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I woke up one morning to find myself in the body of Paul Levesque, aka Triple H. I rubbed my eyes, thinking it was just a wild dream, but when I looked down, I saw that my hands were indeed huge and veiny, and my body was kinda chiseled in places from years of weightlifting.
The first thing that came to mind was: "Holy shit, I'm a 50-year-old man with a receding hairline and a beer gut, but I'm also a millionaire and the COO of WWE!" But then, my inner fanboy kicked in, and I started thinking about all the perverted and gay things I could do with this new body.
I looked in the mirror and flexed my muscles, admiring my reflection. "Damn, I'm a catch," I thought. I started posing, making kissy faces and batting my eyelashes. I even practiced my "Hunter Hearst Helmsley" smirk while I stroked my new penis.
Next, I decided to explore the mansion that came with being Paul Levesque. I walked around, ogling the hot tub and the private movie theater. I even found a secret room filled with dildos and gay porn. I was in heaven!
Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door. It was Stephanie McMahon, aka my wife. "Good morning, honey," she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. I was taken aback, but I quickly regained my composure.
"Good morning, Steph," I replied, trying to sound suave. "I was just, uh, working out."
Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "In your underwear, with a boner?"
I shrugged. "I'm a busy man, Steph. I don't have time for clothes and shit."
She laughed and shook her head. "You're such a weirdo, Hunter."
I grinned, feeling like I was getting away with something. "That's why you love me, right?"
The rest of the day was a blur of meetings and business calls and gay masturbation sessions, and my mind kept wandering back to all the naughty things I could do with my new body. I even started thinking about CM Punk and how much I'd love to get him alone in the locker room and see if he wants me to suck his little cock! Time will tell.
