Leo

Hey everyone, my name is Leo. I love bodyswaps and transformations! Let me know if you want to switch with me.

[king-craftsman]

Running Hot

Nathan Mayhew was sprawled out on the cheap bed of his shared apartment when he got the suggestion that would change his life. Looking back at it now, his boyfriend breathing into the crook of his neck and his eyes boring into the ceiling, he should have been more suspicious. But he was too busy staring at nothing, as if anything would answer why his body instinctively woke him at five in the morning. It had been like this for a while. His life seemed to be a mix of the good and the bad, less in a realistic ‘well that’s just life’ sense. More in a bittersweet sense. As if life could let him have one good thing and had to immediately balance it out with the bad.

He had his own apartment for a good price and a loving boyfriend in Josh. He had his own job that was halfway decent and he had…a life. He was an independent adult, he wasn’t facing a famine or war, of course he knew that didn’t mean he couldn’t suffer. But he should have had all the things that would make someone happy, that would make him happy. It was just over a year ago he was begging to find a new job, to get his own place, to finally carve out something for himself. But ever since then there had been a quiet chorus, like a heartbeat or breathing, something so natural he never paid attention to it until it beat hard and came heavy. That chorus was more. Just one word, but it said so much and it came again and again.

More and more and more.

At first Nathan thought it could refer to the one thing he always wanted to change, his body. He had never felt right having one or maybe just right having this one. The past few years had been punctuated with times when he stared too long into the mirror and felt like he was a figure observing another life, another person. It got to the point where it wasn’t like he was staring at his reflection and contemplating his life like they did in the movies.

That would be too cinematic, a kind of romanticisation that his life just didn’t have. Instead he felt like an observer that could look at his body from the outside, like he was a ghost judging the living. When he did, it didn’t feel like a criticism, more like he was objectively looking at another body, seeing it in all its blemishes and flaws.

When he was cooking in the kitchen, he could see the bags under his eyes and the red dry patches of skin. When he was taking a walk in the park, he could note how his nose sometimes looked a bit too small for his face or his cheeks seemed doughy and how his pale skin looked almost sickly in the sunlight. But what he hated most of all was the gauntness. For that he didn’t need an observation, that he could feel and although he should have celebrated times being in his own body instead of floating away from it, it felt like hell.

It must have been because it was as if he had gathered the worst parts of two bodies on the opposite sides of the spectrum. On the one hand he looked almost sickly skinny, thin, weak arms. On the other hand he still carried a gut that protruded unnaturally like a giant lump out, like a parasite nesting beneath the skin that stole all the fat away from the rest of his body. Skinny fat is what people called it, at least that’s what he found during a late night scrolling away on the internet. It really was like hell to feel his gut swaying and have a body deceptively thin and brittle looking.

Nathan wasn’t even that tall, barely 5’9 and yet he carried around him the body of some skeletal monster. It made him look taller, how stick thin he was despite sporadic attempts at some sort of bulking and exercise. Sometimes he thought of giving in stuffing his face, having the appetite more like Josh who although ate ravenously, was only slightly pudgy for it. Despite this, it was like his boyfriend only grew cuter with size. That was the perfect way to describe him, cute, light brown skin and beautiful big brown eyes that caught the light wherever they went. His head was that of dark tight curls and his smile was radiant, a full ear to ear smile that came about from almost anything he found joy in.

Which was almost anything.

Yet despite being critical of his own gut, for some reason Nathan never judged Josh, never thought that he would look better with a flatter stomach. He found beauty in Josh’s bigger size, one night telling him something cheesy like ‘it lets me hold more of you’. Josh loved it. Nathan did too. He just wished he could have loved himself the same way. He knew he had to have been missing something, that the thinness of his curly hair or how fatigued he could get some days maybe indicated he wasn’t eating right.

But he was healthy or at least he ate more or less healthily and nothing had come up on any bloodwork. His family was fine. Everything should be fine. But there it was again, that chorus. More. More. More. At first he thought it was natural. After all, a mold infested cheap apartment close to a set of rough neighbourhoods that had never been mentioned in the same breath as government funding wasn’t exactly the end goal for any sort of life. He had an office job, but that was a mediocre salary for a not so mediocre amount of work. Josh had his job at Costco, but no amount of money could make retail worthwhile. They weren’t poor though, still making a decent amount of money for the way they were living, but of course an office job with his salary and working at Costco weren’t their career ambitions. He wanted more and more and more.

So what to do when confronted with so much self doubt and self hatred? Escapism. As opposed to pushing through, Nathan went off the path and told himself he was going around. He played videogames and consumed movies and binged shows like it was nothing. It didn’t grow too worrying until even his nerdy Marvel obsessed boyfriend started to notice just how often Nathan had something on in the background or was staying up late to binge another show or read another comic. They were messy twenty somethings with little direction in life amidst a crashed out economy and a boiling planet. It made sense that their lives were messy too, but when it got bad enough that even Josh started to ask for walks without their phones or to maybe just have a dinner where they walk instead of watching something Nathan knew it was bad.

But he carried on, persisted and in increasingly rare times Josh indulged him and asked about whatever new show or thing he was escaping into this time. Today was one of those rare times.

“It’s called CRAFT?” Josh had asked over the sound of a kitchen cupboard being shoved back inside. Nathan didn’t know what it was about his boyfriend but he almost always seemed to run on ten miles a minute when he was trying to get ready. When they used to date, he always appeared a little sweaty and out of breath despite being the first to get there. You nervous? Nathan once asked. No just trying to be early for you. Josh replied, breathy and all smiles. He liked to think that was the moment he fell in love with him.

For now whilst Nathan had the luxury of sitting on their secondhand ugly green couch on his day off, Josh had to rush like he was late for work (if he had left twenty minutes from now he would still get there early).

“What’s it do? Is it like…AI?” He asked. From Nathan’s expression, Josh could tell either it was AI and Nathan didn’t want to say or Nathan just didn’t know. Josh scoffed and dismissed getting it then and there. Nathan knew it was rare for him to get interested in anything to do with AI technology. He had always been vehemently against ChatGPT, hated AI art and found those video generations more uncanny valley than groundbreaking technology. But Nathan couldn’t assure him it wasn’t any of that, because the truth of the matter was that Josh would probably prefer AI to what the app actually was.

To explain that would also give away the surprise. It also may have had a 5% chance of Josh sending Nathan to a psychiatric hospital. 10% when he realised how much his escapism had become such a problem.

After all, how could Nathan pitch an app that claimed it could transform them into two characters from a TV show in the hopes it spiced up their dull sex life?

He took a moment.

25%, Nathan surmised.

“Okay yeah uh you have fun with whatever it is and take care, I love ya!” Josh came and pecked Nathan on the cheek. He blushed, but it felt more obligatory than natural. What he really wanted sometimes was for Josh to make out with him, pull him in for a kiss and never let go. Manhandle him. Pin him somewhere. The couch. The wall. Anywhere as long as Nathan was under him and then got railed by the man. But he knew Josh was far too sweet for a thing like that. Too gentle and too conscious of his own softness, which only made him guilty of it which in turn showed how soft he was and on and on went the cycle. There were countless times Nathan tried to get the man to be more dominant instead. It was odd, trying to dominate someone into dominating you. But Josh wasn’t a switch, it didn’t work like that. It was like asking for a reversal of gravity.

Some of the arguments that it led up to though were…sharp to put it lightly, especially in more recent months. Nathan wondered sometimes if that was just some kind of escapism too, if maybe wanting to just give into some fantasy like that would be enough to distract him from that chorus. More, more, more. But he just took the kiss with a smile, because no matter what he still loved Josh. That was the most infuriating part. Their love nestled itself between his ribs and made a home there, taking root among the bones and even when there were the tugs of discord it never once broke. It didn’t even rot. His love for Josh made him feel good inside, like there was something good about him, even if he couldn’t see it. Josh clearly could.

“I’ll try and call on my lunch break.”

“Sure thing, love you,” said Nathan though he was staring back down at the app. For some reason he hadn’t opened it properly, at least not yet until he saw Josh leave and the door close. In an instant, Nathan opened up a saved prompt marked: NATHAN X JOSH TEST 3. The first test had been simple, Nathan used it on himself of course. He wanted to see if he could shift reality just a little bit for something innocuous and so he decided on blueberries. Harmless and stupid blueberries. They would (as he jokingly called the first test), the gateway drug to what this app could do, if this app could do anything.

He’d never liked them for some reason but he went onto the app and nervously fidgeted his fingers (which only made him more nervous of misclicking something) after letting the app scan him through his camera and a fingerprint.

Nathan saw it…He scrolled through countless menus that loaded in and popped up about him. He scoffed, seeing all the detail, like a crime scene report of something that hadn’t happened yet or one of those worldbuilding templates he found online. What is the capital city? How big do you want your arms? What time did the crime occur? How fast do you want the changes to be?

It had everything from his height, his weight, eye colour, the appearances of numerous scars, mental health conditions, likes, dislikes, ancestry. Nathan joked it wasn’t nine but the whole ten yards. Then he realised how stupid that sounded but smiled because he knew if Josh heard it, he’d laugh. He always made stupid jokes. But in truth this wasn’t a joking matter to begin with. He had just given his entire set of data, some of which he didn’t know himself to a random app that he had only heard stories about from some of the more kinky corners of the internet. Hell, it was the only way to gain an access code for the app in the first place.

On the one hand, it was real and the numerous implications therefore were terrifying. On the other hand, it wasn’t real and then Nathan heard more, more, more and couldn’t tell which was worse. To possibly risk changing his life through an app that could bend reality or realise there was no such thing, that the chance of some total escapism seduced him so much thought people could change their bodies through magic or whatever this app was. Nathan swallowed and instead of using any of the ‘QUICK PROMPT’ options to simply type in what he wanted to change and let the app help point him to the right sections and recalibrate it, he painstakingly scrolled until he got to it. FOOD TASTE nested under the TONGUE section filed in INNER ANATOMY.

As he opened it, there he saw it, a spreadsheet of his palate. A long list of favourite foods (some of which he hadn’t tried and made a mental note to check out later), likes, neutral, dislikes, no taste and on and on it went. He took a deep breath in, typed in blueberries to his LIKES and went through the numerous rounds of confirmation, asking the duration, double checking the duration and so on until it went through.

NATHAN MAYHEW CHANGE: FOOD TASTE (FAVOURITES): BLUEBERRY DURATION: 24 HOURS

IS THIS CORRECT?

Nathan tapped yes.

PROCESSING…

In truth it took Nathan longer to read the word than it did for a number of pop ups to appear before suddenly he felt a jolt. Or maybe he imagined it. He had sometimes wondered if this was all some sort of elaborate roleplay device for some kinks or something. Maybe it wasn’t real, maybe it was all just some kind of placebo effect. His worries had started to froth at the mouth to make themselves known, to grab his attention when he had so clearly ignored them enough to do something potentially risky and literally life changing. He was pacing up and down like they did in the movies, unsure why he was doing it, unsure if it was even him doing it. Had he accidentally set up some setting where he would turn the world into blueberries or something ridiculous? Even now, how much of his perception was true and what was something the app had changed? Did he even use to pace before when he was worried or was that new? Hell, maybe he even used the app before and somehow changed his mind to use it again.

Nathan started to sweat with worry over what-if consequences until he heard the sound of the door open and the rattling of keys. Josh had just come home from the store and all it took was for his smile to calm him down. He rambled on about something or another at the grocery store as Nathan began to help unpack, the two of them lost in some sort of domestic bliss and then Nathan saw the blueberries. His boyfriend said he knew Nathan doesn’t like them but he wanted some for himself as Nathan ignored him and popped one in his mouth. He expected the same acrid taste to sting his tongue. Instead there was sweetness, the same texture, the same sharpness, but now somehow smoother and nicer. Nathan ignored the surprise on Josh’s face as he went for another and he smiled wide.

“Sounds like someone’s happy I got blueberries.”

“I am…” Nathan said, but the word felt too small. He was buoyant. It wasn’t about the blueberries but what they meant as he smiled to himself wider than ever whilst devouring his fifth. Perhaps it was a placebo effect or maybe his body had suddenly just adjusted and was always going to get used to the taste or something else entirely. But Nathan had to accept now that there was a strong chance the app worked and that his reality was now quite literally at his fingertips.

So here he was, having set up a profile of himself and his boyfriend. It was the third iteration as he spent his days carefully combing through the options and reading about the different experiences people had with CRAFT. From what he understood it altered some person’s reality but not the reality that everyone lived in. It seemed to almost branch off into some other world, Nathan couldn’t really understand. Some people chose to have permanent and better lives whilst others did it for fun. But one thing was clear, that whoever was involved in the original transformation (in this case he and Josh), they would feel the effects unless Nathan specifically specified that Josh remain unaware. He couldn’t do something like that, no he wanted Josh to feel this. But Josh was at work and Nathan could have waited for the weekend. It was the responsible choice. But more, more, more.

He decided he would try it today. He would change and then Josh could change after work away from the prying eyes of the public who would wonder why a man was physically transforming into another in front of them. Alright, perhaps not that wordy and calm. More screams like they had just seen a werewolf, which when Nathan thought about it, they kinda were.

But the most important part was that he didn’t want to cause Josh stress. He tried to go through it all without getting too bogged down into the details (the Advanced Mode looked like hell with every detail mapped out from specific furniture in their home to the size of their iris and its exact shading). He made sure to have every safety setting on, especially an option to continue or disallow the transformation and finally after what felt like weeks of fear soaked curiosity, Nathan was ready.

He had just saved the best for last. If the two of them were going to use this to transform, he wanted it to be for roleplay, for their sex life. There were so many men both real and fictional that they could embody, that it would be so hot to spend time as and one idea in particular struck him like lightning and clicked like a puzzle. 911. It was a show Nathan had never seen outside of gifs and viral tweets, maybe the occasional clip.

The drama centered on some firefighters seemed to orbit around a popular ship, Buddie, between characters Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz. Nathan had to admit that he wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t the first time two attractive guys on a show got shipped together and took on a life of its own. Both of the men were hot enough to have Nathan sometimes stop scrolling on Tumblr, Pinterest, Twitter, wherever and whenever they appeared just to check them out. Even though he had next to no knowledge of them, he was sure that he could have some fun getting the two together.

The input of both characters came with a string of options and their own sheets to change, but he kept the default labels. There were all sorts of things BUCK/EDDIE PAIRING, BISEXUAL!EDDIE, BISEXUAL!BUCK, DOM!EDDIE, SWITCH!BUCK, 9-1-1 CANON, IDEALIZED!BODY, NO CHILDREN, NO EXTENDED FAMILY, PLOT ARMOUR, LIBIDO INCREASE, DOMESTIC FLUFF, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP…

Nathan left it as a surprise for which one of them would change to who and had been the one to insert the LIBIDO INCREASE tag as he slipped the erotic level of their alternate reality to HIGH, shy of extreme. The only issue was the REALITY SHIFT option. The words themselves radiated hazard and should have made his blood cold like ice. But instead they felt like a dare, a seductive whisper all in the same cadence of more, more, more. Who wouldn’t want the chance to toy with reality if they could have it? 

But he wanted to be careful, the last thing he needed was for them to have to actually do their job as firefighters or forget who they were. Yet at the same time he wanted them to be able to get into character, especially if they knew so little so he left the option for REALITY SHIFT VARIABLE on, a nice loose leash to hold onto. A popup told them the app would only shift it as much as their old selves wanted, both him and Josh. The other safety settings seemed standard, permanent off and identity erasure switched to off. After checking over absolutely everything again, Nathan took a deep breath. 

When people said things like their hearts dropping to their stomach, Natha understood. But this time it felt like his heart was teetering on the edge of a bone like it was a diveboard, ready for the plunge. He swore it couldn’t have been beating normally, so anxious and so fast that it was pitter pattering against his ribcage, trying to break free. Maybe it was, maybe it was some part of his body trying to stop him from doing what he wanted to do.

Nathan pressed CONFIRM and felt the bone break away and his heart finally drop to his stomach. The app paused for a moment and then a pop up came on. NAME GENERATION? Nathan saw the name of the project was still NATHAN X JOSH TEST 3 and so he shrugged and clicked YES. The pop up disappeared and the app paused once more, like some invisible eyes were reading over the text and then approval came through a pop up:

[RUNNING HOT] TRANSFORMATION ACCEPTED. EXECUTING PROMPT 1%

“Fuck…” It was both a curse and a desire rolled into one as Nathan let himself fall back further onto the couch; head propped up against one of the stained seats that forever smelled of coffee.

RUNNING HOT?

That was the name?

Nathan shrugged to himself. Probably better than anything else he could’ve come up with. It was one of many reasons they should have thrown the gaudy thing out, Nathan argued. But Josh didn’t want to go through the effort (and money) of buying another. It made Nathan chuckle now, maybe he should have gone in the Advanced Mode and had the couch be some specific furniture to change. That or transform the annoying old guy who lived next door that he was sure was homophobic from the looks he gave Nathan and Josh into their new couch. The two gay guys would sit on his face, he chuckled to himself at that until suddenly the world snapped. 

It came about just like that, shocking and sudden like a sudden explosion.

Except it was on a much smaller scale and nothing was destroyed (Nathan hoped) as his head was suddenly shoved forward. It didn’t feel like his body moving on his own, getting up before his mind could understand. Nor did it feel like he had slipped and could only feel himself fall off the couch before understanding he was falling in the first place. 

It felt like something jutted him out the way in an instant, to the point where he didn’t even feel his body move. It was just in one position and then suddenly in the next, forward. Teleportation.

It only took Nathan half a moment more to realise that the couch beneath him suddenly felt different. No longer was it the tired and worn texture of old cotton. Instead it was suddenly a softer more malleable thing that almost sucked Nathan’s hand straight down as he instinctively pushed against it to readjust himself. He looked down at his hand as he tugged it out of the…much softer and much darker looking cushion that made up one of the seats.

Nathan blinked, a lightning flash of excuses went through his mind. Were the lights out? Was his vision glitching? Was he hallucinating? But all of those ideas were snuffed out as soon as they came about because Nathan could feel it everywhere. The way that his ass was now against a softer cushion, the way the headrest was no longer bent back or the frames creaked like they were on the verge of collapse.

Instead as Nathan looked around he could see…the couch looked larger, darker, now with three seats made of faux leather that he remembered came with the apartment. He blinked. Came with the apartment? No…no, he and Josh had to spend so much time going through thrift stores and garage sales to spruce up the place when they had moved months ago. He could remember it clearly, so where had the couch come from? There was only one conclusion and it had to have been the app. But he blinked at that, his mind shouldn’t have been misremembering things and out of all things why would his couch change first?

Was it just a heat of the moment? Some desire he had to be resting on something that didn’t stab into his back? 

But before Nathan could even try and understand, it seemed the app gave him his wish. He was next. He had been horny all morning and was halfway to suggesting a quickie to Josh before work (one he knew would likely be denied). But the app held him back from jerking off or making the offer, instead watching him go to work. The anxiety of using CRAFT had made his libido subside, taking a break for the other feelings for once. But now it was returning in full force and then some as Nathan hadn’t realised just how big his cock had grown. It strained almost painfully against his pants with such strength that he thought it would somehow tent in  the thick material of the sweatpants. 

“Fuck…jesus…” Nathan swallowed. When had his throat gone so dry? He thought he could handle being so hard. He’d only done it dozens of times before in his life. But this was one of those rare erections where his cock was stretched to its limit, hard only after hours of fantasising and likely of edging.

One that he knew if he stroked he would have to be extremely careful not to go over the edge and cum too quickly. He couldn’t be ruining the orgasm, the proper build up of pleasure. But at the same time he wondered…when the hell did he get so horny? He was earlier but his dick had since softened even as it watched Josh and his tight work pants over his ass.

His worries about the app dulled absolutely everything. Yet now it was all he could focus on. Perhaps if he could be given a moment to think between the throbbing, he could figure it out. But then he moaned softly at the feeling of the head lubricating itself with precum. It felt like each twitch was his dick moving with a mind of its own, trying to grab his attention as Nathan hadn’t realised just how heavy he was breathing. He must have been so horny, waiting for the changes to start, his anxiety may have won the battle but lust clearly was winning the war. He shifted in his seat. 

Okay sitting around just twiddling my thumbs isn’t gonna do anything and if this couch means anything…fuck maybe I put change order to random or something. But…it shouldn’t have changed the couch…

Nathan just couldn’t understand it. He put the reality shift to variable. Why would it change his couch? The only leading theory was that it was because he was sitting on and was just thinking how much better a comfortable sofa could be. Desire, as subconscious as it was, caused this. What happened next told Nathan he was half right. He did change the couch because he was sitting on it…but when he heard the sound of something wet, thick and gurgling he discovered the cause of all of it. 

The sound of what he came to realise was morphing flesh, stretching skin and shifting bone emanated from his hands. He heard it before he felt it as a sudden snap of pain throbbed through one of the hands as he swore he saw a bone move under the skin (god damn it why did he only set the pain to 40%).

He yelped and clutched his hand. But the moment he did, he felt an electric shock in the other, causing Nathan to flinch and expect his other hand to suddenly snap with pain. Yet as he pulled it away, he could see it clearly now. His left hand, the one that continued to morph and grind and shift like his skin had grown as malleable as clay, his left hand was…larger.

“W-What the fuughhhh-” At that a sudden sharp and familiar pain did shoot through Nathan’s right hand…his smaller hand, a bone shifting the exact same way but moments after…moments after he grabbed his left hand. The realisation hit him like ice water. 

His hand! His touch was what did it, as his hand sank into the seat, it changed the texture of the couch, its make and model and manufacturer and even…the memories attached to it.

But then, Nathan looked at both hands, his right catching up with his still growing left. The left hand was a display of still shifting skin that was thickening slightly, but the paler hand was now looking warmer like he went outdoors much more often.

Not just that, but in a warmer climate than their small sullen city that seemed to almost always be besieged by rainy days and timid sunlight. But his hands seemed to be of a slightly warmer tone, the hue of someone living in sunny outdoors over perpetual drizzle. It made it easier to tell when his right hand hadn’t caught up much.

In fact with both hands still so different, Nathan could trace all the changes. He could witness how the nails on the left seemed naturally more jagged, clipped, like they were more used to breaking off or scraping things, like he worked with his hands more often. They were tools, not just appendages for typing emails and grabbing coffees. 

It made sense, Nathan quickly thought, he was turning to some firefighter. He was sure even with the safety options on the app they would still be doing plenty of physical labour. His fingers looked thicker, wider though they thinned slightly as the fingers stretched a half inch. 

A sudden chill clasped around the wrist of his right hand telling Nathan two things. Something else was happening. And that something was not the fact the changes were spreading down his wrists. As sparse hairs bloomed across the back of his hands and Nathan felt almost ticklish sensations against his fingertips, he stood up in awe at his hands. 

Holy shit…he thought. Holy shit this is real.

If it was some hallucination then it was the most detailed one yet because he watched as the coolness grew thicker and out of nowhere something slithered across his wrist. It was like a magic trick as beneath his wrist a brown leather band spawned from nothing and clasped around him. It then drew itself tighter as something else dragged along the band, hugging the wrist.

A clock.

He was suddenly wearing a watch! If he’d known enough about either character he might have known just which of the two he could possibly be turning into…or if either even wore a watch, he thought with fear. What if the app glitched?

The terrifying thought came into his head. Nathan had been so worried about messing up himself that he hadn’t even thought to consider if the app itself ruined things all on its own. But just as he thought that a twitch from his cock distracted him. 

Lust and its armies pushed back. And they had the best morale boost of all time now that Nathan could see and feel that what the app offered was real. Fuck, he thought. He had to check his phone, had to make sure he could see how far along he was. Nathan quickly went to unlock it before it vibrated in denial.

Fingerprint doesn’t match

What? 

He tried it again. 

Fingerprint doesn’t match

Oh….Oh fuck! 

For some reason that turned him on as the saner part of his mind told him to just use the PIN. But before he could do that, the screen went black. Now of course was the worst time for his phone to shut off, he grunted in frustration and cursed something under his breath. Something that Nathan didn’t understand and didn’t hear properly until he realised that it didn’t sound like E-

At that his phone suddenly buzzed to life, vibrating again and again like it was in some sort of distress. Nathan could see why. The phone in his hand began to stiffen and straighten, the glossy finish of his Samsung Galaxy beginning to smooth over into a matte of a sage green.

The phone itself started to thicken slightly and Nathan realised…his hands, changing everything they touched and now…a sudden DING and his phone screen lit up to an unfamiliar lockscreen.

It seemed to be a selfie of both Eddie…Buck and a couple of other people from the show in a firestation, the time itself going backwards a couple of hours. He blinked and hadn’t even realised that his right hand naturally shifted into position to press his new fingerprint against the scanner, like it recognised the phone in hand.

The phone unlocked.

TRANSFORMATION ACCEPTED. EXECUTING PROMPT 5%

“Oh fuck…” Nathan murmured and looked at both his hands which had now fully grown, some of the changes already trailing down to his thickening wrists. The skinniness, the gauntness of it all and the pale tone was being swarmed by something else. The arms themselves were beginning to sprout hair, they were starting to look warm and more importantly, starting to grow thicker. There was a part of Nathan that thought maybe this was too much and as he looked at the app (thankful it survived the reality shift on his phone), he eyed the pause option. He could stop it for now and wait for Josh, come home and explain. They could discuss things like adults instead of him dangerously changing reality on an app he still wasn’t sure would glitch and change something he couldn’t realise. Maybe Josh would understand. Hell he would understand. But maybe they could enjoy changing together, touching each other and causing their bodies to grow and…God, kissing each other, fucking each other as they…as they grew and…

Nathan’s cock was relentlessly hard, the pressure and pleasure at the head so much that he worried he might cum then and there.

More, more, more…

He had to go shower, he had to spread it. He had to see what would happen. As he quickly walked by there were certain things around the house, certain nuisances that were Josh’s stubborn choices for decoration. The shelf on the wall that housed books they didn’t read? One touch and it rattled and morphed to the point Nathan thought it may just come off the wall. That was until it turned to a sturdy dark wood shelf, the books themselves congealed together into what looked to be a military shadow box. The bowl of fake fruit that Josh thought would ‘spruce’ up the place shifted to a framed photo of what looked to be the main cast of the show in front of their firestation. 

The more he changed, the more unrecognisable the living room had become and each change brought about another throb to his cock as Nathan relented. He had to change something much more significant than a few things in their living room. As he pushed through into the bathroom, he flicked on the light switch and with that came the biggest change of all.

It was as if the light switch itself was some sort of trigger, a godly command to not only let there be light but to let in another world. The light itself snuffed out as quickly as it came on. But Nathan could only pay attention for a second before he sensed that a pulse seemed to ripple outward from his touch in the room. The walls of thin paint that peeled in some places suddenly began to smooth over into a smooth cream that spawned from a handprint around the lightswitch, the texture itself transforming from something soft to stony. Cheap vinyl tiles rippled as the grey trailed downwards and looked like it was disappearing under the earth from the way the floor moved. It was as if someone had grabbed it and was wringing it out like a towel, like its old design was liquid to be squeezed out. The edges lifted and the gaudy green tiles felt their colour drain to simple black and white. Everything and anything within the room was shifting before Nathan’s eyes as the once lone fluorescent bulb never returned. Instead it sank and melted to become a new light for the ceiling, one that was brighter and wider, turning on as if to show off the new more spacious bathroom.

The shower curtains themselves shifted open like they were inviting him into what looked to be a better shower, one that had enough space for him and Josh. He should have been freaked out. He should have at least screamed or cursed or did something in reaction to seeing his touch warp reality. He should have at least thought…if one touch spread and changed his bathroom, what were multiple touches going to do to his living room? But instead Nathan stripped off his clothes firefighter’s uniform and immediately went to turn the shower on. He thought it may have been awkward but his hands instinctively knew just how to use the new shower and left his phone on a shelf by the mirror. As soon as he stepped in, Nathan hissed.

The hell? He hated having his water run this hot. But instead of turning it down, his body stepped further and basked in the water even as he felt like it was still too warm. He tried to command his hands to go and turn the shower off but they hesitated, fingers twitching like they were ruminating over it. Who the hell liked a shower this hot anyway? His want for turning the shower down was slowly being distracted by his cock, his huge…throbbing cock. He should have been washing himself, Nate thought, to spread the changes evenly. Nathan tried, soaping himself up and running his hands over his body, less to clean himself and more to spread the changes. All the while his cock bobbed for attention when he was down to his legs. One stroke couldn’t go amiss. 

His newly large hand gripped around his cock made it feel so much smaller even though at just under six inches this erect Nathan thought it was so big. But it was more than the size, it was the fact that the fingers quite literally sent a buzz of rapture down the length. It travelled down like a shock to the head which spurted another dose of pre, as if teasing what’s to cum. He took several deep breaths like he was bracing himself to be smacked or diving into ice cold water or just anything beyond stroking his own cock in the comfort of his shower. But from the way one stroke felt, Nathan couldn’t imagine what it must have been like if he continued. Yet his hand did anyway, another move they did all on their own. The hand began to stroke and cause Nathan to rest the other on the wall as he yelped with sudden pleasure. 

“Ohhh…myyy…fuuuhhkkk-” He uttered the words like he was in pain, his body sent over the edge from his sensitive manhood that was drooling so much pre-cum that it was its own shower of white, warm and salty pleasure. It was as if both the water from the shower and the ‘water’ of his own pleasure were warring with one another, to see who could have the most pressure, who could bask Nathan in some warm relaxing state, who could make him feel better. They didn’t know the combined efforts of both were sending Nathan into a bliss. The once lethargically depressed man who hadn’t showered for two days now and had let himself be pent up with sexual frustration, was now stroking and showering a changing body at once.

But the shower and his body worked in tandem in other ways, for example without the shower he was sure the neighbours and possibly the whole block would hear the raucous moans and groans that bounced off the new bathroom walls. Reality itself had shifted to make less of the noise leak out, like it was not only turning the bathroom to his and Josh’s Buck and Eddie’s but making sure it reflected back each utterance of pleasure for its own amusement. Or maybe just to let Nathan hear how good it was making him feel. He swore in the gaps where he no longer stroked the cock throbbed so fast like it was buzzing. And it felt like it too.

Yet it wasn’t just his manhood that distracted Nathan, something else surged for his attention. It was amazing how much pain and pleasure intermingled since the changes began because at first Nathan thought he had stomach cramps. As if he was so overwhelmed by pleasure that some force pushed balance upon him, making his stomach, his ever loathing and everpresent gut, be the source of another problem. But as soon as he felt the first cramp it was doused with something else, euphoria. Nathan thought maybe the pleasure of him stroking away (god how he hadn’t cum yet he couldn’t tell, like his cock was purposefully holding back and building up his orgasm with a mind of its own), just drowned out the pain. But the curious nerd in him experimented. He stopped for a moment and exhaled. He heard something else, beyond the spraying water and wet slapping of his cock. A gurgling. Not hunger. Not like that. But more like the sound of something thick sinking into quicksand. And then he opened his eyes.

Nathan barely registered that they were closed to begin with. Maybe some part of his body shutting them like his brain couldn’t handle registering the electric shocks of pleasure coursing through his length and any of his other senses. Hell, he hadn’t even realised how musky he smelled until he got into the shower, like his nose was some light that just turned on. Or was some itching in his pits he felt earlier some sparse hairs growing there too? Or had the skin changed like on his fingertips and now a new unfamiliar (for now) scent was wafting from them? So many questions and all of them died when Nathan finally looked down at another gurgle and saw his stomach.

If he was shocked before he was stunned now. He watched with his own two eyes as his gut seemed to warp and wobble like it was the surface of a lake. He saw it shifting from side to side like gravity playing with a wave, and then? Recede. His ever so stubborn gut that had been with him for years of sparse gym visits and home exercises and long walks was suddenly beginning to sink away out of nowhere. No diet. No exercise. Just the ever so lovely euphoria that came from warping reality as it turned his fat into something almost liquid, more malleable, making it melt like a collapsed souffle. A part of Nathan was greedy, the part that went more, more, more wanted to see abs. But the rest of Nathan was utterly relieved, almost emotional as he could see the pounds of fat sink away to nothing, fast forming a flatter stomach that he hadn’t felt in years. 

It had become so flat that he was impressed by how much more of his cock he could see. Until he realised that he was seeing too much. After all, Nathan had a gut but it wasn’t that big, not enough to obscure so much of his cock that it should have looked that big. And that was because it wasn’t his lack of gut and flatter stomach that was showing off the size of his manhood. It was his own cock that was suddenly lengthening, like his strokes had charged it up and now it was pushing out like a spring. The sound, similar to that of the fat sinking, of something wet and thick came about as Nathan watched his barely six inch cock already past six inches and now teasing six and a half. 

More, more, more. Nathan may have avoided mad dashing to the phone mid-shower to hasten any muscle growth for abs. But it certainly wasn’t going to avoid touching his new growing manhood and as he did, he could only think of one thing: this is better than sex. The grip of his large hand over his cock felt better than any ass as it not only seemed to stretch larger and thicker but it was like a whole new bodypart; a new manhood entirely. He half expected that maybe the cock had sank down like his gut and then sprouted again anew from how different it felt. The veins even looked different, now in slightly different positions, thicker as they crawled over the stiff length. The tip bloomed again as foreskin grew over it before it pulled back to reveal the slick pink head that continued to drool. But the most substantial change came when Nathan could feel his balls, heavier and fuller, inflating and slapping against his underside and realised whatever pressure stopped him from cumming before had suddenly crumpled.

This is what his cock had been waiting for. 

This was what it had been craving.

More, more, more.

Nathan saw white. 

The climax that hit him was the best orgasm he had ever felt and his cock only felt the equivalent of a quick few strokes in the shower. That was all he needed for his hand to almost claw into the wall and his moans to turn guttural like an animal as he spilled his seed. White hot bouts of cum sprayed out of his cock. Once. Twice. Then again and again and again until Nathan swore the orgasms came so hard and fast that they may as well had not been separate. They were one continuous string of ecstasy that made him feel otherworldly, like his spirit was so encompassed by the pleasure that it was being pushed out of his body. His body, even if it was changing, couldn’t grow big enough to hold a candle to the insane amounts of frenzy that came about from his spasming cock. 

But being out of his body was good, it meant it could paint a picture. He could see himself now looking far thinner than he used to, the gauntness offset by a growing healthy glow that was going over his skin. He watched himself with one hand clawed and pressed against the grey wall and the other clutched onto his cock for dear life, like he wanted to keep feeling it, keep feeling how real it all was. 

Yet his cock was throbbing and flexing and cumming so much that Nathan’s spirit gasped as he saw what was happening to it. It was still growing. He could see the manhood throb not only like it was blasting out cum but like it was reaching for something, its new goal, its new length as the thick appendage thinned ever so slightly as it continued its lengthening. Forward and forward the cock grew until Nathan could confidently say his dick that was once shy of six inches rested at a comfortable seven inches hard before finally…one great push, one last orgasm, one last rope of white warm cum and a sudden pain pushed Nathan back into his body.

The afterglow of the orgasm was dizzying or so he thought. As great as it was having basked in a warm inner glow compared to the warmth outer one the hot shower provided, there were two things he could feel at the forefront of a dizzying array of feelings that contested for his attention. 

One, he was dizzy or at the very least his body was whilst his head wasn’t which was an odd sensation. He was a little dizzy from the orgasm, but not enough to be stumbling the way he was when his hand turned off the shower and his feet almost tripped up coming out. At first Nathan thought he just slipped but he remembered he had been in far more wet and hazardous places than his apartment shower and kept his balance. Then he remembered no…no Nathan hadn’t, that was a different memory, a foreign one, one that he could have maybe seen in a GIF or the snippet of an edit but not actually lived in. Not the way he could feel it, as real as the day he moved into his apartment or when he decided to become a firefighter. 

Fuck, he thought. There it was again.

But no, his body wasn’t dizzy per se, it was suffering from imbalance. And it suffered because as Nathan managed to slowly lumber out the shower, he furrowed his brows. He was taller. He was already somewhat tall or at least looked taller than he was, but the 5’9 man had somehow grown at least two, maybe three inches and he could tell from where his face hit the mirror. Yet that was another thing entirely, because the pain that brought him back to his mind and the memories that made him feel like he was losing it had centered on his shoulder. 

There and then he could see why. He looked in the mirror, half curious, half appalled when he saw the look of red and raised skin. Pain had won out of all feelings to get his attention and it did so by presenting a scar, a scar that he suddenly could recognise…the scar of a bullet wound. He touched it and it was like the memory came bursting back as sharp and sudden as the shot did. Nathan could remember the sound of a gunshot, far more echoey and grave than the dramatic bursts of light and thunder on television shows and movies. 

Usually one could almost see the bullet, see the whizz through the air. From his memories, Nathan didn’t. The sound and the sudden pain came together into his world like twins and then he remembered collapsing.

At that he flinched. 

Not only did he somehow have a scar, something he could remember was some big dramatic moment on 911 but he it was the realest memory out of them all. He could taste the blood in the air and remember the panic. Yet despite this, despite how terrifying it should be that his memory could be altered so deep and that was his first real memory, Nathan couldn’t be more excited at how real it felt. His cock twitched in agreement as he blinked and went to unlock his phone. His new fingerprint worked that time, the phone truly his and he watched as the phone unlocked and then the app came forward. Amidst shower steam and pain and pleasure and the sound of a room still creaking and shifting from his touch outside, Nathan read:

T̴̢̨̘͉͎͉͓̼̩̰̖̫̮̈́̏͗̕͘͜͠͝ͅR̵̯̫̠͎̰̪̭̥̋̉̐̒͑̔͘À̵̖͚̹̦̗͓̜̏̄̀̈́̈́̄́̽́̔̕͜͝͠N̵̙̈́͂̉̈̌͊S̸͈̹͖̗̃́̀͛̄̊̏F̴͍̱͖͉̭͊̉̈́͗̓͆͐̒Ở̷̡̧̡̨̛̳͍͕͎̙̯̤̰̖̉̓̊͆̀̃̑̿͘͜R̵̺̾͊͗̇̉͆̎̓͜M̷̛̼̙̠̙̱͖̳̟̣͐̔̐̔̅̎̑́͗͋̕͝Á̸̛̝͚͍͇̣͍́̈́̆͗͗̒͗̇͆̚͝Ţ̸͖̙̠̱͙̩̬̳͔͊͛͗́̇̈́̄͐̈́̚͜I̵̞͇̣̘̠͕̝͓͐̓̋͂̀̅̉͐̈́͜Ọ̴̹̜͐́̄̏̆̀̓̈́͘N̵͕̂̀ ̵̧̡͙͙͎̼͎̦̩̝̲͔̓͒̈́̈́͜Ą̴̘͉̫̫͍̘̇͐͗͛̄̑ͅC̵̨̘͕̭͎͔̫̱̝̀̋͊̊͆C̴̢͈̳͇̦͍͇̅̍̑̔̈́̂̍E̷̛̳̞̝͚̤̫̟̣̦̮̜̜̣͔͋͌̌̏̽̀̓͆́͌͜P̵̲̠̦̘̅̅ͅŢ̶͚̳͎͈͉̠̖̜̜̑̏̿͊͐͛͝͠E̶̯̼̤̥̥̞̤͔͌͌͑̄̐̅̏̔̐̔̒̏̾́͝D̵͖̱̬́̎̎͂̒̋͠.̶̧̹̱̱̭̪̯̮͔̟͍͓͎̂̀͌͋̈́͜ EXECUTING PROMPT 2̷͓̩̲̳̞͑̎̀̀̈́5̷̟͚͕͐̾̎̊̕%̷̞͙̦͚̺̑̋̀

The words came scrambled. Nathan’s eyes widened in more fear than when he realised he had the scar of a bullet in his shoulder. The app…it was glitching, failing, going wrong. He resorted to tapping on the phone and then blinked.

Why the hell did I do that? I know how to use this thing.

Uh…

But years of a life growing up around the advent of smartphones had slipped away. No longer was he Gen Z and having spent more than half his life using an iPhone or Android enough to comfortably know all the ins and outs. He had suddenly felt like he had grown older, maybe just five years but half a decade was enough to push him into the realm of a millennial. He was starting to age.

He was starting to not care about keeping up with the latest iPhone, starting to be in a place where they reliably kept a smartphone well past its years. It meant even if they knew how to work one, getting something new meant learning all about new settings, new options, what accessories did and didn’t work for whatever reason. It meant a lurving curve and right now Nathan didn’t have time for a curve amidst a battle between two lives and two memories. 

But before he could rely on his Nathan self and beat the new forming instincts that wanted to hesitate and struggle with the phone a bit, something else happened. The text scrambled, the words realigned, at first Nathan didn’t understand as he saw TRANSFORMATION ACCEPTED form a whole new sentence. It was as if it was a different language. That’s because it was, in fact, a different language.

TRANSFORMACIÓN ACEPTADA EJECUTANDO EL PROMPT 27%

“Transformación aceptada?” Nathan wasn’t dumb. He knew even if the words weren’t similar enough that the message was likely just the same but now in Spanish. But what he didn’t know was…why. “Spanish? Well why the hell would it convertirse en español?” 

His eyes widened. A hand clasped over his mouth. Nathan exhaled a ragged breath before he slowly took his hand away, like he was trusting some hostage to speak and speak quietly. Or in this case speak English. That’s how his body felt like now, like a hostage. 

“¿Qué carajo?” 

To say the hand clasped over his mouth that time would be wrong. It practically slapped his mouth shut. The hostage chose to scream. His tongue had chosen to resort to another language, one that he…could understand. It was strange, at first he thought perhaps because he knew what he was trying to say in English. If he tried to say what the hell am I saying or, as he put it…“¡¿Qué demonios estoy diciendo?!”

Then he knew it was because he knew what English words in his head he tried to say. But then his phone buzzed with yet another notification he would’ve swiped away from…if it didn’t also come in Spanish.

A food delivery app touted: 50% de descuento en comestibles al usar el código LA50.

Nathan blinked when he realised that it was offering 50% off groceries if ordering with the code LA50. He didn’t know how he knew that…and he didn’t live in LA. But it gave him a sudden thrill when he realised what that meant. There were two characters, Buck and Eddie…and he swore their names were Evan Buckley, all-American and Eddie Diaz…Diaz. Hispanic. 

Holy fuck…I’m cambio into Eddie.

He blinked.

God I need to work on esas cosas.

He grunted. God damn it. 

At that both his hands twitched, both for different reasons. From Nathan’s excitement and Eddie’s nervousness, somehow Nathan could recognise a twitchy finger was a tic of his, of Eddie’s he meant. At least he thought so. No matter because he knew just what to do as his touch not only changed the phone’s language but began to have a phone case begin to sprout around it. His eyes caught a specific card that was slotted at the front. A gym membership.

Nathan glanced down at himself and then back at his face. He had caressed his body, washed it off during the shower, at least most of it. But the most substantial change was still his gut. He had to try and change as much as he could and with a gym membership…an idea formed, one Nathan could faintly recognise was a combination of his arousal and Eddie’s schedule.

Today was a gym day.

His hands twitched now not just with nervousness but like they wanted to do something else, something instinctive, their twitches like a dog’s growl as it demanded to be let off its leash. And yet Nathan wasn’t holding them back because he felt an instinct too, wanted to do the same thing for a different reason. 

So that was how Nathan found himself unclasping a pot of some Vitamin E skin cream he kept believing someone called Athena recommended. He dipped a finger in and began to rub against his face. The cream itself did the opposite of what skin creams were supposed to do. It aged him. His thin face began to fill out too, cheekbones that came about from his gaunt body were suddenly met with a slight fullness. It was the opposite of his stomach, rising more prominently along either side of his face.

The cheeks seemed to suck out the softness of his jawline as that grew out, making the head almost comedic in its size disparity compared to his still thin frame. It was only his new height that saved him from looking completely uncanny valley.

The chin gained more weight and shape to it, somehow the face was rounding yet looked sharper than ever at the ends. It carried the sharpness of his gauntness and yet looked healthier and stronger. He cursed as his nose stung before Nathan almost went cross eyed as his eyes moved to try and see the growth from right up close, as opposed to looking at a foggy mirror. The nose grew out stronger and firmer as the tip arched downwards and the nostrils themselves were wider on his face. But the strongest changes were to come last as Nathan’s previously thin lips bloomed, once small dry things had suddenly widened to proportion itself along the face.

The bottom lip thickened the most.

His brow was the most concerning as he could feel the change trail upward and realise that his forehead had grown malleable and began to bubble almost. Invisible hands sculpted it, pushing his hairline back slightly and adding more wrinkles to his forehead that strengthened and flattened.

From there he could feel the hair thicken, previously thin curls sprouted into thick brown strands that grew and grew and grew. He was scared they may somehow grow to be past his shoulders but instead the hair managed to stay atop his head, slicked back with some threatening to remain falling forward. His hand moved on its own to slick those back too.

All that was left were his eyes. His vision stung and tears were blinked away as each blink shifted his dark eyes into bigger, browner ovals beneath sharp brows that streaked above each eye. 

Nathan wobbled and then clasped at the sink, almost nauseous with shock. His body seemed to be held together by the afterglow of the best orgasm he had five or so minutes ago. But now there was something else holding him together as he stared at a new face. His new face. He had gotten all the confirmation he needed. 

Nathan was staring at Eddie Diaz.

• • •

The gym is awful. That’s what Nathan would say each and everytime Josh excitedly asked how it went whenever he rarely ventured out to one. It’s awful. He would always come home sweaty and tired and aching and be told that was the point. But it became The Point too much for too long and he would have given up.

Now the gym was anything but awful because Nathan had realised he was on his fifth set of weights before he was even starting to feel remotely tired. His magical touch worked wonders on any inanimate objects and that thankfully included clothes.

It was how Nathan…Eddie found himself following his phone’s GPS down the unfamiliar streets of actual Los Angeles (the concerns of whether his transformative touch had spread from his apartment to the outside never crossed his mind), to a gym.

His gym.

He had changed his face for a reason as he sauntered in with a gym bag (his mind hadn’t caught up as to why he had it besides a water bottle that used to be an old teacup). The man at the front desk nodded at him.

“Hey welcome back Eddie man good to see ya. Damn…you look a little thin,” the guy laughed. 

Nathan or Eddie as he kept reminding himself chuckled and wondered what to say, how to play it off cool.

“Hey man, well that’s why I’m here aren’t I?” The words escaped his lips with an unfamiliar ease. They left him before he thought about them, making him almost stop in his tracks. That was the oddest thing he had felt in a day full of odd feelings. 

From there though Nathan had to take a backseat and let his body take him to whatever exercise machine it wanted to use. It was impressive how much he was growing whilst adorned in just a black tanktop, shorts and sneakers. When he did his curls, he watched as his biceps began to swell. The muscles pushed outward against the tank top’s edges and the veins rose subtly.

By the second curl his arm continued to thicken, continued to stretch even as he felt the bones pop in relief and his grunt of relief was mistaken for one of effort. By the fifth or sixth curl his tendons had grown thicker, the arms had become muscular in a few curls than it would take Nathan to achieve in a few short months. As if they had always been this muscular and the gym was some sort of machine that was pumping him up, inflating his muscles like balloons.

It happened everywhere and anywhere. The rowing machine saw his legs start to grow, as he pulled and stretched them the thighs began to thicken and the calves grew stronger and more defined. His thighs felt like they were being packed with strength from the inside out as the muscles became denser and thicker. No longer were they thin and pale stick things that looked as if they could crumple at any moment. Instead he could feel the pain and pleasure that mingled together like when his shoulders thickened or his gut sank, as the calves roped tighter and sharpened the legs into clean powerful lines that flexed each time he pushed off.

The chest press saw his pecs lift. It had barely been a minute since he began to use it with his hands knowing the right way to grip it, the right weight to slot in, the correct form to sit up and push. At first the weight wobbled like Nathan’s old, weaker and inexperienced body was trying to resurface.

But one push was enough to get the blood flowing. Two was enough to cause the pecs to lift and his chest to rise with new muscle as his torso joined the rest of his strengthening body, sharpening and growing. The pecs themselves were growing into mountains of muscle from his angle, lifting and pushing up like two mounds that were trying to escape. His body so slick with sweat by now that he could feel it added to the malleability, that much like the rest of his body that changed it was no longer flesh but something wetter and thicker and easier to mould.

His pecs then were like two heaps of wet sand that were being pushed together, no longer just some still flat surface. They were turning into hills. Only his body wasn’t sand. It was flesh. And those hills were muscles that no tide could just wash away.

But it wasn’t even just his muscles that were changing, Eddie downed some of his water as he marched towards the treadmill next and wiped it away with a hand. He stopped when he felt a sudden tingling, a buzzing pleasure almost that was, for some reason, centered around his upper lip.

The hell?

He thought as Eddie wondered if he had gone too far. After all, if his touch was changing things, what would happen if he touched himself too many times? But as he thought about it he quickly blushed as a strange alien pleasure continued to center around his top lip, still making him horny as itchiness invaded. 

Eddie blinked and once again almost looked cross eyed at himself as thick brown hairs suddenly started to sprout where he had just wiped water from his mouth. He swallowed and for some reason found the sensation, the feeling of his own moustache incredibly hot. Maybe the app had glitched and accidentally made it into some erogenous zone. Or maybe this was just him.

All him.

But it took everything in him to not grow hard right then and there in the gym as his moustache continued to grow, the hairs knitting together as new memories came about just when Eddie decided he would grow a moustache out. How well it looked on his face. The surprising amount of compliments that he had gotten. It finally finished sprouting and the only thing that could distract Eddie from getting hard and touching it was more exercise. 

Fuck…had his touch turned him into another version of himself? Another version of Eddie? He thought as Nathan vaguely remembered the character had a moustache one season. Even his hair was different, once slicked back and now with a strand that drifted forward. His questions didn’t stop Nathan stroking his new stache and feeling like he’d just touched his cock as he stepped onto the treadmill.

His very core and torso were the same, hardening as they expanded whilst he was on a treadmill. It was like a celebration of his entire body. There he was with each stride sending a ripple through his midsection. Every muscle was waking up, tightening and rising to its proper definition. Nobody noticed as Nathan continued to run that the last parts of his height and muscle seemed to properly form, a slow powerful tightening that sculpted around his ribs. He just continued to run like every breath was another that wasn’t going to his lungs but to his muscles as he continued to run and grow and grow and run until-

“Eddie!” 

Eddie barely heard the sound over that of his own heavy breaths and shifting flesh. He swore if he closed his eyes he would feel so good and so changed that he could be anywhere from a treadmill on his gym to the floor of his bathroom; his body either a celebratory bloom or a quiet rapture of shock and lust. But he blinked and hands darted to stop the treadmill at once. Nathan realised that might have been the first time he consciously chose to use his hands to do anything since he left the house. An unfamiliar face, a dark skinned handsome man with an easy smile and a plain grey shirt was at his side.

“Dude I’ve been calling you for ages, you wearing headphones or something? Woah uh…I like the stache, very 70’s.” The stranger chuckled, his voice deep and his Adam's apple bobbing. He had one of those Josh smiles, full wide grins and hearty laughs. That reminder would have made Nathan pause for a moment, that and the fact a stranger was talking to him out of nowhere. Perhaps it would have…if he was still Nathan.

“Oh nah I’m good okay great just chilling working out doing things before home work…”

Eddie Nathan blinked as he realised he was trying to say two different things at once. His pants between the words at least made it thankfully look like he was just choosing his words or reconsidering them or just plain too tired that it could be forgiven. But the man frowned.

“Uhhh huhhh…” He drew out the sound with obvious judgement. “See this is why I hate cardio.” The stranger friend Jonah chuckled. Nathan Eddie tried to speak again.

“Yeah just cansado como el- Uh sorry uh…tired,” Eddie Nathan blinked as he hadn’t realised for a moment there that he had even slipped into Spanish. In fact he hadn’t noticed that when he almost strained a muscle that he cursed in spanish too. “So uh ¿cómo te llamas?”

Fuck. Eddie blinked. Why the hell had he asked them their name? Nathan huffed. Why the fuck was he still speaking Spanish? The character was just Hispanic, but they spoke English. The stranger gym buddy he’d known for a couple years Jonah just nodded slowly.

“Riiiight uh well glad to see you back after uh everything man…you and Buck doing okay?” 

“We’re…doing…”

Fuck.

Nathan felt like the world just collapsed in on itself and he was the center.

Buck! Nathan had forgotten about Josh and realised as he was trying to piece together the word in English, he felt a spark of new memories explode. Of course Spanish would come naturally to him, whenever he cursed, whenever he was surprised, it was the language he spoke the most as his mother tongue all the way up until his middle school years. His English had just grown so fluent that people mistook him for a natural born speaker when it wasn’t. It was no longer some bold part of his life but natural as any other language.

At times he had to sit there for a moment, translate all his thoughts and feelings and it certainly didn’t help when talking to Buck sometimes.

Oh Buck…the love of his life, the man who he started out with on rocky terms in the station before they had become something more…something…a lot more…

More.

More.

More…

Nathan’s greed infected Eddie and with it came a slew of memories that shoved aside the last decade of his life. In fact, the more Nathan tried to think about it…the more he started to realise he was forgetting his life, like it was someone dead whose presence they could remember but their face and voice became hazy.

He could remember his thoughts, his feelings about certain things in his life, his military career string of retail jobs or fellow firefighters family or Josh Buck, but not the specifics by now. He swallowed and fished out his phone.

TRANSFORMACIÓN ACEPTADA EJECUTANDO EL PROMPT 57%

Past the tipping point. He was more Eddie than Nick…Nathaniel…God damn it, Nathan! Fuck…forgetting his own name? That…that surely couldn’t be parte del trato. Fuck. This was too much. He must have messed up a setting in the app. He should go back. But as he tried to click anything else on the app, his phone buzzed with a message:

NO SE PUEDEN CANCELAR LAS SOLICITUDES EN CURSO

He took a moment to translate it to English. Unable to cancel prompts in progress.

At that his heart raced as both Nathan and Eddie for one thing…Buck. He had to find Buck. He had to…protect Buck from…this, something, no Josh, not Buck. Josh. He had to stop Josh from becoming Buck…from…God how much he was talking about Buck, it made Eddie grow half hard. He hopped off the treadmill and went for his gym bag. A change of clothes, that’s what he brought, thank god. Wait…? These are my old clothes…I haven’t touched them yet? Wait but that…Oh.

Fuck.

Eddie’s eyes widened when he saw the familiar dark navy that began to spread from his touch on the old clothes that the gym bag must have curled around when it formed. ¡Mierda, mierda, mierda, esto no está bien! It was transforming, unravelling, expanding into his uniform and it was the only change of clothes unless he risked going back home but by then it could be too late to try and find Josh and explain what happened or pick his smart brain to stop it all…or to see…to see Buck. His cock almost throbbed. 

“You okay?” Jonah repeated for the third time and Nathan wanted to say something, anything to this complete stranger good friend of his but all he could make out was a sudden uncontrollable smirk on his face. His face is possessed by someone else entirely.

“Yeah all good man, just gotta go. I’ll see ya around.” He took his bag and rushed to the back to change. As he did he recounted something. Some part of Nathan him could remember reading or hearing some fact about the brain. It was said that people enter some kind of hypnotic trance all the time, sometimes whilst driving, other times reading or playing a game. It took Eddie less than an hour for his sweaty tanned body to grow into his proper muscular form to realise he had been under the second he started to grow. 

He just hoped it wasn’t too late to change back. For the first time Nathan wanted less. He despised it like he knew he would.

• • •

“Josh hurry it up okay? We still got five more cages to unload from delivery.” The voice snapped at him like a rubber band that he already knew was there and had been bracing for the impact. That was the impact of course of Manager voice, as Josh called it. Manager voice. Manager impatience. Manager’s breath that smelled faintly of strong coffee. 

“On it, on it…” Josh had to admit that working in a grocery store was definitely one of the worst jobs of all time.

Of all the places a human soul could be dropped and this was where he had ended up. It beat a warzone at least. Some days. Josh sighed. He hated those thoughts, those ungrateful complaints that snapped out like a hungry beast. Thoughts he didn’t even agree with and knew he didn’t agree with but still left their guilt ridden wounds all over his psyche as he tried to shelf a dozen cans of tomato soup.

In truth it wasn’t that the concept of retail was bad (alright it was), but it was less the customers and more the manager that stirred up his dread. The only thing he could focus on beside work was Nathan, he felt bad for his boyfriend which he hated. He shouldn’t have felt bad for him, he should help him, shape him up, be of use.

But his best efforts some days when it came to Nathan was to just shut up and try to lighten his mood, to ignore the qualms of work and just hope to prevent injecting any more negativity into his life. 

God he loved him and if he kept thinking about how much he loved him he would daydream and get in trouble again. That faint smell of coffee lingered like a bad omen.

It was his manager. Although he had tried to make some friends (and been semi successful). Like everything in his life it had been half earned, half deserved. A discount friendship in some way. There goes one of those thoughts again as he chastised himself for judging someone like that, all because they didn’t want to put up with his endless wide smiles and chatty demeanour. 

The best days were the ones where nothing interesting happened. It was just a simple clock in, clock out affair. An unspoken vow where he went in, did his best, ignored the ‘just a friendly reminder’ messages in the work chat and went about his day. Today was not one of those days. Like his manager and pretty much any other bad omen in the store, he sensed it some other way before he saw it. For his manager, it was a smell. For this it was something to be heard. 

“Excuse me sir but you can’t-”

“Where’s Buck?” 

“Who?” “Buck- I mean- Fuck I mean-”

“Sir if you just-” “No he’s uh…he’s tall, dark hair, curly hair, brown eyes, very cute, he works here-”

“You mean Josh?” “Yes!” There was a pause that sounded like judgement, assessing how much ‘very cute’ played a part in his manager recognising Josh. But then it was gone. “Fuck I forgot…I mean no, sorry uh…” 

“Sir please just calm- Hey! Sir you can’t just push…Wait what the fuck? M-my shoulder feels…What’s- What’s happeennningnggfhhhh?”

There were gasps and the sound of some dropped bags and then came the sound of something lurching. The building creaked like it was about to come down and instead of running Josh stood there, frozen as a man rounded the corner and did a double take.

Oh fuck, Josh thought. He wanted to back away but once again couldn’t, rooted to the spot as he saw the man march up to him. At first he thought they were a police officer from the dark navy uniform they were wearing with some kind of silver badge and the insignia of something that read LOS ANGELES.

Another patch with the American flag on the opposite shoulder told him this person was…something and so police was probably the best bet as he eyed the dispatch radio near their collar. 

“Buck- I mean…Fuck I just heard your name, uh we…we need to talk.” 

Okay so if it’s the police…very, very odd way to start Josh thought. For some reason he smiled. Nervously. 

“Uh c-can I…Can I help you?” 

“This…This is gonna sound crazy, I’m your boyfriend.” The stranger pointed at themselves. Josh blinked. First of all, no they weren’t. Second of all, why the hell did the man look so familiar? It was like he had seen him online or somewhere before, definitely not someone who was a friend of a friend or that they met for real. It felt like he knew the man more like a vague concept like a celebrity or something.

“Uh…huh…” The stranger flinched like that particular expression was offensive to them. Then again if they acted this way then it wouldn’t surprise Josh if they heard it a lot.

“No listen! Okay you remember when he- I mean I spoke to you this morning about an app called…called CRAFT? Well it’s an app that…that changes you, that makes you…fuck I dunno how to explain it this head is so fucking tech illiterate,” The man grunted in frustration. It seemed that no matter what he kept a distance away from Josh much to his relief. But Josh blinked. How did the man know about what he and Nathan spoke about that morning? “And now it’s changed me into..into…”

“Oh my god…” The pin dropped as Josh realised where he had seen the man before. “You’re….you’re that guy from 911?” Josh blinked. “If…No.” He shut down his own ideas but then felt a part of his mind say fuck it and go all in. The building creaked and groaned again. “Okay if you’re…if you’re…my boyfriend, say something my boyfriend knows.”

“What?”

“Do it!” “This isn’t a movie! I’m not some like secret clone or-”

“This isn’t a movie but you’re just some guy from a TV show claiming to have somehow transformed into my boyfriend- I mean who my boyfriend transformed into.” Josh stammered as he backed away. He did another glance around, a third check for some hidden cameras. “Tell me.”

“Uhh…uhh…we’ve always wanted to go to Barcelona.”

“A lot of people want to go to Barcelona. Say something else.”

“Uhh…god it’s hard, my head…uh you bottom, he tops.”

“I mean that’s just obvious.”

“Oh come on!” The stranger, no Eddie Diaz or Ryan Guzman took a step forward making Josh take a step back. “Okay uh…uh…oh! Last week I told you in secret that I hate mac and cheese even though you said how, everyone likes mac and cheese? And I told you I just pretended because I thought you loved it and you said you loved it because you thought I did.” Josh blinked. Fuck that was good. Too specific. Too on the nose. He could have recorded the house or if this was some elaborate prank by Nathan for…whatever reason Nathan would throw such an elaborate prank and hire an actor for it, he could have told him. But he saw a desperation in the man’s eyes. 

He could have been an actor. Hell, he probably was if this was some prank…somehow. But something about the desperation looked too real. 

“Oh…my…god.” 

At that revelation the building creaked and Josh felt it shake, as if a giant that had once been slumbering had suddenly been stirred from its rest. A tremor rolled up his legs and into his spine as he saw the stranger- Nathan’s eyes flicker up not in fear but in recognition. The air changed first and it changed fast. Whatever was happening, Josh had the sense it was confirmation. The air of the store smelled like bleach and cardboard and for some reason salmon was an undying sentinel upon the senses. But the scents thinned like they were being sucked in and crushed. The only smell that was left was the metallic tinge that was in every building like a grocery store. It was suddenly growing like some army filling a power gap. 

Like before, he heard it before he could see it. A forklift in the back suddenly began to beep louder and longer until it stretched into a low drawn out wail of sirens before it was snuffed out. A fluorescent light popped into life above them, not cheap and buzzing but long and thin. The aisles shifted and fell like dominos, sinking into the ground one after the other. The almost cavernous ceiling above suddenly began to shift lower, grinding yet causing no rubble or dust as it moved down. Josh couldn’t tell if the changes were sporadic or if he was, only noticing bits and pieces like how the freezers stopped running or a pallet shelf sank into the wall like it needed to add more mass to the building as it thickened and greyed out. 

The building was shifting, he knew that much. Not collapsing inwards. Not exploding out. But shifting, like it was a puzzle whose pieces could somehow be drawn out and refitted to form an entirely new picture. Josh’s cry of surprise was drowned out when the floor gave one seismic shudder, one great giant tease of what could be as polished tiles rippled outward.

Down the aisle he could see the faint blue speckles in the light tile drain away with it and melt into one patch of grey running down down down the floor like paint. The smell changed again, one of sweat and hot rubber and engine oil. He blinked wondering if the building was changing into a garage.

But he was close enough that he could see the biggest change at the front, the entrance of the Costco with its automatic doors and garage door for the delivery in the warehouse stretched and conjoined together. The entrance as a whole narrowed into tall red firehouse bay doors as new windows carved themselves and had glass poured into them. It was all too much and Josh closed his eyes as he heard an array of confused customers and employees rushing out, heavy footfalls all around like a fleeing army. As always, he was too scared to move from the spot, first from a stranger and now a strange place.

It saved him the confusion of seeing the building stretch and shift impossibly as despite the rumbling and the clashing and the sounds it made, nothing fell. Nothing collapsed. Nothing seemed to be destroyed or hurt anybody. He didn’t know how long he had his eyes shut from the world but after a few breaths of silence, he opened them and the building seemed to breathe into existence around him. He was suddenly surrounded by fire engines, big dominant vehicles on either side with coiled hoses and valves. The walls had changed from drywall to brick. The entrance had changed so much that they may as well have been in a different part of town, hell a different town altogether as sunlight spilled across the front, leaking into the building. 

“Fuck…” was all Nathan or the stranger claiming to be Nathan could say. Josh only now realised as he saw the man turn that the patch on one of his shoulders read LOS ANGELES FIRE DEPARTMENT.

How he wasn’t having a panic attack was beyond him. Maybe Nathan had…used the app and could control specifics like making him not panic. He swallowed. What else had Nathan changed? Oh god, how was any of this even real? At that the ‘aisle’ that was now a fire truck and where he heard his manager talking to Nathan reveal someone else, a stranger coming out from behind the truck.

“Oh there you are!” A man with a tawny complexion and dark spiked hair looked at them both. His dark narrow eyes flickered from Josh and then toward Nathan with a look of recognition as he smiled, thin lips surrounded by salt and pepper stubble on a soft chin. At least it looked soft until it tensed when the man smiled, his eyes lighting up like they were sparkling almost. He was wearing the exact same uniform as Nathan though he was shorter and slimmer for his leaner frame. “You seen Buck today?”

“Uh…” Josh saw something in Nathan snap. He smiled suddenly, a smile that wasn’t just because he had a whole new face and body. But it was a smile that was just different, pulled from his core and unrecognisable in character. “He’ll be here soon, you know how it is.” The man that Josh just had to assume was his former manager chuckled. 

“I know what you two are like. Hotshot always wanting to make his big entrance huh?” The man chuckled and sauntered off, not paying Josh any mind as he slid in between the both of them. Whatever that was in Nathan to make him smile and answer like that took a moment as he stared at Josh and then blinked, as if realising his concern. 

“Who the hell…what the hell is that? Is this? Is any of this?”

“Okay look I uh…I can’t explain but…fuck babe do you trust me?” Nathan asked in an unrecognisable voice with an unrecognisable face and yet Josh felt like he could still recognise him, his Nathan anywhere. So he nodded. “The…I tried to stop the change, the transformation thing but it…it only works when the change is fully done so…” He let his words die down like Josh was somehow supposed to fill them.

“Okay? But…you’ve changed or it looks like you’ve changed so, what else needs to change?”

“You.” 

Josh never realised he could relate to a transforming grocery store so much as he did in that moment. He could feel like he was about to fall and his insides were slithering with nervousness (and a smidge of arousal) that it may as well had been like they were shifting

“You…you want me to…”

“It…It’s not like that. I…I thought it would be fun. A surprise. But I think maybe I…went too far and I…I keep having to think before I speak or else I’ll speak como esto. And my head can barely remember anything and I just knew I had to get to you. Let me just…do this, it’ll be quick and I promise we’ll turn back.”

Nathan spoke and despite the fact that he had just spoken fluent Spanish Josh couldn’t believe how much of his boyfriend he recognised in this stranger, this handsome character that had quite literally stepped out of a TV show. He could see the fear and the nervousness and excitement (maybe some of that arousal he was feeling too) within his expression, all warring with one another and Josh just nodded.

“O…Okay I trust you…” You might be a completely different person but I trust you.

“Thanks it…it…seems to go faster with touch like…” Nathan gestured around to the firestation. Josh swallowed.

“So touch me.” 

At that he saw the man’s pupils dilate. There was the Nathan he knew, even if it was through a slightly older, more chiselled face and lighter eyes. There was that look he could recognise from anywhere, anytime. The look of a man that wanted to do nothing more than what the man was doing now, grabbing his head with one hand and then the other and then with one silent adoring look of you ready? Josh subtly nodded and felt himself pulled in for a deep kiss.

It was a kiss that Josh hoped would never end, partially out of fear of what transforming would look like and partially because of how good it felt. It was strange to feel the same kind of kiss through a complete stranger. But soon enough Nathan and him had to breathe, the two of them instinctively panting, breaths heavy, warm, foreheads bowed and tapped against one another.

Josh swallowed at the feeling of expecting something to happen, some big change to come rushing through like the building. But nothing happened. At least not that he could feel it. Nathan panted.

“You…you feel anything?”

“No…I…I think I…” Josh stammered nervously before Nathan looked up, really looked up at him and suddenly lurched back. It wasn’t a flinch or look of shock, more so just a kind of muted surprise, like a firework he lit up had gone off just a few seconds later than it should have. “What? “W-What is it?” 

Josh touched his face where the skin had paled from the more light brown tone to something paler, more milky. The skin smoothed over as his features were beginning to shift ever so slightly, starting with his eyes that had gone from their light almost hazel brown to a cool blue. It was almost enough to make Nathan want to dive right in and kiss him again.

A red splotch appeared over Josh’s left brow. A birthmark suddenly appearing on the paler skin, the raised and rough texture of it was the only thing Josh could recognise as distinct, different. His hand touched it and then he pulled away when he saw how the fingers looked, the paleness spreading from them to his trembling hand.

Nathan took both hands, his grip ceasing the trembling as he stepped forward. 

“Buck…”

“Wha…” Josh began before being plunged into another kiss, this time making him wide-eyed at first and then melting into the embrace. He continued to feel himself get kissed and this time Nathan began exploring his body. As he did, he could feel his arms change as large hands caressed them whilst moving down. A burning sensation made Josh almost break the kiss and wince as he felt something trailing down his arm, only to see some slithering cursive font through a pulled down sleeve of his Costco uniform.

Something was etching into his skin.

A tattoo.

Josh had never wanted tattoos before, not even conceptually as some idea for the future or something to just say during conversations. He had never wanted them and had been too scared of the pain. Yet now he could feel it all over his body like tiny ants trickling in shapes around his skin, on both his arms and even on his upper pec.

His work uniform too began to darken and compress on his chubby body. His love handles felt like they were being scooped and sucked into his body as did the rest of his stomach and his thicker thighs. Instead it felt like the fat was being taken into him and converted somewhere deep within his body into muscle. That was the only way his body began to thicken out again like it was letting out a long exhale.

Similar to how Nathan changed, he could swear that Josh’s Buck’s muscle was growing the same way, body inflating like he was a balloon. The muscle mass just growing and growing and growing as where there was once a gut, there were now chiselled abs.

His doughy upper chest had instead sucked in and warped to form pecs and his biceps had long since threatened to tear down his uniform…that was until it became his proper work uniform in the form of a matching deep navy uniform of Station 118. 

How Buck knew that was beyond him as he blinked in confusion and looked down, tracing all the changes, all the places where Eddie was touching him. He moaned and humped against him when he felt Eddie’s hand pressed up against his crotch, watching him smile that same cocky smile he’d come to love as he could feel Buck’s cock begin to sprout and grow from his touch.

“N-Nath- Uhh- F-fuck uhh…E-Eddie…n-not there…” Buck blushed as Eddie just smiled in response.

“Oh? You mean…here?” Eddie pressed his hand harder against Buck’s crotch and watched in delight as his boyfriend husband let out a whimper. His cock grew and pressed up against Eddie’s hand through his pants, growing so quickly that it was pushing the hand away as the bulge grew.

“S-Someone…gonna see…”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Eddie chuckled as he pushed Buck up against one of the firetrucks and made out with him once more. His moustache tickled the man and when Buck’s lips began to kiss back it made Eddie’s knees weak as it felt like he was kissing his cock. With each and every kiss, each and every touch Josh could feel himself almost leaking out of his cock.

Should he have been turning this fast?

It felt weird, like something was happening to his head. He thought the change would be physical but Na-

Uhh…god Eddie was saying that he had to think twice or else he’d slip into Spanish or how he was having a hard time remembering things. 

Josh Buck wanted to ask more but he told himself he would after the next kiss. Then his feet grew as his shoes transformed into boots. And the next kiss. His hands finished twitching and growing and instinctively reached the back of Eddie’s head, fingers digging into the hair. And the next kiss. His body would lurch and lengthen, the spine stretching as his torso and legs did the same and he realised he reached down to kiss Eddie. And the next.

It was all too much, too soon that when Buck realised he couldn’t even remember his own name, he pushed Eddie back. 

“F-Fuck…E-Eddie uh…wait…I…” Buck had to take a moment to catch his breath. “I think…Fuck I think we…we’re going too fast. I…I…”

“Hey, hey, hey…look at me…” Eddie’s hands captured Buck’s head, his thumb caressing against the man’s cheekbones as his head was still the most Josh there was. Half caught between his bronze skin and pale tone compared to the rest of his body. His facial features half changed. Buck looked at Eddie and felt himself threatening to melt right into him. 

“I just…F-Fuck maybe we can cancel the app another way, maybe I dunno…call someone, call 911…” 

At that he saw Eddie smile and Eddie could feel his cock throb, tenting in his pants.

“Baby…why would we call ourselves?”

“Eddie I’m seriohh-” 

Eddie shushed Buck with a kiss and watched as the man was caught wide eyed and too shocked to fight back. He whimpered as he could feel his cheekbones rising, his lips shifting, his jawline chiselling and Buck realised that he…he had to…he was going to…he couldn’t even remember. As all that was Josh was starting to melt with him and he kissed back, feeling his dark curls shift to lighter wavy hair. Eddie began to kiss along Buck’s neck and as he did, felt the Adam’s apple grow and the neck thicken as Buck’s moans began to grow deeper, his accent and voice all shifting with each kiss. All before Eddie heard the vocal cords shift like the voice was being edited in real time and pulled away.

“Now…what were you saying?” Eddie asked teasingly as he looked at Buck…his Buck looking back at him with those beautiful sea shade eyes. 

“I…I…uh…I dunno I feel…feel good. Feel amazing…” Buck broke out into a smile. 

“You look amazing too,” said Eddie as he grabbed at Buck’s bulge making the man blush. He found himself delighting in that, relishing in the sounds Buck made when he teased him. At that, both the men seemed aligned as a new memory unlocked shared between the two of them. Buck suddenly let himself be led along even though he felt like something was wrong, like he had something to say that was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t quite remember. But that was before Eddie practically shoved him inside the storage closet, closed the door after him and turned the lock.

Even if Buck wanted to resist, he couldn't and god…he really didn’t even want to. His hands moved on their own to undo his belt, to yank down his pants. Neither of them could believe what they were doing like they were two men that were possessed as they looked at each other. There was a curious mix of admiration and fear as they realised that this was it, they were about to do something that both of them knew was coming.

There was something of an unspoken dialogue between them in the short moments where they nervously caught glances or checked one another’s bodies. It was as if one was almost waiting for the other to stop, like they were trying to see if the other would resist and didn’t want it. But neither of them stopped and so the two of them just continued at increasing speed to finally do what both of them truly wanted.

It didn’t take long for them to find a good position, like they had done this dozens of times before. Eddie with his cock lubed and ready like he had a bottle in his pocket for this just occasion. That was because he did.

“Ready baby?” 

Buck just whimpered and nodded, before feeling the manhood slide into him and let his eyes roll into the back of his head. The two of them were like that for a while, tangled in the cramped closet as Eddie began to thrust and hump whilst Buck bit back moans and shifted back to take more and more of Eddie in him. As they did each thrust seemed to spawn a new memory, the first time they had met, the bonding they had done, the jobs they had been through…a wedding. As they did Buck could remember the first time he was sleeping with Eddie and just how good it felt to be submissive, just how nice it felt to do whatever Eddie wanted in bed, even if that meant topping him and being the one in charge for a while. It was more so for Eddie’s benefit and he felt good either way.

Eddie on the other hand found a new spark of dominance in him, one who wanted to exercise control in his life and in the bedroom. He loved the sounds that he could strangle out of Buck, the whispers and moans and muttered curses and the delicious way he said his name. It was the hottest sex he ever had in his life, the most loving, the best, but then again everything with Buck was like that.

It didn’t take either of them long to realise they were reaching climax as Eddie could feel like his thoughts, his memories, for some reason they had been detached all day. But now they were growing tighter, like tentacles wrapping around his brain, latching on, stuck. 

“Buck…Baby look at me…” Eddie said as he looked over and saw Buck make the effort to turn and finally he couldn’t ignore that half lidded look of pure pleasure. He dove in, he kissed him and with it, he came. Buck, always the good boy, came only after Eddie did but it happened so soon after that they may as well have cum together. It was like the act of both their orgasms had somehow doubled the pleasure for both of them, like they were so connected that they could feel each other that deeply.

The ecstasy that was rushing through both their systems enraptured their entire bodies, making them spasm against each other like their entire bodies were desperately kissing to do something, anything that made them express the amount of energy that was ricocheting through them.

For a single solitary moment, there was no closet, there was no Buck nor Eddie, just two things like they were concepts feeling pure unadulterated bliss. Some would say there was no such thing as perfect sex but both Buck and Eddie seemed to somehow put that to the test as their pent up, hot and sweaty bodies rode against each other and they hadn’t even realised it was their fourth or fifth (or however many) orgasm until their heads flared red with pressure.

Both of them didn’t care about the noise they made, the mess they would have to clean up before scuttling out or the feeling they were forgetting something important.

All they could do, all they would ever do was let themselves fuck and ride out the pleasure the way they did everything nowadays. Together.

TRANSFORMACIÓN ACEPTADA EJECUTANDO EL PROMPT 100% COMPLETE

“¡Cariño, ya llegué!”

Eddie’s voice carried through the apartment with the easy confidence of someone who’d said that same line hundreds of times. It was accented with that of keys jingling, plastic rustling, heavy boots against the wood laminate. He hated doing the shopping, usually. But since his husband was ill he would suffer the pain of a grocery run. He nudged the door close with his heel and frowned at the lack of reply.

“Buck?” Eddie called, softer this time as he let the bags fall on the countertop of the open kitchen and stepped through further inside. The summer evening was warm with dying twilight, the last golden wash of the day had decided to grace them and soften the edges of their living room. He looked and saw that it was still more or less the same as the morning, a jacket slung over the couch (his), a pair of running shoes by the door (Buck’s), a half finished mug of coffee (definitely his). He stepped deeper into the living room, the place was nice, almost perfect. Buck had joked that maybe Eddie had already decorated the place when they came to the viewing because of how well suited to them it seemed. 

That’s me alright, man with the magic touch, he joked though he knew it could have been true. It probably was. Along the wall were a series of framed photographs that both Buck and Eddie had gathered from their own apartments, training days shots, Eddie with his squad, pictures of the 118, one of their wedding day.

Most were just group pictures of proud smiles and heavy gear, Buck had become the resident photographer and seemed to always take the best candids at the worst moments, usually when the alarm had gone off and they had an emergency to deal with. They were all used to it by now.

“In here…” Buck’s voice called, his words smudged by a blocked nose as he took a deep sniff with air that barely reached inside his nostrils. He walked into the living room, hunched over and with the bathroom door left open. Again. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“You’re supposed to say bienvenido de nuevo.” 

“What?” Buck blinked as he flopped back onto the couch.

“Ugh come on honey, I say cariño, ya llegué which is…” Eddie started and looked at Buck expectantly. He could see the man thinking for a moment, his brain trying to spark something behind his tired eyes and then he grinned tiredly.

“I’m back?” 

“No, honey I’m home…I’m home. God I swear I gotta get you Spanish lessons cus clearly I suck as a teacher.” 

“Baby I can barely speak English right now let alone Spanish,” Buck chuckled as he tried and failed again to sniff and get some air in through his nose. “I mean who the hell gets a flu in July?”

“You do,” chuckled Eddie. “Which is why I am going to make you some soup. Cus god you need it.”

“I love you.” The declaration, one that they had said to each other a thousand times before, came at such a surprise that it caught Eddie off guard.

He still remembered enough of his old self that it felt alien having a…character tell him that. He just smiled and leaned forward, giving Buck a long kiss. Buck clearly needed it because he moaned and sat up, kissing back more before Eddie had to tear himself away. 

“I’ll go make it now,” he whispered before he sat up and stretched, preparing himself for the incoming questions about work. He already informed Chimney and Maddie to not inform Buck of anything wild that happened. Partially to make sure his husband didn’t worry.

Mostly because he wasn’t quite so sure Buck wouldn’t force himself to come along to the next crisis, flu blanket and all. So he had spent the grocery trip already rehearsing some little white lies and rehearsed them again as he went to unpack the groceries and of course Buck began to ask.

“No…nothing much just y’know, one of those cat in the tree days,” he’d say or something like that.

Then his phone buzzed.

TRANSFORMACIÓN ACEPTADA EJECUTANDO EL PROMPT 100% IT HAS BEEN 182 DAYS, 00 HOURS, 0 MINUTES, 09 SECONDS SINCE LAST TRANSFORMATION PROCESS.  TRIAL PERIOD OF (6 MONTHS) IS OFFICIALLY OVER. EXTEND / REVERT ?

Eddie stared at the phone long and hard and then glanced back towards Buck. He didn’t need to see him, he just wanted his face to at least be able to get a glance just out the corner of his eye. He saw Buck sniffling and rubbing his red nose, contemplating his next question with a sly smile like he was trying to catch Eddie out. But Buck, ever oh so observant Buck, who knew Eddie better than Eddie knew himself some days just looked at him.

“What are you looking at?” Buck asked, his wavy hair caught in the dying light that pooled into his eyes, almost making them glow. He had sat up, leaned forward like he was some interested student at a lecture or a worshipper at the sermon. That was how he almost always looked at Eddie, especially when they were alone together. Eddie looked at him and wondered if he was happy, truly happy because Eddie was happier than he could ever be. He knew that they couldn’t stay like this.

They wouldn’t.

But that didn’t mean the end.

Did it? 

“You,” Eddie said and it was cheesy enough to make Buck snort and relax back into the couch as Eddie smiled. He turned and glanced back at the phone.

EXTEND or REVERT looked up at him expectantly.

More. 

[CORRIENDO CALIENTE] TRANSFORMACIÓN ACEPTADA EJECUTANDO EL PROMPT 100% TRANSFORMATION EXTENDED FOR (1 YEAR).

Eddie smiled. He wavered slightly, a sudden moment of vertigo as he could feel Nathan no longer gain the majority in that moment. Instead Nathan was pushed back to being a minor stakeholder of his mind at 49% (at best) as he became mostly Eddie again, in mind and definitely in body. He took a deep breath and swiped off the CRAFT app back to his homepage, a cropped photo of Buck from a night where they were all stuck in the station for a night, fattening themselves on pizza and beer.

Eddie took the photo and Buck hadn’t noticed, caught in a half smile with a slice of pizza, its melted cheese strung along from the end and clenched in his maw like a cat proudly beaming with a rat’s tail between their teeth. Buck hated it. Eddie loved it and so he kept it. 

For the first time in his life…the chorus was gone. The song was over.

He wanted more. He got more. And they both couldn’t be any more happy as Buck and Eddie. 

Thanks for reading! If you want to read more stories like this feel free to check out more here!

[wannabeanotter-deactivated20241]

FUCK STICK (BOTTOM TO TOP; FUCKBOY/JOCK TF)

Fucking tops. It's Friday, nearly midnight and instead of dancing I'm stuck in the washroom at a gay club, hiding from some shithead.

"Tops, right?"

Next to me is a tall guy in a flannel shirt. He's pretty hot, but, urgh, he's the last thing I want to be thinking of right now.

"Yeah," I try to sound chatty, but it's clear I'm pretty annoyed "How did you know?"

He turns to me and crosses his arms, grinning, "Oh, you know. What happened? I bet you have loads of guys chasing after you"

It's true. I mean, look at this ass

"Urgh. This guy grabbed me from behind and started grinding against me. Can you believe it?? He didn't even ask, all I did was wink at him."

"Hmphh, you winked at him? Sounds like he was giving you what you wanted. You know, all you bottoms are the same. Needy. Demanding. Seeing real men as just dumb grunting animals. Maybe that guy was trying to do you a favour?"

I groan and turn around to leave "Oh, fuck you." Just what I need, another smug shithead.

He heckles me from behind. "God, twinks like you are so fucking lame. Maybe we're fed up of being nagged all the time?". He sounds kinda angry, but I ignore him, and roll my eyes.

"You know what, grab your dick."

I freeze, and my eyes go wide with shock. Why am I so shaken? That's not the worst thing I've heard at a club. I try to move but I can't, I just sputter, "Wh- what?? I'm not doing that"

He grins, "I'm not asking"

I feel something pull against my pants, but I look down and see it's my own arm

"WHAT THE FUCK! Are you... you're doing this?" My arm creeps down, playfully running my fingers over my tight stomach, and slips down through my waist band.

"Haha, yeah I am bro. So, bottom bottom bottom. What to do with you. What if I open your eyes a little?"

I, I start to shake. Something in me feels good. Beefy guys start to flash through my mind, and whatever's taken over my hand knows what it's doing down there. Athletes, wrestlers, big bulges in tight clothes...

"Here's the thing. There's enough brats like you around here bro. Someone's gotta do something. Think of it like, uh, giving back to the community."

The images in my mind start to change. The models get smaller, swapping out athletes for tight twinks in tighter shorts. Instead of biceps, I'm thinking of big, curvy asses, and my hand... I can't control myself. I wanna grab someone, anyone, and start grinding.

But then, one of my crushes slides by - Jason, a HUGE wrestler on my college team. Biggest pecs I have seen in my life. Thank fuck, finally, a real man. He looks at me with his big, brown eyes and oh my god, my heart flutters. I look up at him and in my mind I start to walk towards him

The guy in the flannels shirt is egging me on, "Go on, do it." How does he know what I'm thinking? Whatever.

I reach out, and Jason smiles. That big, goofy, handsome grin... and then he turns around. He gets down on the mats, on his hands and knees, raising his big, firm ass into the air. I'm looking right at it.

I squirm. "Oh god. No. No no no no no"

"Uh, actually, yes." The guy in the washroom grins. "I want you to be a dumb, grunting animal, you will do that for me. Are you starting to understand?"

I lean down over the sink, but in my fantasy I fall against Jason. I hold him tight, pinning his big sweaty form down against the mats. At first, there's barely anything I can do to control him - he's WAY bigger than me, but soon I start to feel... bolder. Firmer. He tries to roll me over, but I slip my arm around his shoulder and a vein pops up over my bicep. My legs strain and my glutes start to stretch. Fuck, my whole body is throbbing.

I grunt, and slam him downwards, which gives moment to catch my breathe. Does he feel less sweaty? I wipe my forehead. Wait, am I more sweaty?

"Yeah bro. I know what you're thinking, I know how much you love guys after they've worked out. Damp clothes, that manly smell... it's exactly what every bottom wants these days. Now it's yours"

We twist around each other, and I reach my arms across his body. Wait, all the way around? His shoulders have gotten smaller, thinner... twinkier. And, well, mine are the opposite. He lunges, but I grapple him. All the mass has gone from his legs, meanwhile, my biceps are big enough to crack a skull.

"I want to make you a real fuckboy, you know? Someone who just thinks with his dick. Gym, sex, gym, sex, gym, sex... I want you to always be turned on, I want it to control you, I want you to never get a break."

I've got him, firm between my legs. Jason's tiny now, the same size I was 2 minutes ago, and I start to grind my bulge against his soft, bubbly ass. Fuck. Fuck! It's so good. This is the best fantasy I've ever had in my life. I want to fuck him so bad.

My whole body is throbbing, shaking. Blood is pulsing through my, through my everything. Fuuuuuck. I feel almost dizzy. Everything about this almost feels real. I go to lift up my shirt, but it's gone, and I run my other hand over my stomach. It's like I can really feel the abs

I cum. Oh my god, did I just cum in a... a washroom at a night club? And, I was thinking about topping a guy??

"Ahem". I turn to stare at the guy next to me. He looks pleased with himself. Very pleased.

"There bro! How do you look?"

I look in the mirror, and it hits me like a fucking brick. My body... my clothes. Oh my god, everything's gone. THAT WAS REAL? I look like some stupid fuckboy. Am I a stupid fuckboy? Is that a JOCKSTRAP? My jeans are gone, now just a pair of shorts. Very short shorts. Is that it? Is that all I'm wearing? Over the top of my huge pecs I see my converses are gone too, swapped out for some worn down gym shoes.

This can't be real. If it is, my boyfriend is 100% going to break up with me. How do I even explain this? That I'm like, ripped now? No, wait... that's not it. I try to imagine him topping me but, but, fuck, it feels so gross. A total turnoff

"Of course you don't want to let him top you. You're not a bottom anymore... that's kind of the whole point."

But he would never let me top him. But maybe we don't need to have sex for a while. That wouldn't be so bad, would it...

"AHAHAHA, sorry, with your new sex drive? What part of a fucking animal don't you understand"

There's no way he would want to stay with a horny fuckboy, but, but...

what if I am a stupid fuckboy? I'm already thinking of a nice, tight twink. I'm not that interested in him anyway - he's too tall, too beefy. All the guys I saw earlier are racing through my head. The skinny guy I danced with with the great ass, that cute short one by the bar... urgh, he had those perfect legs, that cute crop top, tight stomach... I bite my lower lip and reach down...

"NO!!"

I start hyperventilating. "This isn't me. I'm not a jock, I am ABSOLUTELY not a top. And," I lift up my arm, "there's no way I actually smell like this"

He laughs, like he's having the fucking time of his life. Maybe he is. "HAHA, sorry dude, yeah you do. And, yeah, you are. Think of that fuck stick like a gift, not just to you, but also to every cute boy you see on grindr. You'll get used to it, trust me"

His words flood my head... I imagine scrolling through the app in bed later, looking at the sea of boys all desperate for me... I reach down again...

"NO! Fuck! Make it stop. Why are you doing this to me?!!"

He pauses for a moment, then sighs and shakes his head. His expression... he's looking at me like he thinks I'm stupid. Does he think I'm stupid? No way - this motherfucker!

"Really? I know I fried a few wires up there dude, but you cannot seriously be asking that. Why do you think I'm doing it?"

"I - I..." I can't find any words. I really don't know. I just don't fucking get it. He's ruining my body, my LIFE, and for what? Fun? Revenge?

But he laughs, and looks at me. I'd think he was being pitiful if he wasn't grinning so fucking hard.

"Bro," he says, "I'm doing this because I think it's hot."

My heart sinks. "You're doing this because, because it fucking turns you on? Don't you give a shit about me at ALL?? I'm going to lose my boyfriend, I'm trapped in this horny, sweaty, disgusting body..."

"Just stop complaining. You know, so what if you don't get in a say in this! Sometimes you just gotta take what life gives you, and right now that's a huge fucking cock"

I feel like I'm about to burst out crying. He grabs my new, boyish face, and pulls it up towards his. "So, yah! Glad I could clear that up," he laughs, "Look, ok, this isn't gonna work if you're gonna be such a fucking loser about it. It's also not gonna work out if you don't work out - you gotta be going to the gym from now on. Those biceps, those pecs... you're chiseled like a statue and I'm not gonna let those new muscles go to waste. You need to be in there DAILY."

He gives my cheeks a squeeze, then lets me go. I clutch my face. It feels different, unfamiliar. Am I crying?

"URGH, bro, will you just quit looking at me like that. Puppy dog eyes, I shouldn't have made you so fucking handsome... Look, I'm gonna give you one last chance, ok: cheer up, right fucking now, or else I'm gonna have to do some rewiring. Right now, all your decisions are being made up there", he flicks my forehead, and then he smirks and grabs my crotch. "But, if I flick the switch, this guy gets to do all the thinking. You'll be so dumb, so horny, HAH, you'll be drooling over your own dick. A real fucking animal. Got it?"

If I don't get a grip, it's over for me. But what do I do? I gulp, and try to swallow my tears. I wash my face a little in the sink. He stares down at me, and the two of us stand in silence. It feels like forever, but it must have been just a minute.

I look up at him, and let out a squeak. "Yeah. You're right. I got it"

"No." he says "I don't think you do."

Damnnnnn, look at these pecs. Fuck, what was I doing? Whatever, I gotta get back out there. See if that blonde guy by the bar is taken. Just thinking of him and his ass makes me wanna... I grab my crotch, and let out a moan.

Wait, is that cum? Yoo how did I not realise. I clean myself up and slide my waistband back over my jockstrap, letting it snap into place against my cum gutters. I flex, and light shines off my glistening, sweaty muscles - if someone were to see me now, they'd think I was a greek statue. These strong, firm thighs, the perfect curve of my glutes... these shoulders look like they were made by fucking Michelangelo.

Nah, I'm way better than that. A statue doesn't have a dick. See you at the club, bro

[luciusblac-deactivated20250831]

Lunch was sweet and fattening🐖

[swappermanent-deactivated202502]

Life In Retrospect

It started, like most things in my life, with a bit of harmless indulgence. I’d been out on the beach, metal detector in hand, just doing my thing. Call it a classic old guy hobby if you want—I know it sounds like one—but there’s something oddly satisfying about it. You spend your whole life accumulating things, working toward something, and yet, in your later years, you find yourself searching for what’s been left behind.

That’s when I found it. The detector beeped, low and insistent, over something solid buried in the sand. Brushing it off, I uncovered a necklace—a little tarnished but still striking. The pendant was shaped like a bird, wings spread wide, with an intricate design that caught the light just so. It looked old. And valuable, maybe. Not the kind of thing you’d expect to find washed up on a beach in a sleepy town like mine.

Being the curious sort, I took it home and started looking into it. I’m no stranger to the internet, mind you. For an old guy, I know my way around a reverse image search. After a bit of digging, I finally found a match, buried in an obscure corner of the web. Turns out, this wasn’t just any necklace. According to the article, it had magical properties—something about granting the deepest, most hidden wishes. But there was a catch: the wishes had to be subconscious. Wear it, the story claimed, and the wish would find you.

remember chuckling at the idea. It sounded like something out of a fairy tale. But then I paused, looking at the necklace in my hand, and wondered what exactly my subconscious would want, if it had the chance. Money? I wasn’t exactly rich, but I got by just fine. Love? I’d missed that boat, never found someone to share my life with. Fame? Ha, the idea made me laugh—what would an old man like me even do with fame?

I didn’t expect much from it, but it was an interesting enough piece, and it looked good against a sweater or tucked under a jacket, so I wore it. Weeks went by, and honestly, I forgot about it.

---

One day, I found myself at the gym. It was a bit of a routine for me—not the way it used to be when I was younger, of course, but I kept at it, lifting lighter weights and trying to stay active. This wasn’t just any gym, either; it had a reputation around town. People called it the “gay gym”—not officially, of course, but you could tell. The men here were fit, stylish, and, well, meticulous about their bodies in a way I could only admire from a distance. They looked like they belonged in magazines, and I’ll admit, I liked to let my eyes wander now and then.

Still, I kept to myself. At my age, I wasn’t exactly in the social scene here, and I’d long since learned to stay on the sidelines. I came, did my exercises, enjoyed the view, and went home.

But that day, for the first time, someone came up to me. His name was Mikey, and I’d noticed him before, of course. Hard not to, really. He was exactly the kind of man I might've dreamed of being, if I ever let myself dream about that sort of thing. He was young, muscular, with a powerful, chiseled build that made his plain T-shirts look sculpted onto him. His dark hair was perfectly styled, a casual yet intentional wave falling over his forehead. And that mustache—thick, neatly trimmed, lending him a rugged, almost classic appeal, like he could’ve stepped out of a 1970s action movie. He even wore glasses, tortoiseshell frames that gave him an unexpected touch of charm and sophistication. I'd managed to snap a few photos of him before at the gym when he wasn't looking.

I’d seen him around for months, usually catching glimpses of him bench-pressing absurd weights or chatting with friends, his laughter deep and easy. He looked like the kind of guy who owned his confidence, who walked through life knowing that people admired him. And, hell, I was no exception. I'd spent enough stolen moments sneaking glances at those bulging arms, that thick neck, the way his shoulders seemed to strain the fabric of whatever he wore. Every time, I felt a little flutter inside—a mix of envy and something more primal, something I barely let myself think about.

So imagine my surprise when he came up to me. Even he seemed a little surprised, his brow creasing just slightly like he didn’t quite know what had prompted him to approach. And then, he asked me about my necklace.

“Hey, where’d you get that necklace?” he said, eyes flicking from my face to the pendant hanging over my chest. “It’s… different. Kind of cool.”

I felt a little jolt of something—excitement, nerves, maybe both—at the attention. He wanted to know about my necklace? Of all things? I opened my mouth to respond, and then something strange happened. The words just… flowed. I started telling him all about it—how it had been crafted in some long-ago time by hands that shaped it with care, about the artisan who’d worked on it and how they were renowned for imbuing special powers into their pieces. I talked about the mystical properties, the magic of wishes hidden deep in one’s subconscious, waiting to be drawn out by the wearer.

Thing is, I didn’t know any of that. Not consciously. But as I spoke, it felt like I was reading from some invisible script, like the knowledge was being given to me as I said it out loud.

Mikey listened, his gaze locked onto the pendant, almost entranced. Then, he looked back up at me, that curiosity still burning in his eyes.

“Would you mind if I tried it on?” he asked, his voice a little softer, like he was almost embarrassed by the question.

Without a second thought, I nodded, slipping the necklace off and handing it over to him. He took it carefully, his fingers brushing mine—warm, rough skin, the kind that spoke of hard work and hours in the gym. He put it on, and I swear, the thing looked like it was made for him. It hung perfectly against his chest, the bird pendant resting right in the middle of that strong, solid frame.

As I watched him, something stirred in me. I felt a warmth spreading through my body, a tingling that started low and radiated outward, like a current of energy. I caught myself glancing down, noticing with a bit of embarrassment that I was half-hard. But I couldn’t help it—the sight of him, my necklace gleaming against his chest, his broad shoulders framed by that perfectly fitted T-shirt, was… well, let’s just say it was doing things to me.

“Actually,” I said, clearing my throat and giving him an appreciative once-over, “it suits you. Why don’t you keep it?”

Mikey’s eyebrows lifted, surprised but clearly pleased. “Really? You sure?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice a little unsteady, trying to hide the flush of heat that was working its way up my neck. “Consider it a gift.”

---

That night, I felt warmer than I had in years—almost feverish, but not quite. I thought maybe I was coming down with something; I’d spent enough winters nursing colds to recognize that slight ache, the subtle throbbing behind my eyes. I drank water, tried to stay hydrated, but there was something strange about the feeling. It wasn’t just heat; it was a tingling sensation that seemed to move through my limbs, settling into every muscle and joint.

I told myself it was just exhaustion. Maybe I’d pushed myself too hard at the gym, or maybe the excitement of talking to Mikey had rattled my old bones more than I wanted to admit. Either way, I decided to call it a night, pulling the covers up and letting myself drift off to sleep.

But somewhere in the dead of night, I woke up drenched in sweat, sheets tangled around my legs. My skin felt hot, almost burning, and my heart pounded like I’d just sprinted a mile. I lay there in the dark, trying to orient myself, but nothing felt right. My arms, stretched out beside me, felt heavier, thicker somehow. I pushed up to sit, but even that felt… different.

For a moment, I thought I might be having a stroke or some other senior moment, and the thought made my stomach twist. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to shake off the dizziness, to piece together where I was and what was happening.

But as I sat up and tried to get my bearings, the space around me looked foreign. Strange shadows fell across walls I didn’t recognize. There was a faint streetlight glow filtering through blinds that weren’t mine, casting an odd light over an unfamiliar dresser, scattered clothes, and a large mirror across the room.

Where am I?

I swung my legs out of bed, almost stumbling under my own weight. The muscles in my legs tensed and shifted in a way that felt… powerful, but wrong. Instinctively, I reached for the light switch, my fingers brushing over the unfamiliar nightstand before finding it. The room flooded with light, revealing more alien surroundings. Posters on the wall. Dumbbells in the corner. This wasn’t my bedroom. I didn’t own posters. Or dumbbells.

Disoriented, I took a few steps, bare feet touching cool, unfamiliar carpet, as I wandered toward the bathroom. I had to steady myself on the doorframe—the sheer strength I felt in my grip, in the size of my hand, jolted through me. I flipped on the bathroom light and looked up, squinting against the sudden brightness.

And then I saw him. Mikey.

In the mirror was his face, his body—muscular and tanned, dark hair tousled and falling forward slightly. I could feel my heart hammering in his broad chest, watched his—my—eyes go wide as I touched my face, tracing over a jawline sharper than I’d ever had, rough stubble under my fingers.

“Oh… my god,” I whispered, hearing Mikey’s voice, deep and smooth, coming from my own mouth. The face in the mirror looked just as shocked as I felt, my hands gripping the edges of the sink to steady myself as I took in the sight of every inch of him—of me.

A thrill shot through me, warmth bubbling up from my stomach as I ran my hand over the expanse of his—my—shoulders, over the swell of the chest, down to the ridged abs, and finally feeling up his impressive package. I couldn’t stop the smirk creeping onto his—my—face, couldn’t stop the pulse of excitement thrumming through me. Holy hell. This was real. I was Mikey.

And then, with a jolt, I realized something was missing. My hand went up to my neck instinctively, searching for the familiar weight of the necklace, but my fingers brushed only bare skin. No chain. No pendant.

A part of me, somewhere deep down, was concerned—confused and alarmed, really—but right now, looking at the smirking, shirtless, muscular guy in the mirror, the overwhelming feeling was… arousal. I’d never looked like this. I’d never felt like this.

Stay Tuned For Part 2.  

[sanzaibian]

Hey everyone !

Dare I say, the Normal Barbershop was a success ! Many people have had the chance to get fun haircuts, and I've had a lot of fun witnessing all of you guys' transformations ! However, every good thing must come to an end, all slots have now been taken at the Normal Barber shop, and although you may see a few more stories from haircuts that have already been booked, no slot remains open.

But still, thank you once again so, so much for the 1000 subscribers ! I can't tell you how grateful I feel to have amassed such a following !

However, as I said in my little address... this time of the year is already quite full. And although you all know about Halloween which will come tomorrow (at least it's the case in my time zone, after all I'm writing this as soon as the new day technically started !), there might be something else that makes it a bit more cramped.

Today is my birthday.

So, as a celebration of me turning one year older, and especially as a way to cap off the 1000 subscribers milestone (because in other circumstances I'm not one to plebiscite my birthday), I've decided to put a glorious end to the Normal Barbershop. Indeed, after having transformed a lot of you by giving many a whole new haircut... I've decided that perhaps I should be the one to sit on the O so relaxing barbershop chair.

Yes, you heard that right, I'm giving you the opportunity to give me the haircut of a lifetime !

So get your scissors, clippers and hairdryers, brushes, combs and hairsprays all ready, because I'm under your care for today ! - even though I know it's ill-advised to tempt TF fate right before Halloween.

Now, to give you an idea of what you will have to work with...

I'm a French white young man, turning a year older but still in my early 20s. My hair is brown, always messy because I naturally have wavy hair/loose curls (and because I don't really know how to take care of it properly), and is all around an unruly mop that would warrant ordering up. Otherwise, I have an average build, kinda skinny, a bit pudgy and not muscular, and I'm also naturally very hairy, even though I shave it all up (face every day, body once it becomes too long to bear) - though surely you don't care about that, huh ? ... huh !?

Hope you will find good hairstyles (or more) to shape with my hair, all of the barbershop's tools at your disposal !

Finally, I encourage everyone to participate !

No matter if you're a seasonned writer or a simple lurker, if you have an idea, don't hesitate to write even just a few lines ! As a small community, in the TF sphere, we always love it when we get to see new points of view, even if the prose leaves to be desired !

After all, we have a saying in French : it's by smithing that we become a blacksmith (C'est en forgeant qu'on devient forgeron.), so it's only by writing that you will write better stuff ! So don't hesitate ! Besides, why would I be mad at more TFs ? :P

[Technical information : as long as I can see the haircut that I get, it's good ! I think reblogs to this post or posts with a mention to me are best, but if another way fits better, by all means do it !]

[sanzaibian]

Congrats on 1,000! I was hoping you could give me a haircut! I always wondered what if look like with a pompadour or soemthing like that

“Welcome to the normal barbershop ! Thank you for choosing our service !” You are welcomed as soon as you set foot inside the building. “You will be accompanied by Rilaj Mam, an associate of Dr. Davod, who is known for having studied all sorts of arts of the hair. - Please call me Rilaj, using mam makes me feel old !” A voice is being heard from further inside the shop. - Sorry, but it’s in your namecard !”

As those two bicker, you approach the place where this mysterious man is, and find a quite small man, dark-skinned, folded eyes, and silky black hair arranged in a man bun – although the rest of the head is flawlessly shaved down to the skin. He wears colorful clothes, including a big bandana, and presumably the large hat and the pair of sunglasses that have been put down on the counter, all hiding what your trained eyes recognize as a ripped body.

But when you come just a little but closer, that short guy, presumably Rilajn suddenly turns to you – almost looking up to you – and smiles, full of kindness, though there is a tinge of malice behind his pitch black eyes.

“No matter ! I now have work to attend to !” He finishes the bickering, before addressing you. “I was waiting for you ! Please take place on this seat !”

You oblige, finding the seat to be extremely comfortable, much more than most barbershops you’ve ever been to. Almost too comfortable, considering this shop is temporary, after all… However, you’re here to relax and change hairstyles. Your hair has grown quite a lot since last time, and it’s about time you arrange it up. And trying a new style is just the cherry on top.

“So…” Rilaj, the barber, starts, coming with a bottle full of a weird black substance. “I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that… your hair is way too short to make a good enough pompadour. You should have come in like… two months or three to have enough length to do what you wanted.”

You look at him disappointed. As if to prove it, he takes a strand of hair from the very front of your mop and drops it down your face, only reaching the base of your nose. And this shop is going to be closed by the time you grow enough hair, so although you can always come to another later, shelling out money for what is simply a bit of a silly tryout feels pointless.

“However, the good news is that I have a way to make a great pompadour thanks to my very special technique. So… are you interested ?” The barber offers with a malicious voice.

Still taken by your disappointment, you don’t think much and, foolishly, you agree immediately. You see his smile grow, as you are regretting having agreed so quickly while not considering what this technique is.

“Great ! Well, we shall start with a bit of trimming, no ? ‘Cause your hair might not be long enough, but it still needs shaping for this new cut !”

He draws out clippers and installs on it quite a big guard. Then, he turns it on, and starts mowing at your hair, tufts of it dropping from the sides of your head. His cutting style is quite peculiar, though, using the clippers only bit by bit, tuft by tuft, as if he was cutting with scissors. However, when he has finished one side of your head, continuing by working on the back, letting yet more strands of hair fall, you notice that the result is very regular, with each hair the exact same short size.

Somehow, that unorthodox technique works, and you are left with a great and very soft carpet of hair – which you were able to feel once he put down the clippers. Then, he draws out some scissors, of which one side is shaped in a sort of comb-like structure. He explains to you how it will make your hair less dense, which will make it easier to style, and better able to receive the special technique.

As he chops down some hairs on top, making the remainder of the mop lighter, you notice how silent he is throughout the whole ordeal. Although he seems like quite a jovial guy, even quite chatty at times, he doesn’t seem to be like other barbers, pulling you into discussions about what you did recently, or other mundanities. But looking at his pitch black eyes, matching his pitch black hair, you feel a weird sense of… tiredness ? coming from him. You can’t quite describe it, but as is always said : the eyes are the door to the soul. And behind the eyes you feel a truly ancient soul.

“That’s about it ! Now we’re coming to the good stuff !” Rilaj suddenly pulls you out of your thoughts. “Let me just show you…”

He takes the bottle of black stuff in his hands, and presents it to you through the mirror, before uncapping it.

“This is what I call nuuch’ay ! Don’t try searching it, you won’t see anything about it on the web. It’s an old tradition from my people, forgotten today, but that is very potent.”

He starts dropping it on your hair. It has a very slimy texture, and drops slowly. Looking at its pitch black but slightly shiny form, it almost looks like rubber… Once the bottle is fully emptied out, he puts it away on the counter. You look at it and notice a label, on which there is something written. You can’t understand it, the letters spell words you haven’t seen anywhere, but you do note that the handwriting is very neat and elaborate. It’s the kind of style that would belong in a historical document.

“Now, let me just rub it all in, and then I’ll be able to… pull your hair out of your head, let’s put it like that.”

You are quite disturbed by this. As he is spreading the black goo, you’re wondering about what kinds of irreversible damage it would make to your hair… if it’s pulling out your hair, won’t it damage the follicles ? Destroy your hair, and making go bald when the hair inevitably drop ? But as you’re considering whether to flee as a matter of precaution, you find that you’re actually unable to move. You look at his eyes… still a deep, deep black hole…

You are now trapped.

Concentrated, Rilaj starts, as promised, pulling on your hair. He does it first in the front, and just as he starts pulling, you feel weird… as if he is pulling on other parts of your body. You look at yourself, and aren’t really able to notice anything that has change… but as he suddenly pulls a second time, you feel a bit weird in your belly.

He pulls once again. You feel… tighter, as if the flab that you had been accumulating over the years was being… pulled back. Another pull. This time, you feel weird in your jaw, a weird sense of tingling all over your face… and on point, you notice that, as he pulls another time, there is no more facial hair. If you could draw your hand to your face, you’re sure you would feel it to be all smooth.

He continues pulling, the pain and the tightness being felt on all parts of your body. You look up at your hair, and notice black strands, reaching far higher than they ever have… and they are stood perfectly. It’s a feeling that you’ve never had, and as he pulls yet another time, tightening your body yet again, you feel kind of… hot ? Like, you’re wearing a haircut quite elaborate, your face is devoid of beard… you feel beautiful, and, dare you think, cute !

He continues pulling out your hair, continuing to tighten everything in your body, as he starts combing your new longer hair. The comb goes higher, and higher, your body feels tighter and tighter, until he goes back to the rest of the hair, revealing a big, tall, but not obnoxious pompadour.

The definition of beauty and hotness.

And as he finishes combing the rest, the barber looks at you, smiling from a well done job, just like you are from a wonderful haircut. You are enamored by the pomp, so much that you fail to realize how big your clothes now are on you. You want to feel it, you want to touch it… but before you can make your hand reach, not even registering how you’re suddenly able to move, Rilaj blocks your arm.

“No, you can’t touch it just yet. It needs to dry up a little bit more before you can, else you will mess everything up.”

Dry ? You do as said, but that use of words does throw you for a loop. And your barber notice, since he then adds a few precisions.

“See, the nuuch’ay is derived from rubber, and we need to let it dry a bit before it can keep its shape. I have variants that dry a lot faster, but for hair, only this one gives out good results.”

Of course ! It’s rubber ! You knew it ! Especially now that you look again at your pitch black and slightly shiny pompadour, the same color as the short guy’s man bun. He goes to fiddle with his tools, putting away the comb, scissors and clippers, and drawing out another bottle full of that black thing… “nootcheye”, was it ? Whatever, that rubber thing he put on your head.

Feeling he was finishing up, you feel like it’s appropriate for you to stand back up… but just when you are in a vertical position, you feel something dropping. You look below, your pants and your underwear are on the ground, your shirt being the only thing still hanging on, although it is by now only hovering around your body.

You cry in shock, drawing the attention of the barber, who smiles, almost mocking you – though you don’t feel anything truly mean about it.

“Oops ! I guess I didn’t consider that law from that one smart French guy – what was his name… Lavoisier ? yeah, Lavoisier’s law of conservation of matter.” He half-mocks, sticking out his tongue.

You glare at him, growing angry.

“Okay, okay, don’t need to be this upset ! I was going to explain how the nuuch’ay works before you left anyway !” He throws his hands up in surrender. “Basically, it’s just stretching your body so that the hair is higher, so it had to take mass from somewhere else – that somewhere being your fat, mostly. « The nuuch’ay is currently keeping your body stretched, meaning that you will stay like that for quite a while. However, once it completely dries up, it will crack and then your body will go back to normal, whence why I couldn’t use the instantly drying up nuuch’ay.”

He starts helping you out of your shirt, revealing a lithe body, one that you hadn’t seen since early puberty. Although you can see muscles, they lack any definition, and are only revealed by the low amount of body fat you now have. By all definitions, you can now call yourself a definite twink. No matter how much of one you already were, by now there is no mistake, with how hairless and skinny you are.

“It should last about a month or two, I didn’t check when I made this bottle, but if you want to end it early, you have to warm your hair up with, for example, a perming machine.” He continues to explain, as he starts uncapping his other bottle of ‘nootcheye’. “But until then, your hair will stay exactly like this, no matter how much you squeeze it, wash it, or mess it up !”

As if to prove his point, he squeezes down your pompadour, and as he removes his hand it bounces back into place, as if nothing had happened. Bewildered, you let your hand reach your hair, messing it up in more and more extreme ways, but like rubber, it always gets back to its place. It just feels… surreal.

“By the way, we don’t have any spare clothes for you – all the spare are made for bigger people – so I will use this bottle to create clothes. Don’t worry, I have great taste.”

He pours the bottle of nuuch’ay he had in his hands, and it spreads over all your body, from your neck down to your feet, creating a big, black, shiny jumpsuit. But as it settles, red accents and multiple crevasses appear, until it has formed into a kind of black leathery tunic, one that you would more readily see in fetish publications than in the street.

But you love it.

And under the smile of Rilaj Mam who artfully wanders out of the field of view, you take a photo to commemorate that new hairstyle, that new shiny black pompadour.

But before you go out of the barbershop, after having collected your bag and your unfortunately big clothes, Rilaj stops you.

“Sorry to bother you, but could you grant me a favor ?” He draws out a short red cigarette. “I found that thing when I went to Tokyo a few weeks ago, and I think your uncle might be interested in it.”

You look at him shocked when he suddenly mentions your uncle – especially knowing the unfortunate fate he suffered.

“Now, don’t make this face. I knew who you were ever since I saw your name booking this haircut, that’s the reason I chose to cut your hair. That guy at the welcome desk can attest that I’m very selective with my clients.” You hear a frustrated ‘yes’ from far away. “But if you have any questions, ask them to him, I won’t say anything he doesn’t want me to. After all, he is the only one who has the right to answer them...”

Hearing his tone, it feels as if he wanted you to ask questions to your uncle… Does he feel smart for trying to so blatantly manipulate you ? Or does he realize that you can’t ask questions to your uncle and expect a coherent answer anymore ?

“And, seriously, don’t use that cigarette. You saw how potent the nuuch’ay is, and this is more insidious. On that, send my regards to your uncle. Xtiqaatz’at chik na qii’.”

Without waiting for you to react, he leaves out the door, leaving more questions than answers.

[sanzaibian]

I look on with pride as I enter the Tokyo University of Arts, the most prestigious art school of the whole country. I studied so hard for the whole past year, and yet I barely made it through the entrance exams… but as the flowers bloom, it is time for me to enter the next step of my life !

I have had an immaculate record : I’ve had good grades throughout middle and high school, I was class representative in most classes in that time, and I already had a portfolio ready ! Really, I was the perfect candidate for the fine arts studies ! I’ll be able to realize my dream of becoming a great architect !

However, as I approach the steps of the Sogakudo Concert Hall where the Entrance Ceremony is supposed to take place, I am suddenly blasted by big plumes of smoke. The smell is all too familiar to me, as I distinctly remember disciplining a students who were smoking in the premises, and although now I’m studying alongside adults, it doesn’t mean spreading smoke without any care for others shouldn’t be grounds for objection. And as I turn to see the origin of the smoke, I am comforted in my decision, as a small group of the most typical of thugs appear in front of me. A small group of Bosozoku, with big obnoxious pompadours on their heads and leather jackets one of them with a cigarette in his mouth and another with hair dyed blonde.

“Hey, this is a university campus ! You can’t smoke and loiter like that !” I came in strong, but I was a bit disconcerted when they started laughing. Though it doesn’t matter, guys like them always act tough at first. - Hahaha ! Bro, look at this kouhai (junior) tryin’ to order us around !” Mocked one of them with an enthusiastic tone. - Well, what’s he gonna do, is he gonna call security ?” Added the second, with calmer and more objective tone. - Kouhai,” started saying the one who was smoking, looking at me in the eyes. “d’ya think ya have a right to boss me around ?”

W-wait… kouhai ? They may be older than me, I agree, but are they actually students here ? They’re mocking me, of course, such a prestigious academy would never let in rascals such as them ! It just cannot be !

“W-well… I’m sure that you aren’t allowed to disturb other students like that ! It harms public harmony ! - Public harmony, you say ?” Continues the one who was smoking. “Well, you know where I put your public harmony ? In my ass !”

The other roared of laughter. But I am not this easily fussed.

“Well, no matter what, I’ll report you all for trying to disturb the Tokyo University of Arts Entrance Ceremony by your illegal loitering.” I take my phone out. “You see, I can call the police.” I smile as I hear their laughs falter. - I see you’re already going with the nuclear option…” The smoking guy said, as he puts out his cigarette on a nearby wall. “Fine, we’ll go so you’re happy. - Well, great ! And I hope I won’t see you all again !” I can’t help but smile at my easy victory. A bit too easy, actually… but let’s rejoice rather than fear. - Don’t worry, you won’t see us until you need to meet back up…” The smoking one ends, quite ominously. “If you need to find us, Ryuunosuke will go to The Gigs tomorrow evening. - I hope to see you there.” I hear the calmer voice behind me, before suddenly hearing the click of a lighter.

I look back, and see one of the Bosozoku I saw earlier in the group, a lighter in his hand and a mask on his face.

Funny enough, with this ad behind him he almost looks like a graffiti artist… But no, the main thing is… has he tried to set me on fire !? I take a step back in defense, as he raises his hands as if he was innocent. I look behind me and see that the two others have also put on masks, and are starting to make their way out.

“Goodbye !” Says the one who had a lighter in his hand, likely that ‘Ryuunosuke’ guy, as he follows his… gang.

I stand there, quite confused by the whole altercation. What has actually happened ? Why did everything take on a sinister tone at the end ? Why did they say we would meet again ? Why were there these kind of thugs right besides the Sogakudo Concert Hall ? And... er… why am I not in the Sogakudo Concert Hall ?

Oh no ! I forgot everything due to that ! I hope I’m not late…

As I start making my way to the hall, I hear some weird noise as my foot touched the ground. I looked down, and saw a red cigarette on the ground, that was seemingly lighten up until I stepped on it. Great, these ruffians even littered… though the smell is a bit weird, it doesn’t seem like usual tobacco smell. It could even be said to smell… a bit good, actually ? Well, better than most, it doesn’t actually smell good, but the smell is still weirdly present.

But I don’t have any time to waste. The Entrance Ceremony is going to start any minute, I can’t be late to it !

I mean, I don’t know what I expected from some speech by important people, but this one was especially egregious. They were thanking a bunch of people, and patronizing us, saying we were the “future of Japan”… Thinking about it, it was about the same content as third year of high-school, but at least back then the headmaster had some charisma.

So, a bit disappointed, I make my way to Nezu station, to go back home. I might as well have stayed home, the consequences would have been barely noticeable. Plus, I could have bought a lollipop. I don’t know why, but I’ve got the urge to play with something in my mouth.

As I enter Nezu station, I automatically check the cameras and the personnel, and see that they have a dead space where I can go without my face being recognize. I smile, and take the very path I planned out to jump over the fare. As I do that, I get a rush of adrenaline, and make my way towards the platform, reveling in the danger.

But as I enter the train, I realize what I have done.

What has happened to me ? Why did I even think of entering the station illegally ? I have a metro card, and my parents have bought a full subscription, so it doesn’t even make sense ? God, this is the kind of things that those Bosozoku I sneered at would do… Then why the hell am I replicating this kind of hooligan behavior ?

When I arrive at my station, I scan my fare card, quite bashful, before leaving. I may have entered illegally, I won’t leave illegally. Though I must admit the adrenaline was fun. Even though it pains me to say that.

The remainder of my day is spent sulking in my small student’s apartment, going through lollipop after lollipop I bought at the Kombini after eating lunch. Then, the evening, I prepare my stuff for the beginning of classes tomorrow, hoping that my strange outburst of rebel attitude would be a fluke.

And so I drift off to sleep.

When I wake up, I find myself weirdly void of energy.

Usually, mornings are easy, and I’m ready for a full day of class. But today, things just ain’t it. It’s especially bad since today marks the beginning of classes… At least I had the foresight of preparing my things yesterday evening… Well, no matter. I prepare a bit more rice than usual to get the day really started, hopefully it will be enough to wake up properly.

After eating, I go to the bathroom to prepare myself. I put on my clothes, I brush my teeth, and then I search for… something ? I don’t actually know what, but I know I should be putting something in my hair… Plus, where is my comb ? I need a comb. Why do I need a comb ?

Oh no, oh no, the weird stuff from yesterday are happening again ! It can’t be !

I abandon all that searching and go out to class. This time, I make an actual effort to take the metro the correct way, yet during the whole ride the thrill of bypassing the fair kept on nagging me. And when I entered my first classroom, my troubles didn’t even actually end. I had a hard time concentrating on the teacher, especially on respecting his authority. I only wanted to go out, not to be trapped in here doing boring calculations… But I must admit that the classes that were more focused on design and on drawing, letting me do my own damn thing, were actually fun. I was able to flex my creative muscles in a way I didn’t know I could until now. I almost couldn’t recognize myself !

However, let’s be honest, something very weird is going on with me. And it all started with these Bosozoku.

Oh, yeah, didn’t they say that they would be waiting for me ? At “The Gigs” today evening ? Of course, yeah, what’s going wrong obviously has something to do with them. Otherwise they wouldn’t have insisted on me meeting back up with them…

I sigh. I know I’m the duck carrying its own leek, but it’s the only way to understand whatever has happened to me. And the only way to find a cure.

“The Gigs” was actually quite hard to find, but I found out that they were referring to a concert in the Nippon Budokan. Thankfully, I only had one change to do from the Chiyoda line to arrive here, but the whole ordeal of finding the place after many, many furious google searches proved quite frustrating.

But as I arrived to the door of the Nippon Budokan, as convened stood firm one of the Bosozoku I saw yesterday.

“So you came !” He exclaims, with a mix of amusement and surprise. “If you don’t remember, I’m Kowa Ryuunosuke. And, wouldn’t you know it, I have additional tickets !” While saying that, he waves two pieces of paper. - I don’t care. I want the weird stuff to end.” I answer, resolute, and a bit filter-less, I admit. - You know, Tsutomu and I thought that you wouldn’t show up, that we would have to find you. But no, turns out Hitoshi was correct, you would immediately notice that something was off. - What do you mean notice that something is off. You knew that weird stuff would happen to me ? - You know, the show is gonna start soon. I guarantee you’ll love it. You coming ?”

I am starting to get angry at how he keeps on avoiding my question.

“No, I’m not coming with you. I’m waiting to have an answer and a way to stop whatever you did to me.” I maintain as he sighs in answer. - Look. I can help you, but only if you come with me. I’m going in, and if you don’t follow me, you’ll have to fare for yourself in… whatever you found.”

I blush of embarrassment. I’ve lost at my own game, and now he knows I have nothing he’s interested in.

I guess now I must weigh whether sticking with these rascals is worth it or not. The benefits of not sticking are obvious : I wouldn’t have to associate with Bosozoku, and they wouldn’t be able to pressure me to do anything. But if I don’t, I do risk changing in ways I can’t understand, and may even put in jeopardy my studies in more substantial ways than being with Bosozoku. The choice is actually hard to make…

But then, knowing some people wouldn’t be so bad for such a lonely guy as myself… plus, it looks like it’s a Kishidan concert, it’s not a bad band… And tomorrow, I don’t have any early class… Plus, if we actually become friends, I may be able to actually find a way to reverse the effects of whatever they gave me...

“Eh, you know what, I’ll follow you. ‘Can’t that bad to go to a free concert.” I capitulate. - Welcome, then !”

Kowa gives me one of the concert tickets, smiling, likely happy to have scored a victory. He’s actually somewhat cute, gleeful like that. So I follow him inside, and we take our places, ready to listen to what turns out to be his favorite band.

Well, this was a blast ! I’ve never felt more alive than yesterday evening !

I was full of so much energy, it’s actually quite unbelievable ! I’m usually lethargic when we reach 5PM, 0AM or even 1AM the few times I actually stay up this late. Heh, I’d usually actually feel as lethargic as I’m doing right now, waking up ! But Kowa and I really had a great time. From around the half-point to the end of the concert, we were standing up, dancing our hearts off while Kishidan was giving their all. By the end of the evening, Kowa’s pompadour was ruined and I was thoroughly out of breath, but we agreed that it was worth it. The music was a lot more enjoyable than I remember, even more than I would rate video game music – and that’s quite a feat to remove Dragon Quest from the podium. I’m even finding myself humming the melody this very morning !

After eating breakfast, I find myself again in my bathroom searching for something that I don’t have after having brushed my teeth and washed my face. However, this time when I see the contents of my closet, I feel a bit self-conscious. There really isn’t much that’s actually cool, only uncreative dress shirts, plain jackets, mandatory ties and monochrome T-shirts. Why did I ever think this would even pass as clothing ?

I freeze. This is not me. I never cared about how I look. Only being comfortable and acceptable in society ever came into account when I chose clothing ! Besides, most of the time I only dressed in uniform ! This is something I’ll have to ask Kowa about. It is not the most egregious thing to happen, but it’s yet another step in leaving who I actually am behind. And I’m not keen on that.

Thankfully, Kowa told me that we could meet back up at Ueno station late afternoon, so I can ask him about it. And he also added me on Line, so, in case of emergency I can call him.

But now, class is the priority.

I look around in the train station, unsure of where I’m supposed to go. Although Kowa gave me a place and an hour to meet at, he wasn’t clear on how we would do that. But I’ll be honest, after all the dancing yesterday, we were both quite hammered. Though it really doesn’t help my case, as I was self-conscious the whole day, so I was unable to properly concentrate. Hopefully, he will find a way to help me, it’s barely my second day in the most prestigious academy of arts in the country, and I’m already encountering so many problems !

Suddenly, I receive a notification on my phone. Oh, it’s from Line ! Apparently, I was invited to the group 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) by Kowa… and on there, someone named お鼠様 (Sir Rat) gave instructions, likely addressed to me.

He said :

“上野駅の下にですよ！参加してぞ！(I’m at the bottom of Ueno Station ! Join me !)”

His profile picture is cute, actually, being that of a rat with a cool hairstyle… quite reminiscent of that of the Bosozoku I now hang out with, actually – which should not really come as a surprise, thinking about it.

Back to the point, what did he mean by “at the bottom of Ueno station” ? It’s quite big, and there’s no real “bottom” point…

As I think about it for a while, wandering aimlessly in the meantime, my head starts to ache, and more than ever I crave for something in my mouth… I don’t know what, but something needs to go in. Thankfully, I thought to bring some spare lollipops, but they seem both too big and too small, they only bring temporary relief. That may also be something to talk about to them.

But bottom of the station… bottom of the station… Ha ! Yes, of course, the Metro ! That’s the part of the station that’s the deepest inside the earth !

I rush to there, hoping that Kowa – or more likely whoever that お鼠様 (Sir Rat) is – has not yet left. As I ride down the escalator, I keep my head out for anybody with the Bosozoku style. I wander a bit, not seeing anybody fitting the criteria, when suddenly I notice a service door that wasn’t fully closed.

Now, understand me. Service doors, as the name suggests, are for service employees only. Customers aren’t supposed to go in.

But the setup of this whole thing, and the mere thrill of doing something forbidden proved too enticing, as I find myself striding towards it, and entering. And my braveness… or rather foolishness if my opinion is the matter, is rewarded, as I find a Bosozoku with a big pompadour dyed blonde – though it appears ginger in the dark – standing there, with sunglasses and the attitude of a certified bad boy.

“Hey, so you made it, kouhai ! I was sure you would understand my hints ! You struck me as the smart kind – for better or for worse.” The guy hailed me very enthusiastically, almost making a motion of hugging towards me. - Uh… O-Nezu-sama, I presume ? - Heh, that’s correct ! Though you’d better know me as Soiri Tsutomu, that’s more worldly !” He corrects me, smiling seemingly both of amusement and compassion. - Oh, I-I’m sorry, Soiri…” I keep my head down in a show of humility. I may be breaking the law by being here, but I’m not breaking etiquette at the same time. - Don’t worry, don’t worry ! So, what brings you here ?”

I don’t quite know what to answer to this blunt a question. I expected him to rope me into something else like Kowa did, so while I thought of topics to bring up, I never thought of questions to ask… But as I look down at my clothes which bothered me the whole day, I get an idea. However, I barely open my mouth when Soiri interrupts me :

“Oh, yeah, I agree. That’s absolutely terrible fashion sense that you have here ! We’re gonna have to fix that pronto ! But you’re in luck !” Soiri makes a double biceps pose, pointing with his thumbs to his grubs. “I happen to be the best in fashion inside the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento), so you’re in good hands !”

I squint, not understanding how he knew what I was thinking about. Seeing me stunned like that, he opens his mouth ready to speak once again, but this time I do manage to outpace him.

“Well, if you say so, then let’s go !” Better to leave this room earlier than later. It might be thrilling to live in danger, I don’t want to push my luck. - Okay, then follow me !”

As he leaves the service area to go to the subway, I follow him. I do ask him multiple times where we’re going, but he stays silent, telling me that it’s a surprise. We take the Ginza line and step down at Suehirocho station. We walk through a few narrow alleyways until we reach a small shop named Nichiwa.

Smiling, he invites me in, and when I enter, I’m immediately amazed at what that store actually sells. It sells leather clothes. Of all kinds of styles. And I didn’t know how much I needed leather clothes until today.

We bought a lot of clothes there. He also lead me to a few other stores where we bought other actually trendy and cool clothes, that are much better than anything I had in my closet.

As we left our last store, full of clothes in multiple bags, I felt quite tired from all the shopping, but at the same time so excited for this. Never would I ever need to feel self-conscious about what I wear ! So I thanked him :

“Thank you so much, Soiri. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here to help me ! - Don’t worry, I love helping people finding clothes ! I might be at the Tokyo Arts School for music, I could absolutely see myself doing fashion in another universe. - So you do actually study at the Tokyo Arts School ? I thought that you were just hanging out as rascals somewhere you were not supposed to !” I ask, in disbelief, causing him to laugh. - Of course I do ! We all do study here, in the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) ! Well, Hitoshi doesn’t anymore, but it’s only because he graduated last year. - Oh, wow… I would have never thought, looking at how you dressed…” I actually feel quite guilty for stereotyping them like that. Turns out they do belong in the Arts School, I was the one in the wrong. Thinking about it, how many other people did I label as rascals only by looking at their style ? “But you used the name 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento), that’s also what the Line group I was invited to is named. Is that actually the name of your group, or is it just a funny thing for the Line group ? - Yup, that’s our name ! Subject to change, of course, like everything, but we really like it. Besides, we’re all really happy to bring you inside the group, so you’ll get a say in changing the name if you want !”

I stop at that.

Did he say that he wants to bring me inside their group ? That’s not what I want, what I want is to find a solution for the weird behaviors I have ! I don’t want to have anything more to do with them than I already have ! Besides, it’s their fault if all of that happens to me. Did they plan on that ? Were they just searching for anyone to add in their group of rascals, and chose to change me so that I fit their wishes ?

“I have no intention of joining your group ! 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) or not, I’m only doing this because you did something weird to me ! Are you actually doing some kind of advanced kidnapping or what ?” I snap.

His turn to look stunned. It seems like he realized he said something wrong and is scrambling to find a way to scavenge it back. Well, let him stew. They brought it onto themselves by toying with me.

“Uh… well…” Mumbles Soiri, before he manages something a bit clearer. “Y-you know, you shouldn’t be saying that to the one who basically bought all of your clothes ! Let me say that it’s not cheap ! - You have no right to say that !” I pounce back. “You’re the one who’s molding me into what you want, of course you’re not buying me clothes out of the kindness of your heart ! You’re doing that to further your nefarious plan !”

He looks away, likely in shame. Or at least I hope so.

“So now, I go back home, and you find a way to reverse that. The clothes you bought are my insurance.” I layer on the guilt.

And on that, I leave for the subway station, but before I’m too far from him, he shouts to me :

“I can’t ! ... Message us when you need to.”

A few days passed, and I haven’t contacted them since. I’m still in their Line group, but I muted them. I only want the hotline just in case something truly beyond my control happens. And to be honest, I’ve had multiple times the urge to call them. I’m growing more and more restless every day, I’m finding myself more and more confused with foreign urges I cannot satisfy, and I’m becoming more and more estranged from myself. By now, I only dress with the clothes Soiri bought me, and the only music I listen to is that of the group I danced to with Kowa.

And so I stand there, in my 7J flat, chewing on the remains of my last lollipop, the corpses of eight more lying on the table, ready to burst at any moment. Nothing feels right, and even the thing I used to do feel wrong, now.

I look at my phone. Must I do it ? … No… I can still resist, prevent them from molding me anymore than they already did… But is it wise ? Look at me, I’m way past my limit, anymore and I may very well land in a mental hospital… Like it or not, everything the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) gave me made my plight easier to bear…

I sigh.

I’ll regret it, I’m sure. But I can’t. Not anymore. I made a valiant try, but this is beyond my powers. In the end, I’m still a normal boy, adult since only a few months ago, barely out of public education. I am not equipped to bear this kind of pain.

“おはよう皆…参加しようか？(Hey everyone… Can we meet up ?” I send, defeated, on the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) chat. - おはよう後輩！もちろんです！龍之介と俺はザ・デック・コーヒーエンドパイに遊ぶ。会合しようぞ！(Hey, kouhai ! Of course ! Ryuunosuke and I are hanging out at The Deck Coffee & Pie. Let’s meet up !)” Answered Soiri, faster than I expected. Was he monitoring his phone or what ? - 渋谷区にだぞ。明治神宮前駅と北参道駅の間に。(It’s in Shibuya district. Between Meiji-jingumae station and Kita-sando station.)” Added Kowa, as he is likely scolding Soiri for not giving me the cafe’s location. - 今来るぞ。(I’m coming.)” I answer succinctly.

Thankfully, Meiji-jingumae station is on the same line as the one I take to go to class, so I quickly hop on the first subway, and make my way to Shibuya. Although, all in all, I do stand defeated, I make my way to Deck Coffee & Pie with determination. I need to find an actual solution… even if it means being roped in to their group. They don’t even seem that bad anymore, that’s to say…

I enter the small cafe, looking around to find Kowa and Soiri. As I go from table to table, having explained to the cashier that I’m joining up with “friends”, I finally notice Kowa seating alone at a table.

“Hey, kouhai ! How are you ?” He hails me.

He looks quite different, actually, when he doesn’t wear a mask ! Plus, his hair is quite immaculate today… did he go to the barber’s ?

“Not that great, I’m… actually surrendering. You can do anything you want with me, I just want my suffering to stop.” I answer truthfully, disregarding whatever actual answer that question should have brought. - You’re over-estimating our amount of agency, you know !” He smiles with compassion, visibly understanding my plight. “We can’t ‘mold’ you like you claim we do, we can only introduce to things you’ll like, you know… - Don’t be kidding me, you’re doing something to me, there’s no other way…”

He sighs, and then takes out of his bag a red cigarette. It looks like the one I’ve seen back when at the Entrance Ceremony, but it’s not a kind I’ve ever seen otherwise. Weirdly, it feels somewhat inviting...

“Now, I don’t smoke. And neither does Tsutomu. Hitoshi does, and he has developed a special brand that, when inhaled, changes someone.” He reveals, while I look at him, horrified. “I don’t know where or how he made them, but he made three of them : I carry one, he carries one, and the third one was used on you. Tsutomu doesn’t get any, because even he knows he will waste it.”

It’s… a lot to digest. So it was an actual intentional ploy to transform me… thanks to what likely is a dangerous drug…

“I didn’t want to use it. But you were annoying, and Hitoshi wanted to test it on you because of that. - It wasn’t a reason ! Yes, I may have been nosy, but it’s not because I’ve done a bad thing that I deserve to be changed to my very core !” I protest, though I now understand that nothing can be done to amend this decision. - And it’s not because a lot of young criminals dress like we do that we need to be driven out.”

I shut up at him exposing my hypocrisy like this. By now, I really regret what I have done… I guess what is happening to me must be retribution for the numerous people I likely wronged by not trying to understand their character.

Suddenly, I hear the voice of Soiri ring from the other side of the room.

“You’re here !”

I looked in the direction of his voice, and noticed him making a weird pose before making his way to us. I cannot help but smile at him doing silly stuff like that, it’s really refreshing seeing someone living his life in full, while on the other hand I lived mine always shying away from having genuine fun.

“You found us, kouhai ! Or I guess I should call you bro, now, huh ?” He takes place next to Kowa, in front of his drink. “You should really use my first name rather than family name. We’re all familiar, here ! - You may also use mine.” Adds Kowa… well, I guess, Ryuunosuke, now. - Uh… hello… Tsutomu.” I meekly answer. - So, whatcha talkin’ about ?” Tsutomu asks. - I decided to reveal to him the truth about the red cigarette. - Oh, so heavy stuff ! I guess you’re ready to fully transition to your new self, huh ?”

I look away, still uneasy about the whole debacle. Ryuunosuke visibly notices that, as he gives the stink eye to Tsutomu, before continuing to explain the situation to me.

“Hitoshi told us that using the cigarette would cause someone to be more like us, and it seems that it was correct, as you liked our music and you’re wearing the clothes Tsutomu bought you. But I don’t know how much more we need to give you before you can be fully alright with your new situation. - There’s really no way to fix that ? To go back to who I really am ?” I ask, little hope remaining. - Not to my knowledge. If you should ask anyone that question, it would be Hitoshi, but he will be opposed to turning you back.”

I sigh.

“So, if you want to know what are my problems right now, well… every morning I find myself looking for some kind of product to put into my hair, but I don’t have any… Is that part of the deal ? - The pomp is included ?” Laughed Tsutomu, before being scolded by Ryuunosuke’s angry look. “Nah, seriously, it’s not hard once you get the hang of it. Like, bro, I could show you right now in this bathroom ! - I…” I start answering, before I’m suddenly cut off. - He needs a haircut.” Interjects Ryuunosuke. “You may try, but I guarantee it will look like your biggest disaster. - Oh yeah, you’re right.”

As they discuss the logistics of hair-cutting, I take out yet another lollipop and put it into my mouth. Although it’s not perfect, it does make me feel more at ease. That red cigarette was weird, it looked bizarrely short, yet also inviting. Is that what I crave to go in my mouth ? No, it cannot be, Ryuunosuke clearly said that both he and Tsutomu don’t smoke, and that the effects make me more like them. Plus, smoking is very bad for the lungs, I don’t want any of that poison in my lungs…

“So we’re goin’, then ?” Suddenly said Tsutomu quite loudly, driving me out of my thoughts. - Uh… yeah ? Yeah, I guess.” I answer, unsure of what I’m agreeing to. Though I guess it’s the famed haircut that is being referred to. - Then let’s gooooo !” He celebrated, once again with much more enthusiasm than needed.

Smiling from his contagious glee, I follow both of the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) guys into a nearby barbershop. They’re visibly regulars in this place, as they present me to the owner who takes me in charge. I’m lead to a seat, where the owner promptly takes care of my hair. He cuts it mostly on the side, though not by much. It seems to mostly be adjustments, more than a complete change of style.

“So, you got roped into going リーゼント (rīzento). How did they do it ?” The barber suddenly asks. - Uh... well can’t I chose to try new things ?” I ask aggressively, not wanting to answer truthfully to his question. - Heh, I’m sorry ! It’s only because you don’t seem to be the kind of guys who would be into that. You may be dressed in leather, but it shows in your face that you’re not the kind of people who would usually do that.”

Quite a shrewd guy, to notice that. And I don’t even think Tsutomu and Ryuunosuke have explained to him the situation, so to deduce that merely from my face is quite impressive.

“Well, the truth is I unexpectedly made friends with them, and their hair made me a bit envious.” I half-lie. I guess I can call them friends, by now. - We agree, a well-maintained pomp is quite impressive ! Though I already tell you, I won’t be able to make one as impressive as theirs with your amount of hair. I’ll actually make one of a different type, an Elephant’s Trunk, if it doesn’t bother you. - Oh, okay. Well, I’m here to learn, so I won’t be picky. - Glad to be in agreement.” He says deferentially, before going on another subject. “But yeah, these two, Kowa and Soiri, they’re really good guys, if you go beyond their edginess. I can understand how you accidentally made friends with them. - Yeah, Ryuunosuke is very considerate, while Tsutomu is always in a good mood. They’re both refreshing in their own way.” I agree with him. - Already on first name basis ! Though they’re quick to ask to use their first name, I only continue using their surname because they’re my clients. - Yes, I guess that makes sense.”

Our discussion continues a while, as the barber starts applying products in my hair. He then combs it in the back in a ducktail, before combing the top into curls that rise to the center, combining in the front to a tube-like shape that is so reminiscent of anime it makes me smile. He then sprays more product, fixes a few details, and tells me a bit how to reproduce this style. He talks about using grease to comb and hairspray to keep it in place, as well as techniques to get the pompadour looking correct.

After a while of discussing, and me buying the necessary products, I go out of the shop with my great hairstyle, and see Ryuunosuke and Tsutomu waiting for me.

“It looks sooo great, kouhai ! I’m glad I took you here !” Exclaims Tsutomu, approaching me in a very familiar fashion. - It suits you a lot.” Agrees Ryuunosuke, nodding at the same time. - If you want any tip, don’t hesitate to ask us ! Once, I had this style, so I know exactly how to make it !”

And there goes Tsutomu rambling about all the hairstyles he’s tried in all his experimenting, and all the styles he may also try out one day. But I fully agree, it really feels like a piece of the puzzle has just been found. It immediately puts me more at ease, and although I know I’m not there yet, I know that now I can breathe.

“You know what ?” Suddenly asks Tsutomu. “You guys have class tomorrow ? - Only the afternoon.” States Ryuunosuke. - Uh… I…” I check my phone to see my agenda, and find it empty for tomorrow. “I don’t, surprisingly. - Well, why not go sleep over at my place ?”

I look at him surprised, not having anticipated this turn of events. It would be great, but… I don’t have any of my things, nor do I have anything to wear, I don’t know whether I need to check stuff at my flat, and…

Fuck ! This makes me stress so much ! I need something in my mouth ! I take out a lollipop in front of the guys, who look at me weirdly. What, haven’t they seen anyone liking sweets ? But yeah, actually, why not. I should take a cue out of Tsutomu and let go. If it’s fun, I should do it. Yeah, that seems way better.

“Seems good.” I answer. - Then we’re all set ! Let’s gooooo !” Celebrated Tsutomu.

It seems Ryuunosuke answered while I was considering. I hope I wasn’t too weird… NO ! Not weird, let’s ban this word from my dictionary !

Tsutomu leads us through streets and subway lines into a small flat, bigger than mine but not by much. However, just looking inside gives a good idea of who he is, as there are loads of colorful posters on the wall, an electric guitar – or bass, I don’t know the difference – and otherwise a lot of untidied clutter. Once inside, we hang out, have long conversations in which I participate eagerly, we dine – if instant ramen can be called a dinner – and all together have good fun.

When night falls, we get the futons out and place them aligned in the center of the tatami floor, with me in the middle – cozy ! Ryuunosuke and Tsutomu both take some kind of cap that looks like a plastic bag that they put around their hair. They urge me to do the same, but I refuse. I don’t want to sleep with a hat on. However, I do undress into my underwear, surprising both of them by my boldness -hey, that’s how I sleep ! – before I enter my futon to sleep.

When I wake up, I notice that the futon to my right is empty. After stretching a bit, I rise up and look around. On the futon to my left, Tsutomu is still sleeping quite deeply, or at least I assume so looking at his weird position. The blinds are half-opened, and looking behind me, I see Ryuunosuke taking his breakfast on the short table.

I go to stand up and sit in front of him. Weirdly enough, there seem to be a white box right next to his miso soup, I wonder what it is about… But as he finishes eating his bread, he hails me, taking on a quiet voice :

“Hey, kouhai. Slept well ? - Yeah, a lot easier than the last few days.” I answer, making him smile. - I’m glad you decided to come back. Even back when we went to see Kishidan I felt you were quite a good guy. - Thank you. I must admit I had my reservations, but you were so nice I couldn’t stay angry for long. Even if I like you better due to that weird cigarette thing. - Yeah.” He grimaces a bit. “I hope at least that you learned to be more considerate with this whole debacle. - I can’t say if I learned it, but… I’m really sorry about what I did to you three back then. No matter how I put it, I was in the wrong, and made you feel unwelcome somewhere you had all rights to be.”

He smiles and puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I forgive you. I know you weren’t doing it out of malice, but since you now apologized, I have no reason to hold any grudge. - Thank you very much…”

His smile is so tender, I can’t help but reciprocate it. He may feel quite formal, and not show a lot of emotion apart from the occasional sarcasm, I can feel that he is true to himself. His humility isn’t for show, it’s something I believe he truly is. That’s a quality I hope to possess one day, even if it’s only to stay true to myself and not mire myself in politeness.

“By the way, Hitoshi came here, earlier. I told him that we were staying at Tsutomu’s because he had something he had to drop off to you, but he had to work so he couldn’t stay.”

He gave me the small white box, which opened into a pack of cigarettes. Why did he give that to me ? I… I don’t smoke ! I don’t want to ! It’s useless to me !

“I know you’re not very fussed about getting that. Trust me, I was also skeptical. But don’t you have a craving for something to go in your mouth, sometimes ? - Uh… n-no ! Of course, not !” I lie, because of course it wouldn’t be cigarettes I’m craving for… right ? - You know, I saw you take out a lollipop. You also have a few in your pocket. You can’t lie to me.”

Seeing his uncompromising glare, I sighed. I don’t like to admit it, but he might be correct. Cigarettes might be what I’ve actually been craving for… unfortunately.

“Yeah. Since the beginning. I need something in my mouth. - Well, Hitoshi told me that the fact your change started with the smoke, it made you crave the smell, and that the fact that the contents of the change are based on Hitoshi, who’s quite the smoker, it means that you’re now very likely a smoker.”

I consider the cigarettes, not knowing whether it’s a trick or the actual last piece of the puzzle. I do know that it’s hard to ever come back from smoking, so even if it was a wrong guess, I’d now have a smoking problem. But on the other hand, I do crave for something in my mouth, and nothing has ever seemed as convincing as this… Ryuunosuke opens to me the door to the balcony, and hands me a lighter. I guess he is convinced… I mean, why would he not, the creator of the drug that made me change told him that smoking would be the missing piece ! But I still stand somewhat unconvinced…

… Eh, what did I say before ? That I shouldn’t overthink, and should do things I want to do.

So I take him in his invitation and go to the balcony, putting one of the cigarettes in my mouth. Oh god, it already feels good ! It’s the right size, the right texture, the right resistance… I didn’t want any of those crappy lollipops, I really wanted a cigarette !

Then, I light it up, and take my first drag…

And it’s heavenly ! I’m for the first time since the beginning of my misadventures feeling alright ! Not nervous, not anxious, just fine !

I take other drags, and this feeling of intense pleasure continues. Yes, I confirm, smoking was the missing piece. And it feels so good. This wonderful sensation of everything falling into place into a complete apotheosisis absolutely worth all the dangers and problems it comes with.

Suddenly, there’s some noise inside. I’d look inside, but I don’t want to trouble Tsutomu by stinking his house with smoke odor – even though it smells so good now, I still remember a time when I’d shy away from it.

“Oh, Hitoshi’s here ?” Asks Tsutomu’s groggy voice. “I’d recognize this smell anytime… - No, he came in earlier but he’s not the one smoking.” Answered calmly Ryuunosuke. - Huh ? Eh…” I hear some loud steps, likely Tsutomu trying to find the source of the smell. “Oh, kouhai, what are you doing here ? You’re already up ? - Yup.” I answer casually. “By the way, thanks for all your help, Tsutomu. And sorry for the first time we met. - Well, you’re welcome ! I’m glad we got to meet !” I hear him come closer. “Wait… the smell… is it coming from you !?” He notices, very surprised. - Yeah. I needed a smoke.”

He shuffles his way to the balcony, so I can see his very confused face. It’s fun to see him look like that.

“Wait, since when do you smoke ? - Since right now. - Uh… okay… and where are the cigarettes from ? - From… er, sorry, I don’t know his surname. From Hitoshi. - Oh, it explains all.”

It’s funny to hear him being shut up like that, he usually doesn’t ever stop talking ! But it might be the fact that it’s early morning, I myself am still quite drowsy. I finish peacefully my smoke while I hear Tsutomu preparing his breakfast in the back. He also asks what I like to eat, and I tell him I prefer rice.

Once everything is cooked up, and my cigarette was extinguished, I took place at the table, and conversations once again spring up. This time, I feel so much more at ease, I think I finally found what clicked for me. I look at them both. I’m glad to have found them, even if it meant losing myself in the process, because I’m sure the new me is infinitely better than the old.

“Thank you both for being here for me.” I suddenly thank them. “It… really meant a lot, even if I was confrontational back then.”

They smile at me.

“Don’t worry about it ! We’re bros, now !” Answers Tsutomu. - Yes, and friends are for life.” Acquiesces Ryuunosuke.

One day, you may be wandering the streets of Tokyo, and find people dressed in a 70 year-old style coming from the United States. That day, you may be meeting the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento), a small group of four artistic people who like to draw, paint, sing and play. Even though I would have never had imagined even holding a conversation with them, circumstances made me join them, and I couldn’t be happier. Life is too bleak when you can’t share it with friends.

And if you ever find yourself lonely in that part of town…

… just know that two red cigarettes still stand unused.

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If I had one nickle for each time I write a story set in Japan and it devolves into a 6000+ words odyssey that involves tons of research, I’d have two nickles, which is not a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.

Just so you know : the Bōsōzoku (暴走族) were youth biker gangs from the 80s who were known for public disorder and otherwise gang violence, and took inspiration from American greasers for their style. Today, there’s not a lot of them left and they aren’t seen as a danger anymore, but their style was captured in pop culture, and is one of the go-to style for youth delinquents in anime (cf. Yusuke Urameshi and Kazuma Kuwabara in Yū Yū Hakusho and the whole of Jojo’s Adventure’s cast, really). This style has also found its way in Chinese pop culture, though the original reference is fully lost over there.

Hope you found this interesting ! ^^

[sanzaibian]

Hey! I've been really busy running my college's chess club while also focusing on my major in mathematics. My spiky asian hair been getting a bit long and my bowl cut is starting to annoy me. I've been seeing a lot of people with a comb over fade or a wolf cut. Maybe we can try something new.

“Welcome to the normal barbershop ! Thank you for choosing our service !” You are welcomed as you enter, quite nervous, inside the barbershop. “Today, Jonathan Nasukawa, one of Dr. Davod’s students, is going to be taking care of you !”

Like clockwork, out of the backrooms enters a tall and handsome man, dressed in a baggy white dress shirt, entering inside tight but still somewhat baggy black dress pants and accompanied by all manners of luxurious golden jewelry : chains, an earring, a watch and bracelets. His jet black hair is parted in the middle and is combed back with volume in a style that exudes wealth, fashion and hairspray, framing artfully his handsome face and his slightly folded amber eyes.

How could you not be turned on by such a beautiful man, the archetypal ikemen you could even say ! Especially since your minister’s schedule precludes you from getting action ! That guy notices, smiles, and as if he was a prince, he rushes towards you, takes your right hand, and kisses it.

“Greetings, my name is Jonathan Nasukawa.” His sultry voice resonates down your bones. “Since you will be in my care, please know that I will do my utmost to bring the best out of your magnificent hair.”

You overheat, your face a deeper shade of crimson than you ever thought possible, as Jonathan elegantly laughs a little.

“I’m sorry if I’m making you uneasy, it was beyond me not to try !” You would glare menacingly at him if you weren’t as embarrassed as you were… “Now, please, if you may, your seat is this way.”

He points to one of the seat, on which you go to sit. It’s very comfortable, letting your tense back relax from the first time after weeks of overtime… a state of relaxation you haven’t felt for years. God, you remember being skeptical when Thuần-hùng, your friend from Chess club tipped you off about this new barbershop, but the relaxation is more than enough to compensate for the change in schedule.

And it seemed like your barber had noticed, since he didn’t talk anymore, letting you relax in silence as he collected his things : a bottle full of white cream, a bottle of unlabeled hairspray, scissors, a comb, a brush and a hairdryer. Once everything was ready, you hear the bottle pop open, before he gently jolts you awake.

“Sorry to wake you, but I assure you that you will have enough time to relax after that. But right now, I’ll take care of your hair.” His voice is soft, as he takes generous portions of cream which he spreads throughout your hair, in a very relaxing motion. “You said that you were interested in getting a comb over fade or a wolf cut… but I’ll have to be honest, your hair is quite short for the former, and very short for the latter. That’s why I have to take some radical steps, you see.”

You don’t quite understand what he’s referring to. However, this way of massaging your scalp… peak relaxation, once again. You just felt better than you ever have been… so much that you don’t want this to stop. And as Jonathan starts gently pulling on your hair, you start thinking about how being this relaxed is something you would want to do as often as possible, responsibilities be damned. More and more hair is drawn out of your scalp, scraping on your nose, your ears and down your neck, you close your eyes to enjoy this as much as you can.

“Don’t worry, your hair is soon going to be the right length… sorry I had to pull on your sense of duty, something had to be dropped. But now, I have enough length to start working.”

As you hear the snips of scissors, you dare open your eyes… and notice that your hair is way too long. At a barbershop, aren’t you supposed to cut hair, not find it longer ? What the fuck is happening over here ! Yet, as you continue finding weird stuff happening, something in your mind tells you not to worry. That everything feels so great, so why tense up ! Just gotta feel the relaxation in the moment…

Yeah, just revel in how good and relaxed you’re feeling right now.

The barber once again talks, but as you reposition your legs to be spread wider and longer, taking a more relaxed posture, you don’t even really register what he’s talking about. You see him using spray on your hair, making it wet before combing it out into a middle part, but you don’t really care… Even when you feel your body randomly tense up, you just concentrate on how good you’re feeling at the moment, caring for nothing, unwinding the tension so it never becomes overwhelming.

Once the hair has been parted, your eyes by now closed, you do hear the barber talk, as he takes a clearer voice, as if he wanted to be heard right now.

“Now, sorry, but I’ll need you to lean forward for a while. I’ll use a special hairspray that will add more texture and volume to your cut, making it into a true wolf cut.”

You open your eyes back up and sigh audibly, before caving and slowly leaning forwards. Yo, your position was just sooo relaxing, why is he bothering you like that ! It better be worth it… Just looking at your cut, it already is fantastic, but as Jonathan spreads the hairspray on it, you notice it taking life. It starts moving by itself, bit by bit, waving itself a little, creating more volume, only to stand still once it looked as if you had a light perm.

You love it. You watch as your hair takes life everywhere the spray touches, going from fantastic to wonderful. It’s a sight you would have never imagined, but as light curls bounce out of your wolf cut, you wouldn’t take it any other way. The barber then brushes your hair one last time, making for a neat but very hot hairstyle, fit for a model whose photo-ops you would collect for pure male beauty.

But the rest of your body does not fit.

Your face is still painfully average, darkened by the facial hair that does grow, even if not by much, and your body is a twig, whose only volume takes the form of fat. And even though you had always wanted to fix it, the time you already set aside for… all your engagements and the fact that sports just aren’t your thing made it impossible. And now, just the thought of setting aside yet more time for something that is not having fun feels like such a waste.

“So, what do you think of your new hair ? Magnificent, isn’t it ?” Jonathan says, not really reading the room by smiling. “But, you know, I think just for you I’d want to put some makeup. It would make you look even better… are you into that ? - Yeah, just do that…” You automatically answer in an uncharacteristically dismissive fashion. - Great ! Now, let me prepare my things !”

God, why did you answer like that ! It was so dismissive, so rude, you wouldn’t want anybody to talk to you like that ! So why talk to him like that ! But, once again, your panic descends by itself, as you start reasoning that you just answered him, no need to be elaborate about this… And if he didn’t like it, that was his problem, not yours, you don’t want to take care of something you have no stake in.

And as he came back, smiling, with his brushes and his products, you found no reason to apologize. If he felt hurt, then he’s a goddamn masochist. He then started to apply the promised makeup on your face, starting with concealer, but as he did this, your face felt weirdly… tense, and tingly.

The more the products were spread on your face, the more you felt as if your facial bones were adjusting, becoming slimmer, more symmetrical and otherwise, you guess, more handsome. Your skin also felt rejuvenated as he applied blush, as if it was younger than it ever was, softer, and well and truly hairless below the eyebrows, that he also shaped to be thin but unyielding.

He continued messing up with the makeup, and as he did this, you felt something very familiar. As if being pampered like that was just… part of your routine. But you aren’t rich, and you don’t even wear makeup in the usual… why would you feel this is familiar ? Who would get pampered like that ? Artists ? Actors ? Models ? …

You look at the mirror, and notice how handsome you look with that layer of makeup – though you do feel like it was especially powerful since some parts of it makes it feel… greater than life. You are so handsome with that face and that haircut, you could… actually be a model ! Like… yeah, it makes sense…

As you are left thinking, wondering what those thoughts are about, Jonathan stealthfully brings out a few pieces of jewelry. Although you don’t fully notice them, you unconsciously feel a bit of weird power emanating. And this feeling stands convinced, as when he clips in one of the earpieces, you suddenly feel a deep contraction over all your body. You look in the mirror, and you notice that… your shirt seems especially full… yeah, it feels so tight !

Another earpiece. Another deep contraction. The seams of your shirt have had enough, and are breaking apart, revealing a deep musculature. Although it’s still within simple athletic range, it’s still very well-cut, very impressive, and very hot. Finally, Jonathan fastens around your neck a collar similarly to your earpieces stylized with some kind of fang design. You feel another deep contraction, as your see your musculature expand once again to the realm of a bodybuilder’s, and the last of your superfluous body fat disappears.

God, you’re so hot… no wonder you’re an actual model ! Yes, of course, this face, this hairstyle, this body… if it looks like a model, then surely it is a model ! The barber smiles as you rid yourself of the shreds of a shirt you are still wearing, and take out of your gray sweatpants a phone to take a selfie. You check your position, wanting for it to translate all the hotness you are, and take it.

“That’s a great pic, if I say so !” The barber interjects as you finish taking the picture. “I may or may not know a few photographers that may be interested in someone your type… are you interested ?”

You smile, happy not to have to work hard for finding new people to take a whiff of your magnificence. After all, you deserve such worship, you look so hot without making an effort. So you exchange numbers and contacts, and you wander out to the street, taking to yourself the fresh, polluted air of the city. You catch the eyes of all those passing by, your muscles bulging, letting nothing up to the imagination even if Jonathan insisted for you to wear at least a tank top to keep appearances.

But as you think about what to do, you get stuck. You know you have to go back to uni, but you’re too tired to go there… that you have to continue managing the chess club, but you just can’t be bothered… and that you have to do some modeling work, but it’s going to take a while... Yet you want to do something. And as you think about stuff to do… you’re reminded of Thuần-hùng, the one who recommended this barbershop. Of all the games of chess you played. Of how much fun you had.

… Yeah. Although you are regearing towards a more relaxing routine… but chess is not going out of schedule. After all, hot guys playing chess are even hotter...

================================================

Heads up, haircut bookings at the Normal Barbershop are closing on the 30th of October, when I'll prepare a special event ! (beware, writers !)

Hope you liked all those quickfire stories !

[idesofrevolution]

Hey y'all,

I'm working on finishing up the Halloween special for y'all, but I wanted to touch base about the frequency of my stories moving forward. As of right now, I've only just recently gotten back on my meds after almost a year of sporadically being able to take them. So the adjustment period is going to be a bit of a rough one in the next month or so.

Thus, I'm going to be taking a short hiatus while I get myself together again. As of right now, I'm planning on just taking a breather for November, and potentially for early December as well. Horizons is not cancelled, it is still in the works. But I do have to get my head back to a place where I can realistically finish it the way it deserves to be done.

Thanks for listening, and I hope you enjoy the upcoming story!

[misctf]

The Haunted House II

Back with another Halloween themed story to celebrate the month! This is an indirect sequel to The Haunted House. Enjoy!

“You’ll wanna use these for pie and those for eatin’” Cal says with a warm smile. And just like several customers before, she thanks him for his kindness, “Aw shucks, jus’ glad to be here.” Each word rich with his country accent.

Today was the local college’s annual Autumn Festival. Cal’s father would have him man their stand. It was something the young farmer enjoyed each year and the locals always looked forward to seeing him. But once a year was good enough for him. He never went to college, but didn’t feel he was missing out. He loved the countryside and his life on the farm.

“Besides,” He thinks eying a group of college guys, “They’re all a bit backwards ‘round here.”

The group of bros were talking about a Halloween party that night. Their obnoxious laughter filling the air as they discussed ‘future conquests’. Their vocabulary rich with words like “rizz”, “bro”, and “lit.” Cal couldn’t wrap his head around it. Outside of being from the countryside, he figured being 30 years old contributed. To him, they all seemed immature and rude. A stark contrast to the values instilled in him by his god-fearing parents.

“Well, that was the last of it. Guess I should pack up.” After finishing, he looks down at his watch, “Well I’ll be, there’s still time before supper. Might as well explore.” He figures he might find a gift for his parents and girlfriend, Anna.

Cal walks pass various stands and attractions- enjoying the sense of community and the cool autumn breeze. And as he reached the end of the festival, he saw it- a large, wooden, and derelict house.

“That wasn’t here last year.” He mumbles, walking over to the plaque near the entrance, “Scariest experience you’ll ever have.” He reads. He scratches the hairs on his chin and grins, “A haunted house, huh?”

His neighbors would turn their farmhouse into a haunted house. And it was scary. Cal remembered the first time he took Anna. He damn well near pissed himself. If he wasn’t trying to impress her, he actually might’ve.

“Scariest, huh? I’ll be the judge of that.” He chuckles.

Without another thought, he enters. The inside was dark, illuminated by a few candles. The musty smell of mothballs and mildew invaded his nose, but he reassured himself it was nothing compared to the cows on a hot summer day. Eventually, he found himself standing in front of a large mirror.

“I see.” He smiles, “It’s one of them fun mirror houses.”

He feels somewhat relieved. This was nothing compared to his neighbor’s haunted house. He follows a creaky flight of stairs, until arriving at a somewhat familiar looking door.

“Well I’ll be.” He raises an eyebrow.

From what he could tell, it was a replica of the door to his room back home. He opens it slowly, his eyes widening as he enters what appeared to be a total copy of his bedroom.

“There’s no way.” He whispers, only to jump as the door slammed shut behind him.

He looks around finding his neatly made bed, his desk littered with equipment manuals, a pair of his work boots, and pictures of animals and the outdoors. Even his fishing gear sits nicely in the corner of the room. The only difference being the large mirror propped against the wall. Cal took an apprehensive step forward.

“Call me crazy...” He mutters, approaching his desk.

And as he picks up one of the manuals, he feels a shock. He watches closely as the manual starts to shift and change. The cover now showing off a nude man, flexing his muscles. Cal gasps and drops it as the remaining manuals reform into all kinds of lewd magazines. And he watches as a laptop materializes on his desk, immediately opening to gay porn- the sounds echoing loudly.

“What on Earth?” Cal gasps, feeling his cock tenting in his jeans, “Naw, this ain’t...”

He backs away, falling onto his bed. And when he does, images flash through his mind. He can hear his neighbor Billy. He’s moaning, begging for more. And Cal grunts from a sudden warmth around his cock.

“This don’t make sense.” Cal huffs, holding back a moan as he bucks his hips.

Billy was never near his room. Cal’s parents warned him about Billy’s sexual preferences. Yet he could hear Billy’s voice now, clear as day. His moans a symphony in Cal’s head as he absentmindedly massages his tented cock.

“Wasn’t that a good fuck?” A voice said.

“Fuckin’ was.” Cal slurred, recalling Billy’s firm ass.

He shakes his head and leaps from the bed, sweat trickling down his face. He never... not with a guy. Not even with Anna. He was waiting until marriage.

“Huhuh remember Anna’s face when she caught you?”

A new unwanted memory appears. The day Anna walked in on him and Billy. Her look of disgust. How his parents didn’t even know what to say, just going on about how disappointed they were.

“Whatever...” The voice continued, “At least we got bragging rights.” Cal groans as he remembered telling his friends about banging an older woman. But wasn’t he the same age as Anna?

“Nah fam, you’re 21.”

Before Cal could respond, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He couldn’t explain it, but he looked younger. He runs a hand along his smoother skin and watches with amazement as his facial hair falls to the floor. He moans as rush of hormones and energy fill his body.

“No, this isn’t right...” Cal’s eyes widened, “My voice... what...?” His country accent gone- now more akin to the bros from outside earlier.

He retreats from the mirror, awkwardly tripping over his work boots and falling into his closet. He looks up at his flannels and denim hanging neatly. And before his eyes, they morph. His clothes shifting into oversized hoodies, joggers, and tank-tops. He even catches a glimpse of his work boots as they become slides.

“Bruh, that drip ain’t hittin’ right.” The voice said, “Gotta ditch that fit.”

“What are you even...” Cal stops, hating how similar their voices sound.

But he quickly finds out what the voice meant. He yelps as the cool air caresses his now naked form. His rock-hard cock exposed and throbbing from the cool draft.

“But how...?” His eyes inspect his naked form.

He no longer sports a farmer’s tan. Instead, every inch of his skin was sun kissed- a rich bronze. And even his chest and belly hairs fall out. He frowns at the loss of the tokens of his traditional masculinity.

“Fuck this.” He curses, stumbling out of the closet, “Wait, no way.”  

The pictures of animals and nature have been replaced by pictures of half-naked men and women. He groans as memories of jerking off to these pics fill his mind, and he shudders as the moans from his laptop seemingly got louder.

“I gotta bust.” He mumbled, thinking back to Billy’s ass, “But... no, fuck...”

His voice drips with smugness- deep and dull now. And nothing he did could prevent him from sounding like a typical douchebro. Taking a step back, he trips over a dumbbell.

“Bruh, where’s my fishing gear!?”

Instead, there’s a full set of dumbbells and a bench press. And his jaw drops when he caught his reflection again. Gone were his lean muscles. He now sports broad bis and tris. His pecs now a pair of meaty muscle tits. He slowly runs his hand along his six-pack abs, an unwanted pride filling him.

“Being jacked's a vibe, bro, no cap.” The voice said as Cal bounces his pecs.

“Facts bruh, a little extra muscle never hurt nobody.” Cal bites his lip, “No, oh fuck... my head...” Memories of guys and girls drooling over his muscles make his dick twitch. He loves the way those sluts would salivate over him, “Please... no...”

He winces as an intricate forearm tattoo engraves into his skin. And he gasps as a few bracelets materialize on his arm. There was no way... he would never buy shit like this. He was saving his money for more important things, right?

“Bruh, when you’re on OnlyFans, the bag’s there, no cap.”

Cal watches as a ring light and video camera materialize on his desk. Memories of his content flooding his weakened mind. The modest part of him blushing as he recalled the lewd content he created. Cumming on camera, teasing his cock, fucking Billy...  

“They love watchin’ this dick in action.” He smirks, giving his monster a few tugs.

Yet, part of him was terrified- his values and kind-hearted nature resisting the persona that was taking over. And he quickly released his cock and grabbed his head.

“You gotta let that go, fr.” The voice said.

“Deadass, I’m not lettin’ this slide.” Cal shot back.

And as he turns back to the mirror, he saw himself. His real self. Still naked. But a reflection he was more used to- his farmer’s tan, lean muscle, and body hair. Not sporting a tattoo or fake jewelry. The kindness still in his eyes, albeit fearful.

“It’s me...” He whispers.

But when he looks down, all he sees is his newly bronzed skin, two slabs of chest meat, cobblestone abs, and his 12 inch, throbbing cock.

“No... I don’t want this...”

Desperately, he reachs out to the mirror- to his old self. Wanting nothing more than to go back to being himself. But as his hand touches the mirror, it shatters. Cal cries out and tumbles through the opening, falling to the ground just outside the haunted house.

“Oh fuck...” He curses, pushing himself up.

He looks down at his tanned, meaty hand. His tattoo and arms on full display in his tank-top. His pair of joggers doing little to hide his raging boner. In a dazed panic, he grabs his phone and opens snapchat.

“It’s me, bruh. For real.” He keeps staring at the photo, his eyes dulling, “Damn.. I got that rizz today.” He swipes through a few filters and grins, “Lit.” His selfie now framed by the entrance to the haunted house, “Scariest experience you’ll ever have.” He chuckles, “No cap.” He uploads the selfie for his thirsty followers.  

“Bruh, you good?” Cal looks up at the group of guys from earlier.

“Ghost play with your cock, CJ?” One quips, nodding towards the outline of the boner in his pants.

“CJ?” Cal mumbled. Yeah... He likes that... CJ, “Bruh, that house was straight-up bussin’, no cap.” CJ chuckles and readjusts his dick, “Ayo, quit staring unless you're gonna do something about it.” He stands up, “Like, don’t we have a party to hit up?”

Later, CJ stands in his dorm room, flexing after his shower. His dick needed some attention- not like he ever had a problem with that. That’s why he went to fuckin’ college in the first place. His basic ass parents could waste their lives on that farm. Nah fam, CJ had bigger and better things ahead of him- as did whoever guy’s ass he was baggin’ that night. CJ chuckles, already feeling his cock hardening.

[rocketeer9595]

Brochella

Focusing half his attention on the road and the other half on his phone, Jerry ignored the beeps and honks of fellow drivers while haphazardly weaving his giant truck through the traffic as he attempted to type up a text.

"u still waitingat teh entrancse?" Jerry managed to make a somewhat coherent message. Within seconds the phone in his hand vibrated as he received a reply.

"Yeah. Let's meet by security. I'm on my way there."

"ok omw" Jerry wrote back, tossing his phone to the empty passenger seat as he focused his gaze back to the road.

Jerry was on his way to a music festival where he was to meet up with his buddies. They'd all been looking forward to the event for months. The only problem was that Jerry had promised to score them tickets and as he was right now, he was about to arrive empty handed. Each wave of tickets to the event had sold out within minutes so Jerry was forced to attempt to haggle with scalpers he found online, but every single one he reached out to asked for ridiculous prices, definitely more than what he could afford.

Jerry had nearly given up hope in attending, until the day before he stumbled across a post on Craigslist from a guy named Charlie. Charlie had supposedly planned on attending the festival with his own group of friends but a series of last minute cancellations meant having to quickly get rid of several tickets without having money go to waste. That resulted in having to sell them at a somewhat reasonable price, and luckily Jerry was quick enough to reach out to where Charlie had agreed to hold the tickets for him.

Jerry eventually reached the parking lot of the venue. He combed through the lot until he found some empty spaces, but as he got closer he’d find that some guys had set up chairs and were holding those coveted parking spaces. Jerry was about to blow a gasket as that was the only free space he’d been able to find. Pulling up to the guys, Jerry’s rage turned to relief as he identified the men as his buddies.

Jerry rolled down his window. “Fuckers." He greeted the guys. "I was about to come beat your asses." He teased. "Let me park here."

The guys moved their things, allowing Jerry to park his truck.

"So did you get them?" One of the men asked.

"Don't tell us you made us come all the way here for nothing." Another one joined in.

"Chill the fuck out. I'm supposed to meet the guy here." Jerry tried to reassure the group. "He said he'd hold 'em for me."

"Just make sure they're legit."

"Yeah, I don't wanna be caught with fakes."

"If they end up being bogus, you're gonna pay me back what I gave you."

The guys chimed in, expressing their concerns about the possibility of being scammed out of their money.

"I won't let the dude out of my sight until I know they're good." Jerry checked his pockets, making sure he had the cash with him. "Wait here, I'll be back in a bit."

Jerry headed out and walked towards the entrance to the venue, looking for the spot where he was supposed to meet with Charlie. Passing by crowds of festival goers, he'd notice that several of them had fluorescent green wristbands on, possibly something he figured came with the tickets allowing people to enter and leave the festival grounds. Eventually, Jerry arrived at a tent near the entrance with a sign that read "SECURITY." He pulled out his phone, texting Charlie to let him know that he was at their meet up spot.

Almost ten minutes had passed and Jerry still had not received a response. He had begun to think that Charlie had sold the tickets to someone else. That he had been screwed over by this guy. Pulling out his phone to text Charlie again, Jerry felt a slight tapping on his shoulder.

"Would you be Jerry by any chance?"

Jerry turned around to face the person, immediately noticing a man standing besides him. He looked the guy up and down, blonde, no taller than 5'10'' but moderately built with a slender figure. Jerry realized who it was, taking note that if there was any shady business, he'd be more than capable of dealing with the guy himself.

"Yeah that's me. You're Charlie?"

"Yup! Sorry for taking so long." Charlie held his phone up. "I was rushing to get here, just saw your text as I was running over."

"No worries." Jerry paused for a moment as an awkward silence filled the air between them. "So, uh, you got the tickets?"

"Oh.. yes, yes!" Charlie pulled out a manilla folder from the backpack he had been carrying, opening it up and checking its contents, making sure everything was there. "There's four day-passes in here."

Charlie handed the folder over to Jerry who quickly glanced inside the folder to make sure he was getting what he was paying for. "Ok, looks like everything's here." Jerry grinned, passing the envelope of cash to Charlie. "Pleasure doin' business."

Charlie counted the money as he smiled back. "Likewise. Hope you have fun." Once he made sure he had the payment in full, he placed the envelope in his bag. "I'm assuming you're attending with some friends?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah. Some guys I've known for some years. They've been houndin' me non-stop about getting tickets, so thanks again." Jerry reached inside the folder and pulled out a ticket, noticing that each one had come with a colored wristband. What peaked his interest however was the color of the wristbands.

"Hey, is there a reason these are yellow?" Jerry held out the fluorescent neon yellow-colored wristband in front of Charlie. "Every other one I've seen people wear are green."

"Oh? These are VIP passes." Charlie smiled. "They let you get closer to the stages, discounts on food and merch, among other things. I thought I had told you that, I'm sorry."

"Oh shit, really?!" Jerry said excitedly.

"Yeah, I really needed to sell them ASAP though. That's why you got them at the price we agreed on. So consider yourself lucky." He laughed. "Here, let me put it on you. Those things are tricky to put on by yourself." Charlie volunteered to put the wristband on Jerry while Jerry was still too stoked to really say anything about it.

"There we go. They're a little tight, sorry, but your arms are kinda huge." He laughed again.

Jerry held out the wristband in front of him. There was a hint of a sheen to it when hit by the lights but he thought nothing of it.

"So I guess I'll see you around. Thanks again for taking these off of me. I really appreciate it." Charlie waved goodbye as he headed off, eventually getting lost in the crowd. Now alone, Jerry took out his phone and texted his boys that he was coming back with a surprise.

As Jerry left the security tent and began walking in the direction of where his friends were waiting, he immediately felt a strong rumbling in his stomach. "Jesus Christ." Noticing a row of porta-potties off to the side, he beelined it straight to the first available one.

Entering the cramped space, the aching feeling in Jerry's stomach quickly subsided. Instead, what caught his attention was the wristband he had just put on. There was a shine emanating from it which he thought was strange considering he was now indoors and there were no lights to reflect off of it.

Suddenly, the space around him began to spin, and Jerry felt a strange sensation coursing through his body, originating from the wristband. At first, he thought it was just his imagination, but then he realized that something was indeed happening to him.

Jerry looked down at his hands and saw them start to shrink and change shape. His thick, muscular arms grew thinner and leaner, and his broad chest began to narrow, causing the tank top he had been wearing to become much more loose fitting, eventually just coming off completely. The slight beer gut he sported suddenly disappeared, as his midsection flattened, revealing rows of abdominals. His monstrous legs followed suit, with his thighs losing most of their mass, becoming slender but leaving him with a tight and rotund bubble butt. He would lose a few inches of height as well, his domineering 6'3'' stature replaced with a more average 5'9''. While still remaining muscular and retaining an athletic build, Jerry found himself with a much more slender and toned physique.

Jerry's body hair soon receded into his skin. The hairy beast found his shoulders, arms, and back smooth and hairless. A tasteful amount of chest chair remained as well as a happy trail leading down towards his groin.

One of the biggest changes to follow would be the loss of what Jerry probably considered his pride and joy. His disheveled beard receded back into his face, leaving him with short, black stubble but keeping a thick mustache while revealing a much more defined jawline. His face in general was now narrow and much more refined.

The transformation seemed to go on forever, but eventually, it slowed down and stopped. The big, brutish guy was now a completely different person, unrecognizable from his former self. Jerry felt himself up, his hands running up and down his new body, becoming slightly aroused as he became familiar with every single change that occurred.

Despite the initial shock of the transformation, he found himself feeling surprisingly comfortable in his new body. Unbeknownst to him, memories of his past life were in the process of being rewritten. Gone were the days where he played college football with the boys, drank himself under the table, and hit on any women with an impressive set of knockers. Instead, a life of gymnastics and dance, Sunday brunches, and nights out at gay clubs came rushing in.

Jerry stepped out of the porta-pottie, still in somewhat of a daze. He had an inkling that he was supposed to meet someone, but wasn't quite sure who.

"Hey! Over here!" A voice yelled out from the distance, catching the newly transformed man's attention. Jerry turned around, catching a glimpse of the person calling for him. As soon as he saw their face, something immediately clicked in his head.

"Charlie!" Speaking in a much higher-pitched voice, Jerry recognized the man as the very same one from earlier. This time however, they weren't meeting as strangers. Jerry recalled a whole life's worth of memories with Charlie.

"Babe, I turn around for one second and you go disappearing on me." Charlie approached Jerry, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"Had to go freshen up. Sorry, wasn't aware my boyfriend needed to know my location at all times." Jerry pouted as he put his arm on Charlie, getting ready to lean in for another kiss.

"Oh, you know I go crazy without you." Charlie leaned in as well, with the two men sharing a long, sensual kiss.

"So you ready?" Jerry pulled away. "Got some douchebags on stand by for these tickets. Let's not keep them waiting."

[sanzaibian]

I'm a white Scottish guy in my 30s and I'm looking to change up my look! I've got an okay enough head of hair, but it's always a bit flat and lifeless. I'd love for hair that was more curly or a bit thicker!

“Welcome to the Normal Barbershop !” You are welcomed as soon as you set foot in the establishment. “Thanks for- - Yo !” Suddenly interrupts a tall muscular guy, dressed in T-shirt and jogging pants. “So you’re the one who wants some curls ? Then I’m the guy for you, I’m the master of curls !”

You see the face of the one who welcomed you frown in frustration, while the tanned man walks proudly towards you, a heavy and very impressive gait. His nickname seems earned, as his black hair forms a plate of tight noodly curls, complimenting nicely his black goatee in a style that feels so reminiscent of footballers (soccer players) today – link confirmed by his lean but very toned shape.

“Now, come with me ! I assure you that you’re in good hands !” The man smiles at you while putting his strong hand on your shoulder, in a gesture of intimacy. - His name is Amine Zouaoui, one of Tyler’s friends…” Informs the one who welcomed you, with an exhausted voice. “He might be rude, but you can trust him to take care of your hair. - ‘One of Tyler’s friends’ my ass ! I’m his rival, I’m way better than him !” Automatically dismisses Amine. “Let’s go, I don’t want to have to deal with this stick in the mud.”

You are pressed towards a barber chair, over which ominously hangs some kind of giant bucket-shaped contraption. You aren’t sure what it’s supposed to be, but you’ve seen some at barbershops before. However, sitting in the chair feels very comfortable, much more than any had ever been in these kinds of establishments. You are given a towel to put around on your shoulders, and are left to wait a little while as the barber leaves for another room.

Looking at your reflection, you cannot help but point out all its bad parts. Your flat hair, your pathetic attempt at facial hair, your pudgy form (i.e. clinically obese in gay terms), and your overall average looks. Sure, you’re not ugly, you do get some action, but you do wish that you were a bit handsomer… and a change of hairstyle represents a step in that direction. And when you see the barber come back with a box full of rolls and multiple lotions, you can only brace for the very much very drastic consequences of your choices.

“So, you may have heard of it, but we’re going to do a perm ! But don’t worry, I’ve got a special technique that makes it even better than all ! But first, let me tidy up the rest of the cut.”

As soon as he says that, he grabs clippers and shaves down to the skin the sides and the back of your head. You’re quite shocked, as it definitively is not what you had in mind when you asked for more curls. You wanted more shape ! You wanted more bounciness ! More life ! Not… less hair ? How can hair live when it doesn’t exist ? But the barber seemed to have sensed your tacit disapproval of his cut.

“You know, this part is quite essential, because we’re creating a dynamic ! It all art, baby : curls alone don’t make for an interesting cut, you have to get some contrast, some change else it’s just as stale as you began with !”

You don’t really trust Amine’s word, but it’s not as if you had any other choice, now that the hair had fallen down, and that the sides of your face were all smooth – ironically, kind of like the state of your facial hair… He fades over the hair between the new shaved sides and the hair-heavy top, before switching over to scissors to trim a bit the rest of your hair. However, he doesn’t take out much, only enough to make the shape seem a bit more square-ish.

“Now’s the fun part ! I’m gonna put some products, and then I’ll put in the rolls ! Yours will be extra thin, for the best curls ! Trust me !”

And so, after he made sure to spread a white lotion in your hair, starts the menial task of spinning your hair across the small rolls. Although his expert hands are very fast, this task still moves at a snail’s pace, letting you two talk a bit about what you like and what you hope to change. You also learn that he’s a football (soccer) aficionado, unlike you who are much more normal about it, and that the style he wears, just like the style he’s giving you, is directly taken from the biggest youth stars. It makes you wonder about how much the style replicates itself in this world, as those stars use the same kind of styles as previous stars, and are succeeded by ones who adopted their styles.

But time flies when you’re having fun, and just as fast is your hair all curled up around many little colored rolls. He brings down the giant bucket-like device until your whole head is encased in it. Something feels weird about that thing, almost as if it was… too long ? set too low ? But you don’t really know how it’s supposed to work, so…

“Now we’re gonna have to wait ! This will make your hair really hot – in all meanings of the word – and it needs to be set a while before it can be really permanent. Please do not put your hands inside, and do not let your head touch the walls, else we’re gonna have a real problem. Otherwise… I guess we’re ready !”

You agree, and then he turns the machine on.

As was announced, it starts being warm inside the machine. However, the wait is going to be boring if there’s nothing to distract you. You can’t really read anything out from the walls of the machine, which makes everything very blurry, talking is made uncomfortable with how close the walls are, and sleeping would make you violate the rules Amine explicitly established.

So you just look around from blurry to blurry, hoping the time will pass fast. However, with how hot the insides become, you start feeling a bit dizzy. You ask the barber, but he certifies that it’s totally normal. However, that feeling of being taken to another realm of reality is accentuated as time passes, as it becomes hotter and hotter inside. You almost start hearing voices, like “football is great”, “you should play football”, “footballers have the best style”…

But aren’t these affirmations just common sense ?

As time passes, you also almost feel a hand spreading… something on your jaw and your lip, making you feel as if prickles were piercing your skin at these areas. You also really want to scratch it, it’s all raspy on those areas, a kind of feeling you’re not used to. As if there was suddenly some weird weight on your face, that you could intimately feel yet not properly characterize.

You also feel strain in the rest of your body. As if all your muscles had been working overtime, and on top of that some areas also feel irritated, somehow. Though your shirt also strains, feeling tight on your body. You feel so big, like everything is voluminous : biceps, triceps, shoulders, pecs, abs, ass, legs… You name it it feels weirdly big.

However, suddenly, your shirt didn’t feel so straining. In fact, it feels great, light-weight, and very airy, befitting a big guy like you are. After all, with all the football you play, you are bound to grow in size ! You also feel the cold metal of a long pendant and a watch. You don’t remember coming here with those, but they feel right on your skin. Like they belong there. Because footballers aren’t afraid to show off their wealth.

Suddenly, a bip.

The machine is brought up, and suddenly you don’t feel as hot nor dizzy as before. Well, of course, you are hot, but not quite in the same way ! The barber is there, and as you descend back to earth, starting to think about football strategies for next game, he pulls out all the rolls.

Happy with the result, he ruffles your hair until it’s all homogeneous, and points you to your reflection. He looks extremely proud of himself, smiling from ear to ear – though there is a bit of a sinister undertone to it. So you look up, and are enchanted with the result. Your hair is very curly, a bit frizzy in places unfortunately, but all in an orderly fashion. And just like he said, with your hair completely shaved on the sides, it makes everything look right.

“You know, thanks to my special technique, you won’t have to perm it again ! Your hair on top will continue to grow curly just like it is now, and that until the day you die ! Ain’t that great ?”

You smile at the news. Of course, re-perming hair is a pain in the ass, so not having to is a godsend ! Plus, style is eternal, and that kind of style is the best that exists ! Surely, you will never ever regret that decision.

You put your hand to your jaw, feeling your rich beard. It’s at the correct length, and so expertly shaped – as expected from a barber. However, you do get a sense that something isn’t right. The chinstrap and goatee you sport feels a bit… out of place. As if it had just appeared out of thin air.

But as you think about that, you suddenly understand that it was not the beard that was throwing you off – of course, you’ve been growing it as soon as you had it ! No, it’s your tattoo on your neck ! It feels weird because… because… you never saw it… this well ! Of course, you’ve had it for a few years, but your longish hair made it hard to see properly !

Fuck, that barber did such a good job ! You look just like your greatest idols, and will forever, of course.

You thank the barber profusely, and decide to take a picture before going to see the team.

Today is the first day of your new style which everyone will envy. So of course you have to keep a memento of it.

[bakrarabize-deactivated20250326]

Broader Aims of the Brotherhood

I am wanting to reach out to all members to suggest a few more concrete aims to the brotherhood that will give us focus in the coming months. I have some ideas of topics / ideas we could discuss or talk about with each other and would love the input of any brother. None of the topics would be compulsory to all members but a way of supporting our aims.

Reversion to Islam (Support for brothers who are considering this and for brothers who are recent)

Arabic language (useful places to learn this and how we can support each other)

Personal and Spiritual Development

Cultural aspects (clothing, customs, art, food)

[bakrarabize-deactivated20250326]

Further to this, I am thinking of setting up a discord server if enough brothers are interested as that is a lot more interactive than Tumblr posts. It would be a private server group. Let me know if you would like to be part of that.

[bakrarabize-deactivated20250326]

Watch this space for the new discord server.

I will DM users the invite link in the next few days once you express interest.

[gkutfdvnn]

I looked at myself through the mirror, running my hand through my shorter hair. A moment ago I was sitting in a barber shop I heard a random guy praise asking for my hair to be cut short, somehow the barber must have misinterpreted what I asked for and gave me the same buzz cut as his other clients. To shy to say anything I just let him do his work, my hair would grow back anyway.

I sighed and ran my hand through my hair again. I shivered. The longer I looked, the better I felt about my new haircut. I felt a newfound sense of confidence wash over me as my fingers brushed against my harder, shorter hair. I smiled a bit. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

I finally took my eyes off the mirror and went to my room, leaving my door open since my roommate wouldn't be back for another hour. I was quite proud of how well kept my room was, it helped that I had a lot of free time, thanks to my parents paying for my tuition. I wasn't the best student but I managed to get things going for me.

Homework was pretty easy, we had to answer some basic questions about what we had learned today. I was almost finished when a tingling sensation started growing around my crotch. I gave my legs a rub before continuing to answer the last questions.

The tingling happened again. It wasn't like an itch, but more of a pressure growing around the area, like little hairs pushing their way out of my skin. I rubbed the area again, and again, slowly getting hotter and hornier. This wasn't unusual, I put my pen aside and fondled the zipper, pulling my pants down and kicking it off with my socks. Even though I was rock hard, the bulge that was forming under my underwear seemed to be growing bigger. I rubbed my dick through the cloth, feeling it twitch and tremble with pleasure, still getting thicker and longer. I slid my hands around my boxers, and pushed them down my legs, revealing the thick member that was keeping me distracted. Small dark hairs were growing around my crotch and spreading towards my stomach and down my legs while my impressive member stood straight up hard as a rock. I gave it a rub before wrapping my hand around it to jerk off. My chair creaked in rhythm with my body as I got faster and sturdier, I spread my legs apart, rubbing my other hand against the heating skin as the muscles underneath seemed to harden and expend. My arms hurt a little as I felt them grow too with every pump I gave my dick. My body twitched and I came, thicker cum shooting of the now darker tip and landing on the papers covering my desk and the shirt I was wearing. I continued rubbing my member a bit, eyes half closed, a pleasant haze settled on my mind. Finally I stood up and threw my shirt on the floor. I took up my boxers and put them on, pulling on the bands as they felt uncomfortably tight around my waist.

It wasn't just that I became leaner, somehow every part of my body seemed to also get thicker. My legs expanded to give me thighs that would make any other man jealous, my feet grew longer and bigger while black hairs followed by a darker tan grew down my growing legs. Hairs appeared on my chest and stomach and spread down my arms as both my chest and stomach grew forward giving me a more beefy look. Arms swole to triple their size and hands lengthened while my fingers got longer and thicker. My palm stretched and thickened too before hairs started to appear on their backsides.

Finally, the darker complexion washed over my neck and face, changing the lighter brown hair of my new haircut into thicker black hair. As my face and neck grew and thickened a proper beard grew on my chin and cheeks, well kept and cut short at the sides to perfectly join with my scalp.

I looked in the mirror again with a shocked look as I moved and flexed my new body. I looked just like the middle eastern guys that regularly went to that barbershop I had been to too ! What would my parents think ?!

Just as I began to panic a strong haze clouded my thoughts. A wave of acceptance washed over me as I felt gradually more familiar with this body. Old thoughts were replaced by new ones as my memory shifted. English slowly simplified as the arabic language replaced it as my primary language. Finally, my eyes shifted from blue to a rich brown, sealing my fate as my name changed to something more suitable.

That's when my roommate opened the door and stopped in front of my room flabbergasted.

"Wait you're not..."

He couldn't finish his sentence before I took him by his head and started kissing him. Lust took over, he closed his eyes before leading me to his bedroom. My surroundings grew more unfamiliar as the memory of ever living here vanished.

"Quick." He told me. "Before my roommate comes home." He quickly undressed before getting on his knees to suck me off. This was just another date with a random guy I had met through grindr.

[gkutfdvnn]

It had been quite the summer, some friends of mine had rented some new apartment and we all decided to chip in to wallpaper and paint all the different rooms. Though some of us complained that it was too hard a job and exhausting, I found that it was quite easy. The four rooms were shared between the six of us, first we would do the three bedrooms in groups of two and then the kitchen all together. Luckily I had been paired with Frank, he had already started his own painting business and walked me through every step, taking off the wallpaper before putting the new one with glue. Eventually Dylan, Bryan and Chris whom the apartment belonged to, and Jeff, to had asked for his help, after making sure I could finish alone. Eventually after three days we were all finished wallpapering and painting the bedrooms and decided to take a one day break. Mark complimented me on my work, stating that I had put the wallpaper perfectly on and that the paint looked great, jokingly asking if I would join his business. That's when Bryan and Chris chimed in, suggesting that we could finish the kitchen, against pay of course.

That's how Mark and I ended up doing the kitchen together, I didn't mind the extra money, and he seemed to be used to the job. Since he had already walked me through the different steps we were quick to work, we had plenty of time to hang out and chill. When it came time to pay, Chris suggested he could transfer all the money to Mark, who then could issue me a check. Just wanting to go home I promptly agreed and we left it at that.

That's when to my surprise I received a letter, with my check, through Marks business, stating me as an employee and worker. I sent him a short message explaining the mistake before heading out towards the bus station, leaving for my afternoon classes.

Mark's response came in the middle of the ride, apologizing for the mistake and joking that it wouldn't be so bad to have me as a worker, he then assured me that he would fix the mistake immediately. I laughed through my nose and thanked him, bending myself forward to grab what would have been my bag, except that in its place instead stood a big black gym bag. I looked to my left and to my right, maybe it had slipped to one side or the other while the bus was turning. There were few people sitting around me and my bag was nowhere to be seen. None of them looked like the gym bag could belong to them. That's when I noticed it had my name written on it.

Curiosity got the better of me and I opened the bag. Inside layed some well folded change clothes that seemed a bit too big for me. Some lunch and an axe spray. The smell of fresh paint hit me strong and I had to lift my head up to sneeze. At the same time my feet felt cramped inside my shoes. At first I stretched my legs thinking it would help with the pain. But then it seemed to travel up my calves and into my thighs. My brown shoes bulged and turned softer, lighting up before taking the appearance of beaten and used white sneakers. The shoes appeared slightly bigger yet both my feet seemed to fit perfectly. Next my calves and thighs cramped again. I spread them further apart helping with the pain as I noticed my legs taking a bit more space on my seat. My beige pants became looser and thicker, the texture changing from cotton to synthetic fabric. New thicker seams appeared above my knee and around the growing pockets giving them the same look as those pants Mark wore most of the time. The clean pants were rapidly becoming dirty and used, white splotches and streams of dried paint appeared on the cloth.

I looked around me worrying about what was happening to me, but none of the other passengers seemed to notice or even bother as my whole body changed. I caught my reflection on the windows, my black hair was lighting and gaining a brown hue as it shortened and thinned. More changes happened to my face, my jaw got thicker and my noise pointer and thinner. The blue of my eyes vanished behind a beautiful rich brown as memories of my life were altered. Knowledge about economics, politics and sociology faded while I could remember working for Mark. Tattoos grew on my right arm as both my upper body and biceps grew firm. My hands and finger were wriggling as they grew thick and calloused making it look like I did a lot of manual labor. That's when it hit me. Mark was actually making me one of his employees ! I scrambled for my phone as fast as I could, finding in its place a smaller and older IPhone with earpods, I swiped across the screen and opened my messages as most of my known friends had simply vanished from my contact lists, I couldn't even find the last conversation with Mark. That's when it hit me. He must be the one labelled as "Boss".

I wanted to press on the writing symbol, yet I froze. It didn't make sense for me to write my boss out of the blue, except for emergencies. I closed my phone again and spread my legs apart as I lifted my arms to put them behind my head. A tan complexion washed over my skin as I closed my eyes to listen to the music. All I had to worry about was doing a good job.

[petew21-blog]

Friends with benefits

Two long time friends Trent and Brett. A classic story. Met in kindergarten and have been friends since. Grew up together. Spent their holidays together. Graduated together. But then stopped seeing each other as often. Why? Because adult life ain't easy. Brett had to find a job while Trent got into college, graduated and on top of that became a fitness influencer. Brett started his Twitch account and became a gamer, which he had time for, cause how he was constantly doing a different job, depending on what he could find. But both of them always took some time off for a beer with their buddy.

This is Trent

Although he doesn't appear like that, he is a 24 year old male with young looks

On the other hand Brett is also young, but his looks are a bit more mature. Maybe it's because of all the hair

This is Brett

So hairy.

Normal guys, right? Well something was about to change very soon

Friday, August 2nd, 5 PM

Brett:"Hey, dude. Wanna grab a beer later tonight?"

Trent:"Yeah, sure. I am down. Is 8:30 ok? I gotta finish a video"

Brett:"Oh yeah, totally fine. See you then"

Friday, August 2nd, sports bar, 8:33 PM

At the bar Brett waits patiently, only his leg is slightly shaking. Trent comes in through the door. It's kinda funny, cause Trent used to be really insecure and not confident. Now he looks basically like a god. But still, he has this cute shy looking guy whose face doesnt match his body and the fact that he's 24. Brett was kinds jealous, most of the people that didn't know him always thought he was older because of his looks. Trent had the opposite problem. Always had to show ID whenever he went. Yet Brett was probably more jealous about his life in general. He finished school, took great care of his body, which now could help him hook up with anyone he would set his mind to.

Brett:"Hey, maaaan. How are you doing?"

Trent:"Heyyy. Yeah good. You know, single influencer life, haha"

Brett:"The ladies must be driving you crazy"

Trent:"If only it were just ladies. Haha. You should see the messages some of these gay dudes keep sending me. It's insane"

Brett:"You tell me. They always send random shits to my chats while playing. But it's mostly dumb kids."

Trent:"I think we should find you a date for tonight"

Brett:"Nahhh, fuck it. I'm not in the mood. I just wanna chat with my bro."

After a few beers

Brett:"Shut up, you did not!"

Trent:"I swear. She came on to me without a word."

Brett:"So what did you do?"

Trent:"You think I put up a fight? Haha"

Brett:"Maaaan. I want this stuff to happen to me to. That's so hot"

Trent:"Come with me to the gym then, I bet more chicks woukd be into you if you would gain some muscles"

Brett:"You calling me fat?"

Trent:"No, just saying that all that body hair would be good to match with a good body. You're just a walking gorilla right now"

Brett:"Oh shut up twink! Haha"

They finished their drinks, said their goodbyes and went home.

Brett felt amazing. He really needed to get a beer with his best friend. He came back home, sat behind his computer and searched Dark web. He already knew what he was looking for. He wanted to mess with Trent. Just a another one of his pranks. All he needed was Trent's personal item. He found the body swapping website. He read the rules and conditions and filled out his and Trents name. The only next step he had to follow was to go to sleep. And so he did. Only taking off his shirt in the process and collapsing on the bed. Not even brushing his teeth

Brett woke up feeling better than ever. He was used to have a hangover by now, but today he felt great. He opened his eyes and immediately noticed the different sheets. He looked around. This is Trent's place.

Brett:"Trent?" he said, but he heard Trent's voice.

He turned around to get up

His body. He has a different body

Brett:"Holy shit. It worked" he said amused. He looked down at his now soft chest. He got up

Brett:"Oh wow. getting up is so different when you have these hard muscles"

He went to the nearest mirror. And there he was. Trent in his glory. Brett was so happy right now. His prank worked. He is now inside of his best friends body. And the pranks probably won't stop there. Now he can mess with him all he wants. But not now.

He looked from top to bottom how tall and slim his body was. "Almost no hair anywhere. Lucky guy"

He took Trent's phone and snapped a photo to send it to Trent in his body. He knew it would take a while for Trent to wake up so he proceeded in his exploration.

He felt his curly hair. "How come you don't even have widow's peak? So unfair" He traced his jawline, now with tiny baby hair that Brett wouldn't even call a beard. But his sight was now caught by those nice Calvin Klein's. He looked around as if there was someone in the room with him who would judge him. He pulled on the waistband

Brett:"Just as I thought. Also shaved" he grabbed his new dick, that was getting harder and harder by the second, when suddenly his phone received a notification. he let go of his dick

It was Trent. Brett:"Haha, this is gonna be good"

There was a photo of Brett's body, observing his hairy armpits in shock

Trent in Brett's body:"Hey. Got any idea why I am a gorilla now? And why that gorilla looks exactly like you?"

Brett:"Surpriseee. And fuck you"

Trent:"So this is your doing?"

Brett:"Yeah, I kinda wanted to prank you somehow for all the pranks and the gorilla jokes. Joke's on you ape man"

Trent:"Fuck you. So this is reversible?"

Brett:"Sure, man. No worries. We'll meet tonight at the bar again and chat how our day went?"

Trent:"I don't know how to feel about this, bro"

Brett:"Just try enjoying being another person"

Trent:"Do you realise there are some no go things including intimate stuff and hygiene?"

Brett:"Sure I do. I'm already holding your dick in YOUR hands right now"

Trent:"Dude! Not cool. I meant more stuff like shitting etc. But yeah, this too."

Brett:"I gotta say Trent. You have a very nice dick"

Trent:"I'll comment on your size when I find it in the bushes I guess. Have you never heard of trimming?"

Brett:"Keeping it natural, baby face"

Trent:"Fine, let's see each other tonight at 8, ok?"

Brett:"Enjoyyy" Hangs up

Trent:"Jesus, this guy. I hope he doesn't fuck up something or someone"

Starts observing himself. "I must say, It feels good to look like a mature man and not a teenager. All of this hair. And the moustache is hot too. I could never grow this thing"

Trent looked down and had a mischievous thought. "Well, Brett. Since you have already held my dick, I think it's time to step it up. Gonna see if you can last longer than I do" Trent said with a smile and whipped out his new hard hairy dick

Saturday August the 3rd, bar, 8:04 PM

Brett is sitting amused in the bar, eating chips on the table and drinking beer. Winking at the ladies looking at his direction.

A waitress came by his table:"Want another?"

Brett noticed his old incoming body:"Sure, and another one for my friend who just arrived. Thank you, sweetheart" he said as his flirtatious look almost seduced the local waitress

Trent:"You need to stop!"

Brett:"What? I was just flirting"

Trent:"Not that. Stop eating those chips. God knows how many calories you ate already"

Brett:"So you don't mind that I was flirting with her?"

Trent:"Nah, I don't care. I jerked off your dick for like the fifth time half an hour ago"

Brett:"What? You beast. I would have never expected that. Cool. You have a really good dick to jerk off too. I didn't expect to shoot so far tho. Made a bit of a mess"

A couple off bikers started eavesdropping to their conversation and turning heads

Trent:"You might want to quiet down, or we're gonna get beaten up for mistakenly speaking like gay guys"

Brett:"But you gotta admit that my body is not so bad, right? All the hair and everything. You like it"

Trent:"It's not bad, but I prefer being in my own body. I'm used to it."

Brett:"Ok, I'll pretend I didn't hear the part before about masturbation. But what do you say? We didn't even have enough time to see what the life is like in our new bodies. It's only been a day"

Trent:"And your point is?"

Brett:"Let's stay swapped for a while. We can swap back anytime we want. It's reversible. We know almost everything about each other, so pretending to be the other one will be easy. You'll just teach me your workout routine, I'll show you... what games to play and how to set up a livestream and we'll figure it out"

Trent:"Livestream? That's all you got?"

Brett:"Come on, man. We got nothing to loose"

Trent:"I don't know man. It's gonna be complicated. I agreed to leave for a few weeks to work at one of our gym branches in another city. And now you'll be the one that has to go. I think now is not the best time"

Brett:"So? I can update you about everything. We can chat all the time. We can call. And I got nothing to do. Actually, you might need to find some job for those few weeks. And there's never gonna be a better time then now. We're single, ready to mingle. So let's enjoy that month"

Trent:"You wanna stay swapped the whole tíme I'm gone?"

Brett:"Yeah, I'll be a fitness instructor/viral star and you'll ne enjoying my chill life"

Trent:"Chill life. Man, you won't even recognise your life when we'll swap back"

Brett:"So you agree?"

Trent:"Yeah, what the hell. I'll be a gorilla for a month"

Brett:"Deal. Now, let's see if you'll have a better game in finding a hookup then me"

Sunday, August 4th

Brett sends a text to Trent:"Why do I feel like my body still hasn't gone through puberty?"

Trent:"Piss off. Yours looks like it went trough yours several times."

Brett:"Nah, gotta be honest. I'm really enjoying this lean figure and hairless body"

Trent:"And my dick..."

Brett:"Haha, yeah and your dick. How are you doing in my body?"

Trent:"Feels pretty weird to be so hairy, but gotta admit it's a nice change. Like... feeling so manly"

Brett:"Yeah, but tip for that hairy stomach. Don't cum on it. It's really irritating to get cum from it"

Trent:"Never had the issue in my body, so yeah. Thanks for the tip"

Brett:"No problem. I had to try it out in yours haha"

Trent:"Doesn't this feel kinda gay to you? All the dick and jerk off talk. Appreciating each other's bodies"

Brett:"Nah. We're exploring, man. Who knows if we ever get that chance. Gotta enjoy it"

Wednesday August 7th

Trent:"How are you settling in?"

Brett:"Yeah. Pretty great. I just jerked off to some porn"

Trent:"Ew. I mean the appartement"

Brett:"Whooops. Sorry. Right. Yeah it's nice. Very clean. Very modern"

Trent:"It's yours only for a month so don't destroy anything there"

Brett:"It's kinda poetic right. New appartement, new body, new job"

Trent:"I don't see anything poetic about me playing games in front of a camera"

Brett;"Dude you have to. My fans are gonna wonder what happened to me"

Trent:"Fine. I'll log in tonight. By the way. Dude your feet smell so much when you work out."

Brett:"Work out? You took my body to the gym?

Trent:"Yeah. I had to show off these bushes somewhere, right?"

Brett:"Ahhh thanks man. Looking good"

Trent:"And I think oke girl was checking you... me out"

Brett:"If you can score than go for it. I'm actually late for a date. Or... how do you call it if you're just gonna have dinner and fuck?"

Trent:"Standard hook up man. Please be safe. Wear a condom. And watch our foe those carbs, man."

Brett:"Sure thing, bye"

Monday, August 12 th

Brett:"Dude do you like ever have to shave your face?"

Trent:"Sure I do. I just don't have to do it so often as you. Btw can I please shave off this moustache?"

Brett:"Absolutely not. You'll learn to love it and appreciate it. Just like I will your baby face"

Saturday, August 17th

Brett:"I have to admit I really love showing off your muscles man. I have been doing it constantly at every occassion. So many people turn their heads to take a peak"

Trent:"Yeah I get it. It helps with the confidence a bit"

Brett:"A bit? I feel like I can beat any fucker whk crosses me"

Trent:"Brett, please don't beat anyone in my body"

Brett:"Just kidding, man. How have you been"

Trent:"Well I tried being consistent with the gym. I think your body is doing pretty well"

Brett:"Daaaamn bro. I look good. You really do take care of my body really well"

Trent:"I was actually thinking I could offer this for money. Swapping with people, doing their routines and then swap back. But that's a talk for another time after we swap back"

Brett:"Yeha, sure. Cool idea. Anyway... how was the streaming?"

Trent:"I don't know, man. I think they are desperste for me to say your catchphrases, but they are so cringe."

Brett:"Nah, you have to do that. That's how you get into Tiktoks and become viral"

Trent:"Honestly. I can't wait to get back to my body and to my life back. So we will swap on September 2nd?

Brett:"Yeah. I suppose. Depends how the work will be etc. Anyway I gotta go man. Talk soon"

Trent to himself:"It feels like he's avoiding me with amswering more and more. Trent rubbed his hairy chest, recalling his sweet soft pecs that he missed.

Thursday, August 22nd

Trent:"Hey, man. How is it going?"

Friday, August 23rd

Trent:"Hey. I just wanna know if you're ok. I just wanna talk about the reversal."

Saturday:"please call me back as soon as possible"

Sunday, August 25th

Brett:"I'm ok"

Trent:"What the hell happened?"

Brett:"Nothing I just felt like I needed a break from phone and that stuff"

Trent:"Brett you didn't answer the phone for 4 days"

Brett:"Ok, I was avoiding you, cause I kinda fucked up and was afraid to tell you"

Trent:'What did you do? Is my body ok?"

Brett:"Yeah your body is unharmed. Nothing that bad. We just had a party in the appartement. Broke the TV and... I had unprotected sex with one girl. She didn't know if she was pregnant or not. So I was waiting. And congrats. You're not gonna be a dad"

Trent:"Brett..."

Brett:"I know. I'm so sorry. Won't happen again. Promise. I just got drunk once and it led to this. I'll be good now"

Trent:"Please, don't do anything anymore. I want to switch back"

Brett:"Nah man. We still gotta week to finish. You said until September 2nd."

Trent:"I didn't know you'd do something like this"

Brett:"Please Trent. I'm begging you. Just that one week"

Trent:"Fine. But don't do anything else!"

Sunday, September 1st

Brett:"Hey. Are you packed yet?"

Trent:"Hey. Not really. I planned on packing tommorow. You can come and help if you got time"

Brett:"Sure. I'll come by"

Monday, September 2nd

Trent arrives to the appartement. Brett is on the couch playing video games

The TV is new and there is a PlayStation on the table

Trent:"You didn't tell me you got back into gaming and that you bought all this."

Brett:"Yeha, I missed it. I thought to myself that you'd like it too. So I bought it. By the way. You should see how the fans dig it"

Trent:"Fans? You're live streaming in my body?"

Brett:"Yeah. The gamers are so into it when I'm flexing in the spare time. I even got a viral Tiktok already!"

Trent:"I think we should swap back, Brett. My life is out of your control now."

Brett:"I'm just using all the goods, man. You don't like my body anymore?"

Trent:"Stop changing the subject. I want to swap back"

Brett:"Ok... but on one condition"

Trent:"You want money?"

Brett;"Nah I want to have sex with my body. I want to have sex with you."

Trent:"You have lost your mind"

Brett:"Oh come on. Admit it, that you thought about it. Who gets the chance to fuck their body? To watch their body in the most animalistic moments from somebody else eyes?" Brett flexes his biceps to let Brett watch

Trent:"Brett..."

Brett stands up and goes towards Trent

Brett:"You know you want to kids thus face. To suck this hard dick" he says holding tightly his hardening bulge

Trent:"I... I do. I want to suck my dick"

Brett:"Atta boy"

They begin making out. The fast movements heading towards the bedroom could be described as chaotic, but for them it was a dance of passion. Brett was ripping his old clothes from his old body was all over his body, kissing his neck. Sucking each part of his skin

The kissed even more

Brett began to be more dominant. He gripped Trent's now receding hairline and pushed him down to suck his dick. Trent was choking. But did his best to swallow most of the shaft he now had. He had his dick in his mouth. He couldn't believe it. He is straight and he is sure of that. But this is absolutely different

Brett took his old body by the neck, choking him. "Say you love being in my body"

Trent:"Brett I can't breathe"

Brett:"Fine, let's do this the hard way"

He turned him around. Trent now on all fours. He knew what was coming, but he wasn't ready

Brett spit in his hand and spread it all over the head od his dick. Ready to penetrate his old hairy hole

Trent:"Brett wait... I... Ahhhhhhhh". Trent screamed in pain

Brett:"Yeah. Sorry about that. I'm just so horny. I love your body, Trent. I love every inch od it. Admit you like mine"

Trent:"Brett, please slow down"

Brett:"Naaah, you'll get used to it in a sex"

Trent:"Please, get lube or something"

Brett spit again to where his dick was penetrating Trent's ass. Brett:"Should do it"

Trent was still in pain, but now a new feeling was making him feel better. The pain was now... pleasant? He wanted to feel more. With every thrust from Brett. He felt like shitting himself and cumming at the same time

Brett:"Admit it. Admit you love being in my body" he sped up. Thrusting painfully.

Trent:"Yeah.... yes..."

Brett:"Louder"

Trent:"I do... I love your body. I love being you"

Brett:"Ahhhh. I'm gonna cum. Turn around. I want to cum on your chest"

Trent turned around. He could feel cum leaking from his dick. And now he saw his old face like he never did before. Brett was so into it. His face was full of lust, rage and mischief.

Brett:"Ahhhh. I'm cumming!"

The cum shot all over Trent. Not only on his chest, but also on his mouth and face

Trent watched in awe what just happened.

Brett:"Whew. That was a ride wasn't it? First gay sex. Am I right?"

Trent:"Brett... I?"

Brett:"Oh sorry. I have to catch my breath. You look so funny with my cum all over you. Haha. By the way. I'm glad you love your new body. You get to keep it"

Trent:"Brett, you said we would swap"

Brett:"Yeah I did. That's true. But after this little 'cum over your face' and 'dick in your ass' we made it permanent"

Trent watched in shock as his old body was still standing on top of him. Breathing rapidly and laughing.

Several months later

Hi my name is Brett. Welcome to my only fans channel. If you got any hairy request, hit me up

Brett in Trent's body:"Well this is just pathetic. Man, I knew you'd crumble. But this just seems you lost your mind"

Trent's massive colleague came next to him:"Hey, bro. What are you looking at?"

Brett:"Just looking how one of my friends threw away their life, kinda sad. But whatever. Their life, not mine"

Friend:"Hey, wanna grab a beer later this evening?"

Brett scanned his friend from top to bottom and smiled:"Sure thing. Be there at eight"

Brett thought about switching it up a little. That body would be amazing. But then he turned around and looked at himself in the mirror. And flexed

Brett:"Nah. I'm Trent. And I'm keeping this body"

A request from messages (another one who waited for a LONG time, sorry guys) for @swappwas

Hope you like it :)

P.S. written late at night on a phone with a very irritating autocorrect, so please excuse the mistakes

[maningup]

Drawn to the Flames

A/N: So remember when I said, I wanted to write more stories this year? Well, life said, "That's a funny thought." So I don't know exactly where the blog goes from here. But please enjoy some Halloween-type / fantasy / spooky stories from me this month. “Carter, is this so stupid. They say it’s haunted.” Waylon stated for the umpteenth time as he followed his friend down the abandoned trail. The longer they walked, the more Waylon found himself brushing the floppy brown curls of his mop hair out of his eyes. Carter didn’t struggle at all in that department, having his straight blonde hair cut short, during summer. The afternoon sun was at its peak, but thankfully the boys were shielded by the trees in the woods. Waylon’s eyes darted around as he realized he couldn’t hear a single thing; not a bird singing, an insect buzzing, or a car horn far in the distance. Nothing, but his and Carter's footsteps on the dirt. Waylon didn’t fear the woods or a walk through them, but Carter's planned destination within them was another thing entirely. 

Carter had overheard college students talking about a party they’d thrown last week. As awesome as they made the party sound, his real focus was on the students being confused as to why they leftover drinks. According to them everyone there was accounted for, with an extra drink, but still they had about six remaining. Which meant that three people didn’t show up, but their head count concluded everyone invited was there. People going missing at a supposedly haunted area. The moment Carter heard that his ears perked up, he was a boy of adventure if nothing else. Wandering around town was nothing new to Carter, with the few hints the college students gave, he knew where to head.

Waylon understood himself. He was an indoor kid who felt more at home behind a computer or TV screen. However he never understood Carter's fascination with anything outdoors related. Carter was just as skinny as him, but had a determination to explore everywhere. Waylon didn’t get why a kid who wasn’t exactly peak athleticism wanted to be so active. Kids like them were naturally suited to staying inside where it was safe. Their only major physical difference was Carter's tan from always being in the sun, contrasted to Waylon's paler tone. Then of course there were Carter’s striking green eyes and toothy grin. That grin was going to be the death of Waylon. Carter would smile just the right way as if asking, “You want to get into some trouble?” and Waylon’s resolve would crumble.

“Don’t you think we’re a bit old to be doing this?” Waylon was hunched over, still walking. He couldn't imagine any other graduated seniors in high school spending their last summer this way. Not to mention, His sack pack was starting to feel heavy, yet the only thing in there was a water bottle. He put his head up to look at Carter a good few paces ahead of him.  

Carter had stopped and turned around putting his hands on his hips. “Didn't know there was an age limit on exploration,” He said with a chipper demeanor. “But you can leave if you want. I’m fine to go on my own.” Carter took off his own sack pack and retrieved his water bottle, drinking from it before putting it away.

Waylon huffed. Carter could be so oblivious to anything that wasn’t an ‘adventure’.  If Carter would take five minutes to actually think, why would Waylon sacrifice his A/C controlled house  and beloved games to stroll outside in the hot summer? He’d realize why Waylon wouldn’t leave.  Waylon stood straight catching his breath, “I can’t leave, what if you get hurt?”

Carter shrugged ,”I’m fine with getting hurt. I’m more concerned about you.”  Injury was nothing new to him. Carter had once broken his arm climbing in a tree and over the years he had amassed a fine collection of bruises and scars, now mostly faded. Not because Carter had learned to limit his dangerous explorations, rather a sign of his adaptation and learning. 

“ME, why?”

Carter rolled his eyes as he turned away, “This whole time you’ve been trying to get me to turn back, dude. Even though you came out with me. Basically you keep saying: I don’t wanna do this.” Carter, slightly turned back, putting his hands up. He wasn’t trying to accuse, simply stating a fact. “Which is totally fine. But it’s endless complaining. You haven’t said one thing about looking forward to this.”

“Fine, fine,” Waylon grumbled moseying behind Carter. 

Finally the two boys came to a clearing. Up ahead sat an old dilapidated two-story firehouse. The bricks and brownstone had lost their saturated colors to time, crumbling to the forestry that invaded every open crack and crevice.  A majority of the windows had been boarded and the ones not, were missing large shards of glass now littering the ground below.  The discarded crumpled  beer cans and old baseballs, easily revealed what college students and other kids did for fun. Faded impressions of missing numbers that once read “11” sat above the entrance to the building. As for the entrance there was no door, or gate blocking anyone from entry. 

As the boys made their way into the building, Carter smiled pointing up at the missing numbers “You think someone put those in their bedroom?”.

Waylon couldn’t believe there was not a single “No trespassing sign”, had the college students even stolen that? He didn’t respond to his friend's question. He was way more concerned about hopping around the shattered shards of glass.

“Hellooo,” Carter cupped his mouth and yelled into the rest of the firehouse. The acoustics of the large open building did provide a slight echo, but it all quickly faded into the eerily silence of the forest.  “Any college students here?” He said in his normal voice to no response. Carter waited for a minute placing his hands on his hips looking around. When he was met with further silence he said. “Let’s check out the second floor.”

“Carter, are you crazy?! There’s glass everywhere. If we step on it and it goes through our shoes, we’ll get tetanus?!”

“Um…I think that’s rusty metal?”

“Regardless!” Waylon waved his hands wildly “I will be waiting outside. You can explore and try not to give me a reason to call 911, okay?”

Carter stifled a laugh as Waylon turned and stormed out. He really hadn’t expected his friend to push himself this much.  He loved hanging out with Waylon but, when it came to being outside, Was it not beyond obvious that Waylon HATED IT. Carter would feel bad about turning him away from a venture, but Waylon also made it seem like Carter had personally dragged him along. 

Once Waylon’s huffs could no longer be heard, Carter continued exploring the abandoned firehouse. The interior wasn’t so bad, except for a broken pipe leaking water off on the side. It came out in slow drips and echoed through the interior. Carter stared at it thinking. There was something off. Sure the broken glass, faded bricks, and encroaching plants made sense, but how long had the place been abandoned? Would water still be dripping out, or was rain water pooling from somewhere else?  

Curious about it, Carter walked over. The pipe had disconnected above another ruined window. However the closer Carter got the less he could hear the drips of water onto the floor. No doubt he was still watching it occur, but it was as if the world had turned the volume down. Instead, as Carter drew nearer, with his slower walk, he heard whispers.  For a moment he was worried someone had followed him and Waylon, but who would be interested enough to visit in the daytime? Carter glanced towards the entrance, expecting to see Waylon standing there, but he was gone. Carter did briefly wonder where his friend wandered off to, but he was drawn back to the incessant low chattering. Too quiet to distinguish what was being said, but clear enough for him to recognize the words.  And with every step closer to the window, the voices he heard got louder.  Carter was sure he’d find a discarded phone or Ipod somewhere on the floor and that would explain everything. 

He took his eyes off the floor, to stare into the woods past the window. Perhaps the sounds were from out there? Though when Carters’ eyes looked at the window, it took them a moment to recognize what they were seeing. It wasn’t the trees, grass, or even the rustling winds. They were all the same. The issue came, not from beyond the window, but within it. The reflection Carter was seeing on the broken glass, was of someplace else. He was standing in the same spot, but his reflection showed an altered fire house. At first too transparent to distinguish all the details, Carter got closer and the reflection became clearer along with the voices. By the time Carter was up close it was as if the glass had shifted into a mirror. The reflection however showed a refurbished fire house, same layout, but not a patch of grass or dirt anywhere. Behind Carter’s reflection, and off center stood three burly men,  in a circle, talking as other people walked past them. Carter had seen enough TV shows to figure out the men  and others were firefighters in their casual uniforms.  

Now, nose almost right on the window, there was no mistaking what he was seeing as a trick of light. The voices were so close as if they were just right there only muffled by the existence of the window. At that moment one of the men happened to look up and spot Carter. He raised his hand in the air motioning for Carter to join them, Carter spun on his feet. 

Nobody was there.

He was still standing in the same abandoned firehouse. He slowly turned around laughing, maybe the story the college kids had told had gotten to him. Cater froze upon looking in the window. Instead of his reflection, there stood the visage of another buff firefighter; tight shirt, pants and all. Carter jumped back, raising an arm to defend himself as the man did to. When nothing happened immediately, Carter lowered his arm watching the man in place of his reflection do the same.  The man had curly fiery red hair, shaved on the sides, and the same green eyes as Carter. Carter noted how odd it was to see a completely different person in the mirror and still recognize it as himself. He titled his head stepping toward the window, arms down, watching the man do the same. By the time he was back up to the window he was looking up the man was looking down. Carter raised a hand, the man raised a hand. Carter stuck out his tongue, the man stuck out his tongue.  Carter flexed  his biceps not that he had much, but it was cool to see the muscular man test the strength of his short sleeve t-shirt in response. Carter set his arms down laughing, as did his reflection. He had to show Waylon this. But then his strange reflection stopped laughing as its eyes glowed blue.  Now the man in the window had a weird grin nothing like Carter’s jovial smile.  Staring into the new blue eyed reflection, Carter now felt he wasn’t staring at a strange version of himself but another person entirely.

Carter backed up from the window and, tripped, barely managing to throw his hands back to catch himself. On the ground, at his feet Carter spotted a black fireman’s helmet, which had caused him to fall over. Chest beating heavily, Carter looked at the man, then to the helmet on the ground. 

He had the strangest urge that he should wear it.

—-

Waylon scrolled his phone, hiding behind a tree to the left of the firehouse.  He had thrown down his sack pack into the grass. It was all childish, but he was more upset than he cared to admit. Carter’s charisma has an innate warm gravitational pull of a sun that felt impossible to fight against. And did Waylon even want to resist? His best friend not listening was annoying, but Carter wasn't forcing him. In a way he did sort of tagalog and started putting a damper on Carter’s good time. Therefore the only conclusion was for Waylon to sulk and feel sorry for himself.  

Though a nice distraction were a few articles he had found out about the fire house. Turns out the college kids weren’t the only ones to go missing. And even before that the fire house itself had been deserted due to the deaths of some of the firefighters that worked there. Strangely none of the articles ever went into detail about what the incident was. Though it didn’t seem like the firefighters in question died on the premises, but the speculation as to why it shut down tied into hauntings.

“AHHHH!”

A scream rang out from the firehouse and Waylon almost dropped his phone as a result. He recognized the voice straight away, though he had never heard it scream. He sprinted to the  empty arch, not wasting a second.

Waylon looked inside, now leaning onto the brick structure almost heaving. Suffice to say, he had never truly ran a day in his life and this was proof. “Are you ok?! I heard the scream and—”

Carter stood in the empty firehouse alone. Nothing was around him, or approaching him. Not a swarm of bugs nor a wild animal. Any terrible scenario Waylon had envisioned was easily squashed. The only thing Carter was doing was standing alone, holding a fireman's helmet, staring at it.

“Was that just to get my attention?” Waylon frowned, walking into the firehouse, “ It wasn’t funny, I seriously thought you needed help!” His voice carried through the walls and back out into the woods. Waylon was not used to shouting, but Carter wasn’t even looking at him. What kind of prank was this? He finally stood in front of his friend waiting for some explanation. 

“This..helmet…there’s a problem.” Carter's voice came out, gravelly and scratchy with a note of a somber tone. 

Waylon stared at his best friend as if he was stupid.  “Did you seriously yell, just to make me see some stupid helmet?!” 

Carter’s head snapped up and stared back at Waylon. Waylon felt his blood run cold before he even registered why. Waylon’s body knew the look, as if instinctual; he was being appraised. Funny that. Waylon thought he’d give anything to have Carter look at him with desire but this wasn’t it. The way Carter’s eyes scanned his body, were like stranger’s who’d never seen him before.  Finally their eyes locked. Waylon stared deep into the blue eyes looking back at him. 

“Carter what’s with your—

Suddenly Carter snorted before laughing and patting on the helmet. “Man, I got you so good.”

“Got me?”

“Come on …Wa-Y-lon, I was just messing with you. Wanted to see how far you went before you pissed your pants.”

Waylon wanted to be relieved. He wanted to join in laughter and brush it all off. But he couldn’t. First Carter had pronounced his name strangely. Next, pranking Waylon specifically to get him to piss his pants, Carter would never do something so mean-spirited. And sure all of it could be explained away as one offs, if Carter’s eyes weren’t still fucking blue!

Instead of speaking with Carter, it felt like someone trying to do their pale interpretation of Carter. After all, what kind of boy wouldn’t prank their friends. Such a normal male thing to do. Carter loved the outdoors, but he wasn’t a ruffian. Certainly never to get under Waylon’s skin.

“Come on, you know I was joking,” Carter threw an arm around Waylon. He pulled him in doing a partial hug. 

Waylon found himself unable to move or speak back.The way Carter had cut off his question earlier was no doubt intentional. He didn’t dare speak now. The Carter imitation was certainly charismatic, but it was the opposite of Carter. There was nothing warm or inviting behind his words, yet Waylon couldn’t pull his attention away. This “Carter” slung words together like a car salesman going in for the closer. That’s when Waylon realized he was staring into a black hole. The words were hollow, cold, and rang false, yet their gravitational pull couldn’t be denied. However Waylon was way too perturbed to fall into it.

“Sure, a joke…” Waylon did his best to sound as natural as possible, but he could hear every awkward pause syllable his voice clung to. “So what's up with this helmet you wanted to show me?”

Carter looked at his free hand still clutching the helmet, his eyes widened. He had forgotten he was even holding something. “This helmet… it’s not”, Carter looked at it harder. “It’s not mine”  He sucked his teeth,  “Must be yours.” With that Carter slammed the helmet on Waylon’s head, having it plop perfectly. The helmet swallowed Waylon’s head, riding past his eyes. Putting him in darkness.

Waylon tried to remove it immediately, yet no matter how hard he pushed the helmet only came up past his eyebrow. In panicked motions Waylon felt over his head and forehead. The helmet had shrunk wrapped itself to his head. “What’s going on?”. Waylon was going to fight and struggle more but a cold shiver ran through his body. It started from his head and traveled down all the way to the tip of his toes. The cold then centered  in his body and expanded out, reaching deep into his limbs and not fading away. 

“You slick son of a bitch,” Waylon heard his voice say, but he was not the one speaking. “Jason.”  That final word was said aloud, but Waylon heard it VERY loud within his mind, and the voice that spoke it was certainly not his inner voice. Waylon knew instantly there was someone else in his head, but it truly didn't feel like there was. The thoughts in his head and the words he spoke all felt true to him.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that Marty,” Carter’s hands waved playfully, apologizing for whatever faux pax he had made. It was all in good fun, at least on his end.  It was a movement that Waylon had never seen Carter make before…But he’d seen it in Jason’s body language countless times.

“You didn’t get your helmet because you tried to cut the line.” Waylon felt a smirk form across his face. “Now stand back and watch a real man get to work.” Closing his eyes, Waylon’s body steadied his breathing, entering a meditative state. The helmet’s hold got even tighter. 

“What’s happening now?”

“Just focus on breathing.”

“What?”

“Breathe in…and out.”

“What? breathe in and…”

“Out.”

“In and out.”

Every muscle in Waylon’s body tensed, flexing. Pressure built in his spine and legs, as if the world was pressing down on him. He tried to stand on his tippy toes to stretch his body out and release, or even push back against the unseen force. Slowly Waylon’s body began to rise. Waylon could hear his blood rushing, bones snapping, and muscles shifting but the pressure was fading so he couldn’t stop. Waylon gritted his teeth, as his legs shot him up into the air while his torso elongated. The clothes on his body had a difficult time keeping up. At first it appeared as they were simply a few sizes too small, but soon the pants rode up too high and the shirt bunched at the shoulders. Waylon could feel his ankles, the shins become exposed as his pants pulled up. Meanwhile his torso was greeting the summer air no longer covered by the length of a medium shirt.

A fuzzy feeling began to surround the part of Waylon’s head trapped under the helmet. It was an odd sensation, almost ticklish, but too layered and soft for any irritation. Beautiful wavy dark raven hair spilled from underneath the helmet. Gone were the unkempt brown curls, replaced with well-maintained vibrant locks. As some of the follicles spilled over his face before falling into place, they brushed against Waylon’s eyebrows, dying those spots the same dark color. Eventually the black would encroach over the brown, leaving no trace of the former color. Then more black hairs would emerge on the eyebrows, spurred on by the new look, leaving him with thicker fuller eyebrows.

Waylon knew something was wrong, but when it all felt so right, how wrong was it? Though the voice in his head was telling him not to, Waylon opened his eyes. He thought if he could just see  Carter’s face, even the imitation’s, that’d let him know if he should have been concerned. Waylon lifted his eyelids slowly, there was no figure in front of him. He opened his eyelids fully, only to see the back of the firehouse. His vantage point, however, was entirely off from before, he was way up in the air when he should have been lower. Waylon expected to find himself floating but as he looked down, he first spotted Carter with an inscrutable look on his face. Was he happy, jealous, angry…sad? Continuing to look down at the ground, Waylon spotted his legs & feet, or what should have been his legs & feet. Down, pressed firmly on the ground were huge flippers for feet, attached to  toned long legs. Waylon hadn’t even noticed when he had stopped standing on his toes. He lifted his right leg and watched as his body responded; the foreign limb was certainly his. Underneath his foot, was a smashed pile of what was formerly his tennis shoe, which explained the scraps of fabric around it.

Before Waylon could contemplate any of it, a tightness formed around his head. The helmet that had been forced on him was shrinking. Waylon instinctively used his hands to try and take it off. For the second time, Waylon found himself shocked as he was utilizing arms that were way more muscular than they should have been. Being home bound had certainly not awarded him the strapping biceps and triceps he had now. Waylon was conflicted between wanting to study his new form and getting the helmet off. As Waylon’s fingers pressed and rubbed against this skull, he could feel the structural integrity of his face and head shifting. That’s when Waylon realized, perhaps the helmet wasn’t shrinking; his head was getting larger.

With twists and turns Waylon struggled against the helmet with no help from Carter. Waylon was throwing his whole body into it moving around the empty space, praying glass didn’t cut his foot. If that wasn’t bad enough, Waylon could hear his body growing again.The sounds of his shirt and pants being torn to shreds filled the entirety of the firehouse alongside his grunting. It was his shirt that was ruined first, as his shoulders’ width was too much to bare, aided by his pecs popping out, pulling at the seam’s stitching. Next, his thighs, and ass tripled in size and exploded his chino’s right off. Reduced to his underwear, Waylon rested an arm against a wall; he needed a small respite then he could keep going. Waylon then turned and put his back on the wall, hearing the helmet clunk against it. None of his body had stopped it’s new muscular development esp not his pecs. His chest was putting on size and mass that would make a breastfeeding mother jealous. Waylon tried to use his new expanded hands to hold them in and stop their protrusion, to no avail. His chest was determined to be the biggest.

“The biggest among all the guys.”

There was that voice again, and biggest among what guys? Waylon’s nipples pushed through his fingers, hanging out in the open more tantalizing to suck than a baby’s bottle. From the center of his chest a few dark hairs emerged, but that wasn’t the biggest cause for concern. A wave of tanned skin that only got more golden and brown spread from his chest.  Waylon screamed at the sudden shock of it. As it flew down his torso it created a treasure trail in its wake and lighter hairs over his abs. Upon flying into his underwear a dark forest of pubic hair erupted spilling over the top. A lump grew in his boxer-briefs hanging heavier and thicker every passing second. When the colorization got to his limbs his muscles got an extra jolt into accelerating into their final form. As the new darker skin made its way over his neck, it forced dark specs to appear along his neck and surrounding his chin. Soon enough he had a permanent 5 o’clock shadow staining his fast. That sight didn’t last long as familiar black hair began to take root and seize a sizable portion of his face. A beard and mustache came in at full force connecting the two, before getting a heaping of volume, yet staying perfectly maintained. “Gonna have to shave, this won’t work with the RPE.”

Waylon slid to the ground, his body was tired and his mind was being filled with memories and knowledge that wasn’t his own. He could imagine himself in a firehouse, THIS firehouse except it was filled with life: other workers, people visiting. He knew all about rushing into fire’s, saving lives, helping deploy the hose, giving CPR. Waylon felt like he was in two places, the firehouse and…a burning building?  A large grandiose house, falling apart around him. Where was he really? Waylon’s head was swimming; He needed to get the helmet off.

“Carter… help,”  Waylon struggled to say watching his chest heave up and down from his peripheral vision. His vocal cords sounded heavy and rich.

Carter suddenly rushed over, his eyes green again, and staring into Waylon’s. No other words were spoken, but Carter immediately tried to pull the helmet off to no avail. However, that did not stop Carter from pulling. Eventually Waylon found the strength to continue pushing while on the ground. Both males were struggling so hard with their eyes closed, pushing and pulling on the helmet, neither noticed how the mangled clothing had reappeared on Waylon’s body. Mangled, however, wouldn’t be an apt word for long, as every fiber and thread was restitching itself into a new thicker material. The growing weight of the forming clothes got heavier than Waylon’s new chest. He opened his eyes to see the shirt split down the middle as yellow stripes with silver lines drew themselves across the materials; a fully formed jacket. The same pattern and coloring copied onto his pants. The remains of his shoes, wrapped back together hiding his feet within thick boots as his hands were sealed behind gloves.

—---

Finally, the helmet slid into the air gripped tightly by Carter’s hands. Carter opened his eyes smiling,though his face dropped upon seeing no one. The helmet may have been in his hands but Waylon was gone. Carter had no idea what was going on. One minute, he sees a ghost, next his body is moving on its own and he’s antagonizing Waylon, then Waylon’s body is rapidly changing. Then there’s a hot Indian guy where Waylon should be. But then he heard Waylon’s voice and though it didn’t sound like him, Carter knew he had to help. Carter’s eyes went to the helmet as he lowered it. Then he froze upon seeing the front.

It wasn’t the same helmet. 

“Finally,” Carter heard a voice come from deep inside his own head. And the feeling to put this new helmet on returned like a raging flame. Part of him was aching to reunite with this helmet, HIS helmet. As strong as the pull and desire was, Carter was more concerned about Waylon. He didn’t know what to do. There was no way standing in one place would help him find Waylon and he had the strangest inkling that if he went looking, he wouldn’t find Waylon either. Carter’s solution came to the helmet. That had to be the answer appearing out of nowhere, perhaps he could find Waylon if he too put it on. With trepidation and a deep breath.  Carter plopped the helmet on his head.

Time seemed to stop as Carter finally felt in unison. He needed to wear the helmet and he wanted to wear the helmet. Then he heard:

“Oh yeah, let’s fucking GROW!!!!!”

A warmth took over Carter’s inside, starting from his chest and growing, till he felt a tingling in his toes and fingertips.There was also a lingering sensation on his head right under the helmet that only got stronger. A force within him, was causing Carter’s body to change and adapt.

The veins in his arms rose on his skin, over his bicep and down to his hands. Carter began to sweat as the comfortable warmth went from inside, to surrounding him as an intense heat. His eyes flung open and a flash of fire appeared before dying out. Carter jumped back and the firehouse was gone and there was nothing in his field of vision but flames. He was in some sort of living room, there was a sound in the distance, sirens maybe. But there were closer sounds coming from higher up, even with the roar of the flames, Carter could tell they were cries for help. Carter walked towards the noise, covering his face with his shirt. Leading him into a grand foyer burning. Wherever he was, every room was huge, a McMansion set ablaze. Another man busted into his vision , coming from the dining room. Carter could see him plain as day. And that should have been strange to see another guy standing in a raging fire in house clothes, but Carter didn't comment on it.

“MARTY!” He said in a voice not his own. The strange Indian man connected eyes with him. Carter knew this man. Rather this stranger looked eerily similar to the man Waylon has just turned into. Though there were some subtle differences. This man had combed back hair, no facial hair,  well fit but nowhere near the hulking person Waylon became. The biggest tell however was the face, for Carter there was something distinctly ‘Waylon’ missing in his features. The name was recognizable though, his body had said it earlier in the firehouse. This Marty guy was the one inside of Waylon!  But where was Carter now? Was he still physically in the firehouse? He’d blink and he could almost see and hear himself grunting alone in that old place.

“The grandmother said the parents are in the basement, the children are in their rooms.” Marty shouted. “Frank and I will go get the parents, you take Sean and George to rescue the kids.” 

Carter’s head nodded, though he wasn’t sure how he was going to do any of that. A sudden weight came upon him. Carter realized he was wearing a fireman’s uniform and it was heavy. He looked back at Marty who was also now decked out in full gear. Marty disappeared into the house as the flames took over, where he once stood.  The cries from upstairs continued and Carter felt his body move into position. “Follow me boys!”  Then he ran to the elaborate burning twin stair case steps. Taking the one on the right, Carter's body didn’t hesitate to go up. The stairs however seemed to never end stretching out into eternity. If that wasn’t bad enough the fireman’s uniform was baggy and several sizes too large for him. It was a losing battle and Carter knew it; unless something changed.

The main problem was his legs. They were too short to help him cover the ground he needed. No way the stairs would end unless he took a big step. Carter began to skip steps and when he did his legs grew to accommodate a greater length. Height was a problem Carter didn’t have time to deal with if he was going to save those kids. So his body gave him the answer and kept him growing. He left behind 5’10 and 5 ‘11 in the blink of an eye and still kept rising. His uniform didn’t have any trouble keeping up, rather it was more like the bundle of clothing was unfurling with every inch he added on.  By the time he got to 6’5 he knew there was something wrong. His body was bigger but he needed more than just size. 

Stamina was the next obstacle to tackle. While Carter would have loved to continue up the never ending stairs for as long as it took, As an untrained person in fire resistant gear it was only a matter of time before his body gave out. The cries didn’t stop however and neither would Carter. He gave deep intentful breaths through his powered air-purifying respirator. While each breath and another step climbed, Carter’s lungs expanded, pushing his chest further out for ample intake. His calves throbbed, having the effects of countless flights of stairs etched onto their very being as they built muscle to keep Carter going. This was all aided by his thighs and ass gaining more mass to demand a bigger push from his legs. 

Finally, he was the first to make it to the top floor standing at his full height of 6’7. He was thankful it was a mansion and not a regular house where he’d be combating the ceiling.  He made his way down the fire infested hallway in the direction of the voices. His men were only a few feet behind him when the roof collapsed around him. Thankfully only a few pillars in front of him fell but men were blocked by burning wood and debris. “Probably from the Goddamn aftershocks! You guys go back, I'll keep going.” Carter was at a loss as to what aftershocks but he knew he was right. 

Wooden planks blocked his path but Carter knew that wouldn’t stop him. 

“I’m freaking Jason McDean, not going to let some hot mulch stop me. What would everyone back at the station say?”

Carter knew the voice, but the words weren’t directed at him. And how odd to hear an anxious and playful version of the voice rattling in his head. Whoever Jason was, Carter could tell he was mentally hyping himself up to continue going through the house. Carter watched as his gloved hands reached out and pulled at the wood. Then again, Carter was reconsidering if it was his body. The size of the hands in the gloves were certainly not his own. Finally the name clicked into his head, Marty had talked to Jason in the firehouse via Waylon and Carter’s bodies. Carter’s body pushed on the wood to move it, but it would not budge. Everything was turning to cinders around him and time was running out. He pushed harder as his arms began to swell with muscle. The material of his coat rubbed against his rising skin, as there was less free internal space left. 

Even with the intense heat, there was a gush of wind that Carter felt from nowhere. He struggled on and suddenly his vision shifted. He was standing in the firehouse and it was his body growing the wind blowing in from the forest. With a flash he was back inside the crumbling house.

When he went to move another plank, Carter felt his motions being limited. His shoulders were getting so gargantuan the sleeves scrunched up and revealed his wrists further down. Not that it would have helped to hide his thickened wrists regardless. Embers were brushing past his face but it didn't stop Carter, even when his chest popped open the coat, spilling out two pecs and rising abs. There was no way he was practicing fire safety, but it was too good to stop. His pants ripped in the back leaving his buns to toast. The heat of the flame, however, only encouraged his cheeks to continue reaching outward, reducing its own covering. Carter’s mind wasn’t on the changing uniform. It was hard to say where his mind was. The longer he was in the house the more he felt his mind being crammed with Jason’s. As if this was where he belonged, saving people. Even if he was afraid there was nothing that would ultimately stop him. This was his job; A MAN’S JOB. There was a singing sensation on the sides of his head. Were the flames that close? The fire or perhaps simply the heat  was burning onto his scalp mixing into his hair, even with his helmet on.

When he removed all the debris blocking his path and stopped through the rising fires, His  uniform came together once again as if it had never ripped at all.  

The screams only came from one door, that he was quick to break down. Two kids had huddled inside, with enough forethought to put a towel at the bottom of the door. Unfortunately they had also opened a widow to draw the attention of the fire fighters outside. Thankfully the fire didn’t come rushing for the window, and the firefighters outside were working on getting a ladder truck up. Carter was careful to make sure the kids weren't afraid of him, then hand them off to his team outside.  Less than a minute he handed off the last kid he heard a rumble as the ground shook …

and then black.

Carter opened his eyes in the empty abandoned firehouse. He was on the floor, breathing heavily, catching up to everything that had just transpired, wondering how he got back. Took him a moment to realize he was nude, until another cool breeze passed by.  His clothes were in pieces on the ground, just like with Waylon.  The helmet laid off to the side, in that final commotion he must have knocked it off. That’s when Carter realized he had never left the firehouse. The voice in his head, the man in the window, one in the same; Carter had just watched the last moment of Jason McDean’s life. Or at least some nightmare fantasy version of it. Carter caught sight of his reflection in the broken glass.  A huge naked guy wearing a fire helmet. He walked over to get a look at himself. His reflection looked like Jason with notable exceptions, for one Carter was way taller, closer to his height in the burning house. Then there was the fact his eyes were still green. He cautiously reached up and lifted his helmet, surprised to see it come off. His hair was faded on the sides but let up to a healthy head of strawberry blonde hair that curled towards his forehead. Every time he had been growing or changing in the house, he was changing here too. Carter flexed his arm mesmerized by the size of his bicep, before realizing Waylon hadn’t returned. He glanced at the helmet in his right hand. Unlike Waylon he was still nude, which meant he probably had one last thing to do. 

—--

Carter awoke abruptly to someone hitting his feet. He turned around groaning trying to hide his face under the pillow, but it was quickly snatched away. “Waylon, go easy on me.” He stretched his arms out begging for the pillow back. 

“Oh no, it’s not my fault you spend multiple hours looking at yourself in the mirror.” Waylon launched the pillow at Carter's head.” Now get your ass up, the fire station’s sleeping quarters aren't YOUR hideaway and Sean wants to beat your ass in poker. 

Rising up in bed Carter got a good look at Waylon. They have been friends since they were kids but one Waylon got on the force it seemed puberty exploded out of him. “Didn’t you have a beard?” Carter asks, grasping at the wisp of a fading memory.

Waylon chuckled, “ Did you fall asleep and suddenly forget safety regulations? I can’t have a beard out on the field” He wiped his shaven face. Carter watched Waylon walk out, especially eyeing his ass.

Their fire station was new only two months old, no way was he not going to sleep on the pristine high quality beds. And what the hell was Waylon going on about, he certainly did not spend last night looking at himself. He turned his attention towards the body length mirror in the room. Carter yelped upon seeing himself in the mirror and jumped out of bed landing on the floor. For some reason he expected to see an entirely different image, shorter, blonder, perhaps? Sprayed out on the floor he wondered why in hell would he even think that. His brain was not adapting to being awake well. Getting up he rubbed his head, looking back at his reflection. How stupid was he? It was only him and his reflection.