Don’t love yourself too much

By Mango Deville 
2 parts
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Part 1

I was born a little over 30 years ago into a happy family and raised as any first son might be to think highly of myself. I was blond, 6 foot tall and had an impressively athletic build, maintained through the many sports I played and honed with some additional weight training (I loved the way the supposedly banned Squats exercises rounded my butt cheeks and gave them a bubble like shape). The outdoor activities that I loved when away from work left my hair streaked naturally and my skin tanned golden. Many times I had been complimented on my striking eye colors, one blue (from my mother) and the other green (from my father); my twin sister had only blue eyes but they were equally stunningly azure.

I worked hard at school but never shone academically but my undoubted attractiveness and friendly manner landed me a job in a department store selling furniture; it was all too easy to palm off goods to customers struck by my manner and looks and so targets were met and exceeded and all was right with the world. I had a fair bit of money and could afford the things I wanted in life, and my hair was always fashionably cut and my clothing up to date within the formal scope of the workplace and much bolder at home. I had scored with a succession of beautiful women but the longest any had been around was a few weeks at most. I had no doubt that my pulling power would last and there was no shortage of time. If only I’d known.

I was at work as usual that day and it had been quite busy; the regular mix of “just looking”, real prospects and committed buyers. There was some late middle-aged or near-elderly guy hanging around who fled anytime I was free enough to go to approach him. He seemed interested in some modern furniture just beyond me office space and I couldn’t help notice him looking at me anytime I looked at him, but he soon turned away. One of these time-wasters who want some help to make a decision but run like a frightened chicken if I go over to offer. I was too busy to worry about him, thinking he would eventually either leave or come over in his own good time.

I was also busting to relive myself and when finally a break in the steady stream of customers presented me with an opportunity I took it. I headed to the john and hastily unzipped to allow myself to relax and let it all flow out. As usual I let it all hang out as I did so; hey my equipment was much too big to stay hidden in there once it smelt fresh air, I thought. Besides, I liked to show off a bit and often could see guys blanch a bit when they’d catch sight of it out of the corner of their eyes as they stood alongside me. I was not gay but the thought made me swell a bit and it was poking out a bit and the nice feeling of the flow inside the shaft made me think of the redheaded stewardess who had enjoyed my company just the night before last. I remember it swelling even more and I consciously thought of something else to try and settle things down a bit.

Just as I was starting to shake myself of any excess and still with a half erection I heard the outer door of the john open quickly followed by the inner one. I quickly tried to stuff myself back in through my fly but it’s swollen length made it difficult and there was just enough water left at its end to wet the edge of the material. Shit I thought, just as the older guy who I had noticed hanging around before swung around the dividing partition and gobbed an eyeful of me; hanging out and still slightly dripping. He started a bit, smiled faintly and then with a funny little lick of his lips changed course and headed for the cubicles across from me.

I remember thinking “Well, we’re both guys, he would understand” and by then my dick was soft enough to push back inside the flap of my suit fly, with only a telltale bulge to give the game away.

I walked over the sink and proceeded to wash my hands. I looked at myself in the mirror and could see the spotting I had on the front of my suit pants had spread a little and was now a bit too obvious in the light colored material. I cursed myself for my choice of suit that day but decided I could probably dry it with the hand dryer mounted on the wall a few feet away. I stepped over to it and started it going, thrusting my crotch forward and feeling the air warm up and the spot slowly drying. I had to push the button a second time and when it too had finished was about to push it for a final time.

Suddenly a loud thud noise followed by a more muffle one made me look up and realize it had come from the cubicles. I checked the spot on my pants and decided it would probably do and went to investigate. The cubicle door where I thought the guy went into was ajar just enough to see into it a bit and I peered cautiously in. I could not believe my eyes. Inside was not the older guy but someone who looked familiar and I realized he was wearing not only the same suit as me but shirt and tie too. He was a blonde as me and tanned too. Maybe I had been mistaken about the cubicle that other guy went into. This guy had passed out and was leaning against the wall while at the same time sitting on the pan with pants fly opened, but I saw they were securely fastened around his waist. The guy’s formidable equipment, probably only a small amount smaller than my own, I thought, was hanging out of his fly, just as my own had only minutes before been. There was even a wet spot spreading on the material just like mine.

The one thing I had retained over the years form my schooling was our First Aid instructions and ol’ DR ABC cut in. There was no obvious danger so I tried Response; I spoke loudly to him to wake up but there was no stirring. I grabbed his chin with one hand and gently pulled it down while raising his forehead with the other. I peered inside but there was no obvious blockage and his tongue was not swollen. I tentatively stuck my fingers down his throat but there was nothing to find and even that did not stir him.

I realized I had not felt any breath and immediately decided he must have some oxygen if he was to survive. There was no time to consider that I was about to give mouth to mouth to a guy and no time to find something to use as a barrier as I have seen on TV programs these days. Hey, the guy looked fit and healthy, easily my equal so he must be okay to do this to, or so I thought.

I pinched his nose and pushed my lips against his and with a just the right amount of force blew air into his mouth enough to flow down his windpipe and into his lungs. I’d placed one hand on his chest and could feel the movement down there. The air escaped as I pressed the chest a bit and then I blew again. This time I heard a grunt and his eyes opened and he was breathing by himself I could tell. I took my mouth from his but only far enough that I could see his face properly for the first time. I said aloud “are you okay” and I saw for the first time how much his face resembled mine too, and even one eye was a different hue, the same as mine, one blue one green. He went to stand up and I followed as well and I could see we stood at an identical height and that his hair was a s blond and his skin as golden as mine. My crotch tweaked visibly when I realized he could have been my twin brother, identical even to the clothes we were wearing. He breathed out the words “oh yeah” and leant in and kissed me smack on the lips with mouths opened, as mine had done in amazement as the realization of our physical similarity. His arms raised and he grabbed me in an embrace, the likes of which I had never felt before, but from which my crotch just seemed to respond even more. I could feel it brushing up with his crotch which also seemed to be tenting out. I couldn’t believe I was enjoying this but I was.

He parted us after about 30 seconds and gently pushed me back and said “Look!” and motioned me to look into the mirror above the urinals immediately across from the row of cubicles. I nearly fainted at the sight; the two of us were like peas in a pod, more closely alike than any identical twins I had ever encountered (of course my sister and I were twins but what they call fraternal, we soon discovered as a child).

He turned me back and pushed the door closed and me against it. Placing his fingers under the lapel of my suit jacket he pushed it so that it moved off my chest and the tight arms held my arms in a pose that I would have had trouble changing had I had the thought to do so. He grabbed my tie and pulled on it with just the right amount of force to loosen it from my shirt collar and then leant in and pulled the shirt by each side and with a strong jerk pulled it such that it opened and the buttons either flew off or were wrenched through the material. The shirt shoulders followed the jacket off my body and my hands were now bound by two tight objects of clothing. He looked at me and licked his lips while savoring the view of my exposed chest with my pecs covered in soft blond hairs and my nipples curiously erected.

It was happening so fast I could only stand there in shock and he now grabbed my belt and with an almost knowing touch undid the buckle in one go and unhooked the pants’ fastener and grabbed at the zip tag and wrenched it down (this wasn’t so easy as my pants were tented out in an obscene and embarrassing manner). He peeled back the pants fronts and unhooked them from over my proud butt and shucked them to the floor. I stood there exposed completely from head to ankles (I always went commando), and then he leant down and undid my shoes laces and loosen them. He patted my left ankle and called up to me to “lift” and without pausing to think “why?” I did as I was bid and lifted my left foot. Off fell the shoe and he deftly removed the sock. The right was patted next and instinctively I did the same without the request.

He stood up and stood back a little sizing me up. He grabbed me gently and spun me around so I was now facing the door; my cock lurched as he moved me and hit the door with a quiet thud. “Fuck.. me!” he breathed deliberately and just loud enough for me to hear. I could see him lean over and inspect my butt crack but moved them aside far enough to reach under and pull gently on my balls. Again my whole crotch twitched but I was not sure this was such a good idea. I spun around on my own again but he straightened up and I could see him grinning. It was my own killer smile, the bastard!

He started to remove his jacket, throwing it in the corner of the cubicle, and soon followed with shirt and leaving his loosened tie (identical paisley patterns as me!) around his neck. His pants too were quickly removed but he stepped out of them; while tight around the crotch and upper thighs they were relaxed fit around the calves, just like mine and I followed suit for no reason I could think of. He leant over and loosened his shoe laces and shoes and socks were soon thrown casually in the other corner. My God, he even seemed to have a blackened big toe nail on his right foot like I had after I had crushed it with a dropped dumbbell a week or more ago!

We were now both standing naked, except my arms were still bound with my shirt and jacket sleeves. I looked into his face and even with his huge smile I could see we were the spitting image of each other.

He leant over to me and while his hands explored my chest and upper body his mouth found mine and his tongue inserted itself into my mouth. He was the best kisser I had ever encountered, another thing we were so much alike in. Lost in the sensations he was giving me I didn’t even think that he was another guy!

One of his hands went lower and traced the hairs that ran down from my chest through my navel and down into my crotch. He grabbed my cock and squeezed it tightly, bloating its length and width beyond the section wrapped in his fingers. He growled low in the back of his throat and I could feel it in my mouth as our tongues were now as though they were one. He massaged my balls and the feeling made my cock twitch again; those short blonde hairs always were just so sensitive. He started to tickle the equally sensitive hairs running down the inside of my legs and that was almost enough to make me pop my cork!

After what seemed to be an incredibly long time he broke the seal between our mouths and let go of my chest and his fingers left off their stroking of my groin. He turned around and leant over the pan. “Fuck me!” he breathed and pointed at me what I saw was a tube of lubricant which he’d grabbed from the floor where I also noticed an old bag with a strange metal clasp. The tube had no top on it and as he squeezed it oozed out and I moved forward to stop it dripping with my crotch. He reached around and fondled my cock, spreading the lube unevenly over its surface. He then used his fingers to lube up his own hole which was pink and unblemished but surrounded with tiny little blond hairs, I guess just like my own, though I had never explored that area of my body.

Somehow though the thought of fucking some guy had never ever entered my thoughts before I seemed to know what was expected of me and somehow wanted it — he seemed so much like me that it can’t possibly be wrong for us to join together like this. I moved forward and my cock found the crack with an ease that surprised me and I felt it open as I pressed it in, grabbing me and almost sucking me in. The feeling was incredible, so much tighter than any of the babes I had screwed before, and the inside of his ass seemed to massage my cock with a thousand small suckers. I pushed forward again and came up against his firm rounded buttocks, so much like those of mine which I had so often admired in the mirror at the gym in tight shorts, or paraded naked in the locker room after a workout. More than one gay looking guy had followed those buttocks around at a not quite discreet distance over the years.

I started a rhythmic fucking and my balls banged against something and I then realized that they were his; he too had low hangers that swung in the breeze and the sensation of mine hitting his was turning me on even more.

He screwed his head and upper torso around a bit and reached over and grabbed my tie, pulling me closer so our backs were in contact too. The hairs on my chest brushed against his bare back skin and it heightened my awareness of him even more. Finally he managed to reach my mouth with his and despite the pummeling I was giving his backside he managed to resume tongue kissing me passionately.

I could feel that this was all but the last straw; his ass massaging my cock as it slid in and out and his expert kissing sending me into new heights of arousal. I reached around him with one hand as I had the many women I had fucked from behind and grabbed his chest and tweaked the erect nipples; as unused as I was to feeling chest hair and pecs instead of pendulous breasts it no longer felt a weird thing to be doing. My other hand reached around at crotch level and felt his own sizeable cock jerking every time I thrust forward with mine. With an instinct I couldn’t understand I grabbed it and held it almost as he had mine; he had obviously lubed it too and it slipped a bit thru my hand mimicking the movements of mine as I fucked. As I squeezed his cock he mimicked the action with his ass muscles and that was it. I felt the pressure become too much and struggling for air I exploded inside him as I felt my hand loosen a little around his own flailing cock that had exploded at just the same instant. I shot as I have never before and the feeling was so intense that I could feel the sweat break out on my face and drip into my eyes. I closed them and felt my legs go weak and I fell back and my cock pulled out of his ass and I landed on the cold floor, my head jerking back and hitting the bottom of the door with a thud.

Part 2

I remembered nothing from then on until I could feel myself being lifted and carried out of the cubicle and laid on a stretcher. The ambulance man was young and had dark flashing eyes, and brown hair with a matching beard and moustache. He was obviously very strong; the ease with which he picked me up was incredible. He smiled gently and spoke soothingly that I was going to be alright and not to worry. I felt secure in his care, for no good reason than his attractive appearance and pleasant manner, and took what he said was a sedative that he offered me.

I lay on the stretcher as he and another ambulance man, an older shorter huskier man, gathered up my clothes from the floor of the cubicle and then carried me out from the john and into the main part of the furniture section of the department store. I looked across to my desk but what I saw nearly made me fall off the stretcher… it was me, or my body at least, standing there looking across at me and smiling that killer smile, and out of my, I mean his, mouth came that tongue, darting out and licking his lips in the way I had seen the old guy do however long ago that was now. As we moved on we passed a cupboard with a framed mirror mounted on it. In the short time we were reflected in it I could see the stretcher and me laying on it. But it wasn’t me I saw.. it was the old guy that had been hanging around me all day. I started up and tried to protest that someone has stolen my body, but the older ambulance man just ignored me and the younger one tried to soothe me with “It’s okay, no-one’s stolen anything, we’ve got it all here” and held up the ratty old bag I had seen on the floor of the cubicle. Before I could say anything else the sedative must have worked ‘cos I felt my consciousness fading and I fell asleep.

When I awoke I was in hospital and several days had passed and all sorts of tests had been done on me without anything specific ever showing what had caused my blackout (the back of my head was still sore though, centered right on a large bald patch through the thin grey hair there instead of my luxuriant blond crowning glory); I tried to convince everyone what had happened to me — leaving out the sexual bits because that was just too embarrassing — but all that that succeeded in doing was to land me in the mental ward. Eventually after a week or so had passed I gave up and pretended that I was over “this delusion”, as they called it and was pronounced well enough to leave. I headed straight back to the department store and made a beeline for the furniture section; looking around madly for my self! There was no sign and the desk I had had was emptied and bare. My old supervisor, a sedate middle-aged woman, came up to me and asked if she could help. I asked what had happened to the young salesman. She told me that he had suddenly told them he didn’t want the job and upped and left and apparently packed up and gone overseas, claiming to want to get into the movies or something. My heart sank; there was no way I could follow him, not without any money and no prospects of even knowing who I was now. I went outside and sat on a bench in the park. Then I realized I was still carrying the ratty old bag that somehow I had felt compelled to carry with me at all times even when I was in the hospital. I opened it up, the strange clasp suddenly seeming to be familiar and inside was an ancient old book.

I opened it and read the inside cover. In scratchy fading old style handwriting it read: If you are reading this for the first time you will no doubt still be in some shock. You are now inhabiting the carcass of a warlock many centuries old who is forced to wander the mortal realm in search of release from a curse put onto him for abusing young immature warlocks. You cannot kill yourself; whatever you do to yourself will always recover, to a large extent. You have only two choices now: have someone else kill you and put you and this carcass out of your eternal misery. Or to trick someone else into taking your place with the one piece of magic you still possess — you can assume their form for a short while, as completely as you are able to view their form. Any part of your body you have not seen will still resemble the wretched carcass you currently inhabit. Your clothes will take on their appearance too as you change and this will usually happen immediately as this is what you see first normally. You have one hour once you decide on a change and it begins. To have the swap made permanent you must take their vital male essence inside yourself and hold it for as long as it takes for them to take on the form of the vile carcass. If you fail you will revert and so will they, with no knowledge of what you tried to do to them, but you need to find another person as they cannot be assumed again. Good luck or Good Death, whichever you choose.

I closed the book and tried to take it in. I had two choices but one sounded unfair to me, the other unfair to someone else. I was only thirty, why should I lose at least half of my life by someone else’s doing. And how could I get someone to kill me even if I wanted them to? Perhaps incite a policeman into shooting me? That would work. But then I’d be dead!!

I decided I needed somewhere to crash and the bench was getting real hard. I remembered the hospital was not too far away and maybe if I pretended to have relapsed they’d take me back in. I determined that was the thing to do for at least a few days anyway. I headed over there with all the speed I could muster and go to the Emergency entrance and stood and watched for a chance to wander in, thinking maybe I’d start yelling at the top of my voice.

As I stood there an ambulance pulled up and out jumped two men who I saw were the ones who had helped me in the john of the department store. The younger one recognized and smiled at me but was busy unloading someone from the back. Something about him instantly made my ancient old parts stir and his beauty and strength just oozed as his body moved around in the green reflector bedecked uniform. Somehow in the back of my mind the thought “That’s me” kept repeating itself. In the commotion no one saw me follow the ambulance as he drove it away to the waiting area. By the time I got there I could feel the coolness of the metallized stripes against my body and the air flowing around the armpits of the short sleeved uniform I was now wearing. I was moving easily now too. He’d come around the back of the ambulance for some reason and opened the doors. He heard me behind him and turned and when our eyes met I could see my own reflection in the deep dark pools of his brown irises. It served to sharpen my resolve, and too heighten my sexual urge.

He was completely taken aback and I easily but gently pushed him back into the ambulance and closed the door behind us. I was him and soon I would be forever more.

Beware the curse.

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