cigardadclassic:

Granpa said we could switch bodies today! he went to school and I went to the beach! AND I can SMOKE A PIPE NOW!!! And I have grandpa’s beard which makes me feel very grown up! Even beer! I had a beer with lunch. I have grandpa’s wallet and his money. I don’t even know why Grandpa wanted to be me but I’m having a lot of fun so far!

cigardadclassic:

I’m getting tons more tail ever since I took over my neighbor’s body. He’s so good looking. I had a magic wish that I had saved for years. I waited decades because I knew I wanted to leave someone my old, fat body and I hated Marco. But I also lusted after him. now he’s old and fat and I often mock him for it. He was such an enormous douchebag. Now I bring home boys and fuck them as loud as I can so he hears. I love being young!

Hey there, my fantasy is to pick up my fat grandpa’s pipe or suspenders or something and be forced trade places with him. I hate it, but am unable to do anything about it, and I’m trapped in an obese, old bald, white bearded man’s body maybe forever, as my new “grandson” laughs about it and pokes fun at me.

harvzilla:

This is quite a common fantasy I come across, particularly with guys aged 30-40, getting older or old men stealing there years from them. I love the idea of watching an old man become younger before your eyes, there skin revitalising, there muscles expanding, a cheeky smile reappearing on there face as they regain there youth and stare at you as a fat old man, laughing at you and how the tables have turned. Becoming really old or fat isn’t something I think about much but I can definitely confirm there are lots of stories out there around this theme. Particularly with the themes of smoking. Smoke will do things to you. Every breathe aging you and taking you closer to retirement.

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The Sacrifice

maletfstories:

by This Dude at This Blog

“Why would you just give up your Bishop like that?” I asked, staring at the chessboard in amazement.

“Why don’t you take it and find out?” Vesko asked, the corners of his mouth turning into a grin. Vesko was originally from Bulgaria, and his accent always made anything he said sound so confident and sophisticated. I looked into his eyes, which were partially obscured by his long, silvery hair.

I knew it was a trap, but I walked into it willingly. I had to – how could I resist? I’d never beaten Vesko in a chess game before, and this might be my only chance to gain the edge. I captured with my King, my hand shaking as I let go of the piece.

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Who He Was Meant To Be

maletfstories:

Nick was an introverted 18 year old and a Senior at his local high school.  He lived in a small, rural town surrounded by thick forests, forests he often frequented to find solace and solitude.  Many times the isolation of the forest would inspire kinky, arousing feelings within him and he often masturbated amongst the tall pines, wise and silent.  These thick, rough trees made him think of the classic image of a lumberjack: tall, bulging muscles covered in thick brown hair that poked out of a soft flannel shirt, connecting chest hair with the lush, courageous beard that was speckled with grey like glimmering stars in a reddish-brown sky.  It was such a sexy contrast to his own body: short, thin, and wiry; essentially hairless, and utterly boyish.  Even his light brown pubes were sparse, not even reaching high enough to form the beginnings of a happy trail.  He always found himself wondering longingly why his body was so immature.  He had never known his father as he and his mom had lived quietly alone in their small two bedroom cottage ever since he could remember, and he’d never even asked his mother about his dad.  He could sense that she wasn’t keen on talking about him.

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