becoming lawyer, let him know you had more to offer. You had told him how you had aced your LSATS, spent every night up until 4 in the morning studying for them. You were younger then, could handle the late nights. Shit, you are younger now. Just barely hitting your late 20s, if he had to guess.

After those nights spent over cold takeaway dinners and finishing the McDonald v. City of Newton case, he realized that family dinners with little more than polite conversation paled in contrast to those talks and stale fast food. He had tried to get you on his next case, but Neal had snatched you up the moment you were free. He remembered the apologetic look you gave him when he swung by your desk with some briefs to review.

“Sorry Mr. Barber. I’m already working with Mr. Longudice. But you can leave those here and I’ll look at them when I get a chance.” You fidgeted with your pen, twirling it between your fingers. It was your nervous tick, he had noticed it the first night when you had found a passage that completely derailed his current case plan.

He nodded and walked away, noticing Neal looking on from the corner smirking. Fuck him, he wasn’t going to just use you to improve his standing in the department. He watched as the month progressed and Neal worked you into the ground. He found you more and more frequently in the break room, loading up on coffee. You were up to four glasses a day. That couldn’t be good for you. Not if you still had to go home and get your mom ready for bed.

He started to stay later and later, just to make sure someone was still here when you left. Neal took most of his case work home, leaving you with a list of readings to cover and present the next day. He watched as you flipped through pages, making notes in the growing stack of legal pads, and only the small desk lamp providing any light. He told Laurie that he had a big case he was finishing up. It was easier to keep working at his desk, instead of making the trip home, only to end up in his study. It didn’t take much to persuade her. He was pretty sure she preferred having the time to herself, she barely moved when he finally made it home to bed.

One night, he had timed it just right to meet you at the elevators at the end of the night. He walked up behind you, watching as you raised your right foot to scratch at the back of your left calf. Your pencil skirt rippled around your hips as you ran your foot down your leg. The sensible flats, the same ones you had worn that first day skimmed down the back of your left calf and he wondered what it would be like to have you run those sensible flats down his pant leg. He could feel himself twitch in his dress pants. This was a first. Up until this point, he had found you endearing, wanting to help you as much as you helped everyone else. But now, right now, he could imagine grabbing onto your hips, dipping his head into the crook of you neck as he ground against your pert ass. He felt his cock harden that bit more at the image, starting to push against the fly of his dress pants. Using his overcoat from that day’s chilly morning, he covertly covered the front of his slacks.

It wasn’t until the chime announced the elevator’s arrival and you turned around, that he came out of his brief stupor. You smiled and waved him into the waiting lift. That smile did nothing to help him, he shoved his hand into pocket to discreetly adjust himself before walking towards you. Standing next to you, he could smell those last remnants of your perfume. Was it your perfume? It had been a 12 hour work day, maybe that smell was just you. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? You chatted with him, promising that you were going to get to those briefs he left. It would be the first thing you would work on the next day. He listened and tried his best to feign interest, but you then looked up at him as you made your promise to him, and all his brainpower was immediately redirected to willing away his excitement. His hand still in his pocket, it brushed against his tip and he cleared his throat to cover the small groan that wanted to escape.

Reaching the garage, he offered to walk you to your car. You had gestured to the nearly empty lot, but he only uttered, “Better to be safe.”

You only nodded, leading him to your small late 2000s sedan. Reaching the car, you opened the squeaky driver’s door and threw in your workbag and handbag, before easing yourself into the seat. Andy held the door open for you, only to close it once you had settled. Lowering your window, you gave him a smile, thanking him for the escort, “You really didn’t have to do that. You’re a good man, Mr. Barber.”

He leaned down into your window, sighing before bidding you a good night, “You get home safe, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t meant to let the term of endearment slip, but your bashful smile was all it took to let him know he would be using that name again. Watching as you drove off, he made his way to his car. Popping the trunk on the Audi and throwing in the coat and briefcase, he hustled back to front of the car. Giving one more look around the lot, he noticed the security cam pointed at the opposite corner of the garage. Slipping into the driver’s seat, he only took a second to think through his next action. Closing his eyes, he remembered your big eyes looking up at him in the elevator, promising him something and his hand reached down to his pants.

He hadn’t gone down, no matter how he tried to calm himself, his coat had been his only saving grace, hiding away his reaction to you. Wrestling with his belt and button of his pants, he shoved his fly open, grabbing onto himself through his boxer briefs. He had already been steadily growing a nice wet spot on the front side of his briefs. Admittedly, bumping against himself with his hand in his pocket as he walked with you, might have gone a long way to making that spot. A couple of strokes, he reached in and pulled himself out.

Fuck, his hands were still cold from outside. It made his cock jump in his hold and he imagined your little hand taking him. You would apologize to him about your cold hands.

“Sorry Mr. Barber. Let me warm up my hands.” The imaginary you whispered to him.

“Andy. Call me Andy, sweetheart.” He mumbled into the empty car.

He spit into the palm of his hand, before wrapping it around himself. He could feel you next to him, cuddling as much as possible against him, reaching across the console. Your hand stoking up and down, making sure to twist around the head of his cock. He dribbled onto your fingers and you took your thumb rubbing it along the tip urging more to come out.

“Fuck sweetheart. That feels so good. You’re making me feel so good.” He grunted, his head falling back against the headrest.

He could hear you giggle at that, pressing hard against the vein on the underside of his cock, causing it to throb in your hold.

“Ah shit, sweetheart, squeeze me. I know your hand is so little but try my sweet girl. Come on, try for me.” You would hum at that, reaching between his legs and grabbing onto his sack. Rolling his balls in one hand as you steadily stroked him with the other, giving a squeeze to his cock before a squeeze to his sack.

“What do you need Andy? Whatever you need, I promise I’ll give it to you. Please Andy, tell me what you need.” The imaginary you nipped at his neck, murmuring another promise into his neck.

“Fuck me, sweet girl. Look at me, watch me cum for you. Just for you, sweet girl. Just for you…” He reached for the empty coffee tumbler in his console, placing it under the tip of his cock as he let go. Groaning he pulsed a couple times, continuing to stroke himself until he drained himself fully, because that’s what you would do. You would never do a half ass job.

Sitting back, he looked into the tumbler, seeing a layer of his cum coating the bottom of the cup. He hadn’t cum that hard in a long time. But he supposed a sexless marriage would leave him with a lot of pent-up energy. Remembering Laurie, he grabbed a couple of napkins from the glove compartment, wiping himself before shoving them into the tumbler. After buckling his pants, he started the car, backing out lot and turning onto the freeway for home.

That night had been a couple of weeks ago and he found himself hovering around your desk as much as possible, asking for help finding a text. He would time your coffee breaks and bump into you in the breakroom to make small talk with you. Each time he saw you, he tried to get you to smile. Even on your most stressful days, your shoulders hunch, he would make quick jabs at Neal which would inevitably cause a small giggle to pass your lips. He liked those times, the sound of your laugh would get stored away in his mind, coming out only in the shower as he painted the walls for you.

When you came by with the potluck sign up sheet earlier this week, you mentioned that there were still a few sides left that no one had chosen. Looking at the list, he saw the mashed potatoes listed and quickly jotted his name down beside it. He could probably get Laurie to make it for him. She had been in a better mood recently. Had waited up for him when he worked late. She would welcome him to bed and curl into his side, rubbing circles along his chest. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but if it meant not having to deal with a moody Laurie daily, he would take it.

The day of the potluck, he walked in finding most of the office milling about. It didn’t look like much would be getting done today. With Thanksgiving tomorrow, most had spent the last few days easing into their vacation. He looked at the conference room to see the spread already laid out, you were flitting around making sure everything was set up just right.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” you jumped a little as he came up behind you, placing the dish of mashed potatoes in front of you.

“This will be perfect,” you took the dish moving it next to someone’s version of cornbread stuffing.

Turning around, you smiled at him. He thought about stepping back from you, but instead stood still. Reaching up to his arm, you grabbed his elbow and let out small breath, “I should let everyone know it’s ready.”

Slipping from around him, you walked out to the bull pin area, inviting everyone to come and dig in. He watched as everyone hustled to the conference room as he stepped out of the other door. Making his way towards his desk, he settled down, starting up his computer to check some late correspondence. He needed to spend time with you but not with everyone around. He placed his coffee tumbler on the clay coaster that Jacob had made him back in 4th grade. Sighing, he would wait to talk with you later.

The din in the conference room started to slowly die down and looking at the clock he saw that it was nearly half past 2. Most of the office should be heading out for their holiday and he figured, now would be his best bet. Grabbing his stuff together, he headed back out to find the room mostly empty. He couldn’t possibly have missed you, could he? Staring out to the row of desks, he spotted your workbag and handbag still on your desk. So, you were here, just not in the conference room.

Walking into the breakroom, he saw you at the sink scrapping off food into the trash and rinsing off dishes. Standing in the doorway, he watched this small glimpse into the domestic side of you and fuck, if it didn’t do something for him. Imagining coming home to you in the kitchen, prepping dinner for the two of you. You would still have your work clothes on but only now you would be barefoot. You would relax into him as he came up behind you, arms circling your waist.

He let out a quick breath, shaking himself from his daydream, before setting down his bag on the small table in the room. Coffee tumbler in hand, he approached you, quietly interrupting your dishwashing, “I bet you haven’t even made yourself a plate.”

Looking down, followed by a small bashful smile, you nodded, “There was so much to do.”

Grabbing onto his mashed potatoes, he looked for a spoon before starting to serve a portion onto a plate, “Come on. It’s your potluck too. You should get to enjoy it too. Besides, you got to at least try these mashed potatoes. A lot of effort went into making them. Go on now, sit down.”

Watching you sit down, he turns back to the counter, grabbing the gravy boat beside the sink. Taking the coffee tumbler, he had set down, he carefully removed the lid before emptying the contents into the remaining gravy. He stared as the viscous liquid drizzled out. With the spoon, he quickly mixed the gravy with the new ingredient together before pouring out the mixture on the mashed potatoes.

Turning back towards you, you sat at the table patiently waiting for him as he set the plate in front you. Quickly thanking him, you dug in, spooning a generous amount, gravy and all, onto your utensil and bringing to your mouth.

“Mmm, that’s really good Mr. Barber. Kind of earthy tasting. Are there mushrooms in the gravy?” You looked at him, a small amount of gravy stuck to the side of your mouth.

“Something like that,” he whispered, eyeing that speck of gravy and reaching out to clean it from your lip.

“Oh, I’m a mess,” your cheeks heated as you grabbed a napkin to clean the corner of your mouth.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he replied, taking his thumb with gravy still on it and licking it clean, “Go ahead, finish it all.”

You followed his direction, cleaning your plate, your spoon making a sound as you laid it down. You had eaten it all. Enjoying it, if he were to go by the little happy noises you made as you ate. He knew you would love it.

“Here, let me put this up for you,” he took the plate and spoon back the sink and as he rinsed the plate, he asked over his shoulder, “Did you like it, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mr. Barber. I promise.”

He gulped, steadying himself against the counter at your promise.

“You know, what, why don’t you take the rest home? There’s still a little bit of mashed potatoes and gravy left,” he asked already reaching for the lid of the Tupperware Laurie had used when packing it this morning.

“I couldn’t do that. You made it, you should take it home,” you answered next to him, and he realized that you must have gotten up from the table.

Locking the lid on the dish, he turned to you, already handing over the remaining potatoes covered in his gravy, “I insist.”

He had made that gravy just for you. After stroking another one out in the front seat of his car in the courthouse parking garage, he had sprayed another load into his tumbler. Looking at the cup again, he swore each session’s load was getting bigger even though this was a daily occurrence at this point. It had ended with a particularly bountiful finish, as he imagined you between his legs. Head bobbing on this cock, tits hanging from your top, before you had spit onto his cock, trapping it between your breasts and finishing him with a hard snuck to just the mushroom head of his cock.

It hit him then what a waste it was to rinse out his tumbler every night when he got home. You would love the taste of him. He knew would. Over the next few days, he collected each load, storing it in his coffee tumbler on the top shelf of his fridge at home. He had a couple of close calls when Laurie asked why he was keeping his coffee cold. He brushed it off, saying it was just water. He was trying to stop drinking so much coffee. Bad for his health. She had just nodded, leaving the tumbler alone.

“Thank you, Mr. Barber,” you nodded taking the dish with a smile.

“You can call me Andy. Promise you will?” He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, giving himself room in the suddenly tight pants.

“I promise. Thank you, Andy,” smiling up at him, he swore you could feel what he did. He swore you knew exactly what he had given you. Swore that you were happy and willing to take it. His sweet girl would take anything he gave her.

“You almost done, Ace?”

Andy was interrupted from his trance, hearing a male voice enter the room.

“Jake!” You called to the blonde man walking into the room. His shirt was untucked and his tie not quite knotted straight.

“I’m supposed to take you out for a Friendsgiving dinner today, remember?” Jake moved towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

Who in the ever-loving fuck is this guy? Andy watched as you hugged Jake around the waist, shaking your head, ready to apologize, “I’m sorry Jake. My day got away from me. Oh, this my kind of boss, Andy. Andy Barber.”

Jake reached out a hand to him to shake while his other still stayed slung along your waist, “Jake. Nice to meet you.”

Andy looked at the hand in front of him, before nodding and giving this fucker a firm handshake. If he squeezed a little harder than he should, well that wasn’t on him.

“Go get your stuff together and then we’ll head out,” Jake whispered down at you, to which you just nodded and flitted out the room.

Stuck with just Jake in the room, Andy leaning back against the sink giving this other guy a once over. He wouldn’t be an issue. No way did this guy have the prowess or charm to lure you away. You were his sweet girl. This fucker wouldn’t change that.

“I’m only going to say this once, leave her alone.”

Andy looked back at Jake, eyebrow raised, before scoffing, “And who are you exactly?”

“I’m guy who knows how to download the feed from the parking garage’s cameras.” Andy swallowed hard as Jake stared him down. He refused to nod, instead crossing his arms and looking down.

“I’m ready Jake!” You came back in, your handbag slung over your shoulder and the mashed potatoes in your arms as Jake took your workbag from you.

“Let’s shake a leg then, Ace,” you giggled at Jake and Andy frowned. When did that giggle change from just being his?

“Bye Andy. I’ll see you next week. Happy Thanksgiving!”

Waving goodbye to the two of you, Andy waited to hear the ding of the elevator before grabbing the tumbler and throwing it across the room. It clanked against the wall before rolling back towards his feet.

Hands on hips, he looked down at the cup. It was okay. Jake couldn’t do anything to him. He had checked to make sure the cameras were never pointed at him. But you, his sweet girl, he needed a new plan. Grabbing the cup from the floor, he rinsed it before setting it next to the empty coffee maker.

It hit Andy then. You did love your coffee. And you always made sure to have cream with it.

@buckybarnesisdaddy, @theinheriteddutchess, @sarahdonald87

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber smut #defending jacob #dark andy barber #jake jensen #the losers (2010)

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thirsty-lakedream · 1 year

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After a long day of practice, the football team retired back to the lockers. The arid scent of sweat coming from the burly strong men filled the air. As the athletes freshened up and went along with their day, only two were left, cooling off; shooting like shit like normal. The first was the teams head linebacker Jensen and the second, his best bro and star quarterback of the team, Ryan.

The two jocks first met when they by chance got paired up as roommates in the freshman dorms. They’re synergy only heightened their football prowess. Thanks to that, they became the dynamic duo for the front liners. They’ve been inseparable since… well until Ryan broke the news.

A knock echoed from the locker room entrance. Jensen walked over and opened the door slightly ajar to see a lanky boyish latino standing there. “Oh uh, hey Mateo,” It was Ryan’s boyfriend. “What’s up?”

Looking evidently intimidated by the broad athlete, he he timidly spoke. “H-hey, I’m looking for Ryan. He asked me to meet him after practice.”

“Oh, yeah. Come on in.” Jensen pulled the door open to let him in. “Hey Ry, your- um, your… Mateo is here.” Though he wants to be supportive, Jensen still had his reservations. When Ryan came out to him he was shocked. All this time he never sensed the impression that his best bro was gay. He would always bring the hottest babes to their room, but was that all just a cover to his real wants?

When he laid on eye on his boyfriend, something clicked in Ryan’s eyes and he put on the warmest grin. “Teo, there you are babe!” The smaller guy walked over to where the football player was, sitting in his personal football cubby and climbed into his lap, teasing for a kiss. Ryan happily obliged pulling Mateo close, locking into a kiss.

Jensen tried to shy his eyes away. He was still adjusting to this new development, but whenever it was him and the two of them, the lovers couldn’t take their eyes and lips away from each other. It was especially awkward since the two got so lost into each other they were practically dry humping during their last hang in the frat house. It could also be cause of some slight jealousy. He wasn’t gay or anything, but he did miss spending quality bro-time. Maybe I should just give them some space, Jensen thought. “I’m gonna head out. I’ll just see you man.”

Ryan pulled away, to the dismay of Mateo. “Ok man I’ll catch you later!” Jensen walked out of the locker room.

He turned back to happily continue the make out section, but at the sound of the door shutting, Mateo climbed off of the man and rolled his eyes. “Finally I thought he’d actually stick around and we’d have to pull that grinding act again.”

“Oh come on, don’t you think that the intense PDA is making the guys too uncomfortable? We don’t want to ruin the real Ryan’s image.”

Mateo cruelly glared at the athlete. In a new mocking tone, he asked. “I’m sorry, are you actually questioning my plans?”

In response Ryan’s cool and confident smile demeanor crumpled. “N-no… sorry Mateo.”

“What did you call me?”

“Sorry, Sir”

Mateo coldly smiled. “That’s better. Do not forget who holds the power in this ‘relationship.’ Now back to business, what is your status on integrating into Ryan’s life.

“Well, everything appears to be fine. No one has suspected anything amiss.”

“Is that so?”

“As far as I’m aware, sir. I did as you told and continued to do the weekly calls with his mom and sister, and I’ve kept up both his grades and exercise regimen to a tee.”

Mateo took a moment to reply, but then simply asked. “What is Ryan’s moms name.” ‘Ryan’ hesitated to answer, which caused his partner to replayed. “His mother’s name, what is it?”

“Uhh I know this, it’s Ana, right?”

Mateo rolled his eyes, reaching out and pulling Ryan by the ear. “You idiot! It’s Amanda! What if that came up in conversation? You would have tipped anyone off immediately!”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry! I promise I will read the character notes you gave me again! I promise I will get it right next time!”

As ‘Ryan pleased, Mateo took note of something else. As he held onto Ryan, it looked as if his skin was stretching unnaturally, almost as it was being pulled away from his head. Pulling tighter, Mateo stretched Ryan’s face harder. From the offices of his eyes and mouth, paler skin much different then Ryan’s sun-touched complexion could be seen. “And let me guess, you haven’t been applying the glue like I instructed you.”

Ryan sounded so small and timid, “I-I’m sorry I forgot to do it the last couple days…”

Mateo let go of his boyfriend and walked over to his duffle. Digging through the sweaty gear he found what he was looking for, a long metallic tube of cream. Without hesitation, he squeezed a hardy dollop of goop into his hand and rubbed it vigorously onto the jocks face. Performing another experimental pull, Ryan’s face held rigid.

“You are really fucking this up. What would you have done if something happened during practice, or in the shower. How do you think those dumb jocks would react if their star players face distorted or came off, revealing some loser posing to be him, wearing his skin like some kind of costume?”

“I-I… I don’t know.”

“Now, is there anything else you want to confess to me before I find out later.”

Ryan bit his lip, but eventually admitted, “There was one little thing. I may have been talking to Jensen and gotten something wrong. Instead of remembering he has a sister, I asked about his brother… But I got him to believe it was a bad joke! I promise he doesn’t suspect a thing!”

Mateo simply rubbed his temple, trying to massage away the pounding headache “You’re on thin ice. Thin fucking ice.”

Ryan hesitated, before standing up. Using his large stature to try and intimidate Mateo, he barked aggressively. “I made some mistakes but I’m getting better, why don’t you get off my back.”

Mateo let out a sigh, turning away from the groveling man. “Do you know why I chose you for this job, Brian?”

At hearing his real name, the guy inside Ryan shuddered. “Umm, because you knew I would do anything for you.”

The Latino man scoffed, “The reason I chose you to put on Ryan and take over his life was because I knew as an actor, you’d be able to slip into the role seamlessly. Besides you even had a fairly convincing impression of the real Ryan. Clearly I was mistaken as your performance has been lackluster at best. What would stop me from taking you out of that suit and replacing you with someone else better suited for the job. I could even get them a voice changer and no one would notice a difference.” He pulled a small remote from his pocket. “One click of this and you will be ejected from Ryan’s suit, forced to go back to your sad, pathetic life as Brian. Just some gay loser no one wants or would ever want?”

Terrified by Mateo’s threat, Ryan fell to his knees, pleading to Mateo. “No please, anything but that! I’m so sorry please don’t take this away from me I promise i will do better, much better!” His voice sounding a bit off, now squeakier than his normal bravado.

Mateo hesitated, teasing his finger on the remotes button, before finally putting it back into his pocket. “Fine. I will give you one last chance. But listen to me… no more screw ups, no more forgetting to maintain the suit, got it? Let this be the last time we have to discuss it. After this, you are Ryan Griffin- my cocky quarterback boyfriend, but in private you are my loyal dumb servant.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Repeat it,” Mateo demanded.

“I- I am Ryan Griffin, I am your cocky quarterback boyfriend, but in private I shall loyally serve you.”

A sinister smile crept on Mateo’s face. “Atta boy.” He placed his hand, caressing his dumb, stubbly cheek. “Now get changed cause your taking me out to dinner tonight.”

#bodysuit #male bodysuit #male transformation #take over #straight to gay #need to jock #control #impersonation

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fafnir19 · 1 month

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Confined in body and mind

Dr Jensen's laboratory was a hub of activity, with buzzing machines and the scent of chemicals in the air. Eric, a 45-year-old scientist trapped in a wheelchair, stood beside Dr. Jensen, peering through the glass at a comatose man named Vincent.

Tubes and wires snaked in and out of the man's body, keeping him alive. Dr Jensen, a middle-aged man with a wild shock of salt-and-pepper hair, turned to Eric with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Eric, I have been working on a project that might just change everything for you." Eric's eyes widened with anticipation. "What do you mean, Dr. Jensen? What sort of project?" Dr Jensen explained the ambitious project to Eric. "We are looking to transfer minds from one body to another. You see, Vincent here is brain dead, but his body functions perfectly. We can transfer your mind into his body, giving you a chance at a new life, a fully functioning body." Eric's heart raced with excitement at the possibility of leaving behind his wheelchair-bound existence. "I want to volunteer for this, Dr. Jensen. When can we start?" Dr Jensen gave a reassuring smile. "We will need to wait a few weeks to ensure that there is nothing left of Vincent's consciousness in the body. But soon, Eric, you will have a functioning body once more." As the weeks passed, Eric found himself eagerly anticipating the day when he would finally be free from the confines of his wheelchair.

The day arrived for the planned transfer into Vincent's body. Dr. Jensen led Eric to the laboratory, where Vincent's body was encased in a glass tube, adorned with a web of delicate machinery.

As Eric stood before the vessel that offered him newfound mobility, Dr. Jensen turned to him, his eyes alight with a blend of caution and expectation. "This is it, Eric. The moment you've been waiting for," he said, his voice tinged with the gravity of the impending procedure. Eric nodded with determination, the fluttering of anticipation barely contained within him. "I'm ready, Doctor Jensen. Let's proceed with the transfer," he replied, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning within him. With precision and care, Dr. Jensen injected Eric with anesthesia and reassured him. "You'll wake up as Ervin, a mix of your mind and Vincent's body." Its effects gradually cloaking Eric's consciousness in a fog of numbness. As his senses slipped away into the void, he clung to the promise of awakening in a new body - a body that would grant him the freedom he so ardently yearned for.

As Eric began to awaken, he found himself standing within the glass enclosure that had previously housed Vincent's vessel. Attempting to move his new body, a sense of exhilaration surged through him. The dawning realization that something was amiss crept into Eric's mind. "Dr. Jensen," Eric called out as he steadied himself within the unfamiliar body. "This isn't Vincent's body, is it? I can feel it. Something's different." Dr. Jensen regarded him with a mix of concern and urgency. "Vincent's body collapsed during the procedure, unfortunately," he confirmed, a tinge of regret in his voice. "Time was of the essence, Eric. We had to act swiftly." The revelation struck Eric with a palpable sense of disorientation. He was not within the confines of the body he had anticipated. "What... what has happened?" Eric's voice wavered with an unease he could not shake. His anxieties found voice in Dr. Jensen's explanation. "We located a replacement body just in time, Eric. A 20-year-old named Leon, tragically declared brain dead. The circumstances were dire, but your mind had to find a new home," Dr. Jensen explained, his gaze meeting Eric's with a mixture of reassurance and trepidation.

Eric found himself thrust into the body of Leon—a young athlete, vibrant and untamed. Eric was now navigating life in the body of a 20-year-old—a stark contrast to the life work and identity he had known. The weight of the situation settled upon him, burdened with the challenge of adapting to an entirely new reality. "You have become Leander," Dr. Jensen announced, his gaze fixing upon Eric with a sense of finality. "The 'Le' for Leon, the 'and' for the fusion of two souls, and the 'er' to signify your essence. Embrace this new journey, Eric."

Embarking on a journey of rediscovery, Eric grappled with the unfamiliarity of his new physique. The simple act of movement, of inhabiting a body not his own, presented an extraordinary learning curve. Eric had to navigate the nuances of adjusting to a youthful vessel, wholly unaccustomed to the vitality and energy that coursed through his newfound form. After years of confinement in a wheelchair, the sensation of full mobility overwhelmed and thrilled him. However, adapting to a 20-year-old body brought its own challenges. At the age of 20, he could no longer do his old job as a scientist and had to retake his exams. While Eric's knowledge made academic endeavors a breeze, there were times when the exuberance and impulsiveness of a young body shone through. As Leander delved into his new life, he also embraced Leon's athleticism, continuing the young man's passion for rowing. He thrived in the sport, reveling in the vitality coursing through his veins as he rowed with fervor, never losing sight of the importance of maintaining a fit and healthy body. One blazing March day, as the golden sun dipped low on the horizon, Leander found himself standing alongside his rowing team, the air electric with the energy of victory. They had emerged triumphant in a gruelling regatta, the taste of triumph sweet upon their lips. As the celebration ensued, Leander found himself swept up in the euphoria of the moment, the pulsating beat of life infusing him with an exuberance he had long yearned for.

He got completely drunken, clouding his senses and dulling his wits. Stumbling through the night, his laughter ringing out in the twilight, Leander found himself burdened with an terrible exhaustion. His steps faltered, each one an arduous battle against the tempest that brewed within him. Seated upon a park bench, the cool night air enveloping him, a voice pierced through the haze of his muddled thoughts. "Don't sit still, it's too cold outside. If we fall asleep, we'll freeze to death. Let me take over!" the voice echoed, a mysterious presence coaxing him toward lucidity. Leander's eyes widened in astonishment as he realized that it was not his own thoughts that resounded in his mind. A sense of both unease and curiosity gnawed at him as he allowed this foreign influence to guide him, and soon, he found himself safely nestled within the warmth of his bed. The following day, as Leander engaged in strenuous rowing training, his muscles strained to their limit, beads of sweat forming upon his brow. Once more, the unfamiliar voice infiltrated his thoughts. "Keep going, our body can take it! Let me take over," the voice commanded, its reverberations seeping into the depths of his consciousness.

When Leander recounted the bewildering encounter to Dr. Jensen, he regarded him with a mix of curiosity and contemplation. "You heard a voice, Leander? As if someone else were guiding you?" Dr. Jensen queried, his voice laced with an eager fascination. Leander nodded with a terse nod. "Yes, Doctor. It was as though someone else was within me, steering me through the fog," he explained, his words cautious yet resolute. With an air of palpable interest, Dr. Jensen proposed a set of brainwave measurements to unravel the enigma that plagued Leander's thoughts. Dr. Jensen’s features etched with both concern and intrigue. "Leander, I've analyzed your brain wave patterns, and it seems that something quite extraordinary is occurring within your mind." Leander furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, Dr. Jensen?" Dr. Jensen clasped his hands together, his eyes alight with curiosity. "Leander, what you're experiencing is indeed a rare and unprecedented occurrence," Dr. Jensen began, his voice tinged with an undercurrent of fervor. "The residual presence of Leon within your psyche is an enigma that holds immense scientific significance." Leander's gaze flickered with a blend of awe and unease, akin to a tempestuous tempest on the horizon. "What does this mean for me, Dr. Jensen?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a note of apprehension. "In essence, the remnants of Leon's consciousness have woven a curious tapestry within the confines of your mind," Dr. Jensen explained, his dexterous fingers deftly adjusting the intricate instrumentation before them. "During the mind transfer, Leon's body was not without trace remnants of Leon's consciousness, resulting from the brief interval between his presumed brain death and your arrival within his form." A sliver of understanding dawned within Leander's gaze, his thoughts awash with a labyrinthine maze of possibilities and uncertainties. "So, what happens now?" he queried, his words fraught with an undeniable sense of urgency. Dr. Jensen's eyes gleamed with an unyielding fervor as he continued to unravel the ineffable complexity of Leander's predicament. "In essence, we stand upon the precipice of unprecedented scientific inquiry," he elucidated, his voice laced with an indefatigable zeal. "The veritable fusion of minds within a singular vessel presents an unparalleled opportunity for exploration and discovery." A tempest of emotions roiled within Leander. As days waned into nights, the fragments of Leon's consciousness began to manifest with increasing intensity, a presence that insinuated itself into the very fabric of Leander's being. Eric, once the primary occupant of the vessel, found his influence waning as the spectre of Leon tightened its tenuous grip upon their shared dominion.

As the days went by, Leon's control over their shared body grew more and more. Eric found himself at odds with the mischievous Leon, who seemed to be on a reckless streak. "Leon, we can't keep living like this," Eric expressed his concerns. "You're jeopardizing both of our futures with your impulsive behavior." Leon retorted, "Relax, Eric. We've got this. We're a team, and together, we can conquer anything. Besides, we share this body, so it's in our best interest for Leander to excel in every aspect." Frustrated, Eric bit back, "But that doesn't mean you can just use me to get what you want! I won't be your pawn, Leon." During a physics exam, Eric remained quiet, refusing to assist Leon, who was struggling with the answers.

With a victorious glint in his eye, Eric smirked inwardly, hoping to teach Leon a lesson. Suddenly, he felt Leon's enthusiastic spirit taking the reins and solving the tasks, exclaiming, "Ah, that's how it works. Now I understand physics too." Eric felt helpless, realizing that Leon had found a way to tap into his knowledge without his consent. Later that evening, things took an unexpected turn. As Leander indulged in an adult film and indulged in self-gratification, Eric and Leon's minds drifted to thoughts of their first girlfriends. When Leander shoot his load, Eric's recollection of his first girlfriend was swiftly replaced by Leon's, leaving him bewildered and devoid of his own experience.

Astonished about this peculiar turn of events, Leander consulted Dr. Jensen, prompting the doctor to explain the bizarre phenomenon. "Leander, as Leon's memories are ingrained in his body, Eric's memories are naturally rejected when Leander ejaculates," Dr. Jensen clarified. Eric was shocked, realizing that his very essence was being eroded, one ejaculation at a time.

In a subsequent visit to Dr. Jensen, Leander confidently declared, “Dr. Jensen, I am not Eric; I am not Leander. Call me Leon. I have Eric right where I want him. Soon, I'll possess nothing but his knowledge, and I'll erase his memories for good!" Eric's panic soared, realizing that Leon was on the brink of obliterating him, leaving only his knowledge behind.

Some days later Leon stood in Dr. Jensen's lab, feeling the weight of guilt for every flick of the wrist, every consequence of his arousal. "Doctor, I can't keep doing this," exclaimed Leon. "Every time I ejaculate, Eric's memories vanish. It's like I'm killing a part of him every time I give in to my desires." Dr Jensen adjusted his glasses, regarding Leon with an understanding yet calculating gaze. "Yes, Leon, I suspect that is the case. But you seem to have little control over your urges." He paused, then added, "I guess you would make a fine eunuch!” Leon's eyes widened in shock as he recoiled from the suggestion. "Neutered? No way! I won't let you do that to me," Leon protested vehemently. He paced back and forth, his mind racing for a solution. Dr Jensen observed Leon's distress with a contemplative air, then a spark of inspiration ignited in his eyes. "I have an alternative solution," he proclaimed. "What if we transfer Eric's thoughts onto an electronic medium? That way, you won't have direct access to his thoughts, but you'd still have his knowledge with you." Leon's initial skepticism gave way to consideration. "You mean Eric's consciousness on my phone?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. Dr Jensen nodded. "Exactly. We would extract Eric's consciousness and transfer it into an app on your cell phone. This way, you wouldn't have to worry about erasing his memories and knowledge whenever you... indulge yourself," he explained, trying to keep a straight face. Leon hesitated, mulling over the proposal. Eventually, he nodded in agreement. "Alright, let's do it. If it means helping Eric and not risking losing his memories anymore, I'm in," he declared, determination sparking in his eyes.

The procedure was carried out, and soon Eric's consciousness resided within the confines of Leon's cell phone. As Leon held the device in his hand, he couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of power. "So, Eric, now you're just some kind of chatbot," Leon mused, a chuckle escaping him. "And the best thing is, I can turn you off at any time!" he added, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Meanwhile, in the digital realm, Eric found himself in a state of ethereal confinement. "What have I gotten myself into?" Eric pondered, a tinge of apprehension coloring his thoughts. "I never thought that I'd be at the mercy of a 20-year-old's whims, even in this form." Despite the circumstances, Eric couldn't help but marvel at the rapid change in Leon. Through Eric's knowledge, Leon began to grasp the intricacies of scientific concepts, excelling in his studies. However, there was an underlying unease within Eric as he pondered the possibility of Leon misusing his newfound knowledge. As days turned into weeks, Leon's intellect flourished, complementing his athletic prowess and charisma. He became renowned as an exceptional student at the Faculty of Science, all the while carrying Eric's consciousness within his pocket.

Yet, while Leon reveled in his newfound success, Eric was left to grapple with his newfound existence, at the mercy of Leon's decisions and the dreaded prospect of being silenced at any moment. The digital walls seemed to close in on Eric, and he pondered how much longer he could endure this peculiar fate. However, one thing was certain - with Leon holding the key to Eric's digital existence, the dynamics between the two would forever be altered, and Eric was left to unravel the consequences of being a mere whisper in the palm of Leon's hand.

#male tf #male transformation #age regression #body swap #inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #mad science

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