The house lay silent, the clock ticking past midnight as moonlight slanted through Mike’s cluttered room. He sprawled on his bed, chest still slick from his earlier release, the afterglow mingling with a restless heat. His smooth, linebacker body gleamed—38 years of bulk wrapped in a 16-year-old’s skin—and the lust that had fueled him lingered, sharp and insistent. Jeff slept down the hall, oblivious in the master bedroom, king of his swapped world. But Mike wasn’t done giving.
He slid off the bed, bare feet padding across the hardwood to his desk. The Chronivac glowed on his laptop, a siren call he couldn’t ignore. His hands trembled—not from nerves, but from the thrill—as he booted it up, the Trait Exchange interface flaring to life. Subject A: Mike Parker, Subject B: Jeff Parker. The text box blinked, waiting, and Mike’s mind raced. Jeff had his hair, his beard, his maturity—wearing it all with a natural swagger that drove Mike wild. He wanted to push it further, surrender more, feed that secret fire. His fingers typed, deliberate and sure: Genitals.
The idea hit like a spark—Jeff with his mature, 38-year-old cock, thick and heavy from years Mike had lived, while he took Jeff’s 16-year-old dick, fresh and eager. He grinned, cock twitching at the thought, and clicked Execute? Yes. The air buzzed—Processing Reality Shift: 3… 2… 1… Complete. A jolt shot through him, sharp and electric, centering low.
The change crept in, and pleasure sparked with it. His cock pulsed, a slow throb that made him gasp, and he watched, mesmerized, as it began to shift. The girth softened first, the thick, rugged shaft slimming inch by inch, the veins fading into smoother, tauter skin. He groaned, the sensation electric—each shrinking millimeter a ripple of delight, like his nerves were being retuned. The curve straightened, the foreskin tightening, pulling back as the head reshaped—smaller, pinker, fresher, a 16-year-old’s eager tip glistening with a bead of precum. His hand flew to it, trembling, and the touch was a shock—sensitive, alive, every nerve raw and new.
His balls followed, and fuck, it felt good. The heavy, sagging pair tightened, a slow, delicious pull upward as they shrank. The coarse hair around them thinned, then vanished, leaving a sparse teenage patch. He cupped them, moaning low—the weight lessened, the skin smoothing into a tighter, perkier sac, smaller but firm, buzzing with youthful vigor. The transformation dragged out, each shift a wave of pleasure—his mature, meaty cock slimming to Jeff’s leaner, straighter rod, his hefty balls lifting into a compact, eager pair. The heat peaked, a full-body shudder, and when it settled, he stared: Jeff’s 16-year-old dick stood stiff—slimmer, smoother, hypersensitive—framed by a light dusting of hair, balls snug and twitching with need.
Down the hall, Jeff slept, unaware his own groin now bore Mike’s gift: a thick, veined, 38-year-old cock, heavy balls nestled in dark hair, a silent swap tucked under the sheets.
Mike flopped back, legs wide, and explored. His fingers grazed the new tip, slick and pink, and a jolt ripped through him—fuck, it was alive. Jeff’s cock throbbed, smaller but electric, every stroke a lightning strike. He squeezed, marveling at the taut, youthful skin, the way it leapt in his grip, unscarred by time. His other hand roamed his smooth chest, the linebacker bulk a jarring match to this teenage prize, and the contrast stoked his lust. He pictured Jeff—hairy, bearded, packing his old cock, strutting the firm oblivious—and his new dick pulsed harder.
His groin had changed. Where his thick, mature shaft had hung—veined, heavy, a man’s cock—now sat a younger one: slimmer, smoother, the head pink and sensitive, framed by a sparse patch of teenage hair. It was Jeff’s, rewired onto him, and it stood stiff, pulsing with a raw, youthful need he hadn’t felt in decades. He wrapped a hand around it, gasping at the difference—lighter, tighter, every nerve screaming under his touch. Down the hall, Jeff slept on, unaware his own dick had morphed into Mike’s larger, rugged member, a silent gift tucked beneath the sheets.
Mike flopped back, legs spread, and explored. His fingers grazed the tip, slick with precum, and a shudder ripped through him—fuck, it was sensitive. Jeff’s 16-year-old cock throbbed, smaller but alive, every stroke a jolt of newness. He squeezed, marveling at the taut skin, the way it jumped in his grip, unburdened by years. His other hand roamed his smooth chest, the linebacker bulk a stark contrast to this teenage prize, and the disparity fueled him again.
He pictured Jeff—hairy, bearded, sprawled in the master bed, now packing his cock. Thick, veined, a man’s tool Mike had wielded for decades, handed over like a crown. The thought of Jeff waking up, oblivious, sporting that mature heft while Mike played with this eager, young dick—it was intoxicating. He stroked faster, the sensitivity overwhelming, his smooth thighs tensing as he bucked into his hand. The room spun—posters, jersey, teenage chaos—and his 38-year-old frame shuddered with a 16-year-old’s urgency.
"Fuck, Jeff," he muttered, voice low, imagining his “son” strutting the firm, hairy and hung with what Mike had given up. His balls—Jeff’s balls—tightened, smaller but fierce, and he came hard, a sharp, quick burst that splattered his smooth belly, less volume but intense as hell. He groaned, riding it out, the younger cock twitching in his grip, spent but still tingling.