Killian1808

“Oh…no I love it…Thanks.”

John had to concentrate all his effort to dull down any and all feelings, especially the one that reared its ugly head the most, disappointment. When he and his friends agreed to do a sort of ‘Secret Santa’ for cosplay ideas for Comic-Con, he was ecstatic. He never had the confidence to cosplay before and a place like Comic Con would be perfect.

Their small southern town wasn’t exactly the best place for a bunch of skinny nerds who still liked comic books in their twenties to be around. To most people they were just kids who refused to grow up and that meant all the asshole jocks from high school who then went on to become cops could continue their bullying and harassment whenever they were unfortunate to run into one of them. 

It would be nice to get out of state, nice to go somewhere where they were included and nice to cosplay. But John, who had diligently gotten his friend Noah a great and pricey Green Lantern suit, was now looking at his own sordid present. In a gift box there was just a cheap and tacky Superman suit that was slightly baggy, the colours a little off and the gravest sin for nerds who cared enough. It was the Superman Returns version of the costume, raised logo, maroon cape and all. He wondered if it had been used, smelling faintly of some cheap detergent and as his eyes glanced over the costume, he noticed a random red ring tucked among a…Clark Kent wig. 

The wig itself was synthetic, like a big plastic piece of LEGO hair with Superman’s iconic curl jutting out the front. He tried to think back to red rings in Superman comics but was too marred by disappointment and putting effort in not showing it to really care right about now. Instead he looked up and glanced at his friends.

“I hate it.” John said at once, causing a few blinks and one of his friends to stiffen suddenly. He blinked, eyelids fluttering, not realising what he just said at first before he broke out in laughter. “I’m kidding. I love it, come on guys I do…” He lied with a wide smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He hadn’t realised he was wearing the red ring.

It was a couple weeks later when John was the one driving them to Comic Con. He waited outside Noah’s place with his other two friends, Lee and Troy in the back, dressed as Batman and Deadpool. Lee was scrolling through his phone, half-asleep behind his black cowl, and Troy kept fidgeting with his katanas, making clacking noises every few seconds that grated on John’s nerves more than usual. 

John was already annoyed when he looked down at himself, in the cheap spandex of the Superman costume. It was worse than he thought, a baggy red and blue mess with cheap rubber for the logo and some thin fabric that made his wrists itch. The red ring was on his finger too, though he didn’t know why. He hadn’t taken it off since the night he got it. 

“Troy...the katanas are fine,” assured John with a slight smile to his friend, once again trying to play the polite friend. Troy ignored him and continued to toy with them, muttering something about them not fitting right. John took a deep breath in and tried to ignore him, his fingers drumming with a sudden uncharacteristic impatience as he waited for Noah. He hadn’t noticed the slight burning emanating from the ring, only making him more annoyed as the clinking of the plastic katanas sounded again.

John’s jaw flexed. He stared dead ahead, knuckles tightening around the steering wheel, hearing it creak slightly. The more annoyed he got, the more of that burning he felt not that he noticed where it came from, just a heat that came from nowhere and was felt everywhere. “You’re gonna break them.” His voice came out lower than intended as he glanced sharp in the rearview mirror. His eyes looked over to Lee, wanting him to get off his phone and say something, but the man yawned and kept scrolling.

“I’m not breaking em just-”

Clink.

“Shut up!” John snapped at once. As soon as he did the heat flared within him and the ring suddenly felt tighter, John had forgotten it was even there. He didn’t even remember putting it on. Nor did he remember when his feet suddenly felt like they were heavier and bigger, suddenly fitting snugly into the boots that were a size too large for them. His toes brushed the front as they lengthened, the thin lining of the boots stretching as they were pushed against and the arches thickened.

The boots creaked, seams tightening as if pulled by invisible hands as John’s feet grew denser and the floppy awkward boots suddenly fit more snugly. The bright red rubber of them began to darken, compressing as flimsy rubber turned to a deep rich crimson stitched and clinging tightly around both his boots and the calves, the material richer and thicker. His calves themselves inflated with muscle, fitting the ankles of the boots better as they looked at odds with the cheap spandex material of the rest. The boots looked like they had come from Man of Steel compared to the cheap Returns design.

“Hey! Sorry it took so long…” Noah was suddenly at the side of the car, hopping into the front seat. “We ready?” There was some excitement from the backseat as John just nodded, adjusting the rearview mirror again and thankful Troy had stopped playing around. If anything the man looked subdued, his body held closer and tighter and John felt the ghost of a smile haunt his lips. 

He liked it. 

It was only about a half hour into the drive, about to leave the outskirts of their sprawling town when John saw sirens. Great. His already tight grip on the wheel grew tighter and he sighed as he pulled off to the side. Troy was nervous, Lee had finally looked up from his phone for the first time during the drive and Noah was assuring everybody they’d be okay and to just get their IDs out just in case. John just sighed, hoping to get this over with and felt a cold dread wash over him when he saw the familiar face approaching. 

“Jesus christ, Noah..John…that you?” An obnoxious guffaw sounded out from the cop, officer Kyle Taylor, police officer and old high school bully. “Holy shit you guys uh…wow you look…” He didn’t even pretend to hide his judgement as his eyes trailed over their costumes. “Oh my god and John you’re Superman? Jesus, you uh…that little job you’re doing not paying well? Kidding. Okay come on, let's see your IDs.” 

“Why?” 

The word slipped out of John before he was even aware of it. His brown steely blue eyes glanced up at Kyle, making the officer blink.

“Uh…cus I just said so? Come on, I pulled you over. IDs…” Kyle tapped the top of the car twice, one arm leaning against as he peered into the driver side window at John. “You get contacts or something?” 

“No. Why did you pull us over?” John couldn’t control the irritation and sharpness of his words as the rest of his friends shifted.

“John-” Noah started.

“Nah…” Kyle held  up his hand to silence Noah and leaned closer. “We got a problem, John? Cus from where I’m standing you’re lookin’ awful mouthy for a guy dressed like he’s in some dumb porn. You forget who I am, Johnny?” Kyle’s smug face leaned further into the window, breath reeking of coffee. The name made something crack behind John’s eyes, the smirk and the smug tone and just the way he sounded like they were back in high school. In a flash John felt the heat pulse from the ring and his eyes flash red, long enough to be seen but not long enough to be definitive. Kyle flinched back like he had suddenly been pushed and swallowed, suddenly shuddering like he saw more than just the eyes change. “Uh…y’know on uh second thought man it’s just a taillight. Uh…you guys have fun. Whatever.”

“Thanks officer,” said John, mirroring the man’s smug grin as he saw Kyle shakily nod as he watched the man quickly go back to his cruiser. All three of John’s friends exchanged looks, none of them seeing what Kyle saw, feeling what he felt when John’s ring pulsed. And none of them, not even John noticed that the angrier they got, the more bulbous his biceps had grown, thickening and stretching and pulling the spandex taut as the sleeves began to look like they were a deeper blue, thicker too. 

The texture of them had changed so that it seemed the sleeves were almost stylised with how different they looked compared to the thin fabric. The sleeves were textured with a deep blue interlocking pattern, making them look almost like scales as he rolled his broader shoulders. 

“Uh…dude you been working out?” Noah asked, glancing down at John’s arms. He swore they weren’t that thick a few minutes ago, but the more he tried to remember, the more he and John and anyone else could only picture those toned arms in their minds. 

“No.” And with that, John started the car and they drove off again.

As they drove, John could feel himself continuing to shift, something within him continuing to change as his friends made scattered comments rather than conversation with him. His grip on the steering wheel grew even tighter, his hands growing larger and the fingers stretching. As he continued to listen to the others talk during the drive, the suit began to shift over the hours as the suit clung tighter with every mile.The blue continued to darken, deepening into a royal shade that shimmered faintly and took on the same patterned texture with the sleeves, fitting seamlessly.

The once thin fabric suddenly had a weight to it, one that made it thicker and denser as it looked smooth and cupped the growing muscles. From the swelling pecs to the fast forming abs, the suit took on the interlocking patterns that now crept beyond the shoulders, expanding across his chest and made the suit almost look like some kind of armour. Even the emblem on his chest, the famous S for Superman, was no longer rubbery or raised but sat firm and darker as John’s shoulders continued to broaden. 

As John continued to drive, he felt a heat of both pleasure and anger filling him as Noah kept sneaking glances over. The occasional mutters turned into some awkward silence as no one could put a finger on what had changed, but something had. At best, they thought John was just having a rough day.

But at worst…well…they couldn’t really define what the worst could be. John’s thighs pushed wider apart in the seat, stretching the fabric tighter and tighter as the legs were the next to be consumed by the same pattern, the same darker shade of blue. Even the maroon cape started to grow slightly brighter, a different dark shade of crimson, something recognisably red and longer too as it looked like well spun cloth than cheap flimsy fabric. 

It was only a couple hours later throughout the drive when they arrived at the convention and when John stepped out, he was no longer the same John that came into the car. He was a John that was taller and broader and he could feel his cock stirring in his bulge that the suit didn’t do much to hide. His friends trailed behind him, a little nervous and wary of John and his mood.

But John just smiled as he saw the looks he was getting from both men and women, trailing over his impressive form as he glanced around, only his face still recognisably his old self even with the cold blue eyes that glanced around. He was about to turn to his friends when someone had bumped into Noah and almost shoved him aside.

“Watch it man,” he heard over his shoulder and John instantly turned to see what happened. The red ring glowed again on his hand and he scowled.

“Hey!” John called out, the word coming out sharper than he thought as the man, tall and wearing a bulky Iron Man cosplay with flickering lights, turned to him. A group of people John assumed were his friends flanked behind, some not in costume, others as an array of different characters all Marvel themed. “You bumped into him?”

“So?” The man scoffed like John was being the weird one. He could feel that familiar twitch of irritation behind his eyes that came with Kyle and his smug tone, returning full force as he looked at this man.

“So apologise.” John stepped forward.

“Dude it’s a crowded convention you can’t just y’know…” The man gestured at Noah. “Just stand there man, people bump into each othe-”

“Say it.” John was only a few inches from the man. Noah swallowed.

“Uh John man it’s oka-”

“No I wanna him hear say it. Say it. Apologise.” 

“Look man just rela-”

At that John didn’t even wait for what stupid thing he was sure the cosplayer was going to say, grabbing him with impressive strength and lifting him up. There was some faint twang of worry from his old anxious mind that was concerned about security. But he drowned it out when he heard the sounds of the man’s friends (and his own) gasping. He was sure it was because they were scared, but he had to admit, part of it must have been how strong he was to lift a guy and his bulky cosplay off the ground one armed. 

“Yeah?” John tilted his head, his jawline suddenly seemed sharper the longer he held the man in the air. The cheap wig that was meant to resemble Clark’s hair looked like it had melted away as John’s hair was real, not some cheap synthetic but a real head of hair with a slick curl sprouting from the front. 

“I’m s-sorry! Fuck I’m sorry man please put me down!” The man whimpered much to John’s delight and he held him there for just another second, then another and then finally he let him down. “Thanks,” said John casually with a friendly smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He turned at once to see Noah’s horrified expression, ignoring them though it only made the heat from the ring worse. His nose had grown sharper and straighter, larger too to fit better on his larger square head.

His face continued to subtly reshape itself as the cheekbones rose higher, his lips bloomed and any and all softness of his features, of the pudgy faced nerd from before, were gone. Noah would have been even more scared if he could realise this wasn’t John’s face and if he wasn’t blushing, finding him handsome.

John’s smile widened as his senses could pick up Noah’s heartbeat, the flutter of it, the quick breaths and the dilated pupils. It could have been fear, sure, but then John looked down at himself and knew that there was no way it could be that. His eyes lingered on his friends and then he made his choice as he wrapped an arm around Noah’s shoulder.

“Uh Jo-”

“Let’s go get a drink,” John declared at once as he grinned down at Noah, the friend who was once the ‘tall’ one of the group was now a couple inches shorter than him.

“Uh John I don’t really drink this early man-”

“Yeah you do,” said John with a wolfish smile and at that, he began leading Noah, looking for somewhere to drink. He didn’t even look behind if his friends were following. He just assumed they were. He assumed because that’s what he wanted to happen and if there was anything John knew, what he wanted, he would always get.

Much like an apology and much like Noah, as he heard the rattling of ice in glasses and bar music somewhere in the building, many many rooms away. Thank god for super senses, he could lead Noah to the bar and smell the man’s arousal all the way there. Just like he wanted.

Nate realised something on his way to the therapist’s office. He thought it was an odd place to have an epiphany, but then as he waited outside the man’s office, he thought…was there ever a good place to have an epiphany? Either way, he was too distracted with his realisation to really question how he realised it, if anything, he was so confused why he realised it too late.

But he discovered that his life was a train wreck, wrapped in yesterday’s laundry and the sour aftertaste of bad decisions. Or rather a lack of decisions. He knew this so it made it all the more shocking when realising it came at him like this was new information. After all, he said as much during his phone call with his therapist, I feel like my life is a wreck. That was about four weeks and three sessions ago.

At twenty eight, he felt like his life was a cautionary tale to follow your dreams or die. By now he felt like it was too late to really follow his passions, as if they all had expiration dates.

Now he sat outside some office door with the fear that the receptionist (a handsome muscular man whose suit looked like it was painting over his frame), was judging him and how could he blame them?

When he looked in the mirror he saw a man with perpetually unkempt brown hair, thick glasses that no longer fit his square head and eyes burdened with bags like he had forgotten what restful sleep looked like. His stubble was patchy, like it couldn't quite commit, and his body leaned toward the soft and pudgy side, a physical testament to skipped gym days and comfort food. It was made all the more worse by how sweaty he was. After spending too long daydreaming and distracted he realised he was going to be late and thought about cancelling. But he quickly made his way out of his apartment and forced himself to go. The receptionist looked him up and down, and reminded him that after fifteen minutes the doctor usually cancels appointments.

Nate nodded, apologised, did all he could to soften the blow and finally it seemed the man took pity on him and said he could wait. It was more likely that today was just a day where he was usually the last appointment anyway.

His therapist was just like that, always accommodating, always attentive, always…something. Even his slogan, his guarantee to ‘Reclaim Your Life in 5 Sessions or Your Money Back’ made the man ooze with confidence that Nate could only hope translated to competence. So far it had been…underwhelming.

The therapist listened, offered some advice and then came the annoying relaxation methods, all vague affirmations and deep breathing and his voice droning on until they morphed to some kind of white noise. Nothing concrete, nothing actionable, nothing that made him feel like anything actually worked. Nate thought it had been his fault (as usual blaming himself).

He thought that maybe because he told the therapist that he wasn’t interested in the prefix to his title, the ‘hypno’ to his therapy. He wondered since then if he had caught the man, Dr. Asclepius, on the backfoot, that he ruined everything, even therapy and so the man was limited in how he could help him.

It motivated Nate to come actually. Even if he didn’t get a session when he was over twenty minutes late and still only about halfway to the office. He may not get a session, but he was hoping to maybe get a refund. A sudden buzz and the receptionist put a finger on a button at the desk, heard a vague voice drowned out by feedback and then let go.

“He’s ready for you.”

Nate stood up, nodded and then, hoping to avoid the receptionist’s lingering looks any longer, he quickly opened the door and stepped through into the office. Each time he came into the office, he felt warmth, a nice kind of warmth, the kind that was gentle and wrapped around you. He almost half expected there to be a roaring fireplace the first time he entered. It was helped with the scents of lavender and eucalyptus in tandem, instantly helping his body relax, his shoulders sag just a little and for him to smile as he saw the handsome hypnotherapist at his desk.

The man always sat cross legged, with a pen and notepad in hand, busy scribbling as he gave a vague mumble of greeting to Nate when he walked in. He was a man handsome in a way that felt real, not absurdly so like he got dolled up or had to be some sort of model or actor, something so out of place.

He was handsome in a way that just left an impression, that if someone were to describe him without knowing him that handsome would just be the natural descriptor, as true as someone having brown hair or blue eyes. He carried chiselled features like a bust came to life, with deep sea green eyes and well groomed hair, well fitted suits, everything was just well with this man. Even his name, as odd as it sounded (Nate had to assume it was fake), gave the man a bit of showmanship, helped to make an impression.

“Take a seat Nate,” were always the first words that Dr Asclepius sounded out for Nate to understand when he came in, his smooth and calm voice always catching Nate off guard. Nate did so, taking a seat in a red leather armchair facing the desk. He rubbed his hands on his thighs, suddenly aware of how clammy they felt. This was session three, the halfway point, now seemed like a good time to get his money. He felt like all the courage he had before to work up and ask for an early refund had sputtered out of him like a deflated balloon. He took a deep breath in.

“Uh thanks for seeing me uh I’ve been thinking and uh I was wondering if uh…maybe uh…” Nate swore if he said ‘uh’ one more time he was going to strangle himself. For now he sank deeper into the chair, desperately seeking out any comfort he could as his body felt like it was starting to sweat again. “If maybe uh I could get an early-”

Asclepius raised a hand. Somehow as abrupt as it was, it didn’t seem rude or quick, just something decisive, like this was all a play and that was the next move his character did in the scene.

“Today I believe there’s something more pressing we need to address.”

Nate blinked. He had never heard his doctor speak like that before and it made him shift in the seat, letting the leather creak an apology.

“I…uh okay but I think-”

“You’re very rigid, Nate. Is that why you were so late?” Asclepius’ eyes raised to lock onto Nate’s and Nate hadn’t realised just how…cool and blue they were today? A stark difference to the times he had seen them before and the warm air that was in his office, that made Nate associate warmth and softness with the man.

“What? No that’s not why I-” Nate started but the man tutted at him.

“And it means when things fall apart…everything does. You’re five minutes late to the bus and that makes you late to work and that means you have a bad start to the shift and then you feel bad when you come home and on and on and on…” Asclepius continued as he drew circles in the air with his finger like a shrinking loop as he spoke those last few words, and on and on and on.

Nate shook his head.

Where the hell was all this coming from? Was this because he wanted a refund? He never took Asclepius to be the man to let something like that sour his feelings, but then Nate realised he didn’t know the man at all. He didn’t know the man at all and here he was sitting in his office to privately confront him for a refund. His eyes widened and he suddenly felt the room shift like it had tilted on its axis, not physically but mentally, like the wall behind him tilted back. He suddenly felt like he could fall out of the chair. He was suddenly so nervous and worse of all, he was disoriented by how right the man was.

“Look I just came-”

“To sleep.”

Snap.

Before Nate could react the sound cracked through the air like a whip. He didn’t realise just how fragile his grip on…well, everything was until it slipped. His breath caught in his throat, lips parted and he realised all too late that his body was no longer his. Everything suddenly felt like it had been let go, his arms falling to the side with a dull and boneless heaviness like he was a puppet whose strings got cut. Nate tried to breathe, tried to move, tried to will his body to do anything consciously but everything in the room felt so far away, like he was suddenly thrust outside of his own body.

He didn’t even know what he was trying to comprehend, what had just happened to suddenly make him feel this slow, this sensual, this utterly relaxed. Panic should have come then. He could feel where it should have ignited, a spark in his chest, a tightening in his gut, a narrowing in his threat like he was about to have a panic attack. But instead, it all melted and spread outward into something slow and thick and strangely pleasant.

“Wha…” For all of Nate’s resistance it all compounded into a simple half sentence that was muttered like a sputtering flame and quickly went out.

“Don’t worry Nate, you were a tough one to crack. Usually it takes only a session for me to…get deep inside a man’s head. But with you…” Asclepius chuckled with amusement as he leaned forward. Nate hadn’t realised the man had put down the notepad, his focus dedicated solely on him. His awareness suddenly felt like a small thing that was floating around, ever so gently brushing against the surface of his mind, threatening to return. But those cool eyes of Asclepius and his soft smooth cadence pushed them down further again. “Altogether too rigid…too stubborn…lacking flexibility.”

Asclepius’ smile widened as if he was on some inside joke Nate wasn’t aware of, not that Nate was aware of much at the moment.

Snap.

Nate shuddered and let out a gasp that threatened to turn into a moan as he felt the doctor’s last words hit him. Rigid…stubborn…flexibile. At that there was a looseness that crept from his limbs and continued to invade the rest of his body, a softness began to ease into his body, rolling down his spine and loosening his joints.

“Let’s start with the arms, I notice you always have them so bunched up, so closed off. I think we’re going to have them…have to change.”

Nate could feel himself still faintly aware, enough that it was something coiling within his body to bunch up and gather strength and let him speak. Or at the very least try.

“What are y-”

Snap.

Nate let out a sudden groan again as he felt his limbs loosen and then continue to loosen until he could no longer feel them, not until something else coiled within them, beyond trance, beyond obedience, beyond relaxation. Something that was akin to pleasure, a tease of the feeling as the arms began to bunch up and grow. He could feel muscle slowly layering atop muscle, his old softness hardening into sleek and toned limbs that suddenly took on a more tawny tone as they itched, maddening for someone who couldn’t touch them and dark and silver hairs crept along the muscles.

The tawny skin travelled down like paint being poured into his hands where the skin aged and the fingers twitched and grew longer and softer. It wasn’t like the muscles were growing or the cartilage was mutating, it felt like something else entirely, like it almost wasn’t flesh at all but something that was thinning out like his thoughts, something elastic.

“M-my arms…you…I can’t…”

Snap.

“Let’s make sure your feet are solid, good and flexible, let them stretch thin like your thoughts.”

Nate didn’t know what the man was saying, as if the words were something like Old English, not too foreign enough he couldn’t comprehend but strange enough still he couldn’t understand. He knew the words the man was saying yet they seemed to short circuit before they reached his brain and instead all Nate could focus on was feeling and that soft feeling went to his feet. His shoes somehow split apart so softly for something that should have been eruptive, his own feet growing and bursting out of the converses. The black tops split apart at once less like his feet were powerful big things and more like the material had turned to paper mache.

The feet themselves Nate couldn’t see but he could picture them like all his memories of his own bare feet were starting to reconstruct, an edit that was small compared to the totality of a memory. He could picture his bare feet long and narrow, the toes stretched out and the skin soft with the same tawny tone that had spread over his arms, even coming with some of their similar dark and grey hairs.

“S-Stop…w…what the fuck are you making me…hallucinate…” Nate’s words came out staggered and breathy as he felt like he was in an interrogation chair, the spy strapped to the seat by bands of metal and a laser fast approaching. But any burning heat was coming from inside of him as a blissful pleasure that threatened to grow the more his body changed and he was only strapped there by some weakness of his mind. It had to be, because no matter how hard he willed it, he couldn’t get up. If anything he sank deeper into the grooves of the armchair.

“Oh no, we can’t have you speaking like that now.” Snap. “Can we?”

Asclepius asked it like it was a real question, not rhetorical but with a sweet honeyed tone that made it sound utterly genuine. Nate could feel the pleasure coil but he didn’t realise exactly where it was until he felt a soft burning in his throat, the flesh stretching slightly thicker as now more memories were altered, that of looking at himself in the mirror. He no longer had a thin neck, but he could see something in his mind’s eye that was thicker and carried the same tanned tone. But there was something more than that, a distant voice, unfamiliar from his own or Asclepius. He blinked.

What the fuck are you doing to me?

Except the words stilted in his throat like they met a wall and he could feel them being stretched out into something else smoother to pass through his lips.

“I say what in blazes do you think you’re doing to me?”

Each syllable sounded utterly foreign, utterly smooth and utterly unlike anything that was like Nate before. Each word was stretched and carried a sudden crisp articulation, one that made him sound like an old movie star from the 40’s as he realised…the distant voice in the back of his mind was his own.

He gasped as all his memories altered at once, all his conversations, all the words he ever said, everything was shifted through a new accent and new vocabulary that was utterly unfamiliar. But it was something more than that, he could feel the fringes of other memories, a college lecture had him at the front or a party was taking on the shape of a whole other event, with older men, some in lab coats, some sort of celebration. He could feel someone with an arm wrapped around his waist, paradoxically familiar and yet so unknown.

Stop…my head…

“Gosh this feels sorta swell…”

Wait…Wait!

Nate thought, that wasn’t what he meant to say. Everything before had been altered in voice or cadence or the way he tried to say it, breathy or in moans or interrupted. But nothing changed what he said and the thought was terrifying enough to almost bring him out of trance if it wasn’t for the-

Snap.

“Let your body just relax and stretch Mr. Richards…I’ll ask some questions…and you answer. You are from…”

Nate barely recognised Asclepius called him the wrong name. His name was Reed not Reed. He meant to say Reed. No, he was meant to think of Reed, his first name was Reed and last name was…it was…

Snap.

“Where are you from?”

Idaho.

“Chile of course sir.”

As soon as he said that it registered in his mind, a tide of childhood memories swept away and in their place the wet sand where they once lingered. Then the tide pulled in again and in their place was a different water of different memories and the wet and weak sand of his mind couldn’t recognise the difference. He could remember his home country, glimpses of the homes and the neighbourhood, the yellow bricked house he grew up in and his time coming to America as a teenager for college.

It all sank in so fast and naturally that Nate barely had time to fight it as his spine stretched next and the tawny tone took over, his identity warping to the point where even reality seemed to shift beyond him. He could remember his passport, a different face and a different nationality, a different race on his ID.

Snap.

“And what’s your job?”

P…please…I’m…in office…have to…get out…

“Why I’m a man of science of course,” Nate felt a natural smile come to his face and what disturbed him was the thought it was natural when it was anything but. His deep voice was giving off words that were entirely unnatural as the muscles contracted and stretched, pulling taut to form lean abs and pecs, muscles that were born for efficiency rather than showing off. But of course, he thought, his muscles well the design of a rigorous and scientifically proven routine to maximise his health, I’m not some showboat like Johnny.

“And how do you feel Mr. Reed Richards?”

Feel like…need to…get…help…

“Oh like a dream fella, positively like a damn dream, this sorta science is remarkable!” Nate had never heard himself, even with this fake voice, this fake accent, sound so excited. It made him feel warm and good that he was so passionate about something, that he was so interested. The passion, if not for science specifically, spread like wildfire over his body as it reached up and cradled his face like a lover’s caress. His eyes almost rolled into the back of his head with how deep and relaxed he felt as his face warped as the bulge in his pants did. His cock stretched whilst his visage smoothed and his chin stretched out. The warm undertone had seeped through the rest of his body as his mop of brow hair darkened at the tops and grew lighter at the roots to grey.

Stubble that looked messily grown suddenly shaved like it had been carefully managed with a moustache blooming over his thickening upper lip. Wrinkles made their way over his face, a decade and a half passing by in seconds as it lent his handsome face some gravitas. The bridge of his nose stretched wider and thicker, slanting more downwards into a point as his blue eyes dulled and then sparked with life as brown eyes filled with a sudden keen intellect. Even in trance, the eyes suddenly looked slightly more aware and alert, no longer half lidded as meanwhile his cock continued to pulse and stretch. Nate Reed realised…he hadn’t stopped stretching. Eight inches…Nine inches…Ten and then jolting past twelve…

“And now Mr. Richards, time to have this session come to a close.”

Snap.

The snap cracked like a whip once more, though Reed likened it to a stamp that had come down hard and heavy with its seal. He gasped suddenly, his back shot up immediately and his body shuddered as all of a sudden, out of his gargantuan stretching cock, he’d cum. 

A tension he didn’t know was in his body suddenly snapped like rope breaking as his cock hardened and came all at once, a sudden almost agonising wave of cum that shot ropes as thick and long as the cock suddenly out of the leg of his suit pants and onto the floor, onto his shoes. He was breathless and at mercy as pleasure cracked through him like lightning and coursing through his body it seemed to hit water, the perfect conduit in his cock as he’d cum again and again and again and again and…

Snap.

Reed Richards awoke unaware that he was in a brand new suit and with the now dry stain of his pleasure underfoot. He blinked and looked around as if coming out of a nap before his eyes found Dr. Asclepius, his therapist.

“Oh gosh did we go over? Just I’m always mindful of the time you know,” Reed spoke as his brown eyes softened, a guilt tugging at him. He hoped he wouldn’t be late for family dinner. However, the gentle laughter of Dr. Asclepius brought some much needed relief.

“Oh no Mr. Richards although…” Asclepius took a cursory glance outside. Reed followed his gaze and wasn’t quite so sure what was wrong until he saw the city proper. Half the billboards looked strange and yet familiar, cartoons of women promoting atomic powered vacuum cleaners or a man piloting a luxury zeppelin. But then the other half flickered, something about a movie with an actor he’d never heard of before and another for a Stark Industries smart fridge. He blinked. Stark Industries had never made something called a ‘smart fridge’. “Hmm, memory bleed. Your mind Mr Richards is far more…iron plated than I anticipated. It’s no bother. We’ll just have to book you in for more sessions, sort out any…spatial memory dissonance.” Asclepius glanced up again like a doctor warning his patient to seriously consider taking a certain medication or following a diet. “How does tomorrow sound?”

“Tomorrow why…” There was a slight twitch of the eye, a sudden tug at the nerves as if some small part of Reed felt an urge to resist. But to him, it was no more than an intrusive thought as he burst into a polite smile. “Why I think that sounds swell, Doctor.” 

Doctor Aslepius smiled as his eyes raked over the form of Reed Richards and he nodded.

“I thought so…” And that was good because for a man as intelligent as Reed Richards, sometimes it felt nice to have someone else do all the thinking for a change.

As he makes his the power goes out. He gets up and walks out to the switchboard, flicking the switch back he gets a sharp shock of electricity.

“Ouch!! That shouldn’t have happened, I’ll need to get an electrician out,” he grumbles to himself as he rubs his hand, not noticing the skin on his fingers tanning where he was zapped. He heads back inside and rubs his shoulder blades, as he rubs feathers begin to grow on them.

He walks back over to the tv and switches it off, as he does he notices that his hand is more tanned and looks larger. “What the? My hand!” He panics as the tan starts to spread up his arm as it grows more muscular, a tattoo circling his bicep.

The feathers start to spread, pushing out from my shoulders as I start to grow wings. Why shoulders broadening to fit the new feathered wings. He feels the heavy weight on his back and runs to his bedroom to look in the mirror.

As he runs towards the mirror his feet stretch and grow to large, manly size 14 feet with a dusting of blonde hair over the now tanned skin. He looks in the mirror as blonde starts to streak through his hair.

“What is happening to me?!!” He yells pulling at his hair, making the blonde spread faster. The tan spreading to his chest as his pecs grow more muscular above a tightening stomach.

He moans as the tan spreads to his crotch making it bulge. His legs stretching longer as he grows taller. As he changes he doesn’t notice the walls of his bedroom turning to old fashioned stone.

His pants turning to leather around his legs as his ass balloons and swells with a mix of muscle and fat to make a perfect bubble butt. Leather gauntlets wrapping tightly around his wrists.

Finally his face reshapes and changes as a bow and arrows appear next to him as he becomes Cupid, ready to help men find love.

Andrew was just a guy in the stand. Bored out his mind over this trivial sport. His boyfriend was happy, though, and that's all he cared about. So he would endure this pointless sport for him. He was glad when there was an intermission, so he had an excuse to get up and walk around.

"I'll be right back." Andrew tells him.

Andrew intended to go to the concessions to get himself and his boyfriend a few snacks. Only to stop when he hears a deep voice behind him. He turns around to see a tall, muscular man in a suit. The guy looked to he in his late forties. Short salt and pepper hair and neatly trimmed goatee.

"Good evening young man." He greets in a surprising soft spoken voice.

"Um, hi?" Andrew greets. Unsure why this man is talking to him.

"You're a fan of the wrestlers right?' He asks.

Before Andrew could answer the older man is speaking up.

"What a silly question. Of course you are." He chuckles.

"Well actually."

"How about you come with me to get a first hand experience with our brilliant and talented performers?" He asks.

Andrew wanted to protest, to say his boyfriend would enjoy that more than him. Since his boyfriend was an actual fan of this sport. While Andrew was just here for him. He didn't get the chance to say anything before he found himself lulled into a strange trance. He felt like he was on autopilot as he was led into the locker room.

There, his manager got to work molding the young twenty-two year old man. Starting with his face controts to become more rugged. Hair shortens as he grows a beard. Hair grows on his thickening body. Transforming into experienced wrestler.

For as long as Nate can remember, he’s dreamed of diving into the world of cosplay, but something always held him back. That all changes when a convention lands in his small town and Nate finally commits to bringing his favourite hero to life, Star Lord. With a costume at the ready, Nate sets out to acquire a vintage Sony Walkman to finish the cosplay. But when he does and the music starts, the songs don’t just set the mood, they change him. Piece by piece, beat by beat, the cosplay suddenly begins to become much more real than he could have ever realised.

After using a mysterious app to transform his insufferably annoying roommate into his longtime fantasy, Chris Evan’s Johnny Storm, Andrew can’t wait to have his way with his new “roommate”.  But things take a strange turn when Johnny jokes about Andrew’s hair…hair that just a moment ago wasn’t this dark, styled, or having grey streaks.  Andrew realises that the changes from the app must be contagious.  With his phone suddenly missing, and his body stretching into something sleeker, smarter, and far more elastic, Andrew finds himself trying to find his phone fast before the changes lock in and he and his roommate get stuck as Johnny Storm and Reed Richards, especially when reality begins to rewrite to make the two hot heroes a couple.

Featuring — male transformation || muscle growth || character transformation || personality shift || himbofication || intelligence gain || reality shift

When supervillain Kraven the Hunter comes up with a new way to subdue superheroes, he tests it out on his longtime rival Spider Man. Though the hero thinks he can put up a fight, he soon finds himself controlled and transformed into Kraven’s new trophy… However, when Captain America comes in to try and stop Kraven, the star spangled hero only ends up being added to Kraven’s collection as a living statue.

Featuring — male transformation || inanimate transformation || statue transformation  || superhero transformation

The young college student having stolen a relic from an open exhibit about the wild west. It was just an old, dirty, pocketwatch that looked insignificant that he didn't think it would be noticed he stole it. It was when he returned to his dorm and went to get it from his backpack he saw the pocket watch now looked brand new. It started to tick and when it did he felt this strange sensation overcome him.

If you want more tales of tranceformation, now's your chance!

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KoFi

Dean Winchester scarfed down the last of his burger as he eyed the muttering student that walked by him. The last thing he wanted to do was research and so he quickly found one of the best diners in Baltimore. With the student gone, he was the only one remaining in the place, and for a moment he was almost worried every other person in here was a demon.

Ever since he came in and started enjoying his typical meal of burgers, fries, and pie as dessert, every single inside left. Everyone's besides him and the scoffing suited man who was wiping down the newly absent tables. Thankful for the quiet, Dean raised his feet, letting them sit on the table as he sat back and continued eating. 

“Excuse me, could you please take your feet off the table?” asked the stranger, clearly the owne

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute and I’ll be outta here,” scoffed Dean, rolling his eyes. He continued stuffing his face with the last of his food as his boots remained on the table Who was this guy even trying to impress? There was nobody else here! 

“Fine, can you please at least try to talk without your mouth full?” questioned the stranger. Dean simply glared at him, still eating. “It’s quite rude.” 

“Whatever,” replied Dean without even thinking, crumbs spilled from his full mouth as he spoke. “I’m about to leave this dump anyway.” That was it, the stranger crossed his arms and looked down at Dean. If the Winchester was smart he would have perhaps been a bit more privy about the man’s odd nature to the smarter Sam. Maybe he would have been smart enough to note how suspicious this all was - how a suited man was cleaning a diner all by himself, how this place seemed to pop out of nowhere only to garner great reviews and why this man’s eyes suddenly started glowing. 

“I don’t think so. You’ve been rude to me and driven away my customers. I think it’s time for a change in that attitude,” spoke the man. 

“Look I’m leaving anyway and I don’t-” started Dean as he stood up glaring at the man. But instantly his face began to fall slack, his frowning lips beginning to separate slightly as his furrowed brows eased. His eyes stared into the glowing eyes of the suited man and suddenly it felt so hard to move and-

“So hard to think, isn’t it?” said the man. “Just stare into my eyes, that’s it...just focus on them and let yourself just start to relax.” 

“Wha…” Dean instinctively reached for a weapon but he felt that he didn’t need to. He simply needed to relax and his arms were the next to fall slack, as he started to feel himself drop back in the diner seat. 

“That’s right...and in a moment you’ll just want to sleep, just keep staring, just relax…” instructed the man. Dean could feel the voice booming in the back of his mind, it echoed all around him and it just made it so much harder to ignore. Even as his vision blurred, all he could see were those hypnotic glowing orbs, almost turning into spirals as he just leaned back, relaxing further and further. “Sleep.”

The man snapped his fingers.

The sound seemed to boom and with that Dean felt himself slip into the sweet abyss of slumber. 

He didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, all he could make out was a low voice, whispering from the darkness. 

“Now you will follow all my suggestions whenever I snap my fingers, do you understand?”

Dean said nothing, but in his mind he knew that he had to follow all the man’s suggestions whenever he snapped his fingers. Anything from service to something as simple as-

“Wake up!” 

Dean instantly got up, eyes opening suddenly as he looked around to see himself in a dressing room, large wardrobes encompassed the walls filled with formal attire. He glanced around to see the man still standing over him, arms crossed. For a moment he wanted to say something, but his mind drew a blank, everything was foggy and he couldn’t even remember what just happened for the past hour. 

“What the- Where am I?” cried Dean. The Winchester instantly bolted up, ready to tackle the man if he needed to. 

“Stay standing there” spoke the man, the same snap of the fingers boomed in Dean’s mind and he found his body moving automatically. He nodded with wide eyes as his body stiffened in place. His feet felt so heavy and he couldn’t even take a step if he wanted to...and oddly enough he didn’t really want to.

“Start taking off your clothes.” 

“Yeah,” uttered Dean, blinking as he looked down at himself, surprised as to why he suddenly spoke affirmatively. But he was more surprised to find his hands beginning to unbutton his flannel shirt. “What am I doing? Stop this!” He had dealt with powerful magical before, but nothing that made him feel so...powerless, not even possession. 

“Every piece of clothing you strip, strips away a part of yourself, all those messy rude habits you have,” spoke the man, snapping his fingers again as Dean couldn’t help but nod, no matter how much he clenched his jaw and tried to stop. He stripped out of his shirt, letting it fall to the ground. It disappeared out of sight, and soon out of mind, much like his habit. “You won’t ever speak with your mouth full.” The fingers snapped. 

“I won’t ever speak with my mouth full,” repeated Dean. He wouldn’t, that was messy, rude, a bad habit that he had to stop. Dean blinked, this wasn’t him...or was it? He could hardly tell anymore with how hazy and fractured he felt as he began working on taking off his shoes and socks. 

“You won’t put your feet up on the table.”

Snap. 

“I won’t ever put my feet up on the table,” said Dean. He had to figure some way out of here, but his body wasn’t his to control and neither was his mind. But then again was it so bad...most people would take the chance to hurt him, surely this man was just helping get rid of those nasty habits of his. This man was here to help, thought Dean as he stripped out of his jeans. 

“You will not be rude to others.”

Snap. 

“I will not be rude to others,” replied Dean, instantly beginning to feel guilty for the way he was acting. He was loud, brash and annoying, ruining the day for the other diners. Dean reminded himself that needed to stop being so rude as he stripped out of his underwear, freeing his hard thick cock. Dean didn’t understand why he was getting so turned on, but his heart raced as that nagging shouting in the back of his mind telling him to stop, to get out, to call Sam or do anything, grew quieter with every passing moment. 

“Very good Dean,” said the man. Dean barely flinched at the man knowing his name. “Now that we’ve gotten rid of some of your bad habits. We need to add some good ones. So you see that nice suit over there? Why don’t you put that on. Every article of clothing you put on, will turn you into the new you!”

Snap came the fingers and Dean instantly nodded as he began walking over to see a perfectly measured suit and bowtie. He began suiting up and each article changed a part of him. The underwear was first.

“You will speak politely and courteously, no more of that rough southern drawl of yours.”

Snap.

“I will speak politely and courteously…” Dean barely had the energy to finish as his voice changed, beginning to sound more like someone who grew up in Washington than Kansas. He began to put on the shirt. 

“You will treat others with respect. In fact you’ll get a job at my prestigious private club as a bartender,” commanded the man, snapping his fingers. Dean nodded, suddenly the images of rough bars with plenty of whiskey was replaced with upscale high end clubs with suited men like him serving drinks. It was the perfect place for Dean Winchester to start serving his superiors with the respect they deserved. 

“Yes, respect...new job…” murmured Dean, blinking slightly as all memory and desire of being a hunter, dealing with the supernatural, all of it sunk to the back of the mind, growing quiet forever. He could never have a rough job like that, he thought as he arranged his new cufflinks and placed on the suit jacket. 

“You will want to be more sexual, showing off your toned body and serving your superiors the right way. But of course you can’t have any tattoos or scars defacing a gentleman like you.”

Snap.

Dean’s skin began to be washed over, his classic anti possession tattoo fading away like his old self as he groaned slightly. His cock throbbed as he felt his already impressive set of six packs abs tighten, his chest grew slightly broader, allowing for his pecs to be larger. His quads grew, expanding slightly as his biceps did the same. Somehow Dean’s body grew more impressive and better than the active hunter already was. 

“Serving superiors the right way…” droned Dean, as he began to put on the pants, the garter socks and the shiny polished shoes, a set of suggestions lined up and ready to take over Dean’s mind like a tidal wave.

“You are horny for men, loving them. You are also a skilled stripper, as my club and I cater to that kind of audience. Finally, you will forget about your previous life, you will simply Dean Winchester, a dignified gentleman.”

The last snap and Dean suddenly heard himself moan out loud, blushing slightly for such undignified behaviour, but he was sure his superior would understand as his new personality settled in. Dean looked at himself, admiring the view in the mirror as the suit perfectly fit his muscular frame.

“Yes…” said Dean. He pursed his lips, fixing his bowtie. 

“How do you feel Dean?” asked the man. “Do you feel any different? Do you like hunting or eating in diners?

Dean studied himself, for a moment he didn’t recognise himself before he looked at the reflection up and down. 

“No I’d hate that. I’d rather just start getting a job and focusing on being the best server I can be,” said Dean, speaking eloquently and brushing down his suit. He needed it prim and perfect. 

“Very good, I think I could find a position for you. Sit down. Tell me about yourself, Dean,” said the man. Dean did as he was instructed. 

“I grew up quite poor but managed to work hard in school, went to an Ivy League college and studied my best to follow my passions and be the best person I could be. Now I’m here, looking for a new job and new people to serve, all my jobs have been like that, it’s just something I feel I was meant to do,” explained Dean, not missing a beat.

He smiled, remembering his (new) life well, and all the experiences that came with learning proper discipline and the ways hot gentlemen like him are meant to behave.

“Very good. You’ve done well Dean and I feel like you’ve earned a reward. Come.”

Snap. 

Dean Winchester grabbed his crotch as he moaned out loud, wracked with pleasure. The only thing he could think was that besides ruining his suit and how wrong it was to act so inappropriately, it was the best he ever felt, and he would do anything for more of his reward. 

The next few days Dean’s life had changed drastically, the man drained his account to rent an apartment and buy expensive formal attire. He needed a job, not just for the money, but because it was what he was meant to do, and found himself being signed on as both bartender and stripper for one of the most prestigious clubs in the city. The new Winchester was a better one, at least that’s how Dean, and his new superior found it. 

He ignored his brother’s calls, deciding he would introduce him to the suited man another time, for now Dean felt himself putting on his own suit, smiling at his new self, excited and for good reason. 

Tonight was his first shift.

He knew now that anybody acting so brash and rudely around him would think twice about it, otherwise they’d find themselves like Dean where justice is served. 

The Emerald City glimmered in the fading sunlight as Fiyero sat by the window of the train, his excitement nearly tangible. He had received a personal invitation to meet the Wizard of Oz himself, a rare and extraordinary honor. Elphaba had warned him against trusting the Wizard, but curiosity and hope for answers had driven him to accept the invitation. Perhaps the Wizard wanted to make amends for the chaos he had caused in their lives.

The train screeched to a halt at the station, and Fiyero stepped off, greeted by the bustling streets of the Emerald City. He marveled at the shimmering green buildings and the vibrant crowd as he made his way to the Wizard’s castle. The guards at the entrance stepped aside without question, and the massive doors creaked open, revealing a grand, candlelit hall.

At the far end, the Wizard stood, draped in his signature robes. His gloved hands clutched an ancient, ornate book—the Grimmery, a tome of forbidden magic.

“Fiyero!” the Wizard greeted with a disarming smile. “It is an honor to finally meet you face to face.”

Fiyero approached cautiously, bowing slightly out of respect. “The honor is mine, sir. But why have you called me here?”

The Wizard’s smile grew, though something unsettling lingered in his eyes. “You have a charm about you, Fiyero. A natural charisma that I believe the people of Oz need... desperately.” He gestured to the Grimmery. “I have a proposition. Join me, and together we can bring order to this land. We can rid it of chaos and those who threaten our way of life. Starting with Elphaba.”

Fiyero’s chest tightened at the mention of her name. He shook his head firmly. “I won’t betray her. I won’t be a part of whatever you’re planning.”

The Wizard sighed, his expression darkening. “I had hoped you would see reason. No matter. There are other ways.”

Before Fiyero could react, a high-pitched screech echoed through the hall. A winged monkey darted out from the shadows—Chesery, the Wizard’s loyal servant. In a blur, Chesery pounced, restraining Fiyero with alarming strength. The monkey’s claws dug into his arms as ropes appeared, binding him tightly.

“What are you doing?” Fiyero struggled, his voice laced with panic.

The Wizard ignored him, opening the Grimmery and flipping through its pages. Ancient symbols glowed on the parchment, and his voice grew low and guttural as he began to chant in an unfamiliar language

Fiyero watched in horror as the Wizard’s transformation unfolded before his eyes. The older man’s features shifted and smoothed like clay under an unseen sculptor’s hands. Wrinkles faded, leaving a youthful glow, and his once-proud frame shrank slightly, adjusting to match Fiyero’s lean build. His gray hair lightened in streaks, cascading into shades of rich brown and golden blond.

As the glow of magic dissipated, the Wizard stepped back from the Grimmery, his face now identical to Fiyero’s. It was perfect—eerily perfect. The bound prince couldn’t look away, dread curdling in his stomach as if he were staring into a twisted reflection of himself.

The Wizard opened his eyes, catching his new appearance in the grand mirror before him. He let out a low chuckle, his voice now Fiyero’s smooth, confident tone. “Oh, this... this is exquisite.”

He tilted his head to one side, examining himself with almost theatrical enthusiasm. Running a hand over his jawline, he smirked. “Such symmetry. No wonder the ladies—and perhaps even a few gentlemen—fall over themselves for you. This face alone is enough to make kingdoms bow, isn’t it?”

Fiyero snarled, straining against the ropes. “Stop this! You’ll never get away with it!”

“Oh, but I already have,” the Wizard shot back, not even sparing him a glance. He was too busy admiring his reflection, tracing his cheekbones and brushing his fingers over his lips. “And these lips...” He let out an exaggerated sigh, puckering them playfully. “So... kissable. Do you practice this in the mirror, Fiyero? Or does it just come naturally?”

He turned sharply, striding toward Fiyero with newfound grace. His movements were fluid, confident—a predator who knew his prey was already caught. Standing inches away, he gestured to his chest with a flourish. “And look at this,” he said, tugging his collar slightly to reveal the firm definition beneath his shirt. “Your body’s built like it’s been sculpted by the gods themselves. How do you find the time to stay this... perfect?”

Fiyero clenched his jaw, refusing to give the Wizard the satisfaction of a response.

But the Wizard was far from finished. His hands traveled down to his stomach, where he gave an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, my! These abs!” He patted his stomach mockingly, then flexed, his smirk widening as he felt the firm ridges under his fingertips. “I didn’t realize you were hiding such a masterpiece under those princely clothes. No wonder Elphaba can’t resist you. Who could?”

Fiyero’s struggles grew more frantic. “You’re a coward, hiding behind my face! You’ll never be me!”

The Wizard barked a laugh, stepping back into the light to examine his thighs and legs. “Oh, Fiyero, I don’t need to ‘be’ you. I only need to wear you.” He leaned down, running his hands over his thighs and giving another exaggerated whistle. “And these legs. Strong. Sturdy. Built for running... or perhaps something else entirely?” He waggled his eyebrows, his mocking laugh echoing through the hall.

“You’re disgusting,” Fiyero spat, his voice shaking with fury.

“Disgusting?” The Wizard tilted his head in mock confusion before grinning slyly. “No, my dear boy. Disgusting is what I’d call letting a body like this go to waste. But don’t worry. I’ll make the most of it.”

He turned his attention to his backside, giving it an exaggerated pat. “And this,” he said, smirking as he glanced over his shoulder. “Well, let’s just say it’ll be the talk of the Emerald City soon enough. I’m sure even the guards will be doing double-takes. Tell me, Fiyero—have you ever noticed how perfectly this uniform frames... everything?”

Fiyero seethed, his face burning with anger and humiliation.

The Wizard bent closer, his voice dropping to a low, taunting whisper. “It must feel awful, doesn’t it? Watching yourself—your body, your charm—become mine. Knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” He stood upright again, laughing softly. “And the best part? When I’m done, the world will thank me for it. They’ll love me. They’ll love you.”

Turning back to the mirror, the Wizard struck a dramatic pose, adjusting the collar of his blue and gold outfit with a flourish. “Well, Fiyero, it’s been delightful getting to know myself.” He laughed at his own joke. “But I think it’s time for you to disappear.”

“Chesery!” he called, his tone snapping into command. The winged monkey appeared from the shadows, bowing low. “Take him away. Somewhere no one will ever find him. Somewhere he’ll have plenty of time to think about just how perfect I look.”

Chesery seized Fiyero, dragging him toward the shadows despite his desperate struggles.

The Wizard—now Fiyero—watched them go, his smirk widening as the real Fiyero’s protests faded into silence. Turning to the mirror one last time, he admired his stolen reflection, running a hand over his hair and tilting his head with a grin.

“Oz,” he whispered to himself, his voice laced with triumph. “You’re about to meet your perfect hero.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode toward the castle doors, radiating the effortless charm that only Fiyero Tiggular could muster.

There would be no resistance, no rebellion. No happy ending for anyone.

He had succeeded.

And the world of Oz would never be the same.

He ends up on board the ship. In awe as he explores it, taking pictures with his phone as he does so. The further he ventures on the ship the more he changes.

He grows taller. Clothing turning into an open leather coat and trousers. His torso becoming covered in hair. His clean shaven face itching with new stubble growing along hismrippling face. Soon his memories alter as well. Forgetting his old self as he fully turns into Captain Hook.

Timothy was going to be something special. At least that’s what he’d always have dreamed of. Ever since he could remember, he always wanted to be a scientist. Whereas most people would’ve gone out of the astronaut or scientist or fireman stage in their teenage years, Tim found himself rather good at holding onto his dreams. Stubbornness and ambition had created the perfect cocktail of the unrelenting scientist, so much so that everything in his life took a step back compared to his work.

Even himself.

He didn’t mean to ‘lose’ himself, but when he was spending 50-60 hours in a lab every week and getting by on ready-male noodles and coffee, he wasn’t exactly healthy nor did he look it. A pale and gangly man in a white lab coat, he tended to get sick, deal with headaches and generally not look after himself. But all that didn’t matter when he stood in the heart of the bustling laboratory, surrounded by rows of advanced equipment and monitors displaying intricate data. His passion for science and technology drove him to push the boundaries of innovation, and today's experiment held the promise of a breakthrough that could revolutionise energy generation. It was years in the making, from even before he was born. But now he may have finally found the breakthrough to create infinite energy and practically save the planet, like some kind of superhero.

As he meticulously adjusted the settings on the console, preparing for the start of the experiment, he got more focused. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as he neared the culmination of his tireless efforts. However, within the controlled chaos of the lab, an unexpected anomaly emerged unbeknownst to Timothy in his tired state. He’d stayed up all night to do this experiment, he wasn’t going to let anything stop him now. 

“This is Timothy Hawkins, okay this is…9th August 2024…let’s see how this goes,” said Timothy out loud for the recording. “Testing our infinite generator, nicknamed Flame, converting heat into electricity…3…2…1…Flame on!” 

A sudden surge of energy coursed through the generator, causing lights to flicker erratically and the room to shake. Tim looked up and around, shocked as he felt himself almost losing his footing, having to grab one of the lab tables as his heart raced. Before he could do anything, he saw that the generator was  a blinding glow enveloped him. At first Tim thought it was an explosion. Maybe the generator overheated. Maybe one of the circuits malfunctioned. But he realised that if it truly was an explosion, then he was either very lucky or very wrong, because he shouldn’t have been able to even think or contemplate if his lab had just blown up.

He should’ve been gone, turned to dust. But he was still thinking, still standing, he opened his eyes as he glanced around confused. Instead a great heat washed over him in waves, tingling and pulsating through every fibre, every cell, something seeping so deep into him that Tim almost thought the heat was coming from within. 

“What on earth?” Timothy looked shocked at himself as he began to feel his muscles starting to grow, his pecs inflating and biceps thickening as suddenly there was a tight blue spandex beginning to form over his arms. “Oh fuck!” He continued to feel the spandex starting to form down his arms as they began to slither over his chest. Hairs began to grow on his chest, swirling on his growing inflating as his own two pecs were continuing to grow hairy and hotter, making him feel so much pleasure ricocheting through his system as his nipples grew perky as the spandex covered over them. 

It surged up and down, the source of the heat seemingly in his core, where it began to reshape and redefine his abdomen. He could feel his abs tightening, the muscles contracting as they started to grow and thicken. With each breath, the change became more pronounced — his once pudgy stomach from a lifetime of junk food and unhealthy eating was now developing deep grooves as his abdominal muscles swelled into a sculpted six-pack.  

“O-Oh my-” Timothy blushed as he couldn’t believe how good it felt, to feel the muscles growing, the heat from within his chest spreading all over his body as he looked down. The skin stretched taut over the firming muscles, revealing the chiselled contours beneath. Each ridge and valley of his abs became more pronounced, the deep blue spandex conforming to the newly developed muscles. “N-No I-” He moaned again as he could see his hands beginning to sweat and stretch, just as he was thinking of trying to press his fingerprint to the sensor and get out of the room. But try as he might, his fingers had changed too much that the sensor could only read:

FINGERPRINT NOT RECOGNISED.

O-Oh god what was the emergency code again?! He thought to himself as he tried that, but by then it was too late, his hands having grown, the spandex climbed over his arms and suddenly fitted his hands with dark leather gloves. 

They were so large and growing that as he tried to push in the code, he accidentally pressed two numbers at once and failed. Just as he was thinking of trying again…the pleasure got too much as his cock throbbed, starting to make him leak his memories and he realised…he couldn’t even remember the code anymore.

“Oh god I gotta- N-No!” Timothy moaned as he tried again but to no avail, the code was definitely wrong and he couldn’t remember. The spandex continued travelling down, trapping the heat in his body as his ass was the next to change, inflating into a perky bubble butt whilst more and more memories of being a scientist and the trip into space that gave them their powers in the first place. He moaned and staggered, gripping onto a table as he felt his ass continuing to grow out, inflating and enlarging whilst his thighs were the next to grow muscular.

Time seemed to stretch and part of Timothy wondered if it was something to do with his failed experiment, if there was some time dilation happening then and there. At least he was still thinking scientifically, but he couldn’t stop himself from the overwhelming surge of sensations as pleasure continued to ricochet through him. His entire body tingled with an electrifying current, as if his very cells were undergoing a metamorphosis, changing and warping as the DNA within him was changing. It was a sensation both exhilarating and unnerving.

The heat travelled around to his cock that began to thicken and lengthen, his crotch practically on fire as pubic hairs grew around his now eight inch cock.  His thighs thickened, the muscles expanding and pushing outward as they became more defined, bulging with strength. The deep blue spandex stretched tight over his growing quads, clinging to every curve and contour as his legs took on a more massive, muscular form. 

“Oh goooooodddddd-”

Timothy couldn’t even think straight as the intense heat pulsed downward, flowing into his feet. A tingling sensation began to spread from his toes, growing stronger with each passing moment. His shoes tore apart, the seams splitting apart as the toes lengthened. The soles continued to stretch, as if being pulled by invisible hands, sweating as brown hairs grew atop them. Before he knew it, the spandex material reached down over his feet and morphed into dark leather boots that hugged his muscular calves and large feet.

Gasping for breath, Timothy staggered backward, his mind reeling from the sheer intensity of the experience, still not able to think of ways to stop whatever was happening to him. The generator shouldn’t have been able to do anything like this. All the while his senses heightened, and a surge of vitality surged through his veins, rendering him acutely aware of every shift within his body, only for him to feel his intellect shifting. It wasn’t as if he was growing dumber but more like his memories were dissolving and turning into something else, making him grow more into astrophysics than anything to do with energy generation.

In that moment, he became acutely conscious of a subtle yet profound change. His clothes felt constricting against his shifting physique, the fabric straining over muscles that seemed to expand and ripple beneath his skin. He reached up to adjust his glasses out of habit, only to realise that…he didn’t have any glasses. Not anymore. And then with another blink, his memories shifted to make him realise he never had glasses. That he was always this tall. That the growing muscles and biceps of his were always there.

Timothy tried to move, but he was disoriented, the room moving about like he had vertigo and in any moment he’d fall onto the wall or drop onto the ceiling like gravity was reversed.

His face continued to shift and churn, almost as if the skin was boiling like the surface of some heated water, becoming malleable. His cheekbones grew higher, more apparent as the fat from his face melted away. His nose widened and lengthened slightly whilst his lips grew larger and fuller. In the blink of an eye, his irises turned to a dazzling baby blue. His unhealthy and thinning hair began to recede, becoming a buzzcut. All the while as he felt his face, he was too distracted and finally the vertigo got tohim, making him fall back. Tim’s jawline grew all the more chiselled and his cock continued to throb, again and again, the pleasure soaring to new levels as the heat in his crotch continued until finally.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna-” 

Cum rocketed out of Timothy’s inflated member, spraying the insides of his new spandex outfit as he writhed on the floor. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and shut tight as the pure bliss of orgasm was beginning to invade his mind and with it, he was losing all his old self as it began to drain out of his cock.

A surge of panic coursed through him, like he had woken up from a dream as Timothy suddenly sat up…He could still think…He could still…

Johnny examined his hands, watching in astonishment as wisps of flame flickered to life at his touch. The flames danced along his skin with a mesmerising yet controlled grace, casting an orange glow around him. 

It was an incredible sight, simultaneously beautiful and terrifying and scientifically impossible. 

Until now. 

His body was somehow conducting its own energy. He couldn’t believe what had happened, dregs of his old self still around as the heat trapped in his spandex and supernaturally warm body had already evaporated the mess he had left in his spandex. 

The last parts of Timothy caught his reflection in a nearby monitor, revealing a sight that defied all logic – he had transformed into Johnny Storm, the embodiment of the Human Torch from the pages of comic books and movies that had once been his refuge. 

Johnny’s breath caught in his throat, unable to comprehend his experiment that had somehow rewritten his very existence. But then again, there were weirder things in the universe, at least according to what Reed was always going on about. He grunted in surprise and felt like his voice was now deeper and with it, came a whole newfound charisma that made everything just so much more exciting and smoother coming out of his throat. Johnny started to blink as more and more of his memory and real self was finally coming to him, a cockiness and intrigue as he stopped looking so shocked in his reflection and instead was admiring himself in his spandex as he smirked.

“God damn…” Johnny murmured as he looked at his flaming hand and continued to watch it. “Just wait until Reed gets a load of this, that smart ass won’t know what hit him.”

For some reason there was still the dregs of doubt that came around, like Johnny was forgetting something. But he was sure if it was important, it’d come back to him. Right now  what he knew most was that he was one of the best heroes that there ever was.

“Flame on!” Johnny uttered as flames raced across his body and he began to feel power and pleasure ricochet throughout his entire body, ready to go out there and show the world the Human Torch. 

And of course he was smart enough to know just how he might be able to create the perfect conditions to make the rest of his team, starting with Reed.

“This is the stupidest slogan I’ve ever heard.”

Rob was hardly the type to look a gift horse in the mouth, but when that horse was actually the form of probably the most infectious app he’d ever seen. It had hardly been a year but the new DriveU app had started finding its way onto every person’s phone. Suddenly everyone wanted to be a driver or a rider instead of taking the bus or just a regular taxi. Rob would have resisted if he wasn’t already running late to dinner out with his friends and his ride cancelled.

Times like this, he wished he had a car, but then he remembered he lived in the city and half the people here didn’t own a car. So instead, Rob found himself twiddling his thumbs, hoping this stupid app with its stupid slogan and stupid minimalist UI would actually deliver him a ride like it promised.

A couple short minutes later and Rob got an alert: a rider will be with you shortly. He saw the image of a car gliding down a road in his neighbourhood. There was no picture of the driver, just the make and model of the car and a name, Sanjar. It wasn’t even a minute before Rob’s phone buzzed to let him know his driver was nearly outside.

He could see why so many people used the app, even the reports of people using it over ambulances seemed way too convenient to be true. But then again if it could get you a ride from anywhere in the city in ten minutes tops, then maybe it was really that good. Another buzz from the phone told Rob that the driver was right outside and beyond the sounds of the city, Rob heard the purring of an engine.

In total, it was only about five minutes for Rob to have gone from ordering a ride to being outside his apartment complex with his hand on the door of a car after checking its license plate twice.

“Hello, sat sri akaal,” greeted the driver and Rob hadn’t even noticed the car had tinted windows until he realised this was the first time of getting a look at his driver. In the front seat of a stuffy Toyota Corolla was a tanned man with a broad face of sharp features and dark facial hair. Rob didn’t get a good look of him before the driver, Sanjar, turned away. “Uh hi, what?” Rob blinked at the odd greeting. He didn’t quite understand the words as he sat down and shut the door, regretting it somewhat already as the car was already getting stuffier. The air was heavy with a strong scent weighing it down, one that Rob couldn’t quite place and that didn’t smell bad, but just distinct and a little too distracting. Hopefully the ride is quick too. 

“Oh sat sri akaal, it’s just a fancy way of saying hello,” Sanjar laughed as he looked back in the rear-view mirror. A few phone taps later and the driver spoke again. “You’re going to the new bar on 5th yes?” Rob nodded, working up some courage to ask if he could roll the window down. The smell was only growing stronger the longer that he was sitting in the back, as if his body wasn’t getting used to it but the exact opposite. “Okay and how are you doing?” Rob resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He supposed that no app was going to be good enough to have a driver that didn’t try to force a conversation lest there be some sort of awkward silence lingering around for the ten minute drive. But then again, perhaps the man was just being friendly and so with a forced smile he just looked back to the rear view mirror. 

“I’m doing alright, just meeting some friends,” answered Rob as his nostrils drew in a deep breath which he almost instantly regretted. He knew the smell now. It was the scent of musk, a sweaty and strong aroma that almost felt like it was weighing him down. Rob frowned, cringing at the scent and already thinking how uncomfortable it was to have to be in this the whole ride. “Uh can I turn the window down?” 

“It doesn’t work,” replied Sanjar, although Rob had the suspicion he was lying. “Why, does it not smell good in here?” Sanjar laughed. Rob resisted the urge to frown and just forced a smile, laughing awkwardly.

“Yeah no it’s fine, just like fresh air,” said Rob as he shifted in his seat. He tried so hard not to breathe in the musk, even when he tried to breathe through his mouth he could still smell it and now almost taste it too. Sanjar just nodded as he glanced over at Rob in the rear-view mirror and for a moment, Rob swore that he saw the man smirk before he blinked and the man was focusing back on the road. 

“Yes, well don’t worry, just enjoy it.” The words felt a little odd to Rob, especially as he saw Sanjar smile at him in the rearview mirror once more. Perhaps he just meant that he should enjoy the ride. But then he heard the man mutter something else. “Iha jaladī hī śurū hō jāvēgā.” 

If only Rob knew the words, then perhaps he might have been clever enough to check himself over. Instead, he never could see that as he continued to smell the musk, his nose had begun to darken, tanning into a rich brown as the nostrils flared and expanded. The nose had started to jut out, growing larger and slightly longer, the very tip of the nose slightly curved downwards as the bridge pushed forward. 

Rob shifted. It was as if his larger nose was adding a weight to his face, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it, not even as he continued to smell the deep and enriching musk that he could almost taste it. His lips were next to begin their change, thickening ever so slightly. The musk had been bad enough before, but now it was starting to make Rob feel stranger, lightheaded and…horny?

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself as he glanced down, furrowing his brows. The same brows had started to suddenly turn from brown to black as they started to get hairier and thicker. However, it wasn’t his nose, his lips, or his brows that were grabbing his attention, instead, it was his cock. Rob had to admit, he was slightly embarrassed by his size of five and a half inches. 

But he didn’t need a ruler to know that his dick was significantly bigger than it normally ever was. The cock was pressed up against his shorts, so slick with pre-cum that it had begun to soak the fabric and he could almost see the bulbous head of his member through his clothes. He couldn't even focus before he saw the cock throb again, causing him to bite back a moan.

“Are you okay back there?” Sanjar asked and Rob could only look up and quickly nod, not even sure if he could cover his crotch without running the risk of it throbbing and touching his hands, making him leak out even more as he was sure pleasure would spike from the sensitive and growing member.

“Mmf- fine,” Rob managed to strangle out just as the car bumped. He didn’t know for certain, but once again he could sense some amusement coming from the driver, just the slightest glimpse of a smile. But then his cock throbbed again, his growing member that made him unable to focus on anything but his body. “Uh how long until we get to the ਹਵਾਈ ਅੱਡਾ?” 

Rob clenched his throat, just in time to feel it beginning to change too. The tanned tone that had already overtaken most of his face was starting to crawl down his neck. 

It was only then that he could feel three things, arousal, his thickening neck, and his lengthening fingers sprawling across his throat. He looked down to see that his fingers were slowly beginning to get tanned and larger as he looked wide-eyed as both hands enlarged, the palms stretching and the tanned tone spreading down his arms.

“W-Wha- What the ਗੰਦ?!” Rob wanted to scream or to reach out and get the hell out of the car. But his hands couldn’t. They moved all with a mind of their own as the hands started to slowly trace down his body. “O-Oh god n-no please ਮੇਰੀ ਮਦਦ ਕਰੋ!” He whined and whimpered as the sleeves of his shirt began to tear, ripping from the increased mass of his new biceps. The muscles burned as the tissue continued to rapidly break and heal as it thickened with newfound strength. For a moment Rob Raj thought he could use the strength to his advantage to… “Wait…Wha…My name…I’m…” 

“Raj don’t worry, just relax,” Sanjar chuckled as Raj Rob looked up in confusion. Suddenly the seatbelt had grown tighter over his chest, his pecs inflating as they pushed forward. He  grabbed at his head, grunting and grinding, moaning and whimpering as his cock continued to leak out so much pre-cum that his leg was stained as if he had come undone already. “You are going to be such a ਚੰਗਾ ਮੁੰਡਾ.” 

Rob Raj didn’t know what was odder, the fact that his name was ping-ponging between Raj and…uh…what was it? Ron? Rick? Ro…something. It was either that or the fact that he knew what the Punjabi meant, and started to be able to discern the words as if it was a second language. Or his mother tongue. 

But what was ultimately worse was how he not only knew what the words meant, but the effect they had on him. He suddenly moaned out loud, cock constantly throbbing, so much so that it felt as if it was vibrating as it continued to spurt pre-cum.

Those words, ਚੰਗਾ ਮੁੰਡਾ, good boy. 

“F-Fuck what ਤੁਸੀਂ ਮੇਰੇ ਨਾਲ ਕੀ ਕਰ ਰਹੇ ਹੋ?!”

What are you doing to me?!

Raj hadn’t even realised that he’d leaked so much of himself out of his thick and tanned cocky that he was barely even speaking English, even those words started to have a different accent, sounding more like the way Sanjar spoke. 

“Oh you are becoming perfect,” Raj could only gulp as he knew that Sanjar was speaking Punjabi, but that he continued to find his legs stretching and growing. By no the pressure had reached all the way down to his feet, causing him only able to communicate through incoherent moans and groans as the toes started to push out against his shoes. 

“Please…can’t…Fuck!” The feet pulsed and burst out of the footwear, practically disintegrating his own socks. But not his shoes. Instead, Raj could start to see his shoes were turning into something else entirely, almost melting down as they rearranged and shifted, darkening from white trainers into deep brown sandals exposing his hairy and large feet. Musk continued to fill the car as his chest and pits only continued to grow hairier and as if on some command, dark hairs sprouted over his feet.

“Yes, we’re almost there,” Sanjar spoke, the words coming out in Punjabi now and sounding so natural, so easy for Raj to understand. It was less like a fluent language and more like his mother tongue because it was. He couldn’t even remember speaking much English until he moved to the country. All his memories, things that made him him were leaking out, replaced with something else entirely as Raj felt himself drooling, both from his lips and his cock. “Tell you what, if you can say your name in English honey, I’ll turn you back.” “My…Name…Name uh…” Raj couldn’t help it. “Name is…Name…Raj-” And just then, before he could even take another breath, he exploded in pleasure. His cock throbbed and came so much that Raj wasn’t just having a first or second or third orgasm, but instead one continuous torrent of pleasure as he bucked in his seat, spasming with each and every spilling of his seed. 

The pleasure overwhelmed him, made his eyes roll into the back of his head so fast that Raj thought he’d just shut them tight. He couldn’t feel the leather of the car seat anymore or the confusion and panic of the change or even the strong musk emanating from both himself and the hot driver.

As the final facet of his new life settled in, Raj opened his eyes at the sound of the man.

“We’re here.” Raj blinked and looked out, to see that he was at a home…for some reason he didn’t recognise it before he blinked and remembered that of course, it was his own. “Wasn’t that a lovely drive?” “Mmm definitely, I’ll give you a tip,” Raj assured as he smiled at the driver and looked down at his app, seeing the ride was complete and leaving the largest tip he could for the man. “There you go.” “Thank you very much and thanks for using DriveU,” Sanjar said as Raj stepped out of the car and into his new changed life, another satisfied customer. 

There was a ping as his phone vibrated and Sanjar looked at the phone, seeing that a few customers were wanting a ride to an Italian restaurant. He accepted the ride and started to drive over, wondering just how hot the men would look as Mediterranean himbos on holiday from Sicily. Either way, there were some more customers out there that needed to be driven and driven to change, just like his last customer.