Absorbing John

By KickIt - kickitwrites@gmail.com
published December 7, 2019
3275 words

Coach Pat takes out his frustration when nerd John ruins his plan to merge with his favorite player.

Coach Pat leaned back in his chair, his short, thick cock firing a load of cum into the bottle in front of him. Shaking up the sports drink bottle he used for discretion, the mixture congealed into a watery, gray liquid. For a while, he’d been dreaming about getting another chance at glory, and he’d stumbled onto that while doing some research online. Pat wasn’t sure if it was magic or what, but he read online if he mixed his cum into some weird, hard-to-find herbs and stuff, he could use it to take over the body of someone else and no one would be any wiser to what had happened.

He’d set his sights on the quarterback of his school’s team, Quintin. The large Latino man was at the top of his game, the path to the NFL practically paved for him to cruise down. He pulled the master key out of his pocket and walked over to Quintin’s locker, grabbing the bottle of two-in-one men’s shampoo-conditioner. Popping the lid off, he poured his concoction into the bottle and shook it up to mix the contents. He discarded the bottle carelessly, figuring someone else would throw it away since it had already been opened. Pat figured he had nothing to lose, even if it didn’t work. However, if it did…

His cock plumped slightly against his tight red lycra gym shorts, and he slipped back into his office to calm down before his class. He was required to teach at least one by the university, so he opted for basic fitness. Most of the kids were just-starting-out fitness majors, but there was this one little nerd who was trying to get in shape or knock out an elective early. Either way, he had the lowest grade in the class and was constantly holding everyone up. Pat didn’t even make an effort to remember his name, but he figured it was something like John or Jake.

Hearing a knock on the door, Pat flinched, tucking his erection into the waistband of his shorts to make sure it would be harder to spot. “Come in,” he called, settling behind his desk.

Speak of the devil, the thin kid walked inside and was swallowed by the chair he sat in. His mousy brown hair covered the top of the frames of his glasses, brown eyes cast at the floor. He was dressed for class in a pair of shorts and tank, but they both hung off his almost-gaunt frame. Pat felt like he could almost wrap his hands around the kid’s waist and break him like a twig.

“Coach, I was hoping we could talk about my grade in class,” he began. “I know I’m not doing well, but I’m really trying, and I was hoping maybe I could write a paper or something for extra credit?” Pat barely suppressed a grimace. He didn’t want to read some stupid theory paper and have to grade it, that was nerd shit.

Sighing internally, he rested his thick arms on the desk. “Have you been doing the exercises outside of class like we said?” Even if he had, it was unlikely to make a difference.

“I have been! I just can’t gain any muscle for some reason!” He complained, pointy to his flat bicep. “I wish I had a body like yours, Coach!” Pat chuckled at that, a dumb, giddy smile on his face. His body was his pride and joy, but age had worn out his joints, and he just didn’t have the same kind of endurance he did when he was twenty. Still, he spent as much time exercising as he could. He never managed to find a wife, but these were all things he could fix when he was rocking Quintin’s sweet twenty-two-year-old body. That kid probably smashed a different puss daily.

“We can’t all be as gifted as I am,” Pat replied, still grinning ear to ear. “It takes a lot of time and discipline to build a body like this.” He held up his heavy arm, a flash of dark armpit hair peaking from the corner of his sleeveless shirt. Pat realized he probably needed to put some more deodorant on before class but didn’t really care. The fitness majors only cared about their perfect trim muscles and body fat percentages and not the heft of raw muscle and fat. Who needed a shredded six pack when you could lift a truck singlehandedly?

John looked downcast, like I hadn’t given him the answer he wanted to hear. “So, no extra credit?”

Pat shook his head. “Sorry, no. I have to see you make a real change and be part of it if you want to pass, and I don’t think you’ve quite made it there yet. I’ll see you in class.”

John stood and walked to the door, not even saying bye as he closed it. Pat frowned, checking the clock. He was going to squeeze another load out, but the twerp had burned up all his time bitching about his bony ass. Patting his soft cock mournfully, Pat stepped out of his office just in time to see the kid swig down what was left in the bottle he’d set on the benches.

“No!” Pat yelled. The magic would only work on the first person to come in contact with it and he’d ruined everything! “You idiot, you fucked it all up!” He flinched as Pat ran over and pulled him off his feet by the front of his tank top. Rage began to boil in his chest, uncertainty about what he should do next quickly following. What would happen if he tried to force his much larger body into the little nerd? Pat pulled his own shirt off, quickly followed by the nerd’s tank.

The two stood opposed. Pat was tan, muscular, and hairy; a complete gym daddy (as some of his students had called him), the kind of man anyone would want to get fucked by. His short beard clung to his square jaw under ice blue eyes that could make any pussy wet. John was exactly the opposite: pale, skinny, lanky, hairless. He was the kind of guy who could be in a room with someone for hours and they’d never notice he was there if he didn’t say anything. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about him except how unremarkable he was.

“Take your pants off,” Pat shouted, demandingly. The smaller man hesitated, clearly cowering under the bulky coach. The coach pulled his gym shorts and jockstrap off at the same time, shirking his shoes and socks as well. His beer-can cock stood a proud five inches from his bush of dark, thick pubic hair. With shaking hands, John’s shorts fell, and his long, thin cock slapped up and hit his stomach. Pat grinded his teeth a little at the thought that the stupid nerdy ass kid was getting off on being bossed around by him. What kind of homo shit was this kid into?

“Stand in front of me, facing away,” he commanded. John blinked a few times and then did as he was told. He was barely half the width of Pat, and he wasn’t sure if what he was about to do would even work.

Pat steeled himself before lifting his foot up and pressing it against John’s nonexistent calf muscle. The milky white skin resisted for just a second, like surface tension of water, before his toes began to slip inside. It felt like a heavy resistance band; if he stopped pushing, it would snap like elastic and force him out. John’s leg distorted like a sock as Pat’s food slipped down and forced it open. The once-thin, pale leg exploded with dark body hair and muscle, their skin tones mixing to create a perfect light tan. Feeling his foot slot inside of John’s, he wiggled their toes, marveling at how it seemed even larger than before.

It wouldn’t be bad, Pat thought. Maybe he wouldn’t get a chance to be younger again, but his gains had plateaued ages ago. If all he had to do to get bigger and bigger was slip inside of a gay nerd, so be it.

“W-what are you doing?” John asked, trying to turn or run but he was no longer in control of his own body. Pat was stepping inside and taking over the reins.

“Shut it, nerd,” he hissed. Pat forced his other foot inside with less resistance than the first time, neatly settling it inside. Wanting to keep momentum, Pat crouched down and pressed his fingers into the tops of John’s shoulders, his hands sliding inside like he was pushing through melting butter. The more of his body that went in, the easier it became. As his thick, muscled arms slid inside of John’s lankier ones, they exploded with more muscle and hair, almost doubling in size compared to Pat’s original arms. The skin pulled taut, exposing all of the delicate striation of their musculature.

Seeing the changes as they merged, Pat’s cock rose to full mast and pressed against the small of John’s back. Standing back upright, John let out an erotic moan as his malleable body stretched to match Pat’s full height. John’s ass stretched up to meet Pat’s hard dick, grunting as he slipped his dick inside of the nerd’s sweaty crack. His cock felt like it was on fire as he slipped it inside of John’s hole; surrounded by a tight, hot pressure on all sides.

It took Pat nearly twice as long to slide his thick bara body through John. His chest was nearly sixty inches of beef already and, with John, he was quickly gaining mass and pushing past that limit. It almost felt like John would burst from the pressure before it was all over with. Despite the strain, their body pushed through. Running his hands across his perfectly tan musculature, he couldn’t believe how much bulk he’d put on from merging with a scrawny weakling.

Pat was absolutely massive, the difference between an amateur bodybuilder and a man at the top of his game. If he went out to participate now, there was no man who could parallel his amazing, hirsute brawn. His body hair had spread past a patch in the middle of his chest, dark brown hair swirling across his protruding pecs and engulfing his erect nipples. The carpet spread down his muscle gut and gathered in a wild bundle of pubes over his colossal eleven-inch-long tube steak.

Pat, momentarily lost in the euphoria of exploding in muscle, forgot about John and reached down to pump their cock. The illusion was shattered when he realized that John’s head and neck were still hanging off his body below his own. Not wanting to give up his chiseled good looks, he decided to just shove John’s head inside of their chest. He wasn’t even sure it would work at first, but the nerd’s muffled protests quickly drowned as he was pushed into the quicksand of Pat’s chest.

With a rush of adrenaline, Pat quickly realized that he was in full control. Sure, he hadn’t gotten the perfect younger body to be an athlete and fuck around as much as he wanted, but he was huge and wide. Hell, he’d probably shaved at least a couple decades off by merging with someone more than thirty years younger than him.

Padding over to the full-length mirror across from the lockers, he nearly shot his load when he saw exactly how far he’d gone. His tits, cock, and ass jutted almost obscenely off of his body. His ball bag was covered in hair and hung down to his mid-thigh, looking fat and full. He looked like the living incarnation of a wet dream he’d had when he was fifteen… Pat shook his head, not sure where that thought had come from. Who needed teenage dreams when all of it was real anyway?

Taking ahold of his own cock, it was as thick as his wrist was and impossible to fully encircle with his fingers. He pumped the hot meat and, already on edge, exploded. He could feel his balls tightening as his knees gave out. He landed on the concrete with a roar as he plastered his reflection with cum. The thick load pooled around the base of the mirror, slowly creeping towards the floor drain nearby. Was he cumming out the parts of John he didn’t need? How else could he explain such a massive load?

Pat was practically manic by the time his cock shot its final spurt, uncontrollably giggling. He no longer cared about being caught. It wasn’t like they could separate the two, he suddenly recalled. All sexual magic was permanent on the first orgasm, and it wasn’t like either of them would want to be apart. Big men were fucking hot and the only thing better than fucking one was being one.

Pat stood up on shaky legs, reaching for wherever he had dropped his clothes at. He’d totally skipped out on teaching his class, but practice was right after that and he would need to be ready for when the team showed up. He had a glancing thought that his clothes from before probably wouldn’t even fit now, but that fear was quickly squelched. The gray sleeveless shirt, red lycra shorts, and white (slightly yellowed) jock all seemed to have shifted and grown to fit his hulking frame.

Looking back in the mirror, he probably would only need to paint his skin green and get some purple pants and he could be the Hulk. He chuckled a little and redressed, not noticing John’s clothes had disappeared. His feet slid back into the size 16 Nikes as the door opened and the team flooded in.

“Whew, Coach, I swear you get bigger every time I see you,” Quintin joked, a charming, cocky smile on his bright face. Pat stared at him for a long, almost uncomfortable second before he replied.

“Yeah, I’ve really been packing it on today,” he chuckled darkly, patting his stomach. “I had a big lunch.” None of them noticed or said anything about the enormous cum puddle slowly draining away. Pat didn’t draw attention to it either, so it was either part of their new reality or they were just too weirded out to mention it.

Instead of heading to the field first, he stood in his office door and watched the young men change into their uniforms. Pat quietly beheld the room full of young, muscular men with tight hairy bodies and thick, full dicks. He’d always gotten off to being in the locker room—

Wait, Pat thought, what? He turned and shut the door to his office, sliding into one of his own chairs across from his desk. It was the same chair that John swam in the hour before, though it creaked angrily under Pat’s large frame. He’d never had a gay thought in his life, but suddenly he…

Girls were all soft and he had to be gentle and careful with them, but the thought of a man’s hard body grinding back into his was… Their skin slamming together as hard as they could; hairy, sweaty bodies grinding together between the sheets, with a hot and sweet load gluing them together at the end. Pat was getting hard in his shorts, his bulging cock much more explicit than it was before. It snaked down enough for the head to escape from the bottom of his shorts, bright red and throbbing in the open air.

He barely registered the door opening behind him, the sudden sexual crisis making him waffle. Quintin stepped around Pat’s wide berth, the same cocky look on his face. “Sorry I couldn’t meet you before practice like normal, Coach, I was chatting with some guys about writing a paper for me.”

Pat snapped out of it. “Meeting me for what now?” he inquired, never having seen any of his players before practice that he could recall.

“Don’t play dumb,” he cocked his head to the side, resting his cheek on his oversized shoulder pads. “I know you always want me,” he purred.

Getting down on his knees before Pat, Quintin wasted no time leaning forward and running his tongue across his coach’s head. “I love the way your cum tastes, daddy. I always want to drink the loads you leave on the mirror.”

Slightly shocked by the sudden development, Pat’s recently used cock expelled a large glob of sticky pre instead of unloading entirely. “Wh-what?”

Quintin slurped up the bubble, wetting his full lips until they were red and glossy. “You come up with the funnest games, y’know?” He opened his mouth and pulled the whole head inside, pushing Pat’s tight shorts up to go down further. Pat nearly bit his tongue, the sudden explosion of pleasure more intense than he remembered. He hadn’t been blown by a guy since that one time in high school he fucked around with his neighbor. Pat knew that never happened, but the memory was so visceral that he couldn’t deny that it hadn’t happened either. When had he ever even had a girlfriend, anyway?

Quintin redoubled his efforts, nearly tearing the shiny red fabric in his insatiable cocklust. His head pistoned onto Pat’s huge member over and over, stretching the young hunk’s jaw out enough to make him wince every time the head passed through his teeth. Still, his commitment shone through in that Pat never felt his teeth graze his hard meat.

Pat groaned, leaned forward, and held Quintin’s head in place while he pumped shot after shot of potent daddy cum into his boy. He knew their relationship had never been like that until that day, but he also remembered them fucking and sucking like it was yesterday, which it probably had been in that reality. Whatever he’d done had changed him into a hulking gay muscle daddy with a penchant for football, comics, and fucking tight hunk ass. All of his memories of fucking or being with women were gone, replaced with John’s shy gay memories of his youth.

With a pair of hot lips like that, Pat suddenly knew women were overrated. Besides, it wasn’t like any of them could flawlessly take his foot-long cock to the hilt in one stroke like his boys could. Leaning back in his chair to relax in the afterglow of his third nut of the day, Quintin stood and shifted his efforts to worshipping his daddy’s smelly, sweaty pits.

Pat grinned and his cock plumped in his lycra shorts.


Merging is, like, basically possession, right? Thanks to mergeatrois on tumblr for kicking ideas for this around with me! I def recommend checking out some of his stuff if you’re into this kind of thing! If you guys know of any other hot gay possession/merging stories or media, or have any ideas, send them my way at kickitwrites@gmail.com! Thanks for reading!

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