Regenerating Face

Red Wave

--- Originally posted on 2023-01-05 by dumb-and-jocked ---

Ethan rushed home as fast as he could, excited to finally be able to play the most popular video game on the market. At $25, Red Wave certainly wasn’t one of the most expensive games out there, but it had still been out of Ethan’s price range when it had dropped a few weeks ago. Since then, the game had blown up all over the internet and had even been promoted in the news. Well, Fox News (they had thought the title “Red Wave” was associated with the prophesied Republican rebound), but still news nonetheless. 

People were obsessed with it, and it was pretty obvious why. Although Ethan hadn’t actually played the game yet, he already knew how it worked. Red Wave was an alternative survival game, one of those campaign-style strategies where the player tries to live as long as possible under growing amounts of enemies. It was paintball, blue versus red. As the game progressed, the player was able to buy upgrades and unlock new parts of the map, but every round a new “red wave” would descend upon them. 

What made the game unique however was that if the player was hit by a red paintball, they could not earn health back. They would be stuck with that health throughout the rest of the game until it was slowly lowered down to 0. Not only that, but Red Wave could only be played once through. Somehow, the company behind the game had been able to put an uninstaller agent deeply rooted inside the game. This meant that once the player died, the game deleted itself permanently from the console’s system and became completely inaccessible. Since Red Wave had launched, nobody had been able to figure out how to reinstall the game back on its original console.

Unlocking his apartment’s front door, Ethan quickly shut it behind him and kicked off his loafers. He then loosened his tie and threw his argyle socks towards the hamper. Usually, Ethan would have been a less careless when he got home, but the 5'7 gaymer was way too excited to dive into Red Wave. Within moments, he had his console booting up and then the game purchased and downloaded. 

While he waited, Ethan strolled to the mirror underneath his pride flag to unbutton his shirt a little, noting that it was a bit tight near the bottom. It seemed like the fast-food lunches he’d recently been treating himself to were taking a toll, the small paunch alerting him that he didn’t have an athlete’s metabolism. Not only that, but the fat gathering up around his cheeks was certainly not to be blamed on by his youth. The curly, black locks paired with the chubby face did make him look boyish however.

“Maybe I should start dieting…” Ethan mumbled as he heard a ding from across the room. Instantly, he rushed over to his chair and grabbed the controller. Red Wave was displayed broadly on the monitor. Flashes of red blotched themselves on the screen, and without hesitating Ethan pressed play. He was then presented with the initial agreement and warning, stating that the player would only be able to engage in the game once and when started would not be able to stop. Besides money, that was also why Ethan had waited so long to play the game–he wanted to see how long he could make it without stopping. With the whole weekend ahead of him, he was sure he’d get himself an impressive, braggable score.

The game was pretty simple at first. Ethan was equipped with a basic paintball gun, and his blue paintballs would knock out the red opponents before they even had a chance to fight back. Ethan was a pretty invested gaymer, but video games were always second to the real world for him. As a founding member of his university’s branch of the Gender-Sexuality Alliance and the president of the Business Casual Club along with the work of his graduate studies, Ethan was almost always focused on reality. However, when he did have time to escape to a virtual world, Ethan would always be found with a controller between his gentle hands. And he had become good at shooter games because of it.

A couple of hours had passed by and Ethan had already unlocked a third of the map, upgraded his paintball gun to fire more rounds at once, and had unlocked a variety of paint bombs. Currently, he was saving up for a bowling ball explosive–a giant blue paintball that would roll down the enemy team and explode after a few seconds. Ethan did notice that each new wave was getting a little more difficult though. The enemies were always a little bit faster, a little bit more competent, and had recently begun spawning themselves in numbers that Ethan couldn’t take out all at once. He wasn’t alarmed however; he still had too many things to unlock and plenty of time left.

When he got hit by a red paintball the first time, Ethan was literally shocked. As in physically shocked. His controller sent out a tiny pulse that sparked across Ethan’s bloodstream, causing him to twitch as the red paint stained itself on his blue player. It was harsh, but Ethan owed it to Red Wave having impressive haptics. In the top left corner of his screen, he watched as his blue health bar lowered just barely. It tainted itself a little too, becoming a darker hue. The concentrated smile that Ethan had been wearing faltered slightly, but in moments he had regained himself and the round was over. He quickly reloaded his gun and moved around the map to purchase some more items.

While Ethan prepared for the next round, he didn’t notice that his body had stretched along his gaming chair. Once at an average height, his torso and legs had elongated after the initial shock that had emitted from his controller. Inch by inch, his bones lengthened and brought flesh and tissue along with it. By the time the round had finished, Ethan would now stand at a well-reaching 6’1. But due to him sitting down, Ethan didn’t register that his head was now almost completely above his gaming chair, or that he was now leaning back slightly in order to give his legs more room.

Ethan continued on, racking up additional points as he became more invested in the game. As time ticked by, Ethan gained stronger power-ups. By four hours in, he was able to run faster across the map, now granting himself access to half of the rooms available. Just a little while later, his paintball gun was upgraded to having two barrels, allowing him to shoot more than one blue-splattering bullet at a time. He gained access to more explosives and traps, and was soon covering the map in different devices to explode any red enemies before they even reached him.

A second shock emitted from his controller after he was hit by a sniper, a new character that had emerged only a few waves earlier. Grunting, Ethan instantly shot back and killed the enemy, yet the damage had already been done. His health bar depleted a little further, shifting into something akin to indigo. Ethan however continued playing, defending himself well against the waves of red that descended upon him. As he did, his legs slowly firmed up underneath his pressed khakis. They grew thinner and more muscular at the same time, gaining strength as they became sharpened from years of running rather than sitting. Ethan’s quads too gained bulk, solidifying as a soft coat of hair descended upon his thighs and calves.

Ethan released a small sigh as he defeated the last enemy, the blue-stained character melting downwards and dissolving into the ground. He quickly did what he had done countless times before: purchased a few traps, stored some more explosives, and browsed across the upgrades he should be saving up for. As soon as he was finished, the round number flashed on the screen and he was back in the game.

The next shock came a little bit quicker than Ethan had thought it would, and a little harder too. It had only been a few rounds since the last hit, but this time he had been caught by a sentry. The robotic cannon had landed its target on Ethan’s blue character before he had had time to react, blasting a red laser right through the player. It took a little bit more health off of him then the other hits had. Ethan blamed this on the game’s length however. The longer the game went on, then probably the harder each “red wave” would hit. The bar in the top left shifted accordingly while also brightening up a tad.

Ethan pushed forward through the round. In his chair, his straight back slowly bubbled along the surface as it filled in with muscle. His shoulders broadened outwards, but as the changes descended lower, his proportions shrunk inwards. Ethan’s growing moobs hardened and pulled back into sturdy pectorals. The expanded stomach he noted earlier imploded into itself, leaving behind defined abs. It suctioned all the way back to the iliac crest to allow for a defined Adonis belt to emerge at the bottom of Ethan’s chest. A dusting of hair also accumulated around his belly button and slowly tread its way downwards.

Ethan made it through another hour before being greeted by a fourth shock from a grenade. Luckily, he hadn’t been hit full-on, but his health did alter into a classic purple. He ran his character away from the scene to protect himself. Ethan then decided to carefully stroll through hallways to eliminate the remaining enemies in smaller groups rather than the wave all at once. Unbeknownst to him, his arms began bulking up underneath his sleeves. Although they were rather average before, they now became a little larger and toned. Nothing too dramatic, but still defined enough to garner a reaction from any stranger when displayed. His forearms also slimmed enough to display veins while a generous helping of fur coated both tops and fluffed out his armpits. Finally, his tender hands became beefy mitts as his fingers grew thick and his palms became calloused.

The next shock came rather quickly, angering Ethan slightly as he noticed he’d missed a simple guard that had spawned near a door. It took him a little longer than he thought it would to take care of the matter, but he did destroy both the guard and the rest of the wave. His health bar had now lightened into a more magenta-like shade. He further upgraded his gun and placed a few more traps, including one specifically in front of the door he’d just been caught at. He’d opened up almost all of the map and had already gotten the majority of the weapons enhancements. Now he just had to save up and survive.

Ethan may have finished the round containing the loathed guard, but not without its consequences. The spark of electricity had coursed its way up its neck, pushing the flesh outwards to make room for expanding vocal chords. His Adam’s apple became more pronounced, dropping his voice a few octaves and erasing any vocal notes of intelligence and character. His jaw was next, the chubbier cheeks sinking in as his bones cracked and restructured into a squarer, more masculine lantern cut. His nose made a gruesome crunch as it popped out and adorned a new previously-broken shape. The ears grew and studded themselves, the brow ridge jutted out a little further, and the forehead became more prominent to give Ethan a macho, yet devolved look. His hair was the last touch, straightening out and diminishing into a regular dark brown as it was pulled back and fluffed outwards at the end, as if it had been trained to permanently cushion a backwards cap.

With less than 10 upgrades yet to purchase and one room yet to unlock, Ethan cursed when he was hit by a barrage of mini shocks from a machine gun. Each shot didn’t take off too much health, but put together they brought the bar in the top left corner into a definite, murkier pink zone. It took Ethan a while to rebound back, but after a grueling back and forth, he eventually eliminated both the gunner and a good portion of the rest of the wave. He retreated back into emptier parts of the map to reuse the same strategy he had successfully conceived earlier: taking down small groups at a time.

Ethan carefully perused each room and hallway, his blue paintballs coating the red enemies before they had even spotted him. While pushing on, his attire and room shifted accordingly. The buttons on his shirt popped off one by one as the fabric was pulled together into something less starchy. The dyes darkened to black and a hood bloomed out of the collar, changing the button-up into a simpler hoodie. His khaki’s were hit next, softening and becoming cuffed at the bottom as they too blackened into ordinary sweats. Underneath, his briefs expanded into faded, well-used checkered boxers, and upon his head arrived the black baseball cap his hair had been anxiously waiting for. 

The changes around Ethan’s room also faced various levels of simplification. His attire became copies of what he was wearing, and the articles themselves were now tossed on the floor and dirty rather than hung in the closet and clean. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, a layer of dust and grime laid itself carefully around the apartment, and a bulk supply of pregnancy tests appeared underneath the desk. Behind Ethan, the pride flag above his mirror shifted too. The rainbow stripes faded into a deep navy as bolded, white letters displayed themselves upon the fabric to proclaim a different form of pride.

It had taken Ethan awhile, but he eventually purchased the last of the upgrades for his paintball gun. All he had left was the final room to completely unlock the map. It was extremely expensive, but he assumed it was for a good reason. He didn’t know what happened when he would open that last room (Did it complete the game, or would he have to keep going until he died?), but he assumed it had to be glorious. Ethan would have to play it extra safe however, because before he realized it another sniper had once again hit him and brought his health to a strawberry hue.

Propping his feet up on the desk holding his monitor, Ethan leaned further back into his chair as he dedicated his entire focus to Red Wave. Because of this, he didn’t see his feet slowly bloating upwards and outward even though they were right in front of him. Each tiny, miniscule bone cracked and stretched as his toes plumped out and grew like tiny stalks upwards. His soles plumped as tiny hairs raced across the tops of the growing landscapes. As a cherry on top, a soft, yet potent smell began to emerge from the new wide and heavy Size 13 feet. Yet their larger, cushiony nature was yet to be observed by Ethan who was completely concentrated on unlocking that last room.

After some careful, patient grinding, Ethan had finally earned enough money to expand into the final part of the map. He didn’t know what would come next, or how long he would continue fighting on, but he was ready. He had completely lost track of time, and by now the round numbers were just a blur when they passed by. It had become too bothersome to interpret the Roman numerals, so Ethan had just started to ignore them. Licking his lips anxiously, he finished the current round and instantly ran his character over to the final room. Ethan was feeling less excited and more determined at this point to open the room, the game having transformed into a mission. But he was still excited nonetheless. In seconds, Ethan had the room unlocked and opened the door.

Immediately, the entire monitor flashed red as a nuke went off in his character’s face. The last room had been a trap; it was impossible for any player to continue on at that point. Seconds later, the remaining portion of Ethan’s health bar disappeared, replacing itself with the same red that the enemy team wore. Ethan didn’t mind however. In fact, he didn’t even comprehend what had happened. That final hit had sent another shock like the ones he’d felt before, but this time it had paralyzed him completely. It was almost like Ethan had been paused in time.

At least, mentally paused in time. The shock still brought along its physical effects, this time to Ethan’s pouch. His modest 4 inch softie instantly hardened to its full erect glory, but in moments it was throbbing. It pulsed as if someone was blowing up a balloon, each throb pumping it a little larger until it was an enhanced 8.5 inches. Ethan’s balls experienced a similar inflation, descending with weight as they covered themselves in a wiry forest of pubes. Across the perineum, his butthole shrunk and tightened while his glutes became larger and solidified, no longer serving the purpose they once dutifully fulfilled for previous boyfriends and in nightclub restrooms.

With his character dead, Red Wave finished out what it was intended to do. Just like what had been discussed all over media, the game began to uninstall itself from Ethan’s console and delete any history of its existence. However, unlike what had been discussed all over media (except ironically by Fox News, who for once spoke the truth), Red Wave began to uninstall and delete any history of Ethan’s existence. The game’s true purpose was to enact the long predicted Republican return: transforming every player by the end of the game into a fully-devoted, heterosexual, God-and-gay-fearing conservative. Players were expected to die about midway through the game, but the final room was placed as a fail-safe to ensnare every last participant.

So, as Red Wave destroyed itself and any evidence of its presence, it also deteriorated Ethan’s existence. His personality was dragged down into his churning balls, along with his organized nature, preppy values, and crafty intelligence. His kind, bright attitude was ripped away, leaving room for a more cocky, aggressive being. His views and morals were simplified and tied back to tradition, no longer swayed by the repulsive, modern “progress” of today. Ethan’s homosexuality too was torn away, each piece of his gay identity plucked in order to reveal a shallower, more malevolent shell. Ethan felt each shift go through him like a shock. One moment, he was bisexual, the next a straight ally. But eventually he embraced his final form–a homophobic breeder.

The entire uninstalling process itself seemed like it had taken hours, but it was truly only a few minutes. As Red Wave approached its final seconds on Ethan’s console, his dick began to tremble like a great volcano. Inside his boxers, his two drooping testicles were churning the remains of Ethan, deleting his entirety as it was being prepared for its own uninstallation. Still under the magnetic pause of the game, Ethan’s dull eyes watched as Red Wave’s uninstallation completed, sending forth one final shock. The spark raced across Ethan’s system and instantly triggered his hefty cock to eject the massive load, removing any remnants of his former life and blasting them all across his already-stained boxer shorts.

“Huh wha…” Eric awoke from his sudden stupor. “Ahhh dude...!”

The vocal fry was apparent as Eric took one of his hands off the controller and investigated his sweats, which now had a wet, growing splotch emerging from his pouch. He hated wasting a load when it totally could’ve gone in some chick. In Eric’s eyes, nutting alone was basically a crime against his babymaker.

Although his crotch was sticky and would later become stained, Eric didn’t do anything about it. He wasn’t some faggy liberal after all–he was a real man who did real manly things. If he had a massive dick and was constantly pumping stomachs, then he had a right to show that off. He wasn’t gonna let some blue-lovin’, cock-suckin’, atheist freak take away his rights! 

And Eric knew he would always win in the battle of red versus blue. Faggots were always lining up to do anything for their superiors. They’d pay him tons of cash for a used sock. Clean the apartment thoroughly before some bimbo came over to be filled that night just to get the privilege of massaging his massive feet for a half an hour. Plus, Eric had now realized that if he led them on enough, they’d go to the polls and vote red, even if the candidate was campaigning to remove gay rights. Despite having just blown a load seconds earlier, his girthy dick was responding to the thought of knowing how many fags were waiting to serve him.

“Gotta find some slut to dump this all into,” Eric huffed as he adjusted his package. The thought of bouncing tits and wet pussy only riled him further, but with the console already booted up he decided to play a few rounds of some shooter game first. Before he did however, he noticed his juicy feet propped up in front of his monitor, uncared for and needing attention. With his sticky hand, he snatched his phone and texted one of his go-to fairies. Instantly, the boy replied back and said he was on his way to service him. Content, Eric tossed the phone onto his unmade bed and opened up a game while he waited for the fag. The Red Wave was coming, whether the libs wanted to admit it or not. 

Chet

--- Originally posted on 2023-05-24 by shapedbydesire ---

--- Images have been removed since they are too explicit ---

--- Want to read more? View all stories by breedertfs ---

When openly gay, neat freak charles wished he could “know what goes on in that brain” of his older brother, chet, he had never thought that someone would be listening to him — let alone that they’d be willing to grant his ill-fated wish.

he awoke from his midday nap in a rush of heat, pale cheeks flushed, bleached hair wet with sweat against his forehead, curls of armpit hair poking out from beneath his sore, swelling arms and starting to reek. wait… but he shaves daily? doesn’t he?

he blinks, a little disoriented, eyes trying to focus on the dim light in the room. the last thing he remembers is saying those words, and feeing tired out of nowhere, but now he just feels a little nauseous. it only becomes more worse as he looks around his private space to see everything has changed around him.

his gaming setup has become a workout bench littered with dirty socks and compression shorts, his bookshelf replaced with a cheap xbox and a stack of fifa & madden games. he sneers at this, wondering for a moment if he somehow crashed inside chet’s room by accident, but no. as familiar as it all feels, this is his first time ever being inside this particular room. he sits up, eyes glancing to the wall and noticing a woman in a tight bikini squeezing her large breasts on a poster. he wants to think that it’s degrading and awfully toxic, but he’s alarmed when the only voice that speaks inside his head is chet’s. or at least it sounds just like him, low and bovine and with a hint of stupidity. “shittt, i wanna motorboat those puppies.”

never in his life had charles ever thought something so disrespectful about a woman, and yet hard as he tried, he couldn’t conjure any other comment inside his head. he saw boobs and his brain wanted him to stick his face into right them, and that was it. no “i wonder what her personality is like,” not even a “she has kind eyes.” he looks again at the poster and tries to ignore the throbbing in his dick, the pulse like a heartbeat. “fuck,” he gasps, not sure what has caused him to become so aroused. no girl had ever made his sick erect before. his wet dream was to end up with a beefy bear.

“shit, bro. imagine that tight cunt on your rod, milking the seed out of you. fuckkk, imagine that slim belly swollen with your future son inside. breed that fuckin’ pussy!”

charles places his hands over his ears, trying and failing to block out the new narrator inside his mind. He thinks about getting up, running to the shower and taking a long, cold one, but he can only gaze down at his engorged cock bobbing up and down beneath his cheap boxers, an athletic pair not at all close to the designer jockstrap he had fallen asleep in. He can smell the stale scent of sweat in the room, and then it’s only intensified the longer he holds up his arms, looking to see more curls of damp, sweaty hair peeking out. Just like his brother, never bothering to groom or practice good hygiene, he opens his lips to whimper and make a frightened sound, but all that comes out is a deep and gruff moan.

The hand that grips his thick cock through the boxer fabric is rough and calloused, as if he had spent his childhood tossing around footballs just like his jock older brother. “I love football. Football and tits and cunt are the only three things a man needs in life,” his inner monologue continues, his head arching back and his Adam’s apple thickening, protruding from his widening neck. “And a nice cold beer. A bimbo with lip fillers choking on your cock.” His eyes are alight with panic and confusion, his biceps swelling up with every stroke of his hand against his shaft, his hair darkening from its dyed shade to a more natural, casual, lazy style.

He falls back against the bed, hips buckling against the air, watching as tendrils of wiry, dark, sweaty hair erupts across his chest and down to his toning stomach, abdominal muscles popping into existence. “Holy shit,” he grunts, working himself to climax, all the while all the traces of the old Charles have collected inside a swollen pair of bull nuts. Churning with his inferior, wimpy genes, being consumed and replaced by that of an alpha just like his best bro. All Charles wants to do is scream, ask for help, beg for a take back on his wish, but his jaw cracks into a sharp, defined chin, his smirk cocky and handsome and stupid.

“Fuck yeah, I’m the alpha.” The last thing Charles sees before the new man inside him takes over is a barrage of vaginas squirting, boobs bouncing, bubble butts twerking in tight little stripper uniforms. There’s drool trickling down his chin, an ape-like dumbness in his eyes. “I’m fuckin’ bustin’ a nut, bro!!”

Chad expels his former self all over his hairy, firm muscle tits. He thinks about how he and his bro need to get ready for the gym, and how he needs to find a bimbo to face fuck before he has to jack himself off again. He’s still so damn horny!

“Haha, good for you, little bro!” Chet calls from the next room over. His voice no longer lives inside Chad’s head — but it’s not like they don’t think the same shit, anyway.

He didn't realize it that the mask that his boyfriend give him already doused with special serum.

***

"Where's the mask I used when I came here?"

"Sorry babe, I don't see it," Bryan said as he tried his best to hide his smile. The mask is in his back pocket "Here, use mine, got this from someone in the street handing out free mask," offered Bryan

"Black, totally not your color,"

"Well, that's why I give it to you,"

"Okay then. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow for dinner?"

"Of course babe, see you,"

They kissed and then Mark walked out from the apartment, he put on the black mask and Bryan can see that his posture instantly straightened

Along his way home, Mark changed even more. His arms swole as his biceps and triceps exploded. His once soft palm turned rough, courtesy of the workout regimen he put himself through. His polo became a little bit snug as his flat pecs turned muscular, the set of abs followed through to appear and at last, a visible cum gutter that leads to his now 7.5 inches dick with hairy balls. His complexion turned slightly darker, his shaggy blond hair went jet black and cropped while his baby blue eyes also turned black.

As Bryan flopped down to his bed after cleaning the kitchen, a message appear. It's a selfie from Marco, his boyfriend

"Thanks for the mask, babe. It looks good on me,"

Bryan just snickered as he whipped his dick out from his shorts, ready to jack off to the sight of his improved boyfriend

Ostello della Moda: Antonio

--- Want to read more? View all stories by TheBurdenBorne ---

Walter climbed out of the stairs of the metro and squinted at the bright Milanese sunshine. He had been planning this trip with some friends for several months and was finally excited to begin backpacking through the Mediterranean. He was meeting his friends at a nearby hostel called "Ostello della moda" because they were all flying in separately. But once, they were all there, the real vacation would begin. They wanted to start in Milan, than off to Turin, through Tuscany, Florence, Rome, Naples, and if they had time, they might backtrack and go to Spain or Greece. Except for a few reservations, most of their trip would be planned as they went.

Walter walked past store fronts selling men's clothing. The fashions were brightly colored, trim and lean, and a blend of leisure and luxury. Toned men with beautiful men stared back from the images. He saw his reflection in the glass, with his backback pulling against his flabby man-boobs, and his untucked shirt with pit stains, and his undershirt and pants struggling to contain his bulging belly. He was wearing shorts and saw how pale his skin was. He kept walking and started to breathe heavily as the sun beat down on him. He wiped his forehead and wondered if his pale skin would get sunburnt this early in the trip. He walked past a group of young people chatting happily in Italian. They ignored him. Walter told himself that he would have to learn to love Italy. It was beautiful, but he just wondered how he would ever fit in. He looked like a tourist and knew almost know Italian.

He walked past more shops and restaurants and then finally saw the hostel. He rang the doorbell and the door opened with a short buzz. He stepped inside and saw that he was in a dining room filled with guests and with Italian pop music playing from the bar.

"Ciao!" said an athletic Italian man with a tight polo and tattoos on his tan forearms. The confused look that Walter returned indicated that he didn't understand Italian, so he continued in English. "Welcome ... checking in?"

"Yes," said Walter hoarsely. "Walter ... um ... it's under a friend's name..."

"Si, si" replied the man. "I am Nico. Please, set down your bag. Do you have your passport?" he asked.

"Yeah ... um ... it's in here." Walter fumbled through his bag and pulled out his American passport.

"Okay," Nico said. "I make scan and bring papers, you sit. Beer? Wine?"

"What?" Walter asked.

"Do you want beer or wine? It is included in the included. And food too. Please, relax, eat."

Walter's stomach growled at the mention of food, so he left his bags at the front desk and found the buffet line. He loaded up on some delicious looking pasta, appetizers, and little squares of pizza. He sat down and the bartender brought him tall glass of beer. Everyone in the bar was watching a soccer match on the TV, which Walter was glad of, because he didn't want anyone to take notice of him. After a few minutes, Nico came back with a few sheets of paper.

"Okay," he said, "Your room is ready. Just fill out and sign." Walter nodded. "And here is name tag," said Nico, handing him one of those stickers. "Antonio?" Walter said, "But my name is ..."

Nico interrupted, "For fun. Italian name for when you are here. Also, WIFI username."

"Oh," said Walter. He was confused but decided to just roll with whatever policies they had to any avoid trouble. He peeled off the sticker and placed it on his shirt.

The paper forms asked for him to write in his "Italian" name, some contact info, and then the terms and conditions. It was written in Italian, and he tried to translate it, but failed to understand some of the paragraphs. He was staying in Room 234, Bunk A -- hence "Antonio." He assumed that his friends were staying in the same room, but there was no mention of them. He was the first to arrive, and was going to meet with Dylan and Tyler tonight, then pickup John and Neil in the morning from the train station.

He signed the papers and finished his beer. It was such a relaxed environment and the atmosphere (and alcohol) seemed to help him relax. He went up and got some more food and tried to connect to the WIFI. He typed in the user name into the WIFI security. It seemed to work, so he texted Dylan and Tyler, asking where they were. He got no answer back. He decided he wanted to check out the room, so he grabbed his backpack and went up to the room. The elevator wasn't working, so he dragged himself up the steps, which started to make him feel light-headed. When he finally made it to the room, he was sweating and panting. In side the room along the left wall were five bunks, labelled A,B,C,D, and E. It looked like bunk C was taken, which was strange because he thought that he would be the first here. He looked at the luggage and it looked like maybe it could be someone from his group, but didn't want to dig through someone else's stuff. He tossed his bag on his bunk and immediately felt drowsy.

"Probably the beer," he said as he walked towards the bathroom. The room was hot and humid, and he felt like his head was swimming. He felt sick to his stomach and dived towards the toilet. He started to throw up, which made him feel better. After a minute or two of emptying himself, he noticed that body seemed tense and shaky. He pulled off his shirt and he felt thinner and lighter. His chest was covered in dark hairs, which were normally light brown like his hair. He walked over to the mirror and saw that his hair had darkened and that his chin had short stubble. He ran to his bag outside, still half-naked to look for his towel and some clothes -- he needed to take a shower after all this sweating. Maybe he was hallucinating and needed to shower and sleep. He opened his bag and pulled out some clothes on top.

"What the fuck?" he said. There was some bright colored tank tops, tight shorts, colored slacks, and accessories in his bag. "These aren't my clothes?" But he had no time to worry about that. He grabbed a few things and felt his gut writhe in pain as he ran back to the bathroom. He wondered if he would throw up again. But instead, his stomach tightened into a six-pack of abs. His arms and torso tensed up and he saw biceps and pecs emerge. He took off his shorts and underwear and saw that his legs and crotch had lost their flabbiness. He turned on the shower and lathered up, using some fragrant shower gel that was by the sink. The water relaxed him, and as it flowed over his body, it felt like his old body was being eroded away and replaced with the lean and swarthy body of someone completely new. He stepped out of the shower and dried off. He slipped on a pair of tight red shorts and a designer tank top. He heard the door to his room open and walked out.

"Hi," said a chubby man with blonde hair, "I'm Dylan ... I mean ... 'Bruno,'" he corrected as he pointed to his name tag.

"Ciao! Antonio," he replied without hesitation. He continued in broken English. "Eh, welcome to room ... eh, I go out ... eh ... downstairs?"

"Sure," said Dylan. "Have you seen someone named Walter?"

"Ooh-alter?" replied Antonio. "No." He grabbed his phone and walked out of the door to give Dylan some privacy. He checked his messages on the stairs. He had texted "I am here at the hostel. Where are you two?" "Is this Walter?" Dylan had replied. "Just arrived," he added. He had another message from someone that used Tyler's cell number, "Room 234, Bunk C -- Cristofano." He reached the bottom of the stairs and saw someone familiar at the bar.

"Cristo!" Antonio shouted as he gave the man a hug. They chatted rapidly in Italian, as if they had known each other for years.

Hotel Korea: Chapter Three

--- Originally posted on 2019-11-18 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

The Ignorant Passersby

Lee Hae-Jin looked at his watch anxiously, his bicep unintentionally flexing as he did. His workout gear stretched over his tight body as the seconds ticked away, counting down slowly. It had been almost a month since the first Hotel Korea had opened, and nearly a hundred more had been built since then, with even more being proposed in other cities. Lee’s idea had been a huge success, with more and more of the world’s population becoming Korean, but he still had more work to do.

One of his newest ideas for faster conversion was about to launch, and he had no idea how successful it would be. Lee had made sure that if it faltered, only he would be able to notice. Not everyone stayed at a hotel, so he had to find a way to change the everyday civilians. As the last second clicked away, his plan came to life. Lee looked out the window, hoping to see some sort of changes. His anxiousness quickly turned to glee.

— —

“I’ll be back in a second, bro!” Chandler said as he stomped his way to the restroom. He was lifting weights with another guy from his fraternity, Nathan, but had suddenly felt an urge to take a piss. Nathan waved him off as he ran into the men’s locker room. He looked in the mirror and was greeted by a fairly built white male, his blond hair slicked back with sweat. Although his face looked red, his Under Armour wife beater looked rather dry. Chandler grabbed his phone from his gym shorts and took a mirror selfie, the white wall behind him accenting his tanned skin.

Suddenly, Chandler felt a stirring in his bladder, a reminder to why he had come here in the first place. He rushed to a urinal and took out a heavy dick, one that was almost 6 inches and still soft. He began to piss and looked up towards posters on the wall, mindlessly reading about some concert from an unheard American band. He smirked, believing the Top 40 playlist he was listening to was much better.

As Chandler pissed away, he began to hear music playing through the vents. He focused his hearing in on the music and, after a few moments of thinking, determined that it wasn’t in English. He quickly figured out it was some K-pop boy band. It wasn’t his kind of music, or the gym’s for that matter, but he assumed there must have been some big party from the new Korean hotel down the street.

Chandler focused back on the posters, reading about the new boy band that was touring all the way from Korea. He suddenly became overjoyed as he remembered that they were his favorite band. As he finished, he tucked a smaller, yellow cock back into his gym shorts and walked back into the main area of the locker room. Each step he took slowly brought him lower until the 6’2 male was only about 175 centimeters. His arms and legs inflated and he suddenly rushed back into the stall, his dick now wanting to do more than just piss in the bathroom.

Chandler quickly closed the stall door behind him and sat on the ridge of the toilet, taking out his much smaller dick. Chandler didn’t notice the difference in length as he got hard, his cock much shorter than what it used to be hard. He moaned as he began to stroke, his once rough hands becoming small and soft with a lemony sheen. As he edged, his pecs began to fill out more, his pre-defined abs sharpening. He groaned as his shrunken balls began to churn, his hair growing out into black bangs on his head.

“신 이시여!” Chung-Hee shouted as he burst a load in the stall, the white cum sticking out on the black wall. He cleaned himself and walked out, his small, yellow feet moving quickly across the floor. He walked over to the sink and looked in the mirror, the K-pop still playing from the vents overhead and in his earbud. Chung-Hee was glad that Nam-Kyu had convinced him to come to the local Korean gym today. He was a little timid that it wasn’t going to be authentic, but the place seemed to be as if it had come straight out of his own South Korea itself. He smirked as he walked up to the mirror, his sexy Korean body looked incredible against the black wall. He brought up his phone and took a mirror selfie, making sure to hold a straight face. He was looking as 멋진 ever. He sent the picture to his boyfriend before running back into the gym.

— —

Officer Charleston sat in his car, surveying the land around him for any sort of disturbance. Right across the street from him was the Hotel Korea, a newer building that had been the center of multiple documented disappearances, as well as numerous other complaints. He had been dispatched there to see if there was any reason the department should be concerned, but as he lazily ate a bag of potato chips that rested on his large stomach, he couldn’t find anything that seemed out of place.

Officer Charleston watched strangers as he sat there, his floating eyes hiding behind a thick pair of sunglasses. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just lots of random people around the busy street. He noticed the large Korean population that seemed to be spilling out of the hotel across the street, but he assumed that what the typical crowd for a chain targeted at a certain population. Officer Charleston scratched his bushy beard and placed the bag of chips next to him. He lined his large foot up to the brake and started the car.

Right as the car spurred to life, a blast of music began pounding from the building. Officer Charleston twitched from the sheer volume before turning off his car–this was obviously some sort of noise disturbance. He opened his door and shuffled out of the car, his large frame struggling slightly. The policeman strolled to a crosswalk and waited patiently, not realizing that as he stood there his foot tapped to the beat. He also didn’t realize that he was translating the Korean in his own head, beginning to understand every word.

A stoplight flashed red and the officer crossed with his fellow pedestrians. Each step brought the policeman closer to the earth, until he was barely 172 centimeters tall. His torso began to shrink as his stomach fell in on itself, the skin turning to a soft golden. His arms and legs plumped with definition, years of age being replaced with pounds of muscle. His shorter calves and forearms became solid as he made it to the other side of the street.

The policeman hummed along to the music as his thighs expanded inside of his pants. His hands became smaller as he adjusted his name badge, his name switching from the English phonetic system to Hangul. His feet also shrunk, now being able to slip comfortably into a pair of 250 mm boots.The yellowly tone overtook the rest of the officer’s body as his hair magically began to shed, all of it disappearing from the neck below. Even his beard fell away, revealing a sturdy jaw and the most flawless skin.

As a brown bob began to grow out on his head, the officer suddenly felt a sharp pain in his crotch. He rushed out to the side of the hotel behind a dumpster, pulling down pants to reveal a stubby, lemony cock begging for attention. He grabbed his cock and stroked it carefully, his whole hand not entirely fitting. He moaned quietly, its pitch rising as his Adam’s apple sunk in. He felt his balls tremble as he took in a harsh breath.

“커밍 해요!” Security Guard Choi howled as a small load poured into his hand. He sighed before wiping it on the side of his uniform. He was glad that he was able to sneak a session in during his shift at the Hotel Korea. They were fairly lenient on breaks, but sometimes a Korean man in his youth had to get in some extra time. The watchman turned the corner back around to the front of the building and noticed a car was abnormally parked on the street. It probably was just an accident, but he had to make sure that everything was perfect at the hotel. He strode over confidently: there was nothing a fine, young Korean like himself couldn’t deal with.

— —

John just needed a break. He wasn’t supposed to have his kid for the day, but his ex dropped him off a few days early. John hadn’t been able to take off work, so now he had to drag the 9-year-old around with him everywhere he went. It was completely agonizing. As they walked downtown, the kid had to see everything, point at everything, want everything. It was the worst when they passed the new hotel a few buildings back; there was way too much to look at. John eventually gave up, telling him to sit down outside and wait as he went into a brewery to get a drink. He knew it wasn’t the best idea, but he was about to explode.

John quickly ordered a strong scotch and took a seat. Getting closer to 50 everyday, he still couldn’t believe that he had a child so young. Wasn’t his sperm supposed to stop working at one point? The kid had put so much stress on his body, helping him gain weight and lose hair. The balding man sat there quietly as a glass was carefully placed in front of him. He grumbled before grabbing it, knowing he’d have to chug it. Why couldn’t the kid just grow up?

He grabbed the glass right as new song began. It wasn’t coming from the brewery, but instead from a distance away. John didn’t notice it at first, but he slowly began subconsciously focusing more and more on the music. It wasn’t in English, but John could feel himself slowly get more and more involved in the music. His gulping turned to sipping as he started fully investing his attention in the boy-band music.

As John casually drank his whiskey, he didn’t notice his clothes slowly becoming looser on his frame. His stomach was coated in a light tan as pounds shed themselves away, the hair falling with them. While abs and pecs appeared on his frame, round biceps and triceps also began to pop up around his thickening arms. While his body became more muscular, years of age began to disappear. His shoulders and hips were coated in a lemony shade as they widened and shrunk respectively.

As more of the beer disappeared from the cup, so did John’s height. He slowly diminished in his chair, losing 16 centimeters to his height. Although his legs had contracted, his thighs and quads had become enormous. His calves had also becoming thicker, but they had lost their body hair along with the rest of John’s body. The only hair that grew in was on his head, which now was a soft, full stark-black part. John’s feet compressed as the rest of the golden shade covered his body.

Putting his root beer glass down, John began palming his groin. It had become increasingly agitated as time went on. John knew he was in public, but he had to relieve his dick right now. He dug his hands into his pants and began furiously stroking; his cock became more sensitive from its decreasing length. Suddenly, John felt his pouch scrunch up in his hands, ready for action.

“달콤한 방출!” Joon-ho squealed in a high tone as a small wet patch appeared on the front of his shirt. Joon-ho groaned in delight as he resituated himself in the chair. He picked up the Korean coffee and took a sip, smiling at its deliciousness. He knew it was dumb to come to a brewery and not get alcohol, but he didn’t care for it that much. He was still basically a kid in his early twenties, so it never appealed to him.

Speaking of feeling like a kid, he had to go find his boyfriend. He didn’t have a daddy kink, but it was clear who was in charge and who wasn’t between the two of them. Before he’d run off to find his boyfriend, he’d have to finish off this drink first.

— —

Timothy hated the hotel that had opened near his apartment. He had been living there for almost ten years, and all that time he had assumed that nothing would ever be built in the hideous lot a little less than a block away. Then, out of nowhere, a giant hotel was built, with people flowing in and out everyday. The strange thing though, Timothy noticed that people of every size, race, and age went into the hotel, but only young, attractive Koreans came out. The 40-year-old man could sense something was wrong.

Luckily for Timothy, he had just come home from work early, his boss feeling extra kind today. He rushed home and ran upstairs to his bathroom to take a hot, long bath. He prepared all the materials necessary before stripping his suit down slowly, his furry chest and legs becoming exposed to the world. Timothy knew he wasn’t the most attractive of people, with his beer gut and clunky height, but at least was fairly average. Once he was naked, the middle-aged man got into the tub, laying down so his feet stuck out the other side. Timothy rubbed a wet hand onto his head, the short, graying hair meeting him. He laid there in silence for a couple of minutes.

Timothy’s eyes jerked open as he began to hear music bouncing around his bathroom walls. He focused his ears to figure out that it was coming from the hotel, realizing it was in some kind of Asian language. At first, he was completely annoyed, but as he listened to it more, he began to like it. What the boys were singing about became enticing to him, relaxing him once more into the tub before he fell asleep.

Tae-won squinted as he woke up, his nap being a little longer than intended. He slowly pulled himself up, his small body wholely underwater. He looked over his lemony, muscled body, his proudest features all displayed finely under the bubbles. He looked over himself as he felt his small cock rise, with the absence of hair making it look even more miniscule. In fact, Tae-won was completely hairless from the armpits down–and he completely loved it.

Tae-won brought a small hand to his dick, carefully bringing it to full mast with three fingers. He whimpered as he jerked away, his cock sensitive. The boy band played in the background as he kept pushing, his short but powerful legs scrunching up to his defined torso. Tae-won pushed his brown locks to the side as he began to stroke faster. As he got to the edge, he felt his balls scrunch up to push out a load.

“여기 온다!” Tae-won yelled as his shot a miniscule load into the tub. Once he took a few deep breaths, he regained himself and slowly got out of the tub. He grabbed his red jockstrap and tight shorts, placing both on as he dried himself off. Tae-won restyled his hair into the classic chestnut bob before running downstairs. He picked up his phone and saw that he had a little less than an hour before he began his shift at the Hotel Korea. He also noticed that he had received a text from his boyfriend a few minutes ago. He opened the message, finding a picture of the other incredibly attractive Korean at the gym. Tae-won smiled, noticing his boyfriend was wearing one of the wife beaters he had given him at their last anniversary.

“Looking good, Chung-Hee,” Tae-won muttered in Korean, responding back to the picture. He guided himself back to the staircase, his tight, yellowy abs glistened under the sunlight from a nearby window. He pulled up his phone and brought it to the mirror, going from the same straight face that his partner had. His lemony features looked delicious after his long wash. He shot the picture and sent it to his boyfriend before running back upstairs to his room to get his uniform on. He had a long shift ahead of him, but, luckily for him, he loved his workplace.

— —

Milo had been waiting for his friend for almost an hour. He was parked outside of his hotel, the new one that had just opened, and he still hadn’t gotten any word from Kayler. He should’ve been worried, but for as long as he could remember, Kayler was never really one to be prompt; however, this was getting absurd.

Both Kayler and Milo had been friends since kindergarten, and the two of them would graduate in a few months from the highschool a little ways out of the city. Kayler was at the hotel for an assignment, one in which the student would observe a different culture. Of course, the Hotel Korea was the perfect choice, but Milo hadn’t heard any word from Kayler. He was supposed to pick him up after three days at the front door, but as Milo fiddled with his large shirt over his lithe body, no one ever approached his car.

Out of the blue, loud music exploded from the building Milo was parked in front of. Milo ducked for cover, taking a few moments to realize that it was not some sort of explosion, but instead K-pop. Milo didn’t know what to think of it at first, but what the boy band was singing about was strangely alluring. Milo concentrated on the noise, grooming his bright red hair as he followed along. The longer he listened to it, the more he began to enjoy it.

As the song started its first refrain, Milo hadn’t noticed how his feet were no longer tapping the brake pedal. He subconsciously pulled his chair a few inches forward as his shirt began to fill out. The once loose shirt began to tighten around the pecs and abs that were popping up by the beat. His once miniscule arms bloated, becoming muscular and dense. His calves and thighs also expanded while an amber color began to blotch out the pale white.

By the second refrain, Milo’s shirt was now strained, his large torso and biceps making it seem like the seams would rip any moment. Milo’s pants were also threatening to tear, with a large bubble butt and tree-trunk legs pushing at the silky boundaries. Hair dwindled away all around Milo’s body except for on his head, which shortened into a black sports cut. A few years packed onto to Milo as he shifted into his early twenties, while his feet shrunk into a softer size of 245 mm.

As the rest of the golden tan covered his body, Milo grabbed his average size cock and began to stroke. It got hard instantly, but didn’t lengthen at all. His hard length was now the same as what he was as soft previously. Milo didn’t notice however, for he was too focused on how incredible the bridge of the song was. As the last refrain came around the corner, Milo felt his testicles tense quickly.

“너무 좋아!” Min-kyu cried as a spray of white cum covered his shirt. He sat there for a second, breathing irregularly before regaining consciousness. He hadn’t even realized he had an audience at the passenger door.

“여보세요?” The stranger asked, causing Min-kyu to jump. He turned to the window to see his boyfriend standing at the window, still on his shift as a security guard at the hotel.

“Choissi, you scared me!” Min-kyu said in Korean as the watchman entered the car.

“Well, I didn’t know I was late to the party,” he replied back before leaning over for a kiss. As the two embraced, Min-kyu suddenly felt a buzzing in his pocket. He took out his phone to see that he had a text from his friend Kun-woo. He put his phone down and continued with the security guard. If Min-kyu had waited this long, Kun-woo could too.

— —

Gunnar sat on the uncomfortable chair extremely bored. He couldn’t believe that his lousy father had just left him at the front of a furniture store while he went off to get a drink. He didn’t even like his father. The two never connected because Gunnar had spent most of his time with his mom. They never really spent time together, and when they did, it was just awkward and always ended in some sort of argument. It was like he wasn’t even related to the man, but he knew that he had to try to stay friendly.

Gunnar brought a small bag into his lap, looking through all the things that his father did let him get. It wasn’t much, the reusable bag was just as ordinary as they things they had purchased. There were some water bottles, gloves, and a new game for his console back at his other home, but otherwise the day had proved uneventful. His father wouldn’t let him go into any of the buildings he wanted to see, especially the new hotel that had just opened down the street. Gunnar took out the water bottle to take a drink, not knowing what else to do.

Without warning, music began blasting from down the street. Gunnar choked for a second on the water he had just opened, surprised. He took the plastic bottle out of his mouth and looked towards the hotel. He could almost see the soundwaves emitting from the building, the K-pop becoming strangely alluring.

Gunnar brought the juice bottle back to his mouth, beginning to enjoy the music as it played on. As he drank, his legs began to extend themselves, the new meaty thighs and calves pushing him to a staggering 178 centimeters. Gunnar subconsciously began to manspread as his body became wider, his torso filling in with strong abs and pecs. An amber tone flooded his pale skin while his eyes became a deep brown.

While Gunnar continued guzzling pop from the bottle, his arms and shoulders began to fill out. Years of time in the gym became evident as pounds of meat were added to the boys frame. Veins became visible while his hand became round and hard, the results of numerous callouses. His expanding quads caused his shorts to pull up, now looking more like short-shorts than their previous knee-length.

As Gunnar topped off the beer bottle, he began to feel a rumbling in his balls. He had no idea what was happening, but something was telling him in the back of his mind that he should stroke his small cock. He grabbed it, and, with a sudden feeling of elation, began pumping furiously. As he did, he didn’t notice his grunts slowly becoming deeper, or how he now had to blow black bangs out of his face. Right as the yellow color covered the last of the pale skin, Gunnar felt a final push in his groin.

“달콤한 서울!” Gun-woo grunted as his jizz landed on his Corona shirt. He quickly rubbed it in before grabbing the matching bag and looking through it for a back-up outfit. All he had was an empty glass bottle, a beer koozie, and a Korean porn film for his date tonight. His date! He had completely forgotten about it, and where his partner had walked off to.

As if on cue, his boyfriend walked out of a nearby coffee shop. A grin plastered itself on Gun-woo’s face.

You look adorable, boy,” Gun-woo remarked in Korean as his boyfriend walked over.

“You aren’t too bad either, old man,” the man replied back.

“Joon-ho, you know I’m only five years older than you,” Gun-woo snarked.

“You’re talent in bed says otherwise.” Joon-ho replied, licking his lips. Gun-woo smirked as he got up to leave with his boyfriend, knowing he had a fun night ahead of him.

— —

Lee Hae-jin sat at his desk, the new information charts flooding in from every other Hotel Korea. His plan had been a huge success, as apparent by the massive spikes of local Korean populations in each location. The music was an easy choice for conversion while still being untrackable, but the problem was how he would transfer the Korean genetic code through the melodies. He had to write a song that would transform its listeners.

After tedious research, he finally came to an idea: Don’t create music, create a band. He designed his own K-pop boy band, which he cleverly named KOREABOO. They would seem like any other boy band from South Korea, but they’d only produce Lee’s music. Their voices would make the melodies that would become hypnotic to new listeners. Their words would help produce the new Korean population faster.

Lee closed the laptop and chuckled to himself. It would only be so long before the entire world would be Korean, and, more importantly, under his control.

Trash

--- Want to read more? View all stories by TheBurdenBorne ---

Spring break was almost over. After spending a few days at home with my family, it was time to head back to campus and finish out the year. I was an above average student -- not a complete nerd, but not stupid. In high school, I had always been smart but never really fit in. I didn't try very hard. College was liberating! I made friends that shared my interests and was going to graduate with a journalism degree.

I parked my car and headed towards my apartment. A few dirty snowbanks dotted the streets and the trash from last winter made everything look dirty. Most of the apartments in this area were rented by college kids who didn't really take care of their houses. In one front yard, I saw an old white "wife-beater" shirt scattered around empty beer bottles and red solo cups. The shirt was a little muddy, but otherwise in perfect condition. I figured some jock forgot about it one drunken night or basketball game.

Most people would describe me as a hipster. I often shopped at vintage stores and thrift shops for clothes. This abandoned shirt was a little gross, but if washed a few times would be perfectly wearable this summer. I was a skinny little white boy, but in the right weather, I could pull off a wife beater look like this.

I grabbed the shirt and kept walking, thinking nothing of it.

--

When I made it to my apartment, I tossed the shirt on my bed and unpacked my things. I didn't have much to do that day so I figured it might be a good idea to clean my apartment. I moved a few things around and decided to try on the shirt.

"It's still dirty … but, I'll be sweating anyway and take a shower later," I thought to myself. "Might as well try it on to see if it fits."

I unbuttoned my shirt, stripped down, and pulled the white shirt over my head. Looking down, I noticed how pale my skinny body was. With my skinny jeans, styled hair, and thick rim glasses, the look worked in my opinion. I continued cleaning.

With a minute or two, I noticed a strange taste in my mouth -- a combination of tobacco and stale beer. I had never been a smoker, but suddenly could smell cigarette smoke in my room.

"Must be the neighbors," I thought. But the taste grew stronger. I lifted up my shirt, realizing the smell was in the clothes. When I lifted up my arm, a new odor filled the room, a pungent manly scent seemed to pour out of my armpits, which were knotted with black hair. Instinctively, I scratched away an itch and lifted my fingers to my nose. My hands smelled like sweat and smoke. My fingers grazed my chin and I noticed that dark stubble was covering my jaw and cheeks.

I walked over to the bathroom to see if I was just imagining something. In the mirror, I saw that stubble had formed an even five-o-clock shadow. Between the two straps of the shirt, dark hairs started sprouting even though for years I could never grow chest hair. I felt a sharp pain on my right shoulder and grabbed my arm in pain. When I pulled it away, the skin was swollen and red, revealing a new tattoo on my bicep.

"What is happening," I thought to myself. I tried to pull the shirt off, but it was like it was stuck to my skin. After a minute of struggling with the shirt, I realized how thirsty I was becoming. I opened the refrigerator and cracked open a beer. Strangely, the entire bottom shelf was filled with cans and bottle.

"That's strange," I said out loud. "I never bought these!" But, I was so thirsty that I drained the beer in a few seconds and grabbed a second, then a third. The alcohol started to hit me and I staggered back into the bathroom. The shirt still wouldn't move, but the booze made me a little less worried. I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed that I had put on about twenty pounds of weight. My narrow chest had thickened with two firm pecs and tight abs. Massive shoulders and thick biceps replaced my skinny arms. Even my neck seemed thick with muscle. Before, the shirt hung loose on my body, but now it pressed against my body snugly.

Seeing my upper body bulge with muscle, I realized that my pants were uncomfortably tight. I was wearing a pair of skinny black jeans, but my things and calves were starting to ache. To my relief, I was able to unbutton my pants, but when I tried to pull them down, I noticed that they were not the jeans I remember putting on that morning. The waist line had grown, the cut was loose fitting, and the color was a dark blue. I pulled them down to my knees and realized that I was wearing a different pair of boxers too. Satisfied with these new, more comfortable, clothes, I pulled them back up and buttoned them.

When I looked in the mirror again, I was puzzled by the face looking back. "When did I get a hair cut?" I asked myself, rubbing my cropped black hair. Thick, dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion and combined with the dumb look in my eyes, I realized that I was slowly losing my memory.

"It's just the alcohol," I told myself. "People are always stupider when they drink." But when I walked back into my room, I couldn't remember what I was doing five minutes ago. I opened a dresser drawer and found shirts I couldn't remember ever buying, but looked like they would fit me perfectly. I found a pair of brown steel-toe work boots, a pocket knife, a lighter, a pack of cigarettes. When I saw the package of cigs, my body practically lurched with a craving to light up.

"Don't see why not," I told myself. But deep inside my mind, I remember that I had never liked smoking and that this urge was completely foreign to me.

The smoke filled my lungs and nostrils, and with every breath I felt more and more relaxed. Each puff of smoke was like a cloud of memories leaving me forever, being replaced by new ones. Through the haze, my room seemed to change as well. A baseball cap appeared on the dresser, a poster of a truck covered in mud above my bed, my shelf of college books erased from existence in the same way that my hard earned knowledge was gone from my mind. I walked out onto a small balcony to finish smoking and left the smoldering butt on the railing.

On my bed, I saw a blue shirt stained with grease and oil. The embroidered name patch said "Keith." When I put the shirt on, it was like stepping into a completely new identity. Years of experience working with engines in a mechanic's garage washed over me. I found a pair of keys in one of the pockets. When I stepped outside, a black and chrome motorcycle was parked next to the building. I turned the key and raced off for a day of working, completely unaware that I had never ridden this bike before.

They say that one man's trash is another man's treasure. But in my case, one man's trash transformed me forever into a completely different man. There was no way of turning back, for all I knew, this had always been my life.

A New Delivery Service

Jimmy picked up the delivery order from the city’s newest, most overpriced, most overrated fusion restaurant, put the delivery bag into his backpack, and stepped out of the door to unlock his bike. He hated menial, brainless, shit jobs like this, ones that got him absolutely no where and ones where the people he dealt with were reliably all motherfuckers. He couldn’t complain too much, though. He got to create his own hours, the constant to-and-from gave him plenty of exercise to maintain his lean figure, he could put in his ear buds and get paid to ride around town listening to music, and there were other perks of the job.

He unwrapped the lock on his bike and put it back in his bag and then pulled out his phone. He clicked back to the delivery app and confirmed that the order had been picked up and waited for the app to load the directions to the drop-off location. His phone chimed as the delivery address was mapped out.

“Bitch, what the fuck??” Jimmy huffed out loud and dropped his jaws at the location. The home he was to deliver the food to was on the literal opposite side of town, up the gradual sloping hill on which the whole town was built, and was apparently a 45 minute biking route. To make matters worse, the app guaranteed a delivery time to its customers within a half-hour window, and docked it from the deliverer’s pay if that window was lapsed.

“Nuh-uh, nope,” Jimmy shook his head and flipped through the app, making his way to the employee support portal. This called for taking advantage of those ‘other perks’ of the job.

He arrived at the ‘Delivery Assistance’ tab of the employee support portal and entered in the details of the delivery. Well, actually he flubbed the details a bit. Exaggerated the delivery distance, over-estimated the weight of the delivery, maybe inflated some more numbers here and there... What the hell, what the company didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

He leaned back after hitting submit, watching the spinning wheel on his phone that indicated that his request was being processed. He anxiously tapped his heel against the pavement awaiting the response, when his phone vibrated.

Request granted!

• Enhancement : current stats X 3

• New delivery time estimate : 20 min.

• Duration of enhancement : 1 hour 20 minutes

Jimmy only had time to wheeze out a shocked laugh as he felt his phone send a jolt through his arm. He was no slouch, but three times his current stats?? And for an hour and twenty minutes?? Talk about a lucky fucking break!

His body immediately tensed up as a high moan suddenly escapes his lips, and he could feel himself spreading upwards and outwards. His calves dropped any hint of body fat and tightened, feeling slightly like a leg cramp, but then loosened as thick muscle twisted up the length of his claves and thighs. He felt his ass lift off his seat with a giggle as his cheeks packed on dense meat. It traveled up his back and torso, carving his back, sides, and abs into a sculpted work of art as he felt his pecs begin to bounce. They thudded bigger and bigger as he looked down and giggled with a deeper and deeper moan, taking a handful of each new massive tit in each hand, his breath quickening as he felt his neck widen and thicken while his shoulders rolled forward. As his shoulders pushed outwards to accommodate his still-growing size, they bursted larger with bulging definition. His flexed his already massive arms as he continued playing with his tits and playing with his nipples. His arms had always been his most treasured feature that he kept proudly displayed with a tank top, and now firm muscle snaked down the expanse of his limbs, rising to the surface and bulging into twisting pythons of muscle. His arms crossed as he flexed and felt the new size of his bulging peaks of muscle. He threw his head back in a way-too-loud groan—garnering plenty of stares from pedestrians—at the next sensation. ‘Guess they haven’t fixed the bug yet,’ he thought with a grin as he felt his cock stir to life within his shorts. His typically 4 inch softie bloomed outward, snaking down his thigh and fattening considerably into a soft 12 inch hog, and quickly swelling into an unwieldy, throbbing 18 inch pecker, a considerable increase from his typically 6 inch hard-ons.

Request complete! Proceed to your destination.

He grinned down at his phone and wheezed another small laugh. He should be grateful that they hadn’t fixed that bug, especially considering some of the incredible shit they unfortunately got rid of with software updates. One of the older bugs was what actually turned him onto working for the app. One of his exes was a delivery biker for the app and would often surprise him all the time as a horned-up 9 foot giant hunk—sometimes smaller, sometimes bigger—to fuck him raw and shower him with unbelievable excesses of cum. Sometimes he’d even get big enough that Jimmy could do pull-ups on his rock hard cock hanging stiffly in the air or even use his ex’s cock slit as another hole during their impromptu lovemaking. Enough local prudes complained to the company that they were sick of seeing a bunch of horny muscular giants running around the city, so they eventually ‘fixed’ it, if you can call it ‘fixing.’

Jimmy couldn’t get over the fact that he had so much time allotted with his enhancements. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten such a long time to enjoy his enhancements… Actually, that wasn’t true. The last time was about 2 weeks ago when he finished a delivery way ahead of time and met his boyfriend at the park after. They both loved when the enhancements came through, they were a great means of keeping things hot, impassioned, and adventurous in the relationship. But most times, Jimmy only ever gets a X 1.5 or an X 2 stat enhancement, rarely ever above that. He was a fucking beast now with his X 3 enhancements, and he intended to share his new beast body with others.

He kicked up the kickstand on his bike and pushed off the ground, feeling the wind blow past his face as his new body propelled him on his bike through the air at a speed much higher than he was used to. He grinned as he pedaled up the hill, barely breaking a sweat, and dialed up his friend Pete, a coworker-turned-friend veteran in his early 40s that was stuck in the gig economy cycle like millions of other workers.

He was already a pretty hunky guy—he always joked about thanking the government for giving him his ‘superman body’ but fuck all beyond that—and he was a hell of a lay, too. Jimmy thought maybe he’d be down to party.

He held the button on his earbud and waiting for the ding. “Call Pete,” he said in a deep voice, the confirming ding echoing afterwards and putting through his call. It rang a few times until someone picked up.

“Yyyyello?” Pete answered with his typical goofy greeting for Jimmy.

“How’s it hanging, boss?” Jimmy replied with a grin. He always loved talking to Pete. He would have considered him sort of a father figure if they weren’t such good friends and even better fuck buddies.

“Currently delivering to the west side, buddy. Enjoying a X 1.5 enhancement on top of it, thank you kindly to my benevolent corporate overlords.”

“X 1.5?! Nice, dude, so they got Super-Superman out here delivering food to the masses now?”

“The people gotta eat, Jimmy!”

“And eat they will! I’m sure a lot of them would prefer a taste of your specialty. What was it today, extra long sausage rolls?”

“You know it! All day, every day my guy!” he responded cheerfully as they both laughed. A brief, semi-awkward pause laid over the conversation. “By the sound of your voice, it seems like I’m not the only one here rocking some enhancements.” There was a slight eagerness in his voice.

Jimmy’s heart leapt as he turned the corner to head further up the hill, his cock twitching and drooling out some pre as it rested stiffly against his tree trunk thigh and snaked out of the leg of his shorts. Jimmy looked down at his massive arms and only got harder. “Guilty as charged, dude.”

“How big, bro?” Jimmy could hear the smile in Pete’s voice.

“Oh, you know, just X 3.”

“X 3?! Shit, well then I guess you and I are pretty evenly matched!” He was right! Jimmy smiled and looked down at himself. Fuck, he loved looking down and seeing a porn star body. The developers had to know what they were doing when they made this feature. And come to think of it, he was basically the same size as Pete now, except almost double the package size, thanks to the system bug.

“I’d say you’re right! Buuut,” Jimmy bit his lip feeling a grin stretch across his face. “I think I have, well… about 3 times more the package you do.”

“Woof, shit… I guess I can deduce that you’re not talking about your delivery order! You’re making my mouth water, stud,” Jimmy could hear the grin in his voice as he painted on his bike. “Making my cock water a bit too, if you know what I mean!”

“I think I do, Pete. I think I do.” Jimmy kept pedaling up the hill while a silence hung over the line for a second. Jimmy could feel his bulging size press against itself as he leaned over to pedal harder. “So… Meet up at the park bathroom after our delivery runs?”

“Fuuuck yes, man! Haha, I was beginning to worry you’d never offer!” Pete chuckled to himself for a second. “Now this is gay culture: two alpha studs swapping spit and jizz in a public bathroom.”

“It’s what our forefathers and foremothers would’ve wanted,” Jimmy quipped back, suddenly realizing something. “OOOOHH I think Richie is working today. Wanna make it a party?”

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely, the more the merrier!”

“Awesome. Either way, I’ll see you in like 10, good?”

“Good. Keep it stiff for me, stud.”

Jimmy smiled and hung up. That would be no problem; he’d been fully cocked since he heard Pete’s voice, and his unnaturally large cock head was poking out of his shorts by now, leaking sticky pre onto his thigh as he pedaled. He just hoped Richie could join in on the fun.

Jimmy knew that Richie only worked a few days out of the week, but took only the biggest jobs when he did. He loved the extra money, sure, but he loved the enhancements more. Jimmy could remember more than a few occasions that he ran into Richie while he was looking like some body builder fetishist’s giant, sweaty, throbbing wet dream. It was comically different from what Richie was like outside of work. If you saw him on his work days versus his short, twiggy appearance and demeanor on his off days, you’d think they weren’t even related.

He tapped the button on his earpiece again, “Call Richie,” and listened to the ringtone. After a few rings, the line answered.

“YOOOOOOOO,” Jimmy heard a thundering, impossibly deep voice answer.

Jimmy’s grin widened. They’d need a bigger bathroom.

Not In The Exhibit Brochure

It was a hot summer day and the city was filled with people coming to be a part of one of the biggest fantasy conventions in the country. Video games, board games, tabletop RPGs, LARP, movies, TV shows, theater shows, even musicals. If one fancied themselves a fan of a franchise that existed in any of these forms, they could be found spending a sunny August weekend in the convention center.

Mark meandered between countless people in the Second Pavilion, getting tired having spent the last five hours walking around the convention area, being asked for pictures and catching up with his friends. This year he came wearing a full cosplay of one of the characters from his favorite first person shooter. He put on a tactical vest, helmet with a full headset, a tactical belt with a bunch of accessories and camo pants. In his hands he was bearing a perfect replica of the most famous gun from the game.

He spent a long time perfecting the costume, both by searching for just the right gear and by spending hours in the gym. Now his broad and thick shoulders, football-sized biceps and veiny forearms were visible for all attendees, which garnered Mark a lot of attention, which he enjoyed.

It was exhausting, however. The temperature inside the convention center got uncomfortably high at times, so he decided to take a break. He fold the few friends who joined him during the day that he was leaving for a while to take in some relatively fresh air, then pushed his way through the crowds until he got to the exit.

Thanks to the fact that the center was basically in the middle of the city he didn't have to go far to get to a park and relax, then find a place to eat and just take a walk through the city.

Mark was aware that many businesses and institutions had various perks for the convention ticket holders, to keep the attendees in the city for longer and spread the economic effects of the convention. He was reminded of this fact just as he was walking by the giant building of the art museum. His curiosity was piqued and he checked if he would get a discount of a ticket. It turned out he could walk in for free, the only requirement was to show his pass at the entrance.

What Mark saw after getting through a quick but awkward security check truly amazed him. He slowly walked from one part of the building to the next, taking his time to watch every piece, all displayed in a well air-conditioned space, which was a nice bonus. The museum had a bunch of different special exhibits currently open to the public and they were all pretty stunning, each in its own way.

Finally, Mark made his way to a part of the museum furthest away from the entrance where he saw a recent collection of sculptures from a local artist. Each statue was an extremely realistic depiction of a person, and they were supposed to collectively represent modern society. There were athletes mid-run, businessmen in the middle of walking in between offices, chefs tasting their newest creations, it was all incredible to watch, every sculpture most likely taking weeks or months to complete. Mark stood in the middle of the room as he looked around and every time he managed to find a new detail in one of the statues. While his eyes were jumping from one piece to another, inspecting every curve and small detail, he was unaware of just how much time has passed since he entered this space.

And then he tried to move.

Mark heard his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. It was probably one of his friends wanting to check up on him. He tried to move his hand to take the phone and answer the call, but it wouldn't move. Neither would his head. Or any part of his body. He was immediately alarmed. Mark tried as hard as he could to get any element within his human form to move even an inch, but it didn't work. His whole body was suddenly completely stationary and he could not control its movements, because he couldn't cause any movements. He started to panic and hoped someone would notice that he wasn't well. There were a lot of people at the museum so it would be just a matter of time before one of them came to this room and noticed a guy in a military cosplay was standing weirdly still.

Except this did not happen. Visitors just passed by him with no interest in the person standing frozen in the middle of the room. As Mark looked with his unmovable eyes at the tourists wandering around the space right in front of him he felt like he was losing the track of time. Was it a minute ago that he realized he couldn't move? No it mus have been almost an hour by then. Nah, it couldn't be.

Then Mark realized something horrifying. Not only was no one coming up to help him, they began to stop in front of him and just look at him, as if he was just another...

Did he turn into a fucking statue?! That terrifying thought seeped deep into his mind wreaking havoc along the way. How could this have happened? Magic? But magic wasn't real! That was impossible, this was a dream, for sure! He tried to move his body even a little bit, but again he failed every time. He desperately tried to force his hand to move so that he could pinch himself and wake up from this terrifying nightmare. But no part of his arm changed position, not even an inch.

A larger group of tourists, mostly retirees, led by a young woman slowly moved through the exhibition space and passed by Mark, who continued to struggle and try to move.

"Huh, the guide didn't say anything about this one. Did that lovely lady talk about this soldier, Harold?" An elderly couple stopped in front of Mark and they stood there and admired him for a moment.

"No, Mary, I'm pretty sure I'd remember" The man, Harold, took a step closer towards the statue.

"Harold!" The woman shouted at him. "You can't walk up too close to the sculptures dear."

"Oh, calm down" Harold responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's comment. "I'm in an art museum so don't tell me to not look at the art." The older man stood just a few steps away from Mark. "There's no plaque or rope or anything, this is a free country, Mary!" He was a few inches shorter than Mark, so he couldn't clearly see everything but it seemed he was just looking at Mark's gear.

"Look. The artist — that Gary what's-his-name — knew what he was doing with this one. I recognize all that gear this man is wearing. Nice work." Harold's tone of voice suggested he was weirdly pleased with the statue that used to be Mark. "This is what a real man's supposed to look like. Not some sissy sitting behind the desk all day."

"Of course Harold, of course" The woman walked up to her husband and put her arm around him, then started gently pushing him towards the other statues.

Mark's brain struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had really turned into a statue! People thought he was a part of the exhibit! How could this have happened? He couldn't come up with any even remotely plausible explanation for what he was experiencing. He then thought that his only hope would be his friends - they knew he was downtown, maybe some would guess that he used the opportunity to get into the art museum for free, which would lead them to the place where Mark was currently stranded.

The group of retirees came back, walked next to Mark and was about to leave the room when the tour guide looked at him and murmured to herself.

"This statue was not a part of the exhibit. How did it get here?" She grabbed her phone and quickly led her group towards the rest of the museum.

Mark again realized he couldn't tell how much time had passed since any of the recent events. It was as if his internal clock had stopped working, ran out of batteries. This whole experience was so confusing that he had issues fully registering everything. He tried counting in his head, but got lost after 20, maybe? The only thing he was sure of, for now, was that the day had not yet ended, but he could not tell what part of the day it was, as the whole museum was constantly lit with this slightly weird diffused lighting.

Three people suddenly came into view and stood some distance away from Mark, clearly looking at him. He couldn't hear the conversation they were having because of the noise from surrounding visitors, but he could clearly see that they were all agitated, talking over each other and aggressively pointing at themselves and Mark. As he looked closer he realized they were all museum employees, meaning they were probably debating what to do with a statue which has suddenly appeared within the premises of the musem they worked for, a rather uncommon occurrence.

Not long after they left Mark's view and he was once again stuck in this feeling ot timelessness. Tourists stopped in front of him every now and then, looked at him for a moment and moved on, while he stood still, holding the gun in his hands as if ready to fight, and yet incapable of it because of some indescribable force.

The employees from before came back, one of them holding in their hands a metal stand of come kind. It had something written on it at the top, but Mark couldn't see what it was. What he could see was the employee putting the stand in front of him and them all looking at it.

"That will have to do for now" One of them said. This time they were standing closer and Mark was able to hear what they were saying.

"Yeah, I won't be able to make a proper one until tomorrow."

"Okay, but it has to be there by Monday afternoon, otherwise we're fucked. Jesus Christ, still'can't believe this happened."

"No time for moaning, Jacob. We have work to do." Another one replied. They all nodded their heads, took one last look at the stand and quickly left the scene.

Mark thought about what he had just witnessed, and it took him a moment to understand - this was a stand with information about the statue, which meant him. It was the same kind as dozens more throughout the museum that visitors could look at for further information that was meant to enrich their experiences. This was meant to hide the fact that he was not here just mere hours, or minutes, or days, or-- he was certainly not here when the exhibition was opened. That fact was probably what had made them so angry and confused before - from their perspective a random statue of a soldier randomly appeared in the museum.

His mind immediately asked one question - I wonder what did they write on there? What was his title, his author, his artistic description or statement? Wait, his author? That was a strange line of thought, Mark realized.

I am Uncontrolled Power.

Wait, what was that? Who said that? Where was that deep voice coming from?

I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.

Was there someone standing behind him?

I am meant to represent unchecked aggression and power of the Military Industrial Complex.

Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?

I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.

Holy fuck, this was a voice inside his head. Was this... what they had written about him on this stand?

Fuck yeah, I'm an alpha who follows orders and crushes any sign of disloyalty.

The voice was talking to Mark. Shit, the voice was talking to him! What the fuck?

You scum, get ready to experience the primal, animalistic force of a toxic man! I'm gonna crush you!

Mark wanted to sigh loudly, but of course he couldn't. Great, the museum employees with their great art wisdom made him a stereotypical aggressive soldier. Obedient muscle. The armored tool of American imperialism. And this soldier character seemed to have appeared inside his head.

I am here to blindly follow orders, enforce them and show everyone what masculinity really means!

If Mark could have rolled his eyes, he would. He was stuck, like an NPC frozen mid-frame, standing in the middle of an art museum, possibly forever. And from now on he would represent toxic masculinity, aggression and military prowess.

Whoever stands in my way will be violently crushed with the power of the American Military and my primal force! Toxic and proud, that's who I am!

Escape

Inspired by the amazing vocal work of Amalianetwork

It was just another boring day at home for me. The rain was hitting my window rapidly as the clouds outside stormed on. A welcome noise to drown out my arguing family downstairs. I just sighed and silently wished for an escape from this mess I call my life.

I didn’t have the worst life. I was just a guy home from college this weekend. Part of me missed the nostalgia of being in my old room, while part of me remembered why I was so eager to get back to my less boring life in my dorm.

These were the thoughts that filled my head right before I blacked out.

Keep reading

The Locker Room

Owen did not belong in the locker room. It was normally a place that he would avoid like the plague, unless he had to. However, today for some reason Alex had summonded him. Owen had no idea why, but Alex was not someone you want to leave waiting.

Owen hoped, desperately hoped that this wasn't going to be another occasion where the football team pounced and him, beat him and made him feel even more worthless than he already felt. He checked his watch.. It was time. He got closer and closer to the locker room and two members of the team were waiting outisde.

"Hey Owen, you made it" said Brad. Brad was a 6 foot tall muscle mountain. The perfect specimen of football player. Owen always felt so small next to them, the fear must have been showing on his face.

"Don't worry, mate" said Rich "you will love what we have in store for you. Rich laid his hand on Owen's shoulder. Somehow this still did not releax him. Rich did not let Owen hesitate and pushed him straight into the sweaty, smelly changing room.

The room was where the team came to chnage and you could smell it. Clothes, shoes, socks strewn about everywhere. However... This was not the biggest worry of the room because tied to a chair looking very bruised was Alex.. Alex was the star player, at least he used to be. It looked like something had happened. You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned around in panic. Standing behind you was Rhys. Rhys was the second in command, he always followed what he was told by Alex so this scene made you panic even more.

" I bet you want to know whats going on" Rhys said in the most sinister way possible

"I thought i was coming to speak to Alex" Owen replied feeling very tense.

"Well if i had told you I wanted you here, i know you wouldn't have come. You see Alex has been having trails for another team, he was planning to leave the school and take his talents to another team. Coach did not like this so told me to change things if you will" Rhys almost seemed like a super villian at this point. But as he was talking Rich and Brad came into the room and started to strip Alex completely naked. Owen did not know where to look which amused Rhys.

"Since I cannot allow Alex's talent to leave my only choice is to replace him. This is where you come in. We want you to join the team Owen" Rhys started walking round Owen as he spoke.

"How can I join the team? I don't even like sport. I can barely play football" Owen said.

Alex was now naked in his chair. His clothes presented to Rhys. Rich and Brad smiled at Owen as they left the room.

"Because Owen, i want you to become Alex and he will become you forced to live exactly as you do. Wouldn't you like to have a body like his, feel that strong, and feel what it is like to be popular" Rhys knew he was playing into Owen's deep desires. Owen turned to look at Alex who was silenty weeping, knowing his fate was sealed

Owen turned to Rhys and said "how does it work"

"all you need to do, is wear his clothes and when he wears yours you will become each other" Rhys spoke smiling through every word.

Owen put on Alex's socks first. They were clearly fresh off of his feet and for some reason, this excited Owen more. Before he put on the jockstrap he inhaled the smell deeply. He could not wait to put it on. Next the boxers. Everything hanging of slightly Owen continued with the shorts and football shirt.

Owen was now completely in Alex's clothes and the real Alex started to cry. Rhys grew angry at the sight and punched Alex right in the chest.

"Now. You need to dress him in your clothes and you will feel yourself start to change" Rhys exclaimed.

Owen bent down and started with the socks. Alex thought him at every possibility but as the socks slipped on, Owen saw Alex's feet fit perfectly into the socks as his feet started to grow. As Owen slipped his briefs onto Alex, as if by magic, his cock and balls shrank and Owen's new jockstrap fit him perfectly. After his uniform trousers and shirt were on their bodies had perfectly swapped. The only thing missing was the shoes. Rhys had taken his own of and walked behind the new Alex.

"You may have his body, but now I need to rewrite your mind. The smell of my shoe will make you loyal to me. You will always lead this team and be loyal to us" Rhys said. Once he was sure this had sunk in, he removed his shoe. He then picked up Owen's shoes and began to hold it over the new Owen's nose. He left it their until the new Owen's eyes glossed over and passed out.

After about 20 minutes Alex, as he was now to be known came to Rhys was there ready

"Dude... Ya passed out on us, what happened" Rhys said

Alex looked around, felt his body and looked at his hands. Something didn't feel right but he shook it of and said " must have been something i ate". Alex saw Owen laid out on the floor.

"mate, you having fun without me" said Alex as he eyed the nerd passed out

"oh no mate, i was saving him for you" said Rhys as they both proceeded to lay a punch on the nerd. Alex thought to himself, who would ever wanna be like that. All smart and no fun.

If only he knew...