deca

The moment the magic smoke hit, Cole's mind slammed into this godlike body like a freight train. No longer the scrawny 19-year-old nerd, he stared up at the ceiling fan from a towering, sweat-glistened frame—thick pecs heaving under his own unfamiliar hands.

"Oh fuck... these are mine?" he gasped, voice deep and velvety, sending shivers straight to his swelling cock. His palms roamed the rock-hard slabs of chest muscle, fingers digging into warm, slick skin that felt electric. Every squeeze made his new nipples harden, a low groan escaping his full lips. "Mmm, so heavy and plumpy... fuck, these are hotttt!"

The curly-haired stud in the mirror—his new reflection—flexed instinctively, biceps peaking like mountains. Cole's old life faded as this body's raw masculinity flooded him: thick musk rising from his pits, heavy balls churning between powerful thighs, and a fat cock thickening against his shorts with urgent need.

Am I really doing this? 

When Rohan Desai had first heard of The Avengers, his life had been changed forever. Of course, he had grown up hearing about all kinds of superheroes, the one he was awaiting for today’s special event was in World War Two. But it was still so odd to suddenly see them blossom in his life. He was in college when New York was first attacked and though he was far from the centre of the invasion, when you grow up in New York, you’d likely run into someone who knew someone who had been saved by one of the titular heroes. 

Even still, the Avengers were no longer just an idea, they had become something akin to a brand. It was why Rohan was here, he had turned from college student watching New York get saved by superheroes into one of the lead developers of one of the first superhero videogames. It technically wasn’t the first, but it was one of since The Avengers had been established and it was focused on the titular character of Captain America. From what he understood at first, nobody wanted this game. Not him, not the company and certainly not Captain America.

But overtime, there were some…business dealings and briefings, investments from the one and only Stark Industries and nearly four years later they had something. It wasn’t great, hell Rohan was just glad it was good and they had complete creative control, meaning the game actually could have some sort of genuine story or meaning behind it. At least as much as he could try in between missions of Captain America beating up HYDRA agents in a hyperrealistic sandbox of New York. 

Are we really doing this? That was the question Rohan first asked when they got approval to begin development and entered pre-production. Are we really doing this? He asked again when they had finished making the model of Captain America, the motion capture and voice work done by a man who had played him in the infamous Avengers musical.

Are we really doing this? It was the same question that he asked that morning.

The common ambience of the office with conversation and keyboard clacking had turned into something larger. It had become a storm of busyness and a business hard at work. Conversations were now the cacophonous rain of commands to staff and camera crew. Thunder was the heavy thud of sound and camera equipment as it was picked, pulled and moved around the office like new ornaments. Lightning were the glimpses Rohan got of their special guest. 

Captain America. 

In the flesh.

Instead of his other common appearances doing charity work or on missions, he was practically forced to do what a lot of celebrities had to do, sell out. Rumour had it the only way they convinced him to come to the office to shoot the interview was if he could make some pledge to charity. So that was how after months of scheduling, they finally had the one and only Captain America ready to come into a small office with Rohan Desai and have the two alone in a room for an interview as they played the game. 

I guess we’re really doing this. 

Rohan wondered why he was chosen besides being one of the leads. Perhaps it was because he was the opposite of Captain America in every way. The hero was tall, blonde and broad shouldered with enough strength to take out anyone in his way and an aura of confidence that could lead men into battle. Rohan was lanky, skinny, nerdy with bronze skin and curled black hair who was only good at leading people when it came to the office. And even then, he questioned if he was that good at it.

Apparently there was a reason the pair were put together, according to the director of the whole ordeal, they both just seemed ‘nice’. Nice, wholesome, a carefully curated picturesque pairing of two men with morals so the interview didn’t look so much like the promo that it actually was. Maybe that hunger for authenticity was why they were being left alone in a room together to ‘chat’ rather than have an army of a camera crew managing their every word, trying to get the perfect shot. 

“You ready for this?” came the familiar voice of another project lead. Rohan would have felt guilty for taking the man’s spot but despite him being more attractive and in line with a man who’d look good around Captain America. 

“Yeah,” Rohan lied, playing the role of someone having at least something resembling confidence. “It’s not that big of a deal.” Too much confidence, his mind warned suddenly like a computer error. “I mean it is- Don’t get me wrong- No like it totally…totally is, but I mean like- You know…I didn’t realise the whole office would have to move and uh…stuff.” 

“Yeah…” The project co-lead replied, echoing only Rohan’s first word like that was all he was listening to. “Well y’know the director says he wants it to feel genuine, not like an actual game studio. So you get the soundproof therapy room and everything, just y’know don’t actually call it the therapy room.” Rohan wanted to ask why and then realised he really didn’t want to get bogged down in the details. 

“Okay…so the interview and then-”

“Chat”, corrected the co-lead. “Then snap some photos and then Cap will probably stick around taking more selfies or autographs or whatever with folks. Look…I know you’re nervous.” 

“That’s…Yeah pretty accurate,” said Rohan.

“But look at it like this, you get to spend an hour with Captain freaking America. Playing the game that we busted our asses off and we know is good…”

“True…”

“And it’s pre-recorded. Anything weird happens or there’s some mistake, they can just edit it our, redo it, whatever.”

“Right…”

“So…my point is…” The co-lead smiled. “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

It had been something of an odd process, a social ritual playing out as people seemed to drag themselves away from Captain America’s alluring presence. Though they had trouble with their half glances and a couple snapshots on the phone, Rohan had to do the opposite. He felt as if he had to orbit the man, not knowing exactly when they were going to start filming. The camera crew was still busy and they had turned the ‘quiet room’ (a soundproof room nobody used that corporate decided to have if only to list as one of the company benefits) into a recording studio. 

A different couch had been pulled in and positioned against the far wall. A couple of plants had been taken from people’s desks to put around and add some greenery. A coffee table had been moved in hastily stacked with some water bottles and granola bars and a collection of different wires were hastily organised and hidden away beneath and behind the couch.

They had somehow turned a glorified storage closet into a makeshift talk show set. Warm neon lights cast a purple haze over it all and a television had also been moved in with all the right equipment to start up the game, a camera positioned in the corner to capture some of the gameplay, though Rohan knew most of it would be recorded from the console itself. 

The most surprising ornament of the room was the one that this was all for, Captain America. Unlike everyone else, the super soldier walked in with a casualness, an ease that contrasted with the panic and pressure of the crew around to try and get everything working and perfect and looking good all at the same time.

He had been busying himself chatting with some of the same crew and Rohan doubted it was about features he should mention or anything to do with the video. It looked more like he was just having a casual conversation. When Rohan first saw him up close, it was when he had already been sat down in the room as they did camera tests and soon Captain America had come in. 

The door opened without ceremony yet the effect was instant. Conversations clipped themselves short; the shuffling of cables slowed, as if everyone had suddenly remembered they were supposed to move gracefully. Captain America walked in. The hero stood in the doorway for a moment, one hand on the frame as if politely asking for permission before he could come in. The hallway’s cooler light haloed him from behind, a contrast to the warm, overworked neon of the room within. His frame was unmistakable: tall, broad shoulders and a shirt that stretched across his chest that would make any man envious of his pecs. Rohan felt a knot in his stomach, like all his nerves had bundled together and pulled taut suddenly. He swallowed dryly and was suddenly glad there was water nearby before Captain America’s eyes met his and he smiled, showing off some pearly whites as he stepped forward.

“Hi, Steve Rogers,” said Captain America as if he had any need to introduce themselves. He leaned forward slightly holding out his hand and Rohan shook his. 

“Rohan Desai, uh it’s an honour to meet you sir,” replied Rohan. He almost immediately regretted calling the man sir as soon as it tumbled out of his lips. Steve blinked and smiled wider. God I wish I was like him, Rohan thought as he felt a slight shiver at that. 

“You don’t need to call me sir,” assured Steve as Rohan nodded, ignoring the heat that was invading his cheeks as he swore he could only hear his heart drumming in his chest. “Honestly sometimes I wish I could be more like you guys who are so smart with all this coding and programming kinda thing.” Steve’s grip tightened slightly as he was shaking Rohan’s hand, feeling a slight shiver. “Oh sorry uh….So you’re the one I’m interviewing-” Steve stopped himself and laughed.

“Sorry uh doing the interview with, I get all tongue tied with this sort of stuff.” The man admitted as if the concept that Captain America, a man who was used to leading armies and stopped an invasion only a decade ago wasn’t absurd. Rohan just nodded, still too awestruck to say anything.

“We’ll be doing a bit of gameplay first, just to do a bit of a camera test and then we’ll go from there if that’s all good?” A voice, likely the director, sounded out from behind a camera and Steve nodded.

“Uh yeah that’s…whatever’s best,” stammered Rohan as he could already see some of the crew leaving. It seemed the pitch of a more close and intimate interview setting wasn’t solely for show. 

“Excited for it,” said Steve as he sat down finally, adjusting on the couch which sagged underneath his weight. “Have to admit, it’s great that a portion of this marketing budget gets to go to charity but…It is kinda interesting I guess, being able to go to an event and play a game about myself.” The hero’s enthusiasm was like gust in a heatwave. Rohan could feel himself relax, as Captain America’s looming presence was beginning to grow more comforting than intimidating. 

“Uh yeah I totally agree, I really appreciate it not just being a typical ad and uh we worked really hard on the game with quantum processing so we…” Rohan started and then smiled. “Sorry, rambling. I’ll save it for the video.” Steve chuckled.

“Sure, sure, so…should we get started?” Captain America glanced around at the remnants of the crew that were ready for the go ahead. They simply nodded and after a silent countdown, started the recording before the last people around quietly filed out. Rohan took a few deep breaths before glancing straight ahead toward one of the cameras.

“So hi everyone, I’m Rohan Desai, the director of Captain America Rising and with me is a very special guest…” Rohan started, glad that his voice wasn’t too shaky. Steve gave a wave and smile.

“And I’m Rohan- Sorry uh I’m Captain America and I’m happy to be with Rohan here playing Captain America Rising,” said Steve with a dazzling smile. The main menu booted up with an orchestral swell of strings and brass as a logo glowed across the screen. “Wow uh it looks pretty serious huh. I…” He blinked. “Well I definitely look a little more square jawed than I am and…is that the old suit?” Rohan chuckled.

“Uh yeah the art department wanted that kind of look and uh did use some generative facial composites,” replied Rohan as the game started to load up a save file for a mission to play. Everything had been set up perfectly. “So uh…you did visit the set I believe where the mo cap was taking place right?” Steve nodded.

“Yeah, yeah…it felt…kinda weird to see someone who looks a lot like me in a sort of tight suit doing my voice and such,” replied Steve as he shifted. They selected a co-op mode, one where one could play as Steve and another as Bucky Barnes. “Huh…weird I can’t play as Cap.” Steve chuckled. “That’s ironic.” Rohan frowned.

“That’s weird uh…well I can choose, but uh we can swap if you’d like?” Rohan suggested, holding up his controller in case the hero wanted to take it. 

“Oh no no no that’s fine,” laughed Steve. “Instead I’ll be playing as…well hey I’m happy to choose Bucky for now, I didn’t really know there’d be so many different heroes to choose though for co-op.” It was odd though, Steve thought. He assumed that he would be playing Captain America and that the developer would have been playing the other hero. But perhaps it made all the more sense for Rohan to be the one playing the titular hero. He knew the game best. “So uh I’ll be playing-”

“James Buchanan Barnes, best friend of Captain America and war hero,” started Rohan. Steve looked pleasantly surprised by the sudden answer. Rohan blinked. “Oh uh sorry yeah uh as Bucky Barnes, one of the newer members of the Avengers I believe.” Rohan blinked. He was a huge fan of Captain America but…how did he know the answer so suddenly? He didn’t mean to have taken over and straightened, assuming it must have just been his nerves taking over and wanting the video to go as smoothly as possible. 

“That’s right…uh looks like we’ve loaded in.” 

“Let’s go,” said Rohan with a sudden enthusiasm, wanting to show off his hard work. The two started off in a pre-selected mission in the open world of New York City where the camera swooped down from the skyline into a bustling digital Manhattan. Steam hissed from subway grates, detailed pedestrians moved with believable randomness and the ambiance of the city started to sound out. Before they knew it, a fight had broken out with some HYDRA agents in a warehouse and the two began to move in, with Rohan as Captain America tossing his shield and performing finishers whilst Steve struggled slightly with his aim as Bucky. “Oh uh so it’s important we work together on this part.” Rohan coughed, his voice sounding a little deeper for a moment there before he cleared his throat. 

“Got ya, got ya…the game looks really detailed it’s sort of scary, having grown up around black and white movies and all,” Steve said with a smile as the two of them quickly engaged in a quick time event. The both of them concentrated on the screen as the game prompted them to mash a button to move some debris out the way of a door. As Rohan began to mash, something strange began to happen. At first it was just a pressure, a swell beneath his skin. With each frantic press of the button, his sleeves began to strain.

His biceps slowly began to inflate and thicken, pushing against the fabric until the seams squealed. At the same time, it seemed that Steve was feeling as if his hands were growing weaker and slightly numb. A bronze tone began to take over his hands as dark hairs started to sprout over the back of his hand and trail down his arms where the muscles felt like they were beginning to shrink. It felt like the strength was being sapped away. 

Rohan didn’t seem to notice except the sudden wave of pleasure that he began to feel as he tensed his arms. Every shift, every adjustment in his seat, made the arms begin to stretch like they belonged on a larger body as he felt a tinge of euphoria that was just growing as he continued to adjust and feel his now much paler arms. 

“You doing okay there?” Rohan asked as he saw that on Steve’s screen he was having trouble doing the prompt as fast as he was. Steve could continue to feel like his arms had somehow grown weaker, slightly more numb and skinnier as dark hairs continued to trail down and cause them to itch. He wanted to look down but he felt like he could hardly break his gaze away from the screen.

By the time the prompt was over and both characters shoved the debris to the side, Rohan was laughing to himself and Steve smiled, albeit with a little more nervousness as he shifted with embarrassment. He just couldn’t get a handle on this kind of technology. At least that’s what he told himself to explain how he couldn’t do something as simple as a prompt to press a button over and over. 

“Uh yeah heh I don’t play a ton of games so I’m not sure,” started Steve, coughing and clearing his throat as he shifted in his seat. Played a lot of games? He didn’t have time for that sort of thing. He was usually on playing missions…right? He found his mind growing hazy as he tried to think, suddenly remembering the hours he got to let go and relax, playing some videogames instead of the list of movies, shows and books he had to read since he’d been frozen.

As they continued the mission, both the characters got in a vehicle with Rohan taking the lead in the driver’s seat. As they began a chase sequence, Rohan could feel himself naturally swerve the controller when they turned, straining his tight sleeves until-

RIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPP.

A small but sudden tear sounded out and Steve barely caught a glance of Rohan’s suddenly meaty and paler biceps in his shirt. “So you work out a lot then?”

“Oh no I prefer working out to video games,” blurted out Rohan. He didn’t mean to say that. He knew he didn’t mean to say that. Yet words were power, and as he spoke them, Rohan felt something seize inside him. His grin faltered, replaced by a grimace as he instinctively arched his back. His indie band shirt that once hung loosely on his skinny frame was suddenly one size too small, if for just a moment. The change began deep in his torso, his ribcage expanding as his skin prickled and continued to pale, bubbling as if his skin was the top of some boiling elixir.

He grunted softly, caught between shock and exhilaration, feeling each part of his spine stretch and realign as his body lengthened. He leaned back, suddenly taller on the couch as the hem of his shirt inched upward, betraying a strip of his stomach, no longer soft but tightening into ridges of muscle that flexed and defined themselves in real time.

He tried to tear his gaze away from the screen, tried to see what was happening, but it was impossible to ignore the hypnotic pull of the light around him. Whether it was the glint that caught Captain America’s shield or the neon beams of HYDRA enemies or the detailed lights of the city, Rohan blinked.

“I uh…No I…I uh…”

Rohan struggled, almost moaning as he could barely see his stomach gurgle and froth in the corner of his eyes. Any fat of his stomach melted away, slowly descending to nothingness as it became as visible as air, fading away. All the mass left was converting into muscle, beginning to carve itself and hardening like it was some liquid as Rohan couldn’t help but let a deep groan slip from his lips, mixing it with an exhausted grunt as his body did feel like that both exhausted and heavy.

His shoulder blades writhed under the fabric, expanding outward, stretching his shirt to its limits. Each shift sent another ripple down his torso, where abs carved themselves across his stomach. The paleness continued to crawl all over his changing body as a dusting of brown hair grew to form a treasure trail below his abs. 

“You okay there dude?” Steve asked as he tried to turn to look at Rohan. His mouth twisted into a frown of concern as he tried to check up on the man until he realised…he couldn’t remember their name. It began with an…S…something. Sanjit? Samir? But as he tried to focus, he felt a wave of nausea pass over him, like something was punishing him for not having his complete and total attention on the game. “W-What the heck is this game…”

As Steve looked back at the game, focusing and uncertain, his accent began to shift. His parted lips and widened eyes began to relax, giving off an almost slack expression as he stared at the mesmerising visuals of the game. “Game…looks…so…good…” Steve said in a murmur of a slightly higher voice that no longer sounded like his own. 

At the same time Steve could faintly recognize something happening to his body. At first it felt like the strength was leaking out of him, little by little, until the familiar density of muscle gave way to something looser. The shift was oddly natural, almost comforting, as though a weight he’d carried for years was being peeled away. His broad abs began softening into nothing, the scars from his time as a soldier and the super soldier experiment all beginning to fade away.

What had once been a frame carved by years of training was becoming lankier and softer in all the places that used to be sharp. The pale skin began to darken, first beginning as a faint warmth and then deepening to bronze as it smoothly crept down his body like ink spreading through water. The sleeves of his shirt slid against thinner arms dusted with the faint hair that hadn’t been there before. All the while his fingers stretched longer, growing softer and more delicate and gripping the controller with an anxious energy he didn’t recognize as his own. 

“Yeah the game looks so good, I’m…glad it uh…worked out…” said Rohan as he continued to stare. Steve blinked.

“Yeah worked out…No yeah I loved working on the game,” confirmed Steve as he grunted. He could feel his legs shrinking too, making him grow slightly shorter though with less muscles, he was beginning to seem more lanky than broad and tall. All the while Rohan could feel like air was being injected into his upper chest as his pecs began to swell, growing and inflating and making his nipples harden underneath the already tight shirt that could no longer cover the lower half of his stomach as he blushed and moaned. 

“No I…worked on the game I…was…a developer consultant,” replied Rohan as he blinked. Consultant? No he was the lead…lead…consultant after all, who would know Captain America best?

He wanted to say something, but that was when he felt something else inflate as if it was filling with air, causing him to grunt and sit up even higher as his cheeks began to grow. The pressure of the changes coiled in his hips and thighs as his legs tingled with the same pleasure and heaviness that was spreading across his body. His thighs pressed outward, stretching the fabric as they swelled with new density, every seam groaning in protest.

His calves grew, once spindly but now carved into powerful bastions of muscle as his ass continued to grow and grow. The couch sagged deeper as his glutes surged, rounding and hardening with a weight that felt both foreign and inevitable. Rohan could feel the denim split, hearing the faint pop of stitching as eat of his jeans tried and failed to contain what was now unmistakably growing to be…AMERICA'S ASS. 

“O-Oh my god…I…I…” Rohan would have squeezed his legs together in the past, like that could somehow stop the horniness that was invading his cock as his ass and legs grew paler and devoid of the usual dark hairs. His bulge was already growing next, half because he was harder than he had ever been before and half because his cock was growing from whatever forces was changing him.

“I had to do…so much work…for the game, really was a lot…”

Rohan added with a voice that wasn’t his own, one that was deeper and richer and sounded exactly like the voice that was coming from the game, the voice behind Captain America’s quips as a sharp pressure came at his feet. His toes pressed hard against the ends of his socks before finally tearing through, pale fabric ripping as his feet surged longer and wider. His toes stretched and spread as the soles expanded beneath him. The converses that he’d worn comfortably all day suddenly bulged at the seams, leather squealing under the new size and weight until it looked like they might split apart at any second.

“That…that doesn’t sound right, I’m trying to remember reading all about it,” mused Steve as his own voice had shifted completely to the slightly more higher pitched and nervous sounding tone of Rohan. He blinked, his eyes growing darker and hazier, already forgetting about the missions he had done for the past year and then the year before that and the year before that as all he could think about was the game.

“We’re over time but we shouldn’t stop, we’re nearly finished.” Steve scratched at his face as his fingertips no longer traced the familiar hard line of his jaw. His face was beginning to shift, His jawline, once sharp and square, softened under his touch.

The solid edge drew inward, narrowing into something more delicate, more angular. His cheeks followed suit, the fullness draining until they hollowed just slightly, reshaping his face into something that was longer as his eyes were suddenly adorned with thick glasses. The pale tone of his visage continued to shift, deepening shade by shade to match the rest of his body as his blonde hair darkened and grew longer, spilling out into dark messy curls over a higher brow. Steve blinked, unsure why he was so surprised, feeling his face…he was only 29 after all.

“Yeah…let’s not stop, we’re almost over-” and as Rohan leaned forward and continued to be mesmerised by the game, he was growing more and more infatuated with his character. He knew every detail of the suit, every move, every nuance of the character. But he blinked, blinked as his own glasses fell off his face as his nose shortened and disappeared before they hit the ground. His brown eyes turning blue as the pale tone that had reached his thickening throat was beginning to crawl over his jawline that suddenly widened and hardened. His hairline crawling back slightly as the dark curls receded into a natural slicked back blonde style whilst his features grew sharper and rougher and larger especially his growing lips as he blinked. Why wouldn’t he know his character? He was the character. He was Captain America. This was his game. “W-Wait…I think…”

But there was nothing to think about. The mission ended and just as Rohan and Steve looked at one another in shock and recognition, both their hard cocks throbbed at once and they had only the time for one thing and one thing alone; realisation. All before they suddenly felt their cocks throb in tandem and finally…release.

Their cocks spasmed violently, releasing in perfect sync, a shared climax as both their heavy moans suddenly filled the room as both bodies bucked. Rohan’s hips twitched as he was in Captain America’s muscular body with the hero’s hung cock between his legs spilling thick ropes of cum stained his clothes, pooling in his lap. At the same time Steve in Rohan’s body gasped as it felt like he was cumming for the first time in his life, the sweet bliss of pleasure rushing over him and making him forget everything for just a few moments as his own six inch cock twitched and come in his clothes.

“O-Oh god…w-what the-” Rohan in Steve felt his body, his face, his muscles. “W-What happened to me?!” Steve in Rohan panicked, gasping as he looked down at himself.

“N-no this can’t be-” 

But then came another climax, making both men forget their panic for just a moment as their minds were colliding and folding into one another. The decks of their lives shuffled amongst one another that it was hard to tell which piece was what. 

“M-my head…I keep remembering…battles and…and world war two and…Bucky and…god Bucky…” 

“N-No I don’t want to forget…” Steve in Rohan’s body moaned as he tried to hold on. But all the willpower was in the muscular hunky body that was once his own next to him. “O-Oh god I’m-” 

But their cocks twitched again and their old lives melted, dissolving into something else as Rohan Steve gasped as he came again one last time and Steve Rohan moaned as he couldn’t stop himself from doing the same. Rohan…or rather Steve was the first to move, blushing as he felt Steve Roger’s natural embarrassment for doing anything like cumming in public flare up whilst Steve or rather Rohan felt the same, but more out of natural awkwardness rather than dignity. Both the men’s eyes met.

“I’m…I’m you,” Steve said as he looked at Rohan and Rohan blinked.

“I’m you…but uh h-how? I…I can remember your life…fuck my head…”

“Swear,” both Steve and Rohan said simultaneously. 

“T-This is…this isn’t right. The game, we used quantum computing for the engine, I- I don’t know how this happened…”

The air remained thick, not just with the fading warmth of their lust, but with a quiet and almost sacred stillness that followed a transformation too bizarre to name. The both of them still somehow had their minds as they gazed at one another, the other in their body. It was such a bizarre feeling, as if looking in the mirror and realising that the reflection was blinking all on their own. 

But at the same time there was also a quiet thrill to it as the other looked down, prodded at their muscles (or lack of muscles), flexed a muscular bicep (or touched their skinny one) and felt their face, their new jawline and features. Both the men stopped as they realised what they were doing, almost mirroring each other in their inspections as they still managed to somehow keep their minds about them, even if it was fused with one another.

“I’m…you,” Rohan continued as he glanced down at himself and the massive muscles. In all honesty, he had never felt physically better and more mentally anxious than ever before in his life. It was as if the feeling he got from his runs on the treadmill or few times he decided to visit the gym had compounded and formed a permanent bliss that permeated his newer bigger body. 

But there was something else too, as if he was watching a movie, he could see the memories of Steve Rogers all the way from the 30s and 40s, the skinny young man who was even thinner than he was, unhealthily so, doing anything and everything he could to serve his country. Rohan blinked and had to admit, being in such a muscular body felt good, even if there was a strange balance, like he was scared if he took a step then he’d fall over. 

He felt Steve’s own earnestness, his confidence leaking into him and almost infecting him. 

“And I’m…you?” Steve said, still not used to his newer voice. In his mind, there was still a tenacity, one that reminded him of himself before he got the Super Soldier serum. It didn’t come in the form of a man trying to fight for his country, but instead just navigating the modern world and trying to make something of themselves. He could see the memories as far back, trying to save up to start a company, registering the LLC, working late nights out of his home. All the sacrifices and meetings and blood, sweat and tears that had not only gone into making this game but making anything of value. It was a far cry from being a soldier, but isn’t that the kind of world Steve wanted? Where people could prove their worthiness in different ways that didn’t involve war? It felt like watching someone’s life on TV or that site, Wikipedia that helped him understand so much of what he missed whilst frozen. Although he missed his body, the strength and muscles, he had to admit, there was a sort of relaxing feeling being younger and skinny again. But this wasn’t right. They had to swap back! “H-how did this happen?”

“I…I don’t know,” replied Rohan as he glanced down at himself in disbelief. “This…this feels…”

“Weird?” Rohan was pleasantly surprised to see Steve chuckle in his body. “Look you clearly didn’t do this on purpose so let’s just figure out a way to work together and…turn back.”

“Y-Yeah I can’t…I mean this is…I can’t actually be Captain America…and you can’t be stuck in some…” Rohan gestured at Steve in his old body. “Uh well we know who got the short end of the deal.”

“Hey let’s not…say stuff like that,” said Steve. Even now he was being so…nice even if he went through something that should have been shattering his reality, his sense of self, should have made him panic. But if they still had their minds, then they must clearly have some of their old mental traits as well. 

“Yeah…”

“Though I definitely felt like I was losing mine before. Now maybe it’s because we don’t know how this things work but I kinda get the sense that whatever this…thing is…” Steve gestured at the console.

“It’s true. You’re Captain America and I’m…uh…” Rohan glanced down at himself in the star spangled hero’s body. He tried to ignore how much the man’s pecs turned him on as he swallowed dryly. 

“I could’ve been put in a billion worse people, besides you’re not…bad. A lot of this is just confidence, that and highly risky untested serum.” Steve gestured at the muscular body Rohan was in as Rohan smiled at that, at least appreciative the hero was still, well, being a hero, trying to assure him everything was okay. “The way I see it…somehow we both still have our heads.” Steve gestured at the console.

“It was trying to mess with our minds. I have the serum that could’ve helped but you seemed to keep yourself…as you too. Maybe it says a lot more about you than you think…and good thing too, I don’t know enough about this thing even with your head to…fix whatever this is.” Rohan blinked at the man’s words as he considered them.

He had never even come close to thinking about it, but if the quantum computer could somehow change their bodies like it was code, it should have done the same with their mind, programming them as if they were caricatures, NPCs.

But it didn’t. They both managed to hold on. What did that say about the technology? And if it was meant to work and wipe their minds…what did it say about him? He blinked again.

He doubted that he was even half as attractive as the hero but there was something about seeing himself from another man’s perspective, the warped features he once hated in the mirror didn’t look…as bad from another person’s eyes. He blinked.

“Uh yeah your memories are…a lot,” Rohan half joked, not only were they heavy but there were so many of them reaching so far back. “N-Not that I’m complaining. I mean I don’t want to…uh…say your body is bad…but…I think maybe I shouldn’t look at them too much. Uh kinda an invasion of privacy and I wanna keep a hold of my mind.”

“Are you sure you can manage?” Even now, Steve in another man’s body was looking out for someone else rather than himself. 

“Yeah I’m sure I can do this all day,” said Rohan with an ease before he blinked. 

“What was that?” Steve questioned. “I…I don’t know, that just felt…uh sort of right saying but that’s your…”

“Catchphrase…not that I really intended on one but growing up in wartime you learn that slogans stick,” said Steve with a casualness. Rohan was relieved, as if he half expected Steve to be angered someone else was in his body and now saying his words. “So what’s gonna happen? Am I gonna start listing off…game engine…things?”

“Game engine things?” “Like how you used my words, am I going to suddenly start rambling about how quantum processing is actually a brilliant and efficient way to cut back on cut back on loading times, procedural generation overhead, and memory thrash- Oh…Oh fuck-” 

“Swear,” both Rohan and Steve said simultaneously again. 

“Okay, okay…maybe we just…calm down. And figure out how this happened and-” Rohan said, nervously pacing and fidgeting in Steve’s body.

“Alright relax, I’m not mad at you. Weirder things have happened to me…I get it,” said Steve with a slight smile, even now the way he spoke, the confidence leaked out even if it was in another body. “It was the game, something…” Then the man’s eyes widened with realisation. “The game!” Steve started as he sat up. “We need to fix this…if we can, uh we can get to Tony’s before he does what he does next.” “Does next?” Rohan in Steve’s body asked as he blinked.

“He hacked into your office to play a demo of the game. He told me he would He’s playing with Bucky right now.” 

“Oh…Oh no uh…” replied Rohan as he stood up awkwardly in the much taller and broader body than he was used to. “How do we stop them?” It was only then that he realised he had no idea, memories of programming and even the game’s engine having filtered out.

“I don’t know but I do know this…if that game gets into Stark’s servers and somehow mutates or gets shared then…”

Then a whole lot of men would suddenly find themselves swapping bodies or turning into Avengers, both Steve and Rohan thought to themselves. With no way to figure out the extent of it, no way to predict who transforms into who and no way to wonder what would happen if someone was playing alone? What if the game made clones of heroes? What if it recruited heroes, all with one transformation at a time? Steve and Rohan both glanced at each other and blushed, remembering the pleasure they shared, the mess they made and now the mess they may soon have to clean up.

Sooner or later, it seemed every man who got their hand on the game could get a body to marvel. 

Rohan just wondered…does that mean he had to wear the suit?

Cody Jameson Greer shut and locked the bathroom door in a single, tight motion, then braced both palms on the counter like it could hold him in place. His heart was pounding too fast. The lights above the mirror buzzed faintly. The house was dead quiet outside the door.

He was breathing harder than he should’ve been.

“I’m not losing it,” he whispered. “I’m not. I can hold this.”

He was in his sweats thin, light, comfortable. His shirt clung to his back with the kind of damp pressure that came before it started. That tension. The one he knew. The one he hated. It had started in his stomach this time, not his chest tight, coiled, hot. The pressure moved upward, crawling under his ribs.

“I need to finish my work,” he said, swallowing, fighting to keep his voice level. “I’ve got three assignments due. I cannot let this happen. Not tonight.”

His fingers clenched tighter on the sink. The ceramic creaked faintly beneath them. Not from him squeezing harder just from his hands getting heavier. Thicker.

He tried to shift his stance. His legs resisted. Already tightening.

“No. Focus. I just need to focus.” His breath shuddered out of him. “Just sit down. Get through the work. Then maybe maybe I can rest.”

His back twitched.

Then his shoulders.

His entire upper body jerked forward with a short, sharp pull like someone grabbed his spine and yanked. He gasped and hunched over, arms shaking.

Then the muscles started to swell.

“No. Please. No, not now” His voice broke again, lower this time. That tone. That voice. It was starting.

His shoulders pushed out wider, dragging his shirt with them. Cotton groaned as his traps rose high, his back thickening visibly under the fabric. His collar felt tighter by the second, like it was shrinking.

He stared at the mirror. The fog hadn’t even cleared, but he could see his silhouette changing.

“I can’t. I can’t afford to lose time. I need to think.”

His arms twitched again biceps surging under the sleeves, thickening, pulsing. The shirt sleeves stretched. Threads popped at the edges.

Cody’s breath hitched. “Come on. Come on. Just fight it. Just hold on. Hold on”

But the words didn’t stay. The sentence didn’t even finish in his head.

The heat climbed into his chest.

He could feel his pecs pressing outward, the front of his shirt lifting, stretching, warping over the swelling mass beneath. Each breath made it worse. Bigger.

He slapped the sink. “No! I’m not giving in! I’ve got work! I don’t need this!”

But his shirt finally gave—ripped straight down the middle. He gasped as his chest burst free of the cloth, pecs heavy, defined, flushed with blood and heat.

“No no no no I don’t even like this. I don’t want to look like this. I’m not a jock, I’m not…”

The words vanished. Mid-thought. He blinked. His arms lowered at his sides.

His thighs pressed outward inside the sweatpants. Quads ballooned thick and tight, forcing his stance apart. Glutes grew fuller, rounder, sweatpants rising over the curve of his ass. The waistband dug in, too small now.

He caught sight of his own face in the mirror as the fog finally cleared. And he barely recognized what looked back.

His brow was lower. His jaw broader. His lips parted slightly. His chest rose and fell in long, heavy breaths.

“I just needed to finish my homework…”

Then, like breath moving in without permission:

“Heh. Homework can wait.”

The voice was his. Deeper. Relaxed.

The thoughts were gone.

Just blank warmth.

Just pressure.

He flexed an arm, slowly, watching it rise in the mirror, thick with power. His smirk spread across his face, his mouth open slightly.

“Shit, I’m fuckin’ stacked.”

He looked at his reflection again, tilted his head. His eyes didn’t look nervous. Just lazy. Relaxed. Unbothered.

“Damn, bro. Lookin’ solid.”

He dragged a hand down over his chest, feeling every ridge. His cock throbbed in his sweats, a fat outline against his thigh now, fully formed and unignorable.

He didn’t remember what he’d come in the bathroom to do.

Didn’t need to.

He stepped back from the counter, grinning at the body staring back from the mirror—broad, shirtless, massive. Tugged at the waistband once.

Flexed.

And laughed softly.

“Damn, bro,” he said, admiring himself now, stepping back from the sink with a lazy roll of his shoulders. “Ain’t even hit the gym yet still feel like alpha”

You didn’t think much of that wish of yours when you went to bed last night after seeing the shooting star. It was one of those silly little ideas that popped into your head, wishing about what life would be like in a different universe. Of course, something like that wouldn’t ever come true. Maybe in another lifetime, you would have had a different family. Maybe a dad that cared more about his looks and fame over the pretty plain and average dad that you got. Maybe he could have instilled more confidence in you and brought you to the gym at a young age, so you could have a body you would feel confident about. And maybe all that would have led to more dates for yourself, with people choosing to ask you out, instead of rejecting the shy, nerdy gay man. In another life, you could have had it all, and no one could ever turn you down from that.

Sighing as you rubbed away the sleep from your eyes, you dressed yourself and strolled down the stairs when you heard the whirring of a blender. Since you were crashing at your parents’ for the weekend for your dad’s birthday, you figured your mom was up making some early morning breakfast. Strolling down the stairs, you had just started to wake up when you caught sight of a rather large and burly Middle Eastern man standing at the kitchen counter, fiddling with the blender, blending a mixture of fruit and veggies into a green concoction.

“Ah, there you are! I’ll give you the pass for today since I’m feeling good. But we’ll just have to hit the gym later,” the other man said with a booming voice as he caught sight of you standing in the doorway. “Sleeping in is for slackers. Must have had a late night if you’re forgetting all that stuff I’ve been teaching you since you were a kid.”

You couldn’t help but gawk at the half-dressed man standing there in the kitchen, moving around the space as if he were familiar with your parents’ home. Glancing around in confusion, you didn’t catch sight of either your dad or mom. In fact, it didn’t seem like anyone was there except the two of you. “Who the hell are you?! What’s going on?!” You stammered out in surprise as you took a few steps back. It was unclear whether this muscular man was a burglar, but you could tell something was clearly wrong. He didn’t seem like he was planning on robbing the place or attacking you. Instead, the stranger poured some of that blended concoction into a glass and slid it across the kitchen island to you.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. I’m pretty sure as the person turning older today, I’m the one who's supposed to have memory issues, not you, bud,” the man said with a snort as he poured out the rest into his own shaker bottle. Taking a sip, the stranger nodded his head towards the glass on the counter. “Hurry up and drink it. I’ve got some plans for us today for my birthday. I think you’ll like it.” And with not much of an explanation, he gestured for you to take the glass, whilst downing the rest of his own drink.

There was a moment in your brain where you couldn’t help but gawk at the other man, taking in his broad back and strong muscles that jutted out from his body. There was something about the situation that felt wrong, and yet, you couldn’t seem to remember just why you felt so strange about it. Almost as if to his command, you reached out and grabbed the glass to drink. The smell and taste were rather pungent, and the first few gulps of the chunky matter were painful to swallow. But you found yourself unable to set the glass down until you had swallowed it all, and by the end of it, it was a rather familiar taste that was meant to help boost your gains. Your Dad always made some sort of fruit, veggie, protein powder concoction. Some days were worse than others, but you would never complain if it helped with your bulk.

Setting the glass down after you downed its contents, your brows furrowed a bit in mild confusion. You didn’t remember ever going to the gym or even caring about bulking, with most of your time spent in your room gaming and playing D&D sessions with your friends. But that thought of working out with your dad didn’t exactly feel wrong either. Ah, you probably just got so used to the routine of the two of you working out in the mornings that it just felt like second nature. “...R-Right, um, well, thanks for the drink, Dad. Let me just get dressed real quick, and then I’m good to head out?” There was a slight lilt in your voice, a hesitancy in your tone, as if you weren’t exactly sure about what was going on anymore.

“Don’t forget to grab some swimwear! And clean up your room at some point,” your dad huffed in mild amusement as he took your empty glass to wash out the contents. “I know why you were up so late last night, and I’m glad to know you’re having fun,” he said with a knowing smirk on his lips. “Just don’t take too long picking out your outfits. We’ve got places to be! It’s your man’s big day!”

You stared at him blankly, trying to make sense of what you were seeing. You knew he was your dad, yet for some reason, you had this idea of him as just a simple office worker who sat at a desk all day. But that didn’t make sense; your dad was the biggest and strongest dude around town. He was the only role model in your life that mattered growing up, and you always talked about how much you wanted to be like him when you got older. However, despite you doing your best to make sense of the situation, you felt a rather uncomfortable and loud gurgle bubbling up from your stomach. You subconsciously reached down, clasping at your smooth stomach with a grimace on your face. Whatever was in that blended drink wasn’t sitting well with you, and you quickly darted out of the room to rush upstairs so you could relieve yourself in the bathroom.

As you hurried up the flight of stairs, you noticed a rather poignant spring in your step. In fact, it felt like you were bursting with energy now, instead of the sluggish and tired feeling you had when you strolled into the kitchen earlier. Without even realizing it, your legs began to stretch and grow longer with each passing step, until you reached a dizzying height that left many people staring up at you. In your memories, you could recall your friends always asking you to help them grab things off the top shelf, or people tapping you from behind and asking you to step aside so they could see past you.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you found yourself surprised at how energetic you felt. The rumbling feeling in your stomach was still there, and perhaps there was a sense of urgency with you being in dire need of a bathroom, but you didn’t feel winded after sprinting up the steps. In fact, you couldn’t recall the last time you ran so quickly. Aside from, of course, your star performance as the rugby captain back in school. All those practices and games were drilled into your head, and you could do any of those exercises in your sleep. Still, the rumbling feeling was more persistent than you would have liked, and you quickly shuffled away towards your bathroom.

After shutting the door, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, only to catch a glint of something underneath your jawline. Furrowing your brows in mild confusion, you stepped forward and leaned in close to examine yourself. Your eyes widened as your skin turned a rich caramel color. It was like you were sun-kissed, spending that time tanning your body at the poolside or on the beach. But of course, that was only natural, since you spent most of your time traveling with your dad on his business trips. Whenever he was heading somewhere warm, you tagged along for that free vacation and all-paid expenses at the resort. He had always talked about teaching you the ropes for his investment business, but you found yourself being more interested in lounging around and getting that tan on. When your father was rich and wealthy, who cared about solving big problems or thinking about extra hard stuff? Studying wasn’t always your strong suit, and your dad never minded anyway.

Something felt off to you as you tilted your head, like you were missing something. But your brain could only connect a few dots here and there. When prickly, spiky dark hair began to erupt forth from your tanned body, that nagging feeling finally subsided in relief. Ah, of course. You and your father prided yourselves on having the genetics of abundant facial and body hair. Perhaps most of your time in the bathroom was spent grooming yourself and trimming your hair, until you had that picture-perfect, model-like smoulder that always made people swoon. Your facial structure and appearance began to morph and shift in the mirror, until your reflection matched the visage of a man who was perhaps the definition of “pretty privilege.” You could only marvel at your own reflection, watching as the man in the mirror mimicked your actions whenever you smirked or winked at yourself. Some called it narcissism, but when you looked as good as you did, who wouldn’t admire themselves?

Memories of your dad encouraging you to open up your own influencer account and watching all the likes flood in were exhilarating. He always had an eye for business, and while you might not have followed everything he was saying, you knew that the number of likes and comments would shoot up whenever you went live or posted selfies of yourself. It was part of your brand as a fitness influencer, after all. The photos of yourself that really did well were all the shirtless ones you took, especially when you were still ripe and sweaty from your daily workouts.

Like two seams of fabric being stitched together, the rumbling feeling in your stomach began to pulse and grow. Toppling over from the strange sensation, you leaned against the cool countertop of your sink as you stared down at your body. Whatever your dad gave you was really doing something to you, and you could only confirm your suspicions when you saw your legs begin to swell and thicken up with muscle. Gasping as your quads stretched out your pants, soft whimpers began to spill out when the loose fabric became more skin-tight against your heavy, muscular thighs. As the captain of the rugby team, you certainly needed all that extra power and strength in your lower half to keep charging forward. It was how you tended to approach things in life: headfirst and bull-strong. You grunted as the changes moved over to your rear side, and when you turned your hips, you watched the flat ass plump up into something rather hefty and juicy. Even the slight wiggle of your hips caused your ass cheeks to jiggle with all the excess muscle and fat.

Your stubbled jaw dropped at the bounce, carefully bringing one hand back to squeeze at your plumped bottom. But the moment your hand made contact with your bubble butt, another tremble ran through your body. The tight pants burst at the seams, falling around you in a flurry of ripped fabric. Leaning forward, you moaned lowly at the pleasurable sensation that came from just kneading and groping at your ass cheeks. Memories of the boys slapping each other or making lewd jokes in the locker room filled your head, seeping into the old memories of your past life as a homebody. As the captain of your team and the supposed “golden boy,” you were subject to your fair share of jabs and taunts, and you dished out your own fair share. Your teammates respected you more because of it, and even after leaving your university, you still kept in touch with them.

The rippling sensation trailed over your smooth stomach, and an aching sensation burned through you as muscles began to grow and push against your smooth, tanned skin. You huffed from the pained exertion, only watching as clear, defined bumps appeared underneath the tightening shirt. Careful not to let your clothes burst into shreds once more, you quickly yanked off the tight fabric and stared down at your shirtless torso in wonder. You clenched your jaw as your meaty fingers moved over the ridges and bumps, trailing over the furry bit of hair that led down towards the tight underwear band. Whatever fat you had on you was quickly melting away, leaving behind a diamond-cut, chiseled body that boasted of pure, masculine strength.

It was only natural for you to tense and flex your stomach, and a cocky feeling wriggled into your head as your lips curled up into a small smirk. Of course, it was natural to show off a fit body like this. The ladies always loved running their fingers over it, and the tickling sensation of their nails phantom pricked along your skin as if they were there to worship you. A man like you certainly never lacked when it came to lovers, and both women and men alike eagerly came to feel you up whenever you gave them the opportunity. In fact, while the ladies may have loved touching and rubbing your stomach, the men loved resting their head on your beefy chest and suckling away at your nipples.

Drawing in deep and shuddering breaths, it felt as though you were expanding wider, like a balloon being pumped full of air. Your view of your cobbled abs was quickly obstructed by the swelling of your chest. Two meaty airbags puffed up, leaving you cross-eyed as you stared at the big, heaving mounds that blocked your view of below. You let out a dumb chuckle, wiping away some saliva dripping out the corners of your mouth as you felt a light dusting of hair coat over your torso. Along with your widening chest, your back began to crack and pop, stretching out your hunched spine until you had strong, defined lats. It left you wider than most, and you remembered the first time you bumped your boulder-like shoulders against a doorframe trying to walk in normally. You took pride in your strong, bulky size; after all, with your dad drilling the importance of fitness and exercise, there was very little more important to you.

Underneath your arms, you could feel the scratchy, itchy sensation of hair start to push forth from your skin. Raising both your arms up, you watched as a dark mat of hair grew in place of your old hair. This new layer seemed thick and coarse, enough to trap a strong, heavy scent of both your musk and sweat, all mixed into a noxious blend. You tilted your nose, letting your forehead brush up against your swelling biceps as you caught a whiff. There was something woodsy and spiced in your scent, an intoxicating pheromone that made even you feel a bit light-headed. You groaned as your raised arms began to expand, with layers of muscle beefing up your limbs into steady, rock-hard pillars of strength. Flexing in the mirror was no longer a pastime or a hobby; it was a necessity for you to admire just how godly and perfect your body was.

Another low moan spilled from your growing Adam’s apple, causing your soft, weedy whimpers to thicken into a velvety, rich bass. It reverberated throughout the bathroom, carrying power. It was a voice that could command men to listen, and it made women weak in the knees. As your mind started to linger on the thoughts of other people finding you attractive and sexually arousing, you felt a sudden tightness in your crotch. The already tight underwear was starting to pinch in a way that was certainly uncomfortable, and your handsome face twisted as you reached down with your hands to adjust yourself.

To your surprise, your fingers wrapped around a thick and meaty length, something far more unfamiliar than what you were used to. You shuddered as a twinge of pleasure jolted through you, and a soft whimper slipped out as your sensitive length jerked to attention. Even the slight action of tugging on your underwear band caused the strained fabric to rip as well, leaving your thick cock to spring forth in its full glory. Glancing down, you could only marvel at the view, seeing the hardening length continue to grow and stiffen past your obstructed view of your fat tits. Chuckling to yourself as you watched some fresh beads of precum form at your cock head, you let the pad of your thumb rub along your twitching cock slit.

In that moment, despite all the thoughts filling your head about how unfamiliar this was, your fingers acted on their own. You began to tug and stroke at your veiny length, only growling with a primal need for release the more you touched yourself. Who cared if this felt off? With a dad who supported his bisexual son, who taught him everything he needed to know about lifting and growing bigger after his mother left, who provided his son with a life full of luxury and privilege, what was the point in thinking about all that big problem stuff anyway?

Your breaths became heavier and labored, and the only sound that filled the space was your heaving pants. Watching your naked self touch and explore your beautiful, muscular body in the mirror was such a turn-on for you, and the dizzying feeling of the need for release began to build. It wasn’t long until you were tumbling over that edge, your face contorting as your whole body shook with each spurt. Thick, long ropes of white cum splattered about the place, coating your abs, your sink countertop, and your mirror. With each shot, memories and feelings of your past life seeped out of your brain, leaving behind just the simple-minded, horny himbo of a son that your dad raised on his own.

Staring at the mess over your mirror and sink basin, you couldn’t help but smack your softening cock against the cool countertop. Even after a fresh load, you could feel your own virility and arousal starting to spike once more. Perhaps you could hit up one of those femboys in your phone. They were always eager to bend over for you and would happily beg to breed. But your horny thoughts were quickly interrupted by your dad barking up the stairs.

“You done changing yet? We got places to be, boy!”

The sharp tone made your body stiffen to attention, just like obeying the command of a drill sergeant. Jerking out another load or two would have to wait, no matter how hard you were. Your dad always loved punctuality, and today wasn’t the day to press him on it.

“Coming!” You yelled back as you shuffled around your room, quickly throwing on something fast before darting out of the room. The cleanup would have to wait until later. Today was just like any other. You were living the best life you could have possibly dreamed of. Why would you wish for anything else?