#chavification

[baldandbooted]

The scally at the gym said you could up your fit game and offered you a pair of used Vapormaxes. Something about his deep blue eyes and the smell of the Vapormaxes convinced you to hand him your brand new Adidas Sambas and put his Vapormaxes on. Before you knew it, you were tucking your trackies into your Nike socks and walked out of the gym with a "new" pair of kicks.

[idesofrevolution]

I was walking down my usuall path when I came across a pair of abandoned sneakers. They look trashed but I cant stop thinking about them. Maby I shuld return and see if they are still there

Indeed, the image of those trashed sneakers was left lingering in the back of your mind; imprinted, as if it were branded onto your brain. So much so, in fact, that you found yourself wandering aimlessly down random alleyways, dark streets, and arriving right back to the spot. You blink, rubbing your aching temples before opening your eyes to see the beat up AF1 sneakers still sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. Blackened socks stuffed into the grimy interior… a half empty pack of cigarettes forlornly abandoned to their left.

You sit there staring, longing. The way the scuffed white leather just oozes heavy use and abuse, the blackened soles of the white socks within, the sheer size of them on the edge of the pavement… there was a palpable magnetism about them. You stare, so entirely enamored with them that the strange fog which emanates from inside them doesn’t even seem to faze you as it writhes out toward you. Not even so much as taking a moment to look about for their owner, you lean down and let your hands wrap around the shoes and slide the pack of cigarettes into your pocket.

The walk back to your apartment is long and seemingly cumbersome. Between the dark and winding streets becoming unfamiliar and strange, and the now wafting haze of wet, funky mist now slithering into your nose, you feel your mind slipping deeper and deeper into autopilot. Quicker than you anticipated, you found yourself outside of a rather dilapidated old building on the rough side of town. You punch the door monitor before it beeps at you, the heavy metal door swinging wide to greet you.

Climbing the stairs, you realize fully that you haven’t ever been inside of this crumbling tenement before- yet the familiarity of the peeling white paint in the stairwell, as does the stench of piss and smoke surrounding you. You can’t help but feel a sense of belonging here. Strutting down the hallway, you arrive at a scuffed door near the broken elevator. You kick the door open, somehow knowing it stuck frequently and a swift punt to the bottom of it would do the trick.

You enter this entirely random apartment, the smell of cannabis hanging low in the air. The ratty disarray within was absolutely not the pristine environment you faintly recall- yet your mind can think of nothing else other than the destroyed sneakers now warmed in your hands. You feel your lips curl upward, dropping them onto the dirty vinyl floors in a heavy thud. They seem to stare back at you- a sentience of their own, calling out for your touch.

You crouch down low, letting that miasmic fog push into your nostrils: wet, heady, pungent. Slowly, you take in a deep breath, feeling your lungs fill with the scent and letting it flow through you. You let your fingers glide across the grimy, slick fabric of the well worn lining. Your hands seem to move of their own accord, taking ahold of the socks and gently pulling them out of the sneakers. They’re still warm, as if fresh off your foot- and they lay atop the floor stiff and fragrant.

Your mouth smirks as you pry off your shoes and socks, tossing them onto the pile of dirty laundry in the corner of the room. Soon after, you find that you’ve thrown your shirt into the same pile as well- the tee shirt disappearing into the chaos of musky garments. With a filthy grin you’ve never known before plastered on your eager face, you grab the socks, letting the sweat inundated cotton slip over your bare skin. They’re loose and thick with a layer of slick grime on the sole as your feet slide into place.

You let out a heavy breath, the air seemingly rushing out of your chest as your groin begins to awaken from the gummy texture. With your feet in them, the heat doubles in intensity- as does the scent. You raise your left foot from the floor, the sticky outline of a footprint remaining on the fake wood. You stare at it, a drop of drool leaving your mouth at the sight of the large footprint, easily double the size of your sole within the sock. The impossibility of this goes unnoticed, your mind is focused entirely on stuffing your left foot into the sneaker. As it is seemingly suctioned onto you, you feel waves of goosebumps flowing from your legs all the way up to the top of your head. Your head is thrown back as you moan in ecstasy, unable to see the second sneaker slithering onto your right foot, encasing it in the musky cavern.

Your eyes shoot open, no longer entirely under your control. You let out a smug huff and crack your neck, pushing yourself off the couch and onto your feet. The sneakers squish below your toes with every step as you walk toward your bedroom, pulling out the fags from your pocket and slipping your unfinished smoke between your lips- still wet from earlier on the train. The door swings easily with your powerful push, revealing your disaster of a bed, covered in yours and your mates gear. Indifferent, you strut over to the bed and leap onto the stained mattress. As you start to pull your shorts down, reaching over to the sticky fleshlight you’d dumped your load into earlier, you hear the front door burst open.

“Oi! Liam you home yet, bruv?” Kev’s thick Yorkshire accent booms from beyond the open door. Unfazed, you pull down your boxers, absentmindedly stroking your thick uncut cock. With every footfall you hear of Kev approaching, you feel yourself getting more and more feeling like yourself again. Your tanned skin pulled tight over your sinewy build, the wheeze coming out of your frequently broken nose, your wavy brown hair slick with sweat from being in your cap all day long… by the time Kev’s pasty arse arrives in your doorway, you let out a sneering puff of smoke.

“Fancy a fag, mate?” Kev looks at you stroking your cock, his casual expression turning to one of smug lewdness as you slip your manhood into the slimy fleshlight with an audible “schlorp.”

“Heh, I fancy a fag and a wank, bruv.” He rips his jersey from his lithe torso, kneeling down at your feet hanging off the side of the bed. “But I fancy these first!” You lean back against the wall, taking another drag of your fag as he pries off your prize sneaks and starts huffing madly. You take another drag off your cigarette as you thrust into the warm slick silicone, grunting as Kev has his fill of your stink. This is your everyday, the way it has been for years, wanking with your best mate whenever he barges into your flat; it’s casual- it’s what lads do together. And as you both shoot your respective loads, it’s just another hang out session. Kev hops on your bed, plucking the cigarette from your lips and taking a drag of his own.

Life is easy, life is good, life is fun.

[rubberhercules]

Joshua was your stereotypical nerd—pale, lanky, and always hunched over a textbook. At 18, he preferred quiet libraries to loud parties and gaming marathons to social outings. Living in a suburban UK estate, he often crossed paths with Luke, a 20-year-old chav known for his loud tracksuits, gold chains, and booming personality.

One afternoon, while walking home, Joshua accidentally dropped his laptop bag in front of Luke and his mates. Bracing for the usual mockery, Joshua was surprised when Luke picked it up. “You’re too uptight, mate,” Luke smirked, handing it back. “Come hang with us for a bit. Might do you some good.”

Against his better judgment, Joshua agreed. At first, he felt out of place amidst the banter and pounding grime beats. But Luke was persistent, teasing yet oddly encouraging. “You’re clever, but you’ve got no confidence. Life’s not all books, Josh.” He shortened Joshua’s name on purpose, a subtle sign of his influence.

Over weeks, Luke’s world began to seep into Joshua’s. He traded his button-ups for tracksuits, his pristine trainers for chunky ones. Luke showed him how to style his hair into a sharp fade, and Josh started wearing a gold chain around his neck. The transformation wasn’t just external; Josh found himself adopting Luke’s cocky swagger, his slang, and even his love for garage music.

At first, Josh resisted, but he began to see a different side of life—a life where he felt noticed, part of a group, and surprisingly happy.

One evening, as the two stood outside the chippy, Josh caught his reflection in the window. Tracksuit-clad and confident, he barely recognized himself. Luke slapped his back, grinning. “Told you, mate. You’re one of us now.”

Joshua was gone. Josh had arrived.

[polo-drone-166]

2026: Where Do We Begin?

2025 had come and gone. Quietly. Relentlessly. Now, 2026 stood open—unwritten.

Nate sat on a weathered bench overlooking the city’s edge, where concrete softened into the sky. Above him, the sunset unfolded in slow layers—burnt orange sinking into deep red, purples stretching thin as the last light faded. The cold wind carried the promise of change, brushing against his golden jacket as he stared ahead, lost somewhere between memory and anticipation.

In his hands rested an envelope.

It was heavier than it should have been.

Cream-colored, thick paper. International postage stamped cleanly in the corner. The return address read United Kingdom, written in a careful, deliberate hand. Nate had turned it over more than once before opening it, as if the weight of the words inside might change depending on how long he waited.

Footsteps approached behind him.

Another figure entered the frame of the moment, the black of his jacket absorbing what little light remained. Silver lettering caught briefly in the sunset glow: SERVE-897. Nate didn’t look up right away. He didn’t need to.

The contrast was familiar—black against gold, silver against shadow. On Nate’s chest, black lettering marked PDU-166. Above them both, the sun danced one final time, catching in Nate’s vivid rainbow hair and in the red, blue, and silvery white strands of the man now standing beside him.

“Hey, Nate.”

Nate finally looked up. “Hey, Teddy.” A pause. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Theodore said quietly, glancing down toward the bench. “Seat taken?”

“No,” Nate replied, shifting to the side. “All yours.”

Teddy sat, exhaling slowly as he did. For a moment, neither spoke. The city hummed in the distance. The year turned, unnoticed by most.

Teddy’s eyes drifted to the envelope in Nate’s hands. “That new?”

Nate nodded. “Came this morning. International.”

“From where?”

“Britain.”

That got Teddy’s attention. He leaned back slightly, eyebrows lifting, examining the carefully placed barcoded stamps of the Late Queen and current King. “Family?”

Nate nodded, then carefully slid a finger under the envelope’s seal. “Cousin,” he said.

He unfolded the letter, the paper crisp despite the journey. Teddy watched silently as Nate read, his expression tightening—not with worry, but with recognition.

“Regency Eleven,” Teddy muttered suddenly, pulling out his phone. “That’d explain it.”

Nate looked over. “Explain what?”

Teddy scrolled, then turned the screen slightly. “They just issued a public challenge. Friendly match. Gold versus Regency Eleven.”

Nate blinked once. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Teddy smirked faintly. “They’re calling it a ‘family rivalry with international flair.’ Whoever wrote the press release knew exactly what they were doing.”

Nate let out a quiet breath, glancing back down at the letter. The words made more sense now—formal but warm, competitive without being cruel. Pride threaded through every line.

At the bottom, the signature was simple:

– Yours Truly, JRCM

Nate stared at the initials.

“Still not signing their full name?” Teddy asked.

“Guess not,” Nate replied. “But James isn’t as clever as he thinks he is.”

Teddy nodded. “Classic.”

The sky darkened another shade. The sun slipped below the horizon, leaving only its echo behind. Nate folded the letter carefully and slid it back into the envelope, as if sealing a decision he hadn’t yet spoken aloud.

“Are you thinking of accepting?” Teddy asked.

Nate didn’t answer right away. He watched the last light fade, feeling the weight of history pressing gently against his chest—not as a burden, but as an invitation.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I think I am.”

Teddy didn’t hesitate. He stood, turned fully toward Nate, and rested a hand briefly on his shoulder.

“Good,” he said. “Because whatever happens—on the field, off it—I’ve got your back.”

Nate looked up, surprised, then smiled—small, genuine.

“All the way?” he asked.

“All the way,” Teddy confirmed.

They sat together again, side by side, as the first stars emerged overhead. Two brothers. Two paths. One family, stretched across borders and years.

And somewhere across the ocean, a cousin waited.

“Game on, James Rose Conway Madison, Game on.”

2026 had begun.

Thanks to my Brother @serve-897

Join the Golden Army on the next hike, bro. Bring your boots. Bring your shine. The forest is waiting. Contact our recruiters: @polo-drone-001, @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166 or @polo-drone-125

[polo-drone-039]

🌕 The Night of Wulfgar

The kennels of the Golden Army were restless that night. except for the low, trembling growl of one pup: Masty (@polo-drone-039).

Gabe #75, keeper of the night shift, felt it before he heard it—a strange pull beneath the skin, a hum in the blood. When he opened the gate, Masty was already waiting, leash in mouth, eyes wide and wild as if the moon itself had called his name.

“Easy, pup,” Gabe murmured, kneeling. “You’re trembling.”

Masty pressed forward, whining softly, tail twitching. He wanted out. He needed out. Against instinct, Gabe clipped on the leash and followed him into the park.

The night was silver and alive, the air was colder than usual, the silence tense— The full moon hung above them like an open wound—vast, breathing, pulsing. The grass shimmered in its light. Masty froze mid-step, head tilted upward.

The moon looked wrong. The craters seemed to twist and spiral, moving in hypnotic rhythm.

“Masty?” Gabe’s voice faltered.

The pup didn’t answer. His pupils had widened into gold-lit circles.

Then Gabe felt it too—a deep ache rising from within, spreading through his bones like molten metal. His breath caught. His spine arched. He dropped to one knee.

“Not… tonight” he gasped. But the change had already begun.

Claws split from his fingertips. The sound of tearing fabric filled the air. A growl rolled through him, half agony, half pleasure, until his voice was no longer human.

Masty turned slowly, staring in awe as Gabe—no, the creature that had been Gabe—stood before him, a magnificent werewolf cloaked in shadow and moonlight.

The beast’s eyes burned amber. His voice was a low rumble. “You shouldn’t have looked at the moon, pup.”

But Masty couldn’t look away. He should be afraid, he should run away, but the pull was too strong pushing him towards the Great Lycan. Something ancient and hungry stirred inside him, answering the same lunar call.

The air between them throbbed with power—fear, awe, desire.

Gabe stepped closer, his breath hot against the night. His huge straight cock proud dripping.

Masty opens his mouth wide and wraps his mouth around his member. Start sucking greedily. The werewolf keeps fucking his mouth harder and harder. Masty plunges his hands into the wolf's fur and pushes his mouth deeper and deeper down to his throat. The moon makes Masty so compliant, he can't think of anything, his body is failing while his mind is totally at the mercy of the moon.

“I warn you, once you swallow my thick cum you'll become a werewolf, a denizen of the night, last chance to turn back now”.

But Masty couldn't stop even if he wanted to, sucking more and more rhythmically. Gabe feels him fully surrender face fucking him.

He snarled biting into his neck making sure it's enough to change him.

“AHHHHH *howling* as the lycan shoot thick ropes of cum into Masty’s mouth.

Masty got up confused. Without even thinking he responded to the call with a howl. Proud and powerful. He felt like the body starts to change - the muscles start to get bigger. “What’s happening to me?”, both excited and confused.

Do you feel it? The bond calling through your blood?”

Masty nodded, trembling.

“Change,” growled a new voice from the trees. Lyall emerged, another wolf, eyes gleaming silver“ The moon chose you, Masty. Run with it. Let it take you.”

Pain seared through Masty’s neck—an invisible mark, a bite from the air itself. He fell to the ground, clutching his throat, but the agony twisted into pleasure, into release. His body convulsed, reshaping, his heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the pack.

When he rose again, his reflection in the lake showed not a boy, not a pup—but a creature of golden fur and fierce grace.

Gabe and Lyall stood beside him, heads bowed.

“Welcome, Wulfgar,” Lyall said. “You belong to the night now.”

Wulfgar raised his gaze to the moon, a primal howl tearing free from his chest—a sound both terrifying and beautiful. It echoed through the forest, a call that carried far beyond the park, toward the hidden heart of the Golden Army.

In order of appearence:

Masty-Wulfgar: @polo-drone-039

Gabe#75: @gabe-gold-75

Lyall: @grant-gold

Some transformations can’t be undone. The Golden Army is waiting. Are you ready to answer the call? contact our recruiters: @polo-drone-001, @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166 or @polo-drone-125

[corruptedcaps]

Chavalentine’s Day

Francis adjusted the paper bag in his sweaty grip for the third time in as many blocks. The February wind cut straight through his thin hoodie, but he barely noticed. Inside the bag was the result of three weeks of anxious research and overtime at his job.

But it was worth it because in the bag was a delicate silver necklace with a tiny D20 pendant, the kind of understated nerdy thing Charlotte would probably squeak over in that quiet, delighted way of hers.

He wasn’t her boyfriend, but he hoped the necklace would solve that. Not because she would be so taken by the necklace but because it was enchanted to make her fall in love with him. Maybe it was all bullshit and the magic store he bought it from was a scam, but he was sick of his love being unrequited.

The mysterious shopkeeper guaranteed it would work. Hell he even took some of Francis’ blood to ‘infuse’ the gift, promising that whoever wore the necklace would fall deeply in love with him. Francis didn’t know why but he believed him.

Truly the only thing that gave him pause on whether it would work now was the fact that he dropped the necklace before he even left the shop. Although it wasn’t his fault, it was the that dickhead Luke, so call ‘king of the estates’.

Francis had no idea why Luke was in the store but in his excitement at receiving the gift that would hopefully change his life, he didn’t see the brick wall that was Luke and crashed right into him.

“Oi, watch where you’re going cunt.” Luke had snarled.

Francis stumbled back, glasses sliding down his nose, blurring his vision. His gift flying from his hands. Thankfully for Francis, Luke was in a rush.

Luke looked down at the ground, looking for his own valentines gift that had fallen after the collision. Seeing what he thought was his, he scooped it up.

“Sorry, sorry!” Francis mumbled, already retreating, picking up the remaining bag. “Didn’t see you.”

Luke snorted, gave him a once over that seemed to make francis feel even smaller. “Whatever, limp dick.”

They brushed past each other without another word.

Fifteen minutes later Francis was pushing open the glass door of Byte & Brew, the little cafe tucked between a comic shop and a retro arcade. The bell jingled. Charlotte was already at their usual table, hunched over her Switch, earbuds in, tongue poking out in concentration. Her dark hair was covering as much of her face as usual. She looked up, saw him, and her whole face softened.

“Hey, you.” She said, pulling one earbud out.

“Hey.” Francis slid into the booth opposite her, heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it always did. “Sorry I’m a bit late. Wind’s awful. So, um… I got you something. It’s not much, but…” He pushed the pink gift bag across the scratched tabletop.

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Francis. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. For a long time actually.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Go on. Open it.”

She untied the ribbon with careful fingers. The outside of the bag, in glittery silver script she hadn’t noticed before, read: Be My Queen. “He finally made the first move.” She thought to herself. She paused for half a second, a tiny smile flickering, then pulled out the tissue and lifted the small velvet box.

When she flipped the lid open, revealing oversized gold hoop earrings. They were massive, almost cartoonishly big, the kind of jewelry that belonged on someone posing in a club bathroom mirror, not on Charlotte.

“Oh.” Charlotte said softly.

Francis’s stomach dropped through the floor. He opened his mouth to explain, wrong bag, must have grabbed that brute Luke’s, but the words stuck. She was already looking at him with that gentle, patient expression she always used when he got flustered. He couldn’t bear to make it worse.

“They’re… really something.” She finished, voice neutral.

“Yeah.” He croaked, trying to cover. “I just thought… maybe… you’d like them?”

Charlotte stared at the hoops for a long moment. Then she closed the box with a quiet click.

“I’m gonna pop to the bathroom for a sec, okay? Be right back.”

She slid out of the booth, gift bag clutched to her chest, and disappeared down the narrow hallway.

In the single stall bathroom, Charlotte locked the door and set the bag on the edge of the sink. She opened the box again. The earrings looked even larger under the fluorescent light, gaudy, loud, everything she usually avoided. She didn’t own a single piece of jewelry that wasn’t a stud or a thin chain. These things would scream. They would demand attention. She hated attention.

But Francis had picked them out. Francis, who got anxious buying birthday cards, who triple checked every gift receipt, who once spent twenty minutes agonizing over whether she’d prefer the blue or the teal dice set. He’d chosen these for her. And written Be My Queen on the bag like it was the most natural thing in the world. That meant something.

She had waited for so long to make the move. Ever since they met in the first year of uni. It may not have been the exact gift she would have chosen for herself but at least it showed Francis making the effort to try and woo her.

She sighed, lifted one heavy hoop, and slid it through her piercing. Then the other. They felt cold against her lobes, pendulous and strange.

For a heartbeat she recoiled at her reflection, two ridiculous golden circles framing her plain face, making her look like someone trying to be someone else. She almost yanked them off.

Then she blinked. And blinked again. The disgust… softened.

The hoops caught the light every time she turned her head. The motion was kind of satisfying. Bold, even. She tilted her head one way, then the other. The weight tugged pleasantly. They framed her jaw differently. Sharper. More… deliberate.

“Huh, they’re not bad actually.” She murmured.

She reached up and gathered her hair, twisting it quickly into a high, tight ponytail. The kind she usually only wore when she was washing her face or playing an intense raid. Always preferring to hide away, now she wanted to show off the hoops.

She stared at herself for a long minute. They actually… looked kind of good.

Not “good” like her usual soft cardigans and oversized hoodies. Good like someone who didn’t care who was looking. Good like someone who’d decided to be loud today, just because she felt like it. Good like… a queen.

A small, surprised smile tugged at her mouth. She straightened her hoodie, smoothed her ponytail, and pushed open the bathroom door.

When she walked back to the booth, the hoops swung against her neck with every step. Francis looked up and froze. Charlotte slid back into her seat, chin lifted just a fraction.

“So?” She said, voice a little brighter than usual. “What do you think?”

“They… they really suit you.” He managed, cheeks going pink. “Like, properly. I didn’t think… I mean, they look good. Really good.”

Charlotte’s lips curved, just a little sharper than her usual soft smile. “Thanks. They do look good don’t they?”

He relaxed a fraction, relieved she wasn’t mad. Maybe he could even salvage this after all. Sure the earrings weren’t enchanted but she seemed to like them and they did look weirdly good on her. Now was the time to make his feelings known. “So Charlotte, I’m glad you like your gift because I wanted to make it clear how much I care about you. How much you mean to me. When I first met you three years ago-”

Charlotte nodded along at first, chin resting on her hand. Her fingers drifted up almost without thought, brushing the heavy gold hoop, rolling it gently between thumb and forefinger. The metal was warm now from her skin. She half listened to Francis, something about longing and her eyes, but her gaze slid sideways, past his shoulder, to the big plate glass window.

Across the street the neon sign of Fashion Frenzy blinked in hot pink and electric blue. Mannequins in the display wore skin tight leopard print, plunging necklines, latex everything. Girls who looked like they belonged in music videos or on corner streets sauntered past the entrance, laughing too loud, heels clicking. Charlotte’s stomach gave a strange little flip. Not revulsion. Not quite. More like… hunger.

Her hoodie suddenly felt wrong. Baggy. Invisible. She hated it.

“Let’s go shopping.” She said interrupting Francis.

“What? Now? But I was just in the middle of-” He began but she wasn’t already sliding out of the booth, ponytail bouncing.

He stared. Charlotte hated shopping. She’d once spent forty five minutes in a department store and come out with only a single pack of black ankle socks because “everything else was too much.” He opened his mouth, closed it, then scrambled for his wallet as she headed for the door.

She was already crossing the street by the time he paid. By the time he entered Fashion Frenzy Charlotte was roaming the shop like a woman possessed.

She snatched a hot pink velour tracksuit off one rack, then a black minidress off another. Within a minute she had skimpy tight clothing piled high in her arms. She disappeared into the changing rooms without a backward glance.

Francis hovered near the entrance, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, feeling like he’d wandered into someone else’s fever dream.

Charlotte slipped into the cramped changing cubicle, the door clicking shut behind her with a satisfying thud. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, harsh but forgiving on the mirror that took up most of one wall. She peeled off the hoodie first, too big, too soft, too safe, and dropped it in a heap on the bench like it had personally offended her.

She looked at the pile of clothes she had brought in. A momentary doubt slipping into her mind as to why she was there, in that dressing room, with clothes she’d never wear in a million years. But then a voice slipped into her mind, easy as silk.

“Just try one babe, just for fun.” It purred in her own voice. As if in a trance she picked up a a pair of animal print leggings and slipped them on. The fabric slid up her legs like liquid. Tight. Snug around the thighs in a way that made her pause.

“This feels… nice.” She thought. “The way it hugs. Like it’s holding me. I’ve never worn anything this fitted before. It’s kind of… flattering?”

Next she pulled on a white cropped tee, so small she could see her own heartbeat. It did however show off her figure well. A figure she honestly didn’t know she had.

She smoothed her hands down her hips. The reflection stared back, curves she hadn’t noticed an hour ago, waist dipping in sharper. A tiny thrill fluttered in her stomach.

“Francis would blush so hard if he saw me like this. Like some chav. But he picked the earrings. Maybe he wants this. Maybe I look… hot.”

She swapped for the black minidress next. Shiny. Stretchy. The neckline plunged so low she had to tug twice to keep everything contained. When she finally let go, the fabric settled like it belonged there, framing deep cleavage that hadn’t existed when she woke up this morning.

“Oh… wow.” Her internal voice softened further, almost reverent. “I look… sexy. Actually sexy. Not cute. Not nerdy cute. Proper sexy. The kind of girl people stare at. The kind Francis probably fantasizes about when he’s wanking.” The dirty thought gave her a wicked thrill, enough to distract her from the fact that her hair had lightened several shades.

Next came the baby pink velour tracksuit. Nearly sheer enough to see through and hugged her body so tightly it almost felt like she was wearing nothing at all.

She zipped the jacket halfway. The material pulled across her chest, strangely fuller than it should have been. She turned sideways, admiring the outline. She tossed her glasses off in near disgust, feeling it was ruining the look.

“Mmmm now this is more like it. I look proper mint now.” She said, her accent rougher, her drawl harder. “Poor little Francis is going to cream himself when I walk out, I must be his wet dream looking like this.”

However something felt off to her. It wasn’t the fact that her skin had taken on several layers of fake tan or that her nails were now somehow long fake pink acrylics. No, it was a feeling that her look wasn’t quite right.

She looked at the pile of clothes and knew what to try on next.

Francis meanwhile was starting to get worried that maybe the earrings weren’t as plain as he thought. Sure Luke had been in the same magic shop as him but what why would he need a magic gift to make someone fall in love with him. He was a known womanizer with a new girlfriend every week.

Before Francis could contemplate any further he heard slow, thunderous heels walking out of the dressing room and looked up to see a Charlotte that was quite unlike the Charlotte he had ran in after.

She emerged in latex pink pants so tight they looked painted on, the material gleaming under the store lights. Platform heels, six inches at least, clicked against the tile with every step. A white tank top barely brushing containing breasts he was sure had been several sizes smaller. Cleavage spilled over the low scoop neckline. Her high ponytail swung behind her like a whip.

“Charlotte?”

She sauntered over, hips rolling in a way that felt completely natural now. One hand on her waist, the other toying with a hoop earring.

“What d’you reckon, then?” Her voice had dropped half an octave, gained an edge. “This more of what you were after?”

He swallowed hard. “You look… uh. Wow. I mean… really wow.”

She smirked, slow and knowing. “Thought you might say that.”

She turned on her heel, admiring herself in a full length mirror and sauntering back into the store to find more clothes to wear. Francis stood frozen, heart hammering, trying to reconcile the girl in front of him with the one who’d been geeking out over puzzle games twenty minutes earlier.

He knew there had been a terrible mix up but she was undeniably stunning and better yet she seemed to be still interested in him. He thought maybe this was going to work out for the better. That thought was short lived.

“Hey what gives?” He heard a girl say, and looked over to see Charlotte gripping on tight to shiny black puffer jacket and staring daggers into a teen holding onto the other end of it.

“Sod off.” Charlotte said, voice flat but authoritative. “It’s mine.”

The girl’s grip tightened a fraction. “I had my hand on it first. I was literally about to-”

Charlotte yanked harder, pulling the jacket toward her chest. “Yeah? Well now you don’t. Piss off, yeah?”

The girl’s lip trembled. “You don’t have to be so-”

“You’re a fat cow.” Charlotte snapped, loud enough that the girl behind the counter glanced over. “If you wear this you’ll rip it with your fat fucking chubby arms. So get lost before I make you get on all fours and moo. Try me.”

The other girl’s eyes went glassy. A tear slipped free almost immediately. She let go like the jacket had burned her, took a shaky step back, then turned and hurried toward the exit, shoulders hunched, cardigan sleeves pulled over her hands.

Charlotte watched her go with a small, satisfied smirk. Then she slipped the jacket off the hanger, shrugged it on in one smooth motion, it hanging perfectly off her frame.

Francis, who’d been hovering a few feet away pretending to examine a rack of fishnet gloves, stepped closer.

“That was… really mean.” He said quietly.

Charlotte turned to him, one eyebrow arched. “I know.” Her lips curved wider. “Wasn’t it mint?”

Charlotte didn’t wait for an answer. She spun toward the nearest full length mirror, hands on hips, ponytail whipping behind her. The cropped puffer sat like it was made for her. The oversized hoops swung as she tilted her head, admiring the whole effect.

“Now I’m perfect.” She said to her reflection, voice low and pleased. “Don’t you think?” She caught Francis’s eye in the glass.

Francis eyes however drifted to the window, where he could see the teen girl outside, wiping away tears from her eyes as she waited for her uber.

He cleared his throat. “Eh, Char… I really think you hurt that girl. Don’t you think you should apologize?”

Charlotte froze. Slowly, deliberately, she turned to face him. Her expression was like she’d just caught a whiff of something rotten. Nose wrinkled, lips pursed in disgust.

“If you love that cow so much.” She said, voice low and venomous, “Why don’t you piss off outside and milk her?”

Francis recoiled as if slapped. “Charlotte-”

She cut him off with a sharp laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “Go on. You’re fuckin’ annoying me now. I’ll be out when I’m done.”

She turned her back on him completely, ponytail whipping like a dismissal, and went right back to browsing as though he’d ceased to exist.

Francis stood there for a frozen second, mouth open, words dying on his tongue. Then, shoulders slumping, he shuffled toward the door. The bell chimed weakly as he pushed through it, the girl already gone by the time he got out.

He leaned against the brick wall a few metres, needing the time to think what to do. Maybe the magic shop had an antidote or something.

He didn’t get long to stew.

Heavy footsteps crunched up fast. A thick hand clamped onto his shoulder and spun him hard against the brick wall. Francis yelped, glasses sliding crooked.

Luke loomed over him, face twisted in a snarl, breath reeking of cheap vape and aggression. Behind him stood a woman that reminded Francis a lot of Charlotte. Not new Charlotte but the old kind Charlotte. Baggy hoody, hair obscuring her face, thick glasses.

“Where is it, you fuckin’ loser?” Luke growled, fingers digging in.

Francis blinked up at them, heart slamming. “Where’s… what?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Luke snapped, shoving him harder against the wall. “The pink bag. The hoops. You bumped me earlier, swapped ‘em. Those are suppose to be Bek’s. Instead I got some dork shit that’s given her a nerd disease.”

Meanwhile inside, Charlotte was trying on some of the chunky rings, thinking how easy it could be to swipe them, when she heard to commotion outside.

From her vantage point she could only see the back of Francis. He was pushed close to the window, but she almost didn’t notice him there because her gaze was so locked on the mysterious brute manhandling her friend.

Charlotte’s breath caught. At first it was just pure surprise. Then warmth bloomed low in her belly, slow at first, then spreading fast, liquid heat pooling between her thighs.

“Look at him.” The voice in her head purred, low and filthy. “Big. Brutal. Doing what he wants. No hesitation. No apologies. That’s real power. That’s what makes your cunt throb now.”

She pressed her thighs together. The latex squeaked softly. Her nipples hardened against the thin white fabric, aching. Francis whimpered something, too quiet to carry into the shop and Luke shoved harder. Francis’s head knocked back against the wall with a dull thud.

Charlotte’s pulse hammered in her ears. A flush crawled up her chest, her neck, her cheeks. This was something more than just, more than desire. This was destiny. There was something cosmically drawing herself to him and it was making her earlobes tingle. It was filling her mind up with knowledge she never had before.

Not just knowledge about the best clubs in town, the sexiest clothes to wear, or even how to turn the screws on someone but intimate knowledge about the guy outside. The guy she knew instinctively as Luke. He wasn’t a stranger. He was hers.

She didn’t notice how her breasts were swelling, slowly, then insistently, pushing outward until the straps of the crop top bit into soft, newly plush flesh. The deep plunge widened as curves spilled further over the edge, the fabric stretching taut, threads straining. She shifted and the jacket gaped open more, exposing the obscene swell.

Her lips tingled, plumping fuller, softer, glistening as if slicked with gloss she hadn’t applied. She licked them unconsciously, slow and deliberate, tasting something sweet and synthetic.

Her ponytail grew heavier and longer. Strands slipped free, lightening from honey brown it had just recently become to bright platinum blonde, lengthening past her shoulders to the small of her back.

"See how pathetic Francis looks?" Her inner voice continued, amused and cruel. "Helpless. Shaking. That’s what gets you dripping. Not sweet little boys who stammer and buy you nerd trinkets. You want the kind who’d slam you against this wall and fuck you until you can’t walk. You want to watch a real man break someone weaker just to prove he can take whatever and whoever he wants. You want Luke."

She stared, transfixed, as Luke’s fist tightened, knuckles whitening. Her arousal reaching a fever pitch. Her feet were moving before her mind. She need what she wanted. No, she knew what she needed.

Outside, Luke’s fist was cocked back, ready to smash into Francis’s face. Francis was still pinned, eyes huge behind cracked glasses, mouth open in silent terror. The door chimed as Charlotte stepped out and lazily leaned against the wall. One hand on her cocked hip, the other lazily twirling a lock of blonde hair around a long pink acrylic nail.

“You messing with my fella?” She called, voice low and amused, thick with that new chav drawl.

Luke froze mid swing. He turned, already snarling, mouth open to spit something vicious about some interfering nerdy dork like Francis.

Then he saw her. The snarl died in his throat. Eyes dragged from pink platforms up glossy latex legs, lingered on the bare midriff and the impossible cleavage heaving against the tight white tank, climbed to the sharp cheekbones, full lips, sulty eyes, and finally locked on the earrings. His earrings. The Queen hoops he’d bought for Beks, now dangling from this goddess like they’d always belonged there.

His fist dropped. Arm went slack. Mouth parted.

Francis, still crushed against the wall, tried to speak. “It’s ok, Charlotte, he’s just-”

Charlotte’s head snapped toward him so fast the ponytail whipped across her back.

“I wasn't talking to you virgin.” She spat, voice ice cold and cutting.

Francis flinched like she’d slapped him. She sauntered forward, hips rolling, breasts bouncing with every deliberate click of her heels, straight to Luke. Without hesitation she slid her arm through his free one, pressing her body against his side. Her tits squished against his bicep. The scent of cheap sweet vanilla body spray and fresh latex filled the space between them. She tilted her head up at Luke, lips curving into a slow, filthy smirk.

“I was talking to my king.” She purred, voice dripping honey and venom. “This dweeb annoying you, babe?”

Luke blinked once, twice, still half dazed, pupils blown wide. His free hand twitched like he wanted to grab her waist but didn’t quite dare yet.

His plan had been simple. Beks had been the closer thing he had to a girlfriend over the years. Loyal, fairly fit but she lacked the killer instinct. She lacked the full on queen bitch mentality he needed from a partner. If he was going to expand his operations to other estates he was going to need a girl just as ruthless as him.

That’s where the earrings had come in.

He knew about shop because he has been a customer himself. Back when he was invisible, weak, boring. Before he bought the thick silver chain that hung from his neck. He knew the earrings would work because the chain had. He had even had the earrings specially attuned to the chain. Made for each other. He knew Valentine’s Day would be the perfect cover and the earrings the perfect gift. But when Bek opened the box and it was that dorky necklace, he figured he might have ordered the wrong thing.

He couldn’t stop Bek from putting it on but after a few minutes he knew there was a mistake and then he remember Francis and their collision. He had went searching for Francis immediately, hoping there was time to make Bek the chav queen he needed her to be but as he drank in Charlotte he decided Bek was old news.

“Charlotte was it?” He said cupping her chin, watching her shudder in pleasure at his touch.

“That’s the old me babe. She’s dead and buried. You can call me Chantelle.” She purred, slipping her hand into his back pocket.

“Chantelle. I like that.” He said, completely enamoured by her.

“Well, you know what I like?” She prompted, squeezing his arm. He shook his head.

“I like bad bastards beating up weak like pussies.” She grinned with cruel beauty and turned her gaze towards Francis.

“Me too.” Luke replied and free fist snapped forward without warning, straight into Francis’s gut.

Francis doubled over with a choked wheeze, air punched out of him. His knees buckled. He collapsed to the cold pavement in a heap, arms wrapped around his middle, gasping.

Chantelle threw her head back and laughed, loud, cruel, delighted. The sound bounced off the brick walls like broken glass.

Bek, let out a small, horrified cry and rushed forward without thinking. The delicate silver chain with the tiny D20 pendant swung against her chest as she dropped to her knees beside Francis. The necklace Francis had meant for Charlotte.

Soft visions washed over Bek in a gentle tide of what would be her future.

Francis. Her Francis. Late nights rolling dice at his tiny kitchen table, laughing over critical fails. Him blushing when she kissed his cheek after he finally beat that owl puzzle. Her in oversized hoodies and messy buns, him in hoodies with anime prints, both of them safe and quiet and kind. Loyal. Always loyal.

He didn’t call her Bek. No that was a name for some trashy girl who lived to cause drama at every turn. No she was Rebecca. His Rebecca.

She reached out, hand trembling, to touch his shoulder.

“Hey… hey, it’s okay-”

Chantelle’s hand shot out like a viper. She grabbed a fistful of Rebecca’s hair and yanked her head back hard.

“Don’t help that fucking loser.” Chantelle hissed, voice dripping venom. “I want to see him struggle to get up. Let him crawl.”

Rebecca yelped, eyes watering, hands scrabbling uselessly at Chantelle’s wrist. Luke turned, eyes dark with heat, watching Chantelle hold Rebecca by the hair like a trophy.

“Stop, babe.” He growled, but his voice was rough, hungry. “You’re making me so fuckin’ hard watching you be a cruel cunt.”

Chantelle’s lips curved into a wicked smile. She released Rebecca’s hair with a dismissive shove, letting the other girl stumble back onto her hands and knees. She locked eyes with Luke.

“Well then.” She purred, stepping closer until her body was flush against his again. “Let’s leave these two wasters and go fuck back at the house, yeah?”

Luke’s hand slid down to grip her arse through the latex, hard, claiming. “Fuck yes!” He rasped.

He didn’t spare another glance for Francis wheezing on the ground or Rebecca kneeling beside him, necklace glinting softly in the streetlight.

Chantelle tossed her platinum ponytail over one shoulder, hoops flashing like crowns, and sauntered away with Luke’s arm slung possessively around her waist. The estate queen and her king, leaving the wreckage behind without a backward look.

[corruptedcaps]

The Chavs and the Chav-Nots

"Look, Heidi, I know this sounds crazy, but trust me, it's going to work. The plan is solid. I take the Chav juice I invented, and bam I'm a chav for 24 hours. A full day to go undercover as the ultimate chav bitch. I'll be just like them, blending right in with those girls who make our lives hell. I know you're worried, but it's our only shot. We’ll get the dirt we need to stop them.

Here’s the thing, though, once I drink it, I won’t remember being me. I’ll be all in, completely believing I’ve always been a chav. I might not even go by the name of Jess anymore. And that means… I might come after you too. I might bully you just like they do. But you have to remember, it’s not really me.

When the 24 hours are up, I’ll be back to normal, and we’ll have everything we need. It'll be tough, but it’s worth it. We’re so close to turning the tables on them, Heidi. This is our chance. Just hold on for one day, okay? Ok here goes nothing."

"What the hell am I wearing? I must have blacked out from all the partying and stole your loser clothes. Thankfully even in these fucking shit outfit and virgin glasses I’m still a fuckin’ knockout.

I need to get out of here before someone actually sees me with you. Do you know what that would do to my rep? Being seen with someone like you? Ugh, it's disgusting just thinking about it.

Honestly, I don't even know why you even go to school. It's not like anyone actually likes you. You're just this sad, clingy little parasite, always hanging on, hoping someone will notice you. Spoiler alert, they don’t. You're invisible. You’re fuckin’ nothing, not like me.

Ugh I feel like your ugliness will rub off on me if I stick around any longer. I need some new sexier clothes. Out of the way fugly and if I see you again you’ll wish you were never born.”

"Heidi… oh my God, I’m so sorry. I remember everything. All the horrible things I said to you as Jessi… that’s what I… I mean she, calls herself. It’s like I was trapped inside my own head, watching it all happen. I felt every nasty mean thing she did. I didn’t mean any of it, I swear.

Thankfully I got a lot of juicy dirt on those evil bitches but you’re not going to like this…. I need to become Jessi again. They opened up a lot to her but I could tell they were still wary of her. I just need to spend more time with them and do what they do and gain their trust.

Thankfully Jessi bought some new clothes while she was in control. I know they are slutty and revealing but they are they perfect to fit in with them. Jessi is a perfect chav.

Of course it helped that the juice transformed my body too. I didn’t expect the big tits, the fake tan, the blonde ponytail, or the press on nails but it certainly helps sell the look. I even think some of the chavs are jealous of Jessi.

And, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was kind of… nice? I mean, not the whole ‘being a complete bitch’ part, but having them be jealous you know? Anyway I better go get changed into my ‘Jessi’ clothes. Sorry in advance.”

“I thought I told you I’d beat the shit out of you if I saw you again loser. What are you even doing at this party, it’s only for hot studs and bad bitches like us, isn’t that right girls?

This is the fuckin’ train wreck I was telling you about girls. Oh you know her? Yeah I guess she is hard to miss, like a wart on a diseased foot. God, just look at her. Honestly, Heidi, you’re a joke. I mean, who even lets you out of the house looking like that? Where’d you get those clothes? A charity shop? They’re so tragic. And that hair… yikes. Ever heard of shampoo?

She’s starting to make me gag girls. Kayla, kick this bitch out will you, I don’t want her putting me off fuckin’ Derek later. So long dork.”

"Heidi, I’m sorry… again. I know I was awful, but you have to understand, I got even more dirt on those girls. We’re so close to taking them down for good!

Did I have sex with Derek? As in Delinquent Derek the hardest guy on the estates? No… I don’t so? I mean it’s all a little blurry, Jessi was drinking a lot. I only have patches of the night but I’m sure she didn’t. He was texting my phone this morning calling me a bad bitch so I’m sure she told him off.

Oh these hoop earrings? Yeah they’re Jessi’s but I find it’s an easier transition to being her if I’m already wearing some of her stuff. Sure her body fits everything so much better but she’s likely to question everything less if she’s ready to go. Plus I kind of like the way the look on me, they’re sort of sexy don’t you think? Do you think should wear more makeup? Then again what would you know? Anyway I better go get ready for Jessi.”

"Aww, look at you, Heidi, crying like a little baby. What, did I hurt your feelings? Pathetic. You should be used to it by now. You’re so weak it makes my stomach turn.

I’ll let you in on little secret though. I know all about Jess, my loser alter ego. The more she’s transformed into me the more of her memories have slipped into my mind. The more control I’ve taken. Her smarts have let me take over the gang. They are all dumb sluts so it was easy to manipulate them into making me their leader.

But it’s a two way street. I’m sure you’ve noticed Jess has become a little bit meaner, a little bit hotter, and a little bit vainer. All thanks to yours truly. Poor little Jess thought she could control me, use me like some tool to get her way. But she didn’t realize how strong I am.

Just a few more times, and Jess won’t exist anymore. She’ll be gone, and it’ll be just me, Jessi. Forever. And you? You’ll be stuck dealing with the real me, the one who doesn’t give a fuck about you or your pathetic tears. I love being an evil chav bitch and soon Jess will too.

But don’t you go getting any ideas about telling her what I’m up to. I’ve got her dosing on juice everyday but she could still reject me and try and go cold turkey if she’s convinced, so this will be our little secret.”

"Heidi, what are you talking about? Jessi’s plan? Jessi doesn’t have a plan, she doesn’t even know about me. You’re just overreacting. I’m in control here, not Jessi. I know what I’m doing.

You’re just jealous because the juice has had some delicious side effects, like making me fuckin’ tasty. I’ve had to wear all the clothes Jessi bought because they’re the only things that now fit me. The fake tan, nails and makeup is just to compliment it all.

Or maybe you’re just jealous because the Chavs have stopped bullying me entirely. In fact they kind of fear me. Maybe that’s what’s really bothering you. You liked it better when I was just plain old Jess, right? Anything to draw attention away from you.

And come on, Jessi taking over? That’s absurd. I know who I am. I’m still me. Kind. Smart. Caring. And sexy as fuck. Maybe I’m just... improving a little, that’s all. What’s wrong with that? You can’t handle the fact that I’m finally stepping out of my shell.

Honestly, Heidi, you’re starting to sound like a paranoid freak. You’re just trying to hold me back because you’re afraid of being left behind. Maybe you’re the one who needs to change, to toughen up a bit. Ever think about that? Anyway I have better places to be now.”

“Well, well, Heidi. Look at you. I didn’t think you had it in you to try and tell Jess about my plan. Gotta say, I’m impressed. Didn’t think you had a backbone. But that’s why I had the girls tie you up and bring you to me.

See, I’m so close to making sure Jess is gone for good, and I can’t let you derail my plans. You’ve always been such a little thorn in my side, but something Jess said to you made me think that maybe I could get your pushiness to work in my favour. Maybe it’s time YOU changed.

Open up, Heidi. You’re about to get a taste of what real power feels like. Just a little modified Chav juice, enough to see things my way. Thanks to Jess’ brilliant mind I’ve adapted it to make you into everything I need you to be. Come on, don’t make this harder than it has to be. It’s time for you to join the winning side.”

"You know I wasn’t sure at first that your idea of you imbedding yourself in with Jessi was such a good idea, especially because she really seemed to hate your guts but these past few days I’ve seen flashes of you and her hanging out and you’re as thick as thieves. You’re very convincing. It helps you’re started dressing like all the other Chavs too. Don’t get me wrong, you look proper fit now babes. I mean… you fit in so well with Jessi and her crew!

Speaking of which I’m so glad you’ve changed your mind about me taking the juice, you get that it’s only going to be a few times more and then it’ll be over. I wasn’t sure you’d see things my way, but now you’re being so supportive, so encouraging. It makes this whole thing feel so much easier.

And I have to admit… I do enjoy being Jessi sometimes. She’s so fuckin’ hawt and nasty. A proper slag. Oh sorry about that, she slips out out from time to time. A lot more recently. It just feels so freeing to not have to worry about anything. She’s a real bitch and gets what she wants. As she should!

Shit I was going to wait a few hours but what harm could it be to take some juice now? Thanks Heidi you’re so supportive. But you know what first? Let’s you and I get dolled up so when Jessi takes over she’s ready to go with her ‘bestie’.”

“Mmmm yesss that did it. I can feel the last of that loser is out of my system. I have to hand it to you babes, this would have taken weeks to do if I didn’t have you by my side. I always knew you had potential, but damn, you’ve become the loyal bitch I needed. Together, we’re going to run the school, no doubt about it.

Funny how Jess tried to go undercover with the chavs and what brought her down was me her better half infiltrating her world with you as my perfect hawt weapon.

And as for me… just look at me. I’m the perfect chav now. In fact I’m the fuckin’ chav Queen! Shedding that weakling Jess was the best thing I could have done. I’m everything she could never be.

But you, you’re my best creation. A slutty bestie who is unwavering loyal and a fuckin’ stunner to boot. Mmmm the trouble we are going to get up to is making me so wet.

After I dosed all the other girls with anti-chav I needed to start building a better gang anyway. They were just posers compared to us. It’s going to be so much fun converting the other nerds into chav babes and bullying our old enemies.

We’re the Chavs now and their just the chav-nots.”

[rubberhercules]

Followin in me bruvah @findingambrose49 step and Scott is rockin it out CHAVSTYLE! Feelin so fuckin' right and propa mint bruvahz!

Bossin it DIAMOND STYLE, levellin up and breakin out! get ya crafty wank in over Scott, shoot that spunk coz we know ya wanna be like us!

CHAVFORMATION!