Merry Changes

 "Am I going to turn into a monster?" I asked, my voice cracking like I’m going through puberty. 

Detective Aaron Voss had learned long ago that missing-person cases almost never made sense at first. The first teenager had disappeared right before the math Olympics, his best friend vanished shortly after, the third was a janitor, and the last was a substitute teacher. There were no signs of struggle and no witnesses. Just abandoned belongings and strange, recurring details buried in every report.

First there was the fact everyone was connected to the same school, the oddly specific detail of the “Strong odor in the athletic wing,”  and the fact that all had apparently drawn the ire of one of the schools athletic programs. Most officers dismissed it all as coincidence, after all football and lacrosse were different things and jocks were typically hot heads anyway. 

Aaron didn't buy that, maybe it was his own experience as the nerdy target for bullying in high school. He tried to block out the memories brought forth by buzzing hallway lights, the lockers stretched endlessly down polished floors, each one reflecting pale strips of fluorescent light. He felt the building sleep around him, the school completely deserted, the empty eyes of the sports team posters seemed to follow as he went. 

His shoes echoed as he checked out the gymnasium, weight room, training office, everything checked out. Only one room remained, the locker room. The heavy blue door groaned as he pushed it open and a wave of heat rolled over him. Not warmth exactly, more like stale humidity trapped behind concrete walls.

Rows of battered metal lockers stood in military formation, each scarred with scratches, dents, faded numbers. Shoulder pads hung from open doors and practice jerseys dripped from hooks. Damp towels had been forgotten days ago, maybe weeks. The smell of it all hit him a heartbeat later.

Aaron instinctively covered his nose, the smell overwhelming. A combo of old sweat, mud, the sour musk embedded into pads that had survived countless seasons, and leather. Disinfectant barely masking something deeper, It wasn't one smell, It was hundreds. Layer upon layer of filth, as though every exhausting practice had left behind a ghost.

His flashlight swept across the room. Yet there was nothing, no blood, no signs of violence. Then he noticed something odd, footprints, clearly imprinted from bare, sweaty feet. They led toward the equipment cage before simply...stopping.

Aaron frowned, "That's impossible," his voice disappearing into the silence.

No one answered him, just the thick stink hanging in the room like a bad omen. Every breath became heavier than the last, the air seeming to thicken. The odor wasn't merely lingering anymore, It was curling through the locker room like invisible smoke.

"What the—" Aaron staggered backward, his pulse accelerating. The heavy musk filled his lungs with impossible force, dizzying him. Making his skin prickle and his arms tingled beneath his jacket.

He rolled up a sleeve to determine the cause and the muscles in his forearm twitched. It didn’t feel like a cramp, more like a growth spurt. His sleeve tightened over growing biceps. The seams of his dress shirt creaked as his shoulders broadened.

"What is happening?" He grunted, his tone sounding strange to his ears, lower and rougher.

His chest expanded against the fabric, buttons straining one after another until one finally shot across the room with a sharp ping. The force made him stumble into a locker and metal rattled through the room. Looking at that metal, his reflection stared back, a face he barely recognized. Wrinkles pulled tight against sharp cheekbones, salt and pepper beard completely gone. The more he looked, the more his face changed still. 

His jaw tightened and his neck thickened, his Adam’s Apple protruding out. His posture straightened without him thinking.  Calluses spread across his palms, as old aches disappeared. His expensive leather shoes suddenly felt impossibly small. Then, Crack, his toes pressed against the ends. Another crack and the soles split wide open. Aaron gasped as his balance shifted, stronger legs effortlessly supporting unfamiliar weight.

His detective's instincts screamed to leave him the more time he spent in the humid locker room. Instead he hesitated, the room no longer felt threatening, it felt familiar. Like he'd walked in here after practice a thousand times before. That couldn't be right, he'd never played football.

But the certainty slipped away almost as soon as it formed. New names surfaced in his mind, plays, Locker assignments, and Friday night lights. But those memories belonged to someone else, not to him. A voice in the back of his mind said, “A Rod,” yeah, that’s right. The cheers and victory songs, those memories belonged to A Rod

But, but, he was A Rod, at least that's what his teammates called him. The case file he'd carried fell, Its pages scattered on the tile floor, Photographs of missing people sliding across the room.

He looked at the faces, suddenly recognizing them. But not as victims, as teammates. Aaron frowned. "That’s… Miles, Benji, Maxy?" The word escaped naturally, new memories filling in the gaps. Then from somewhere deeper inside the locker room came the muffled slam of another locker door.

Someone else was here, probably Someone who knew exactly where all the missing people had gone— missing people? Who was missing again? Aaron took a slow breath, putting the annoying nagging telling him to run in the back of his head. And walked deeper into the rows of blue lockers, after all it was probably just his bro. 

Aaron didn't buy that, maybe it was his own experience as the nerdy target for bullying in high school. He tried to block out the memories brought forth by buzzing hallway lights, the lockers stretched endlessly down polished floors, each one reflecting pale strips of fluorescent light.

What if your favorite horror story took place under a blazing summer sun instead of on a dark October night? Introducing a new series of classic horror tropes reimagined for the hottest season of the year. From surfer werewolves to slashers with Sunscreen to a summer camp full of vampires.

But… you chose the tropes!

Send me your favorite horror trope, subgenre, monster, or spooky concept, and I'll combine it with a summer twist(pool party, road trip, schools out... Only 4 spots remain! One has already been claimed, so if there's a trope you've always wanted to see baked in the summer heat, now's your chance.

Werwolf x surfing - merryy3dbhsjsk

Changeling x beach bum - axeeglitter

Apocalypse x Florida vacation - anonymous

Cursed artifact x flip flops - ovid666

Monkeys paw x Summer camp - dmears1994/bremenmasw

Drop your suggestion in my asks or messages, and let's make this the most unsettling summer imaginable. Happy Summerween!!!

I woke up before my alarm for once, that alone should've tipped me off that something was wrong. Normally every morning began with the same dull routine. My shoulders ached from hunching over a desk all week, my neck protested the cheap office chair, and I would spend the first ten minutes staring at the ceiling trying to convince myself to get up. There was always another meeting, another spreadsheet, another email marked "urgent" that somehow wasn't actually urgent.

Today, though, was different. He felt different, no stiffness, no sore back, I just felt light. My whole body was loose, like I was a wet towel that had been wrung out after a late night swim. The room smelled strange, not the usual stale air and carpet cleaner. But of sunscreen, salt and something he couldn’t quite place, a faint hint of fruitiness.

After a long minute, I opened my eyes. The ceiling above me was whitewashed wood instead of cracked apartment plaster. A surfboard was mounted across one wall, old concert posters and beach photographs covered another, and a pair of sandy flip-flops sat beside a dresser overflowing with boardshorts.

"...What?"

I sat bolt upright or at least I tried to. Instead of the usual strength it took to heave myself off the bed, I practically launched myself off the mattress. By muscles that practically pulsed with an athletic ease I hadn't possessed since high school. My hands caught me before I hit the floor. My hands, they were younger, tanner, calloused in different places; but they weren’t by hands. 

I scrambled to the mirror across the room and a stranger stared back. The man in the mirror couldn't have been older than twenty. Sun-bleached blond hair hung into bright blue eyes. His skin was bronzed from countless hours outside, and his lean frame was all defined shoulders and swimmer's muscles instead of the soft body I'd accumulated after years behind a desk.

"What the hell..." My voice was different too. Lower and more relaxed, a voice that matched his new body. 

Before I could panic any further, the bedroom door opened in a burst of shouted "Dude!’s” as three blonde boys piled into the room without knocking. One tossed me a towel and another picked up the surfboard leaning beside my bed.

"The waves are firing, bro!" The tallest laughed. "You seriously gonna sleep through this?"

"I..." I blinked.

They all stared. "You good?" One said

"I think so," I really was not. 

"You look like you got hit by a truck." 

"I kinda feel like I did." I said, and they laughed. It sent an unfamiliar trill though me, impersonating this boy, wearing his skin. 

"There he is." The boy who grabbed the surfboard said, already one foot out the door. 

"That's our boy." One of the others whooped. 

"C'mon, man. Tide's perfect." The last guy said, pulling me to my (tan!) feet.

I should've asked who they were, but, somehow, their names floated into my head before I even thought about it. The tall one was Joe, his boyfriend Kai was the one who pulled me up, and Kade was already gone, affixing the surfboard to his truck. 

Joe clapped me on the shoulder. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this mornin’ dude?"

"...Guess so." I got out, thankfully the boys didn’t notice the tremors in my voice.

"You'll be fine after a surf." He replied, and for reasons I couldn't explain, that sounded completely reasonable.

The old truck bounced along the coastal highway with all four windows down, music blasting from the speakers. In the bed my board rattled gently alongside everyone else's. I sat squeezed next to Kade in the back seat, watching the ocean glitter beside us. The effect was beautiful, a far nicer view than my office cubicle. Yet I couldn’t get thought of work out of my mind, there were reports due, a meeting at nine.

"What?" Joe asked from the driver's seat.

"...Nothing."

The beach parking lot was already filling up. Everyone jumped out before the truck had completely stopped, the asphalt hot against our bare feet. Without thinking, I grabbed my board out of the truck. My feet carried me effortlessly across the sand, the ocean stretching endlessly ahead. Waves rolled in with perfect glassy faces.

Kade grinned. "Race you out."

Before I could answer, he sprinted into the water. I followed, the cool water splashing at my ankles. Pure instinct took over, My new body knew exactly how to duck beneath incoming waves, how to paddle, and where to wait. None of it made sense to me, as if this body was completely taking over and I was along for the ride. 

A wave lifted beneath me and I had spun, paddled, and popped to my feet in one smooth motion, and before I could even realize it I was riding the wave. It felt like the board came alive beneath me and the rush was indescribable. I carved across the face of the wave without thinking, spray exploding around me.

Hours disappeared to wave after wave. The office, my apartment, my entire old life, it all just seemed impossibly distant whenever I was in the water.

I was done before any of the others finally called it a day, my arms felt pleasantly heavy, a strange film of salt water over me. I walked to the truck, loading my board in the back. For some reason, a quick nap sounded amazing. I stretched out beside my board, the warm plastic liner had been baking in the afternoon sun, the breeze smelling like salt. I rested one arm beneath my head. The last thing I remembered was watching seagulls drift overhead.

"...Dude." Someone nudged my foot with their own, and I blinked awake. I had switched places, now leaned against a window inside the truck. The truck was slowing down through a neighborhood lined with palm trees.

"You alive back there?" Kai teased from his place up front. 

"Yeah..." I said, sitting up slowly. The sun was lower now, had I really slept the whole ride? 

As we turned onto another street, something strange happened, a memory surfaced. One I hadn’t revealed before, had never actually happened…Did it?  But I remembered skating down this exact hill when I was fourteen, falling and laughing, despite breaking a wrist. I looked down at my wrist, a faint scar still showing. But this wasn’t my body, wasn’t my memories, right?

More alien memories followed, learning to paddle from my…dad, an unfamiliar husky blonde man. Bonfires on this beach every summer, senior skip day, winning a local surf contest. Each one felt completely real. I squeezed my eyes shut, telling myself, No, I worked, work, in an office, didn't I? I...what company was it again?

The house was loud before we even walked inside, full of people, I felt a vague sense of comradery too. Someone handed me a cold beer almost immediately. Music echoed through every room, and people wandered in and out carrying pizza boxes and bags of chips. I even saw someone rolling a joint on the coffee table.

"Long day," Kade laughed. "The best kind."

I nodded automatically. "It really was." I said, and we spent hours talking about waves I'd somehow remembered catching. Trips I apparently went on and people I supposedly knew. Every few minutes I'd recognize someone I shouldn't and a memory would answer a question before I finished asking it. It was the beer, beer blurred everything together and the smoke made the rest feel warm.

At one point someone asked where I'd learned that cutback I'd landed earlier and without hesitation I answered. "My dad taught me." The words come out confidently, Why had I ever questioned that? Of course he did.

Later that night I stumbled into my bedroom, high and drunk. I looked at the surfboard against the wall, my vision blurred. There was wax still clinging to the deck from today, from yesterday and all the days before. 

I rubbed my eyes, exhausted, there had been something important. Something I had told myself not to forget, fuck it, it’s fine. 

I crawled into bed still smelling faintly of sunscreen and seawater, the waves outside lulling me to sleep.

I stretched, the sunlight that poured through the window warm against my back. My shoulders were sore from surfing yesterday. I smiled, the urge to crawl back in bed making me feel like a cat, a very salty one. 

Before I could fall back asleep, my phone buzzed beside the bed

Kady Boy Oo🐟: Waves are pumping bro. Five minutes.

I laughed. Typical Saturday, well typical day really. Plus the forecast had called for a clean swell all weekend. I pulled on my boardshorts, grabbed my keys and my board, and headed for the front door. There was nowhere else I'd rather be after all, the sun, the salt, and the sea— gah, I sound like some fucking poet. Nothing some waves and weed wouldn’t fix, maybe Joe and Kai were down for another three way. 

After a long minute, I opened my eyes. The ceiling above me was whitewashed wood instead of cracked apartment plaster. A surfboard was mounted across one wall, old concert posters and beach photographs covered another, and a pair of sandy flip-flops sat beside a dresser overflowing with boardshorts.

"...What?"

“Yeah, yeah. I got this big bro.” Ethen ended the call with a satisfied grin.

The situation was simple enough. Ethen's transformation had been a complete success. His memories, his life, his identity; all exactly as they were supposed to be. The problem was that reality hadn't fully caught up yet. 

Danial had explained that their family still remembered the wrong version of him and his brother. Daniel had also  assured him that the reunion was the perfect opportunity. A large gathering of relatives, all in one place, all interacting with each other. Once the merchandise was distributed, ‘the corrections’ would spread naturally. By the end of the day, everyone would remember things properly.

Ethen slipped his phone into his pocket and headed down the driveway. The massive black pick-up truck waited there, gleaming in the afternoon sun. He opened the rear door with an easy practiced motion.

The trunk was packed with Boxes of hats, shirts, Sunglasses, Stickers, Coffee mugs, Flags, and other things packed away in sealed boxes.  All of it carried the familiar MSXic branding.

Daniel hadn't been kidding. Ethen picked up a folded note resting on top of the nearest box.

The merchandise will handle everything.

Trust the process.

Welcome home.

—Daniel

Ethen chuckled, his brother really thought of everything. He tossed the note back into the trunk and climbed behind the wheel. The drive to the reunion took nearly an hour, giving him plenty of time to think about the family he was about to see.

His parents and aunts and uncles; Dozens of other family members. It was strange knowing they would all be different by the end of the day. Not completely different, of course. Just corrected, Brought in line with how things should have always been. The thought filled him with a sense of pride. After all, family looked out for family.

Eventually he turned into the massive Airbnb hosting the annual Samuels family reunion. The place was already packed full. Cars lined the parking areas. Children raced across open fields. Large tents had been erected beside rows of picnic tables. The distant sounds of laughter and conversation drifted through the warm afternoon air.

Ethen parked and sat for a moment, looking out over the gathering.He stepped out of the SUV and opened the trunk once more. Ahead of him, dozens of boxes waited to be unpacked.

Ethen grabbed the first box and started walking toward the reunion. This was going to be a good day.

————————————

“This gym is huge!” Brandon said as he walked in, weighed down by multiple suitcases and duffle bags. Just arriving at the massive house his family had rented for their semi-annual reunion, he was instantly drawn to the house's gym. But first he had to drop this stuff in his family’s room. He could see his reflection in the mirrored walls, a rather plain looking appearance, average build, thin brown hair cut down for summer. Despite this he was constantly trying to improve himself, spending time in the gym, trying countless self care routines.

Going through the suitcases he had just dumped on the floor, he searched for his gym clothes. Finding only a pair of shorts and a pair of underwear, ill fitting and branded with the logo of MSXic.org he’s sure he didn’t pack them, nor had he ever owned them. He threw those thoughts to the wind, so excited to check out the gym. Forgoing a shirt entirely, he made his way through the halls to the gym. 

As he started with simple weights, he turned on his usual high energy playlist, the pulsing beat of Taylor Swift's Reputation filling the room. He exercised in peace for a while with a familiar strain of muscle and rhythm of machines. His mind eventually went to seeing the family, for some reason he couldn’t picture a single person he knew very well, all he had was the vague sense he had closer to his relatives than that. 

Moving to the leg machines, he grew fed up with his ‘pussy’ playlist. He quickly switched to some fast no wing rap music instead. Much better. He tossed his phone onto the ground but it landed nearly halfway across the room. “Must not know my own strength” he thought with a chuckle. Every pump on the machine expanded his legs, his spine growing as well to make his height an impressive 6’2”. Muscles bulged as his arms and legs became melons, and his chest is carved with smooth chiseled abs. 

Moving to the next machine, his feet began to ache in too tight sneakers. Bending down, he takes them off, reeling massive meaty feet and giving him instant relief. Moving through the rest of the workout barefoot, everything else about his body began to change. Hands become rough and wide, nails blunt and uncared for. As sweat covered his body, a musky odor could be smelled, “the scent of a real man” he thought, completely unprompted. His pecs grew even more and his glistening body took on a youthful smoothness. His hair now fluffy, blonde and newly styled in a modern mullet. 

He shouted along to obscene lyrics, his energy revitalized as he reached the end of the grind. Pushing himself off the ground, where he was finishing sets of pushups and planks. He flexed at himself in the mirror, admiring his cut figure. Taking a pic, He pulled his pants down a little to show off his MSXic.org swag. They had been his favorite pair of underwear since his dad had given them to him two years ago when he had sat Brad down and given him the talk, not that talk, the talk about what it meant to be a real man. He was forever grateful his father had forced encouraged him to work out daily, it had really paid off. Sending a quick pic to the family group chat, he went to go find his father and help him pass out his company’s merch to the rest of the family. 

Charleston sat in his car, looking at the massive place his family reunion was taking place. As a police officer he had stood his ground against murders and criminals, yet he couldn’t bring himself to get out of his car to face his family. He could just imagine what they were already saying about him and his latest failed relationship, a girl who had dumped him for a man 20 years younger. The latest of an endless cycle of train wreck relationships. Every family gathering seemed to come with the same questions, the same looks of pity, and the same unwanted advice.

Turning off the car, he heaved himself out of the front seat, joints cracking as he walked. Wheeling his suitcases up the step he noticed multiple boxes, each over spilling with a variety of branded objects. Each bulging box branded with the logo of a company called MSXic.com. Inside more boxes awaited him, one was overturned, spilling hats and branded cigar boxes. The branded merchandise seemed strangely out of place, not something you would bring to a family gathering.

“Well, I could use a good smoke.”

He struggled to open the package for a full minute, rewarded with a row of nice looking stooges. Taking a puff of smoke, his head began to feel foggy and he felt ready to face those troublesome aunts. The smoke was smooth and rich, carrying away some of the anxiety that had followed him all the way here.

He started to climb up the stairs, but was hit by a wave of dizziness. He stood in the foyer, pacing. His height shot up to nearly 6 feet, bringing his line of sight to the top of the mirror to the right of the door. Looking into it, he saw his torso begin to grow as his flabby stomach caved into six pack abs. His shirt tightened across a broadening chest while his shoulders pushed wider. His arms and legs grew, pure muscle replacing years of aging. Longer limbs now fully solidify with muscle as they carry him back out the door. For a moment he could only stare at his reflection, unable to process what was happening.

He barely registered the change of environment, too focused on his cigar. He sat on one of the lawn chairs, barely handling the combined weight and newly grown thighs and ass. His hands grew as he took another drag of the cigar, his feet growing to match, no longer able to be contained by his sneakers. His thick beard began to shed, becoming a well trimmed mustache and goatee; the silver in his styled hair vanishing away. Revealing the face of a man who could get whatever he wanted with a smirk and a glance. Years seemed to peel away from him with every breath.

His thin hair grew out into a flowing frat boy style, the former officer felt a stab of pain, like being kicked in the balls. He could feel his manhood swell up, begging for attention. Later, he thought. After my stooge, his now punny brain was unable to focus on more than one thing at a time. Every drag making his brain sink further and further into stupidity. Worries about work, bills, and his failed relationships drifted away beneath a growing haze. Thinking was hard. Smoking was easy.

Charlie grinned, “I’m so fucking hot,” he said, speaking to no one. He was glad that his big brothers had left him some cigars, branded with their amazing company. If only he was smart enough to work, oh well, he could just sit around and work out, smoke cigar, or goon. He looked over the many cars in the drive, so many cars, so many family members to go. A cocky grin spread across his face as he stood up from the chair. For the first time since arriving, he wasn't dreading the reunion at all.

John was excited to see his brother. He hadn’t seen him since he had left for college the previous fall, the family reunion had been the first time the boys would see each other in months. They’d been texting from opposite sides of the country, yet once Brandon had arrived the messages had abruptly stopped. He just figured the wifi was bad or something of that sort. 

After hauling the family’s bags with his dad, he went in search of Brandon. As he wandered down the hallway, sunlight poured through soaring floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shimmering reflections from the lake across the polished hardwood floors. The open living room flowed effortlessly into a gourmet kitchen with a marble island, custom cabinetry, and professional-grade appliances, he saw a sparkle on the counter. Getting closer he could see it was a brand new chain necklace.

He examined it more carefully, noticing it was brand new, a simple tag folded over the chain with MSXic.org written in a simple font. He looked around, nobody. So he slipped it on, the cross resting unto his cotton shirt. It wasn’t exactly his style, John couldn’t explain the draw he felt to the piece of jewelry. He found himself touching and admiring as he continued wandering through the house. 

As he walked past numerous rooms, he didn’t notice his clothing slowly shifting becoming more trendy and fashionable. His stomach's natural color deepens into a tan as the extra bit of chubbness on him melted away. Abs and pecs smoothing out, existent yet not super defined. His arms inflate with lean biceps and triceps, his body becoming more muscular and youthful. The tan spread over his shoulders and back as they became wider. 

Walking into one of the many sitting rooms, his height shot up. His legs grew to match the extra 2 inches he gained, his thighs and quads becoming thick with muscle. His calves also toned, yet any body hair on them vanished, the smooth clean shaven look following unto the rest of his body. The only hair left was the new golden fluffy, now styled in the fringe that was extremely popular with teenage boys. Down below his feet grew, becoming the same deep tan as the rest of him. 

He dramatically sat on the coach, his increased height making the gray coach creak under him. John began to palm at his crotch, not even noticing he could only feel underwear under his hand. But wait, he had to film this. Crap, where was his phone. He tried to reach into his pocket, finding nothing, that was typical though, he didn’t usually wear much more than his underwear. He stood up and noticed his phone sitting next to him on the coach. 

“Ok, Bros, that was the Samuel family reunion house!” Johnny Boy said loudly into the camera. He was one of the company's many influencers, one of the most popular with 867,000 followers. After his brother had turned to the gym full time, Johnny had tried to make his father just as proud, starting a tiktok for that very reason. Yet his perfect blend of energy and passion for MSXic.org’s values quickly blew up, although his pretty face probably helped too. Johnny Boy smiled and gave his many followers one of his signature winks, “And don’t forget, Stop Hiding Men!” 

Speaking of his brother, he had to meet Brandon at the gym. The gym being the only place the brothers could find time to spend with each other. Exchanging tips for beefing up(Brandon), explaining the latest brain rot(Johnny) or just working out in peaceful silence. Before maybe he’d put some clothes on, his dad had just dropped of a ton of company merch.

Richerd wasn’t really excited to see his family, he tried to avoid this sort of thing when he could. But his youngest son John had begged him to come, as his other son would be coming from college. So he had agreed without much protest, he had been excited to see Brandon too. Yet when they he felt something off, tons of cars outside yet the house seemed empty, random half empty boxes strewn throughout the house, a faint smell hung about the house that reminded Richard of high school.

Once he had unpacked he began to wonder what to do with himself, his wife had excused herself for a nap and John had left a while ago in search of his brother. Maybe a long shower would clear his head, at least enough to deal with his troublesome aunts. Stripping down, he glanced over himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked at his middle aged body, sure he was old, but he didn’t look that bad, his muscles were still in decent shape, looking better than his younger nerdy self actually. Coming out of the bathroom, he noticed a half open box shoved against the wall, inside he saw multiple footballs, making him reminisce on his high school day. He was never quite athletic enough for the sport, more cut out for spelling bees than football games.

He reached down to grab it, his joints cracking in protest, the leather cool in his hands. He could tell it was well made, stitching tiny, and on the side was a glossy minimalistic logo for the company MAXic.org, the same as all the other boxes. How had the box got in here though? He wondered. Settling himself on the coach, he tossed the football up and down, continuing to daydream about what a varsity football life could have been. 

Ricky rubbed his eyes as he woke up, his nap being longer than he had wanted. He surprisingly didn’t groan as he stretched himself out. Glancing down at his toned, glistening body, he always slept hot leaving him to wake up sweaty constantly. He could feel his massive dick raise to attention as he caught a whiff of his masculine scent, his body hair holding the combined effect of his sleep sweat and lack of hygiene. Yet he loved it--the scent of a real man.

Ricky quickly moved to satisfy his dick, his calloused hands almost too small for his massive manhood. He softly groaned as he jerked away, his grown cock sensitive. The fantasy of a cheerleader under the bleachers playing in his head as he kept pushing, his long powerful legs bending up towards his defined torso. He felt his toes curl as he pushed out a load.

“Fuck, yeah!” He yelled as he shot his massive load into his sweaty nylon shorts. After catching his breath, he felt around the leather coach for his football. He grabbed it and was rewarded with a rush of adrenaline and excitement, as if he was on the field at that exact second. He reminisced once more, of his high school days. But soon the nostalgia was replaced by excitement, after all his varsity football days weren’t over yet. He picked up his phone seeing a text from his Danial Samuel, labeled Pops in his phone. confusing him for second, didn’t he have kids and a wife? 

“Caught up at the office, but your uncle Ethen is headed your way with some good shit”

Looking at the text jogged his memory however, his dad was one of the co-founders of MAXic.org, a company founded on the idea of bringing back traditional masculinity. That was why his father had pushed him to be an athlete, why his cousins were a gym junkie and red pill influencer respectfully. Cousins not his kids, what a dumb thought! Topical of Ricky though, his father often joked that he would end up like his other uncle Charlie. Yet that didn’t seem so bad to Ricky, his uncle was a real man too. 

His phone buzzed with a notification, a text from his cousins to meet them for protein shakes and a swim in the lake later. He flipped back unto the coach, content to chill until Brandon and Johnny were done at the gym. His shallow breath making his tight, sweaty rise and fall, the contours of his proud quarterback shoulders back lit by the open blinds of the window behind him. He quickly texted his cousins back a fire image and a thumbs up, excited for all the family reunion would bring. 

BJ had been waiting for his boyfriend for over a half hour. He had arrived at his boyfriend’s family reunion before Connor, his boyfriend of three years, and he hadn't been able to contact him since he had arrived due to the poor Wi-Fi. His boyfriend hadn’t been far behind, but had stopped for some reason he hadn’t shared with BJ.

Both BJ and Connor had been dating for three years, and the two of them would graduate in a few months from college. Yet, despite the time, BJ had never met much of Connor's family, not for any nefarious reasons, just timing. Of course, the Samuel's family reunion was the perfect opportunity, but BJ hadn’t heard any word from Connor.

Then he heard the crunch of tires, and saw his boyfriend's red BMW pull up next to him. The blonde man quickly got out of his car and opened the passenger door of BJs, getting in he gave his boyfriend a quick kiss. 

“Hey babe, sorry I’m late. My older cousin needed to give me these for some reason?” He said, holding up a cowboy hat and baseball cap with an sport team logo on it, and looking at BJ curiously.

“Why why?”

“Don’t know, wanna try them on as a joke,” Connor said, placing the baseball camo on his own head. BJ took the cowboy hat, happy to be in on the joke.

Once the hat touched his head, he was hit by a strange feeling of fatigue. He didn’t notice, but his legs were getting cramped under his seat. He subconsciously moved the seat back as he continued making out with his boyfriend, feeling a ticking sensation. His loose shirt began to fill out and began to feel tight around his pecs and biceps. The sleeves began to give as his biceps grew in size and density. Calves and thighs growing too as his soft white skin faded into a rough sun tan. 

At the same time, Connor's shirt was also strained, his chest also pulling the fabric tight so tight in fact that it burst. Burst and revealed chiseled torsos with new spatterings of ink. Their pants also shifted, BJs becoming American flag shorts and Connors pink shorts, complete with tree trunk legs coming out the leg holes. A bit of stubble also grew on their chins, making the kissing rough, and on their legs, chests and feet, which had grown into sizes 14 and 12 respectively. But as BJ kept kissing Connor but slowly the mental image of his boyfriend began to fade away. 

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

As they kept kissing, a deep tan spread over their bodies. The hat began to feel tight on their heads as their heads grew larger, although one could say they were actually emptier. Under their hats, curly thick hair sprouted, covered in dust and sweat from… farm chores. BJ felt a sense of arousal, the intense make out began to turn him on, and the images of breeding a hot cowgirl filled his head. 

“What the fuck!” Colt cried as he opened his eyes to see his brother, Buck. He sat there for a second, breathing irregularly, too disgusted with himself. He had just kissed his brother, sure it was family, but more importantly he’d just kissed a dude.

“Bro, What the hell was that?” Buck asks, his face in an identical expression of disgust. He turned to see his brother trying to wash his lips off with some week old beer he had left in the truck door. 

“Give me some of that,” Buck said, grabbing it from the smaller guy, as Colt found another half empty can. 

“Well…let’s just pretend this never happened,” Colt said, after washing it all down with a warm white claw.

Buck gave a wordless nod, and the two got out of the car, excited to surprise their lil cousins with their southern charm and beer, of course beer.

Andrew sat in the uncomfortable outdoor chair, bored out of his mind. He didn’t even really want to be here, this was his fiancé's family reunion, the only reason he came was for her. And now she was inside talking to her aunts and cousins leaving him alone outside. Fine by him, her family could be pretty annoying, whenever he tried to be friendly they took it as offense for some reason, to be fair he was a very blunt, gruff individual. 

He pulled out a book one of her nephews had given him, a massive individual with muscles far bigger than Andrew could ever hope to have. His frame was skinny, pale but he worked out twice a week and wasn’t fat or unhealthy by any means, he just wasn’t “buff”. Something this book was supposed to help with, claiming to get you hot in 7 days or something like that, the kids had said his dad had written, some business man who owned some MAXic.org, a dumb name if you asked Andrew. The book was probably a tax write off, but he had nothing better to do. 

Inside the font was large, like really large. He read the introduction, finding out about Ethen’s company’s mission, to make real men. The book continued like that for a while, chapter on surface level masculinity, monster trucks, gym routine, or grooming. Yet some stuff was downright offensive, the way they said to treat women or homosexuals. 

Andrew took a sip of his coffee, mesmerized by the train wreck that was this novel. As he read, his legs began to extend. He adjusted and crossed the new massive thighs and sculpted calves, the added length bringing him to nearly 6 foot. The chair creaked as his torso grew wider, abs and pecs blowing up like balloons. A healthy warmth flooded into his skin and hair began to grow everywhere, thick and brown. 

As he continued to read, his attention became more and more focused on what the book had to say. Years added to him as his frame began to fill out, broadening his arms and shoulders. Vain shot up his arms as his bod became the ideal gym type, his body packed densely with muscle. His thick legs made his shorts bunch up, looking like the inseam had decreased dramatically. 

As he began to finish the book his pace began to slow down, finding it so easy before, the reason for the size of the world quickly became apparent when his intellect dropped dramatically. The exchange for the muscle had to be evened out somehow. So locked in he didn’t even notice the breeze on his own bare back or the size of his massive paws gripping the paperback. So focused that he didn’t register the pleasure that hit when his dick grew an extra few inches. 

“Done, yes!” He said, pumping his meaty fist in the air, and shut the book with a satisfied smile. He quickly looked around but didn’t notice anything amiss, his wife was inside talking to the relatives, leaving him outside to finish his training to become an official team member of MAXic.org, the company his brother-in-law owned. 

As if on cue, he glanced inside to see his wife rubbing her swollen stomach and talking to his nephew, how already worked for the company via social media. A grin plastered itself on at the thought of welcoming his third son into the world.

“I did it” Ace announced as he walked into the house, kissing his wife and dabbing Johnny Boy up “gonna start working with you after this, bro” he remarked to the boy.

“Congrats dude” Johnny said with a grin.”Good to see you're officially part of the family business.”

Danial Samuels sat on the porch of the lake house, enjoying a cigar with his brother Ethen. Their(his) plan had been a huge success, made evident that night by the massive family dinner, the men bickering and laughing, kids swarming the room as their mothers brought heaps of food to the table. His own son had brought a football and had been throwing it across the table to one of his cousins from the south, their newest business partner, Ace had talked to the two about some new marketing strategies over meatloaf and Lil Johnny Boy had filmed the whole thing. 

After tedious research and development, he finally had a place to test his new merch. Hats, cigars, books, water bottles, chains, even underwear, the possibilities were endless. He designed them all himself, to align with the company's mission of bringing back traditional masculinity. Each one had a different purpose, mixing with the host's previous personality, making each new MAXic.org spokesperson unique yet united under their values and goals. 

Dianal glanced over at his brother and the two exchanged hardy laughs, It would only be so long before the country would hear of the company and by then it’d be too late.  

Danial Samuels sat on the porch of the lake house, enjoying a cigar with his brother Ethen. Their(his) plan had been a huge success

…

After tedious research and development, he finally had a place to test his new merch. Hats, cigars, books, water bottles, chains, even underwear, the possibilities were endless. He designed them all himself, to align with the company's mission of bringing back traditional masculinity. Each one had a different purpose, mixing with the host's previous personality, making each new MAXic.org spokesperson unique yet united under their values and goals. 

(inspired by an anonymous ask that I lost, sorry!)

Call to Dennis, June 25, 2026-

Dennis: Hey M, what's up?

Mila: Dude, why’d you send me a Father’s Day card?

Dennis: *laughing* You got it.

Mila: Yeah, the Father's Day card? Dennis, I'm not even a dad. Why'd you send me that?

Dennis: I don't know. It just felt right for some reason.

Dennis: ...Actually, now that I think about it, it felt really right.

Mila: Dennis? What’s that supposed to even mean?”

Dennis: Come on, just humor me. Read the card.

Mila: Fine.

Mila: "Happy Father's Day to an amazing dad..."

Mila: Seriously, Dennis, this is weird—

Dennis: Come on keep reading.

Mila: "...Thanks for always being there for your kids..."

Wait. Kids?

(A deep creaking sound echoed through the room. Mila felt her body suddenly grow heavier.)

Mila: D-Dennis... something's happening...

Mila: My voice—why does my voice sound so deep?!

Dennis: Whoa. There it is.

Mila: "There it is"?! What does that mean?!

Mila: My chest—it's getting wider!

(Mila looked down in horror.)

Mila: AAAAAAHHHHH!

Dennis: Mila?!

Mila: My arms are huge! What the hell?!

Mila: I have biceps bigger than my head!

Dennis: Nice, bro, that’s bigger than mine. 

Mila: My stomach's changing—wait, no, that's not fat. That's muscle!

(Bones cracked. Shoulders broadened. Hair spread across Mila's chest and arms.)

Dennis: Remember that card?

Mila: God dammint, who is this possible!?

Dennis: I told you it was meant for you.

Mila: My face! I can feel a beard growing!

Dennis: Funny thing is... you've always talked about wanting to be a cool dad someday.

Mila: N-No I didn't—

Dennis: Sure you did, Mike.

Mila: Mike? Who's Mike?!

(The transformation surged to completion.)

Dennis: You are.

Mike: WHAT?!

Dennis: I get it man, those kids do something to your brain. The stress, it happens all the time.

Mike: Dennis, I look like I'm forty-five years old!… wait kids!

Dennis: Yep. Happy Father's Day, Mike.

click

- End of Call -

Mike slowly lowered the phone and stared into the mirror. Looking back at him was a towering, muscular middle-aged father with a thick beard, broad chest, and powerful build. Somehow, the Father's Day card on the table now made perfect sense.

"...I still have no idea why Dennis sent that card," he muttered.

A moment later, his phone buzzed.

"Don't forget to pick up the kids from soccer practice."

1

File name: PR-CR-Jeep Wrangler 

Manufacturing details: Produced by Jeep then customized by Graystone detailing.

Key transformation components: 

Original upholstered interior replaced with seats padded using youth-cycle foam, calibrated to compress any adult spine into “perfect submission posture.”

Steering wheel wrapped in leather sourced from retired prep-school belts.

Exhaust mixed with aerosolized Old Money pheromones, triggering cell-level regression and selective brain pruning.

Roll bars coated in melted down Rolexes, reconfigured to induce touch triggered stepfordization

Radio queue loaded with 2000s acoustic covers, sung in soft liting tones.

Testing:

 He had just traded in his car and he was starting to think it was a mistake. Now he had always wanted a jeep, dream car and all that. So when the the dealer offered a the car in a trade with only 2000 dollars in difference, he leaped at the chance. Sure he had test driven the thing, but he was so excited he couldn’t pay much attention to the car itself.

Now, weeks later, he was driving it home for the first time. The interior smelled like fine cologne and expensive leather.  It drove perfectly fine, yet something felt off inside the car, like it was a place he didn’t belong. He flicked on the radio to distract himself, finding some ridiculous Taylor Swift acoustic cover song playing, he switched the channel but found nothing but drowning acoustic music. So he turned it down to bearly a whisper.

As he drove the feeling of discomfort started to wear off. He didn’t notice his t-shirt and pants began to warp, fabric rippling and shifting. His band t-shirt became a white botton down and his jeans into ill fitting dress pants. Matching fabric began to grow over his shoulders and around his chest, leaving him with a matching jacket. He adjusted a newly formed tie, “Did I have this on before, bro?” He mumbled to himself.

He looked at himself in the rear view mirror and his face changed before his now gray eyes. His hair grew out in thick brown curls and pushed back into flowing waves. His jaw sharpened and a faint bit of stubble grew in. He laughed, voice deeper thanks to more prominent Adam’s Apple. 

“Bro, I look so perfect, Sir will love it,” he remarked, his brain screaming at him helplessly, you aren’t supposed to look like this, he thought, who was Sir?

His body continued to grow as the changes leached downwards. His muscles inflated, becoming toned and defined. His ass grew until completely stretched out his dress pants. His skin darkened to a nice tan and his member shrank down as a hard cage began to form over it. 

Now fully a preppy bottom bitch, he turns up the radio and immediately starts lip syncing to the soft pop hits. His thoughts wandered to his rich hunky master, Can’t wait to get home to Sir and thank him properly for this new car…

2

File name:PS-CR-Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG

Manufacturing details: Producer in partnership with Mercedes-Benz and Graystone Automotive 

Key transformation components:

Exterior coated in a chrome polymer used exclusively in adult entertainment stage poles.

Leather interior made with thong material used in stripper garb.

Air conditioning ventilation lined with scent-release microcapsules containing “Vanity Club Floor #3,” the universal chemical signature of pole rooms.

Shock system tuned to vibrate at frequencies known to elicit involuntary hip-roll responses.

Testing:

“Hello, John”

He startled, nearly dropping his coffee all over the inside of the car. 

“What the fuck! Who are you!” He said, realizing how stupid he looked, talking to a disembodied voice. 

“I’m SLS/23992707 Beta Model, this car's experimental AI navigation system. You can just call me Sal for short.” The synthetic voice responded

“Ok, but how did you get in-” He tailed off, remembering getting the car serviced and upgraded the previous week, although he didn’t remember giving them permission to implant a robot. The more he thought about it however the cooler it seemed.

“Ok, take me to work, Sal.”

“Beginning route, ETA is 9:06 am”

Maybe it was time for a little test, John thought, “Get me there by 9:00 am exactly, please.”

“Recalibration in progress… route updated. New ETA is 9:00 am. Please relax in the meantime.”

John stretched out, feeling drunk on the power of having a personal driver at his fingertips. As he adjusted his legs in his seat, they started to grow, gaining muscle and ditching body fat. They also stretched out, giving him an extra inch or two in height. These changes spread up his body, as the slight office worker chub wore off, leaving him with rippled abs and strong pectoral muscles. His arms began to inflate with muscles, like a time lapse video of a melon growing, becoming smooth round muscle. 

Although he didn’t consciously recognize the changes, he was hit, however, with a feeling of intense pleasure. The paleness of his skin was quickly becoming a deep tan color, as if he had spent his whole life outside in the sun. His face began to change, becoming sharper and handsome. His thin hair grew into thick brown locks, stiff with loads of product. The same thick brown hair grew in thick clumps in his arms pits and around his pubes. 

He looked outside though half lidded eyes, and realized he didn’t recognize the streets Sal was taking him though.

“Yo, Sal you sure this is the right way, where are we going?”

“We are approximately two minutes out from Duboi night club, arrival time is still 9:00 am.”

“WHAT!!!I don’t work at a night club, Sal stop this!” He banged his hands at the controls, trying to turn the steering wheel, he found it impossible to move, locked solidly in place. 

“Please remain calm, we will be stopping shortly.” The calm artificial voice of Sal told him.

“I’m not some dam stripper!!!” John yelled desperately.

“Yes you are, Jaqe. I mean look at you, you’ve dressed perfectly for it.” Sal told him.

John looked down at himself, confused. “What, my suit isn’t,” yet looking down he saw all he was wearing was a pair of white underwear. He took in his new body for the first time, in shock and then cocky pleasure. 

“I’m fucking hot, look at me! Everyone should get a piece of me!” He said flexing his new muscles, his earlier concern forgotten in the testosterone pumped haze of self admiration.

“Arrived” The AI chirped.

“Thank, baby!” The newly minted confident, sexy, stripper stepped out of his car, ready for another day on the job.

3

File name: FB-CR-Subaru Outback

Manufacturing details: Produced by Subaru and Graystone Automotive and acquired by Graystone RentNEThing

Key transformation components:

Cup holders preset to maintain beer at optimal crush-temp.

Cloth seats soaked in “pledge week stimulant,” promoting bro-forward behavior, USA chanting instincts, and mild hazing impulses.

Floor mats reconfigured from frat door mats, thoroughly stopped by dozens of sweaty frat boy feet and sandals.

Roof rack wood sourced from decommissioned frat-house porches, complete with embedded pheromones of collective idiocy and patriotism.

Freshly washed by horny frat boys raising money for the local 4th of July celebration.

Testing:

The Tyson family was excited to get started on their annual road trip, now that the two kids were in their late teens it was getting harder and harder to spend time together. The father had gone to pick up the rental car and when he got home the family packed their stuff and went on their way.

Of course it took less than 10 Minutes for everyone (excluding the driver) to be silent and on devices. After an hour of this the father, who was also the driver, turned off his 80s rock and proceeded to lecture his family on the importance of being present.

“This road trip is a time to get to know each other, get off your devices for a while guys”

With a groan the teens turned off their phones, yet his wife ignored him, glued to her phone. 

“Babe, come on, please!” He begged.

“Uh,” was the only response he got.

Exsparented, he turned back up the music, “never mind guys.” Focusing on the road he failed to notice the changes his family started to go through. 

First to his right, his wife began to regress, years of her life gone in seconds. Her body soon lost anything marking her as female, her small frame replaced with young muscle, her breasts shrinking into her chest, and, most importantly, what was under her pants shifted from distinctly female to distinctly male. His hair shrank back into his skull, the bit that was left fluffing naturally to frame his now youthful face. Lastly, the traveling sweats were rippling on his body, eventually becoming a set of Americana overalls. The now boy failed to recognize any of these changes, too locked in on his feed, now interspersed with way more work out routines and dumb frat jokes then before. 

Behind herhim, the teen boys in the back seat began to experience their own transformation. Already near the target age demographic, they only had to age up a few years to become frat age. Both of their bodies shot up and out, gaining height and muscle. Decent sized glutes, biceps, and thighs, and rock solid abs and pecs, all the result of years worth of training adding itself to their bodies. Their hair fluffed out in identical styles, light brown body hair filling in to match. They both glanced at each other once a whiff of their new manly smell came to fruition. 

“Yo, you smell nasty, bro!” One remarked happily.

“Na, I think that’s you!” The other responded with a dumb chuckle 

“Ya right bro, it’s hot AF.” He said, turning his head to get a more clear sniff of his underarms 

As they reveled in their new musk, pairs of sunglasses materialized on their heads. Their clothing replaced my matching overall in red, white, and blue, stained with sweat, food, and god knows what else.

“Hey what’s going on back there?” The dad questioned on hearing suspicious noises form the back seat, upon glancing back, he was horrified to find his son replaced by sweaty frat boys, huffing each others scent like horny lunatics.

“What the fu-“ he started, only to be hit with his own change. His voice cracked as it dropped slightly, becoming more youthful in tone. His beard vanished, replaced by a smooth jawline under empty eyes. His hair grew back to its natural blonde, shedding the gay and growing out into long waves. His body also transformed, muscle being pumped in, more than any of his fellow bros. He grew to nearly 6”3 and every part of his body got an upgrade, even his penis gained an extra four inches. 

He laughed, pure delight—no deeper thoughts at all, and scratched at his tightly stretched t-shirt just as it melted away it a set of overalls that matched the rest of the boys. 

“Like, bros, I told you not to fuck in my car!” He finished.

His best bro in the passenger looked at him, annoyed, “let ‘em have their fun, bro, ya just jealous you're not in on it.”

“Whatever,” their leader replied, “just save some for me!”

4

File name:SF-CR-Ford Pickup Truck

Manufacturing details: Produced in partnership with the Ford Brotherhood

Key transformation components:

Air vents blow out trace amounts of evaporated Pacific seawater collected from abandoned surf shacks.

Truck bed naturally fitted for surf boards 

Dashboard coated in sun-baked wax resin, pushing neurological functions into “perma-dazed chill.”

Floor mats embedded with beach sand that replenishes itself through unknown means.

Testing:

Sam had just gotten his license and not a minute after his uncle had given him an old blue truck as a gift.

“I’m not use’n it, ya might as well get some use outa her.” He had said, upon giving Sam the keys. 

Sam’s mom had thought it was too much, yet she couldn’t hide her smile at her son’s excitement. She asked him to go pick up some stuff for them from the grocery store, knowing he wanted an excuse to take the car out.

And so Sam was on his way, managing the old truck like a pro. Yet suddenly, on its own..

HONK

The sound of the horn started Sam, he want even hit the horn. He chewed on it for while , eventually chalking it up to being an older car. 

HONK

Louder this time, yet looking around it seemed no other driver had noticed. What— the sound was distracting him from getting to the beach. Wait…the beach, was that right?

HONK

Clonk, his head hit the metal roof as his height shot up, his clothing had changed from simple sweat pants and T-shirt to a black sleeveless and striped board shorts. His place feet now clad in really disgusting flip flops.

HONK

Suddenly muscle was just…there. His arms now lean and well developed, with solid biceps and triceps. His formerly pale skin now looked dark and tanned. His once hairless body was now covered in a thick layer of blonde hair, congregating especially in his underarms, legs, and feet. With the hair came a heavy musk, smelling sex, sweat, and something else…

HONK

As he drove his mental capacity plummeted, knowledge and skills vanishing into the void of stupidity that was his mind now. His thoughts fading to dull sludge, to match his eyes now had no light behind them. Giving him a lost puppy look, amplified by his thick golden curls and mouth hanging open. 

HONK

The rest of his body is filled with muscle. Legs thickening, feet expanding, chest muscles pushing out. His ass soon filled with strong muscles giving him excellent balance. His mind soon filled with images of busty beach babes, surfing, and loads of hot sex. The desire in accordance with the amplified size of his member. He went to turn into a parking lot… 

HONK

“Dude, not sure what I was doin’ bro. Need to get ta the beach!” The newly minted surfer dude exclaimed, glancing behind him at the boards loaded into his truck.

“Recalibration in progress… route updated. New ETA is 9:00 am. Please relax in the meantime.”

John stretched out, feeling drunk on the power of having a personal driver at his fingertips. As he adjusted his legs in his seat, they started to grow, gaining muscle and ditching body fat. They also stretched out, giving him an extra inch or two in height. These changes spread up his body, as the slight office worker chub wore off, leaving him with rippled abs and strong pectoral muscles. His arms began to inflate with muscles, like a time lapse video of a melon growing, becoming smooth round muscle. 

The neighborhood pool looked smaller than Jake remembered. Not physically smaller, obviously. But standing outside the chain-link fence early in the morning with Liam and Hunter crowded beside him, it suddenly felt weirdly… tiny. Like the whole place had been built for children. 

Which, technically, it had. I mean, the faded sign out front still read: CEDAR HILLS COMMUNITY POOL; NO RUNNING; NO DIVING IN SHALLOW END

Jake stared at it for a long second before snickering.

“Focus,” Liam muttered, though he was grinning too. “We still gotta do this before Coach realizes anything’s missing.”

At that, the group collectively looked down toward the black duffel bag sitting between them. The bag contained enough serum concentrate to probably ruin several lives. Jake nudged it proudly with his worn flip flop.

“Correction,” he thought. “Improve several lives.”

—

The previous afternoon. 

Getting the serum had turned out disturbingly easy. Coach trusted them too much. He never locked the office while the team practiced because somebody was always running in and out grabbing stopwatches, towels, lineup sheets, electrolyte packs, whatever. Normally the filing cabinet stayed locked though.

But Coach had also made the mistake of complaining. Specifically about his poor back. which led to Liam volunteering to help clean equipment after practice while Jake distracted Coach with fake questions about relay strategy.

Meanwhile, Hunter had stood lookout outside the office pretending to scroll on his phone while Liam slipped inside. The office smelled exactly the same as three months ago, when he and Jake begged Coach for recruitment drinks. Now he crouched in front of the filing cabinet with a borrowed key ring trembling slightly in his fingers from anticipation,

The rows of bottles were exactly as he remembered. Red, Blue, Orange, Purple, All glowing faintly beneath the dim office light. Liam shoved as many bottles as he could fit into the duffel.

Later, after every piece of equipment was packed away. The boys hurried to the parking lot, chuckling and joking, excitement swimming in their stomachs like fish. 

—

Back in the present, the neighborhood pool gates rattled softly as Liam opened them with his key.

“Still think this is a little insane,” Hunter muttered, passing the duffel over.

“Too late now,” Jake said.

The pool sat perfectly still beneath the early morning sun. Waiting for somthing, waiting for them. Liam unzipped the duffel and Neon colors nearly blinded him.

Hunter let out a low whistle. “Damn. You got  a lot, brah”

Jake crouched beside the edge of the pool, grinning like an idiot. “Ready?”

 Liam looked uncertain for exactly one second. Then he smiled too. “Ready.”

Together, the three boys unscrewed the caps and poured them one by one, into the pool. Orange, Blue, Purple, Green, steaks mixed with the clear water before fading away, disguised perfectly for unsuspecting victims. 

The boys stared down into the shimmering water. “Now, we just wait.” Jake said with an excited grin.

————————

Marianne loved getting to the pool early. It was the optimal time, her fellow retirees didn't show up until nine. The families didn't arrive until noon. And the teenagers usually slept until the afternoon, leaving the first few hours blissfully quiet.

She settled into a lounge chair near the shallow end, oval sunglasses perched on her nose and a worn, familiar paperback novel resting on her stomach. The morning sun felt good on her skin after a week of business casual. She could hear a few younger men that had been sitting near the entrance when she had arrived. Their loud blunts of laughter and frenzied teasing made her nostalgic for her high school days

She shook her head and returned to her book. An hour later she was regretting that decision. The heat had become oppressive, the summer arriving in a heavy fog of humidity. The air clung to her skin. Sweat dampened the back of her neck as she tried to cool herself. She fanned herself with her novel.

"Good grief." She said glancing at the pool with growing interest. She didn’t normally get in the pool on these mornings, but today might be an exception. The surface of the water shimmered beneath the harsh sunlight.

Making up her mind. Marianne set her book aside and stood. Her knees protested immediately.

"One day," she muttered to herself, "I'm replacing every joint in my body."

She made her way toward the pool steps. lowering one foot into the shallow end, she noticed how unusually clear the water looked today. Must have been cleaned recently. The water felt cold against her flushed skin, and a relieved sigh escaped her.

Soon she was waist deep, the coolness wrapping around her like a blanket. The feeling of relief was instant. Marianne closed her eyes and let herself sink to shoulder level. For several seconds she simply floated, content. 

Then a strange tingling sensation crept across her skin. Like the pins-and-needles sensation after a limb wakes up, except it was spreading everywhere at once. Down her arms and across her shoulders. Down through her legs to the tips of her toes. 

Marianne frowned. "That's odd,” she thought.

Then her body began to morph, her limbs got longer and leaner, any hint of flabbiness melted away. Her hands and feet grow to easily double the size, as her body fat dropped dramatically into the tenth decimal place. His body continued to lengthen, his newly grown frame pulling smooth young skin tight. His former breasts pulled into flat pecs, so flat even his abs cut out more visibly. His gray hair receded back into his head, fluffing out into a blonde tik-tok fringe. 

He stood up, drawing his slim body out of the water. He looked down at his body as the changes completed, noticing his new prominent manhood between toned legs. He watched as the bikini he had put on that morning was replaced by a wet white pair of Nike shorts, nearly seen though in the water. He shifted his lighter weight, bouncing experimentally on his new feet. 

Marty glanced at the boys in the corner, “yo, come on in bros!” His brain registering them as his best friends, gaps in his memory filled with dumb jokes, an updated modern vocabulary, and interdict knowledge of the swimming sport. 

His best bro Hunter plunged in beside him, “can’t let the teams champ freestyle distance swim alone” he said with a laugh and a knowing grin, “let’s see who else shows up today.” 

The Simon family had been looking forward to the pool all day.  Of course, it had taken quite a while for Melissa and Brian to get their 12 year old son out the door, clothed, fed, and sunscreened up. All the while, Grandpa Frank had sat comfortably on the front porch swing watching the chaos unfold with complete amusement. 

Eventually the entire family had finally squeezed into the SUV.

Melissa settled into the passenger seat with a relieved sigh. She spent most weekdays juggling work meetings, schedules, and household responsibilities. A quiet afternoon at the pool sounded heavenly to her.

Brian started the engine. He taught history at the local middle school and looked forward to summer almost as much as his students did. Today was one of the first genuinely hot weekends of the season, and the pool sounded better than mowing the lawn.

In the back seat, little Ethan bounced excitedly. Thankfully for the excited boy, The short drive passed quickly, and soon the familiar chain-link fence of Cedar Hills Community Pool came into view. The parking lot was surprisingly busy for a morning.

"Looks like everyone had the same idea," Brian said.

The family unpacked their car and headed toward the entrance, arms laden with bags full of sunscreen, pool toys, and towels. The loud sound of splashing water drifted across the deck, the pool seemed to be filled with teenage boys roughhousing and racing different strokes. Not unusual for the summer, they seemed to be leaving plenty of room for others to enjoy so the Simon’s didn’t mind. What was unusual was the fact the only people anywhere in the complex seemed to be athletic teenage males. Normally there were at least a few other families and some older people sunbathing. 

The moment they claimed some chairs, Ethan was already halfway gone.

"Can I swim?" he asked.

"You haven't even put your stuff down yet," Melissa replied.

"That's not a no."

Brian laughed. "Five minutes. Then sunscreen."

Ethan made a face.

"Five minutes or no swimming at all," Melissa repeated.

The boy dropped his backpack beside their chairs and immediately began drifting toward the water, drawn by the familiar sound of splashing and laughter.

"Don't go far," Brian called.

"I won't!" The answer came without Ethan even turning around. Within seconds he had disappeared around a cluster of lounge chairs.

With a sigh, Brian began unpacking towels and drinks from the cooler while Melissa finally got her moment of peace. Frank stretched his legs and adjusted his fishing hat, talking loudly to Brian about the local baseball team’s chances of making the playoffs.

It wasn't until nearly thirty minutes had passed that Melissa glanced around and frowned. "Hey." She said to her husband.

Brian looked up. "What?"

"Ethan."

"What about him?"

Melissa scanned the pool. "I haven't seen him in a while."

Brian shrugged. "He's probably swimming. I’ll go look for him honey.” 

"Ok, it’s time for him to reapply sunscreen anyway."

He stood up and looked toward the shallow end. Seeing no signs of the twelve-year-old there, he walked across the pool, eyes searching frantically for his son. He stopped at a group of young men who were currently chicken fighting, trying to wrestle each other off their friends shoulders.

“Hey, have any of you boys see-,” he started to say only to be short stocky redhead. 

“Yo Ethen, your dad’s looking for you!” He yelled, cupping his wide hands over his mouth  

Then, from somewhere across the pool, a familiar voice shouted: "Yo, over here!" Before Brian could make sense of what he'd just heard, a burly teenager came splashing through the water toward them.

He was tall and broad shouldered. A silver necklace sitting between plump pecs. He looked athletic in the same aerodynamic way every other young man in the pool seemed to be. He pulled himself out of the water, teal shorts dripping wet, and flashed a wide grin.

"Dad!" He said to Brian’s shock. The kid was looking directly at him.

"Uh..." Brian glanced over his shoulder. "Me?"

The teenager laughed. "Yeah, you."

Brian frowned. The boy's voice sounded familiar, in fact it reminded Brian of his own. Brian peered at him intently. The teenager tilted his head and something about the manner of it started to feed a growing sense of horror. The smile, The eyes, The tiny gap between his front teeth. Brian felt the blood drain from his face. "Ethan?"

"There you go." The teenager grinned. "Took you long enough."

"Ethan?" Brian repeated weakly.

"Yeah?" The teenager grinned.

"What happe—"

Before he could finish, Ethan slung his arm around his father. Feeling the gentle pressure, Brian began to panic. 

“You’ll see,” his son said. With one lazy pull, Ethan pushed him forward. Brian stumbled toward the water, the familiar sound of his son's laughter the last thing he heard as he fell into the water with a Splash.

The first thing that hit him was the coldness, momentarily distracting him from the rapid changes. Under the water his skin begins to darken as any viable body hair recedes onto revitalized pores. The effects of the last 12 years of parenthood wearing off in seconds. Neglected muscles plump up nicely, defined and lean. His abs and pecs gain muscle tone and strength. His face changed into a picture of carefree youth, face broadened into a squarish look, pretty blue eyes hiding the lack of intelligence behind them, thick eyebrows permanently in a suspicious raise. 

When he comes up for air, he glances at his sonbrother, feeling his matching necklace. They exchange a mischievous look, and BJ grinned crookedly thinking of his family sitting at the other end of the pool.

A few minutes later Frank looks up to see two teenage boys facing him, both carrying loaded super soakers. Before he can even say a word he’s soaked though. 

The transformation happens instantaneously, his age dropping from 78 to 18. His weathered skin became rosy with moisture and constant sun exposure. His height noticeably decreases, dropping nearly to 5”2. Muscles tighten with lean cords and memories of dry land training. So far gone in his transformation he unbuttons his shirt to feel his new rippled abdomen. Any wary body hair gone as the only place he didn’t previously have hair, his head, grows curly locks.  He grins with a larger, toothier grin. 

“Yo, thanks big bros!” He said, shifting on his newly increased feet. He adjusts his newly revamped member through a wet suit. He gestures to Malissa, who had been watching the entire exchange, horrified, “what we going to do with your wife, BJ”

The taller boy laughed, “I think you know what to do, lill bro!” Then, with almost parallel movements they pulled Mulissa out of her chair and into the pool. 

Splash 

Once she was in the pool, the boys could clearly see the transformation happening beneath the water's surface. The first thing to happen was a newly gained farmer's tan, maybe this one wasn’t a swimmer jock after all. Then her frame thickened with muscle, her shoulders broadening and her limbs becoming noticeably stronger. Her midsection swelled into a solid, barrel-chested build, with a firm muscle gut sitting beneath thick, pillow-like pectorals. The strain became too much for her bikini, and the fabric snapped apart. Sparse hair soon spread across her chest and legs, while her face widened into a rugged, masculine shape with a stronger jaw and heavier features. Finally, her long hair receded and shortened into a neat, athletic jock cut.

Once the boys saw the changes were complete, they whooped and yelled, jumping into the water with a splash. The bulky miles wrapped his legs around BJ, “Hey babe,” he said, kissing his boyfriend as if for the first time. 

All afternoon the Simons hung at the pool, chatting with their swim teammates, racing each other in the water, and watching everyone who walked though the gate eventually join them.

The neighborhood had changed over the last few weeks. The smell of sunscreen, chlorine, and teenage sweat filled the air, the sound of screeching whistles and brash, friendly teasing could be heard from anywhere in the neighborhood. 

Harold, the local HOA president, had finally acted on his suspicions. He had noticed that despite a wide variety of locals entering the complex, the only one in the pool ever and the only people who ever left were the teenage swim jocks. Though crazy, the thoughts in his mind would explain the wild happenings, Missing retirees. Families that seemed to vanish overnight. Entire households suddenly being replaced by groups of athletic teenage boys who claimed they had always lived there. He stood just inside the gate, arms folded across his chest, staring at the water. 

"You really think it's the pool?" Lucus asked. The lifeguard adjusted the whistle hanging around his neck, clearly just for show as it was past pool closing. He shifted on skinny legs glancing uneasily toward the water.

Harold nodded. "I don't know how. I don't know why. But every story eventually leads back here." He held up a folder, "it’s odd, odd enough to close down the pool until further investigation could be done. I've got enough complaints to disguise the closure as a health inspection. And there’s a big party at the Simon’s tonight, no one will realize we were even here till tomorrow afternoon. ”

Lucas looked relieved at that. Together they walked toward the equipment shed. Halfway there, Harold stopped so fast Lucus nearly bumped onto him. The pool glowing faintly under the moonlight, the effect was so beautiful both men found themselves staring at it.

Harold suddenly became aware of how hot the humid the summer night was. His shirt felt uncomfortable, sticky on his skin. A quick swim would feel nice. Beside him, Lucas was thinking exactly the same thing.

The young lifeguard shook his head violently. "No."

"What?"

"I was just thinking about getting in."

Harold blinked. "So was I."

They exchanged a nervous look, then both turned back toward the water. The temptation intensified immediately. Suddenly, Harold felt air under his left foot. He shook himself out of his trance, somehow, without realizing it, he had walked up to the edge of the pool. 

Something was wrong. Very very wrong. But before he could think of it, he felt himself falling into the water. He faintly registered Lucus’s weight on top of his body, pushing him deeper into the water. The lifeguard must have walked in a trance as well, unable to shake himself for it, he had run straight into Harold. 

Harold began to feel a strange tinkling spread through his limbs. He felt his bones cracking and refusing as longer limbs, as his hands grew larger. His feet began to swell as well, any body hair receding into youthful unblemished skin. His body began to thicken with muscle, chest firm and arms growing larger still. He used his newly expanded hands to push the smaller lifeguard off him and break the surface. 

“What the fuck,” he managed to bark, water dripping down the sharping contours of his face. He looked to Lucus, the boy seemed taller and larger, the spark behind his eyes just a little dimmer. 

Simultaneously the transformation continued, Hal watched as Luke’s simple t-shirt began to dissolve, revealing a firm, defined stomach Hal was sure the lifeguard didn’t have before. Luke’s arms and legs grew lean with muscle, smattering of hair growing on his body. Unbeknownst to him, Hal was going through similar changes, his tight polo also gone. The hairy saggy fat of his stomach hardened into a smooth definition of a six pack. He felt a slight tightness down below and reached down his tighter bulge, confined in a loud patterned pair of swim trunks. 

He felt a strange cracking sensation in his face, as his jaw reformed. He grunted as his features became more and more youthful, wrinkles and age spots replaced thick lips and a darker skin tone. Beside him his friend's skin began to take on an even darker tone, changing his ethnicity altogether. Finally both “boys” felt a slight weight between their pecs, simple chains forming and Hank felt an extra pressure on his ears as both gained multiple earnings. 

“Hey, why aren’t we at the Simon's place?” He asked his best friend luke.

“Bro, that’s tonight, the triplets throw the best parties!” He replied 

“Let’s go!” Hank yelled, jumping out of the pool, Luke right behind him. Both thinking of the booze, dancing, and sex to come. 

Coach had known something was wrong the moment he opened the filing cabinet and saw half the bottles were gone. He had forgotten about it for a long time. Figuring the boys had just wanted some new teammates, yet eventually he began to notice the uptick in recruits on his team, but throughout the town. Looking deeper he discovered it all connected back to a simple neighborhood pool.

—

Six weeks later his truck rolled through Cedar Hills. He rolled past dozens of young men, shirtless, confident, and happy. He parked near the community pool and stepped out.

"This isn’t possible," he muttered to himself.

But when he got inside the pool, he saw immediately the faint streaks of neon colors in the water, only viable to a trained eye such as his, Red, Blue, Orange, Purple.

His jaw tightened. "Oh, you idiots."

A familiar voice called from behind him. "Coach?"

He turned and saw Jake and Liam standing near the gate, Hunter leaning casually against the fence near them. All three immediately realized why he was there, their faces grimly set. For several seconds nobody spoke.

Then Coach spoke up, "Want to explain this?" He said, gesturing to the pool.

Jake winced. "Okay, so..."

"Jake."

"Right."

Coach rubbed his bald head. "You put it in there, didn't you?"

Hunter looked at the ground; but Liam folded his arms, doubling down, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Coach laughed once. "You contaminated an entire public pool and as a result dozens of unwilling people in your own neighborhood."

"We improved them," Jake argued, regretting his phrasing immediately, "That wasn't the right word."

"No. It wasn't." Said the older man, stepping forward. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

The boys exchanged uncertain looks. 

"You need to drain this pool," Coach said.

The boys immediately erupted in protest. "What?" 

"No way." Hunter said.

"Seriously?" Liam said, his eyebrow raised in challenge. 

Jake shook his head. "You can't."

"I absolutely can." The swim coach said already starting to walk to the equipment shed. 

Liam stepped forward. "And then what?"

Coach opened his mouth yet he couldn’t answer.  Because he didn't actually know. Then Jake's eyes widened, following his gaze, Coach saw it. A bright plastic water gun sat abandoned beside a chair. The kind kids used during summer parties, only this one had been filled directly from the pool.

Coach slowly backed away. "No."

Jake grabbed it.

"No."

Liam started laughing. "Gu-ys,” he tried to say, his body shaking. 

Hunter was already laughing too.

"This is a terrible idea." Coach pointed at them. "Put it down."

 Coach took another step backward. "Jake."

Jake’s finger floated over the handle. “Yeah, Coach?”

"Don't."

Jake grinned. A familiar grin that Coach knew meant disaster. The exact same grin he'd worn every time he'd gotten into trouble, stupid stunts or fucking in the locker room.

Coach sighed. "You're all idiots."

The water gun fired. Coach felt the cold sting of the water first then the numbness he knew began the transformation. 

First his feet began to grow, the water constantly dripping on them making them larger and larger. Stopping around size 12. Also extending in length was his dick, swelling in size, longer and girthier than it had ever been in his youth. A wave of hornyness overwhelmed him, his shrinking brain losing its ability to focus on much else. His body followed suit, gray hair vanishing, wrinkles smoothing over expanding muscles, frame cracking to a 6’8”. Veins coursing down his bulging arms and legs. 

Coach had to sit down, the transformation overcoming him. His face reforming, plump lips, sharp jawline, large head. Above, long blonde hair pushed out of his skull, conformed by a tan cap that mutualized on his head. His intelligence took a final downgrade, as his butt blew up, a feeling of emitted hollowness from it. 

Big C looked at his friends with glazed over eyes, the intense hornyness and emptiness taking over him. “Yo, one you help me. Im. horny.” He said in monotone single syllables. The boys exchanged mischievous looks, any earlier troubles forgotten as their former coach presented his ass to them. 

So the last of the neighborhood was transformed, it was unanimously better changed population of the neighborhood agreed. Life was better when you were all the same. young families and relaxed retirees gone, replaced by the over abundance of young swim athletes. Everywhere you looked there were guys congregating, working out on their driveways, throwing blowout weekend parties, and of course swimming at the local pool. 

Speaking of the local pool, it has easily the center of the changed neighborhood. Everyone still used it, swimming in it daily even though they all had pools at their own homes now, completely covering the front and backyards. Grass and yards had been deemed unnecessary, instead the residents had pumped water from the central pool to fill their entire lawns. And somehow the pools never ran dry. 

The faint smell of chlorine, gym locker room, and sunscreen fills the air. Every house is spread like little islands amidst a literal sea of pools and constantly slick roadways. On those roadways sit the occasionally used car(walking is great cardio), a redone pickup truck, the back filled with water to swim in mid ride or during slow traffic. 

Of course the guys constantly getting wet and swimming the serum that made them as made any sort of aging stagnant completely. Everyone’s just happy the way they are, and are ready for you to join them in the pool. The pool that’s always full to the brim with teenagers, no matter who visits, by the end of the day only the teens reminded, lounging, racing each other, or fucking around. 

His jaw tightened. "Oh, you idiots."

A familiar voice called from behind him. "Coach?"

The road kept going, winding through trees with low hanging branches and hills adept with flowers. George had been driving for hours, his red Mazda going 55 miles an hour on the backroads of the world. He didn't know exactly what he was doing, maybe trying to out pace painful memories of the previous night. Yet it still stung every time he thought back to it. 

His fiancé had been sitting in bed, surrounded by packed things, waiting for him to get home. “I’m leaving.” She’d left him in stunned silence, taken her things, and left. After what felt like hours, he came to his senses and ran after her. Finding her “packing the car”. Translation: fucking his own best friend in her back seat. He’d been angry then, she didn’t even have the courtesy to leave his apartment building lot before getting hit and heavy, with his best friend too!!!

He silenced his notifications, quick to look away from his (former) best friend’s endless stream of texts. And just let himself…disassociate from it all. He listened to the latest Sabrina Carpenter album and eventually couldn’t help but think of his next steps. First, get the damn ring back, he’d just popped the question two weeks ago and had been hoping for a wedding to be quickly approaching. Stop. Don’t think about that, he chided himself. Second… well he didn’t have another step, maybe cry. No, he’d probably better tell his parents. They’ve been so happy too. 

Eventually he realized he’d been drinking for hours and didn’t know where in the hell he was. He looked at his GPS only to find his phone buffering. No signal. He glanced around for familiar landmarks but found absolutely none. He just decided to keep driving, at least till he ran out of gas. The strained sound of the radio temporarily redirecting his worries. Bing! Not twenty minutes later his gas light flipped on. He chewed his lip as he deliberated his next move. There was no sign of civilization anywhere, no towns, no houses, not even a single road sign. Suddenly on his left he saw a simple dirt road leading to a clearing not 10 feet of the road. He pulled in thinking at least he could stay the night in his car if it came to that, maybe wait till another car passed by. 

Suddenly his radio began to blare static, startling him out of his trance and making him frantically turn the radio nobs. Yet nothing worked, the harshness of the static grating at his ears. 

“George.”

He looked around trying to figure out where the voice had come from, once he realized it was coming from the radio he felt a chill wash over him. 

“George, you are chosen”

“Chosen?” He said experimentally. “By who?” 

“Me, The immortal goddess of the harvest, Demeter.”

Before he could stop it, a rumbling laugh began in his throat and soon developed into full on belly laughter.

“Fool, I shall forgive your ignorance for what it is. But tread lightly, my child or my vengeance shall reign down on you.” Demeter, if that’s who the voice was, was clearly mad and George could feel the promise in her words.  

“Ok, I’m sorry,” George said, swallowing down the last of his chuckles.

“Very well, you will be the first, my head rancher if you will.”

“Ok,” he replied, not quite believing it, “What do I have to do?”

“Do!” She laughed, “you can’t do much right now, skinny boy so full of smarts. Unnecessary!”

George snorted, sure his body wasn’t something he was particularly proud of. Yet everything he tried was a workout plan or bulging diet, nothing happened, he just had one of those bodies that didn’t put on muscle. 

“Come on!”

Mah, it’s true boy. Anyway, prepare yourself to become a divine instrument.” She said, her voice full of power. 

“Um…”

“You’ll do well without those big boy brains. Soon you’ll be perfectly capable of the most grueling tasks with dumb happiness.”

“Wha—” 

He felt a warm sensation in his head, a softness, like all his memories and intelligence melting away. His IQ began to drop from a respectable 120 to a mere 80. His clenched jaw slackened, drool dripping from the side of his mouth. His eyes grew vacant and glazed over. IQ taking another plummet, down to 60. And slipping further and further down past the point of no return. 

Memories flashed past his eyes, on their way out the door. Flashes of growing up, dating even the god awful break up. But now it seemed like another life, he couldn’t recognize anyone he saw. All just flashes of unrecognizable things and emotion he barely felt. His IQ took a final step, then tripped down to a completely blank 30. His mouth fell open and, hard as he tried, couldn’t form a coherent thought. Just a blank slate that would soon be written on. 

“You will be the first of many to join my congregation, a perfect farm of happy farmer boys.”

George felt a kind of vague pressure in his mind, new memories being written into existence. A new childhood replaced the one that had been erased. He recalls the simple family he had, waking up early to help his pa with chores and learning the ropes of farm work, the only thing he had the brain capacity for now. He recalls flunking out of not high school, but middle school because of “cognitive disorder”. He feels remarkably content as final memories of county fairs and long farm days take hold in his consciousness, barely filling the blank space that was his mind.

His hastily thrown-on outfit of sweats and a tee melted away. Replaced by a way-to-big pair of Jean shorts, looking ridiculous on his skinny and pale skin. Not pale for long though, soon a thick layer of dirt and grime developed on his skin. As it clogged his pores and built into his skin, he soon began to reek. His hairy armpits reeked. He smelled as bad as the stable he now remembered vividly. No showers or soap, no matter how much or strong could get cover of the stench. the smell of a country boy now.

“You must look the part as well, farm boy strength and size.”

He let out a groan of pleasures as his body began to shift and change, genetics warping. His body shot up, growing to nearly 6’5”. His body grew bigger and bigger, gaining more and more weight to make him a huge giant. All that weight soon grew into pure muscle, massive biceps, popping pectorals, rigged abs. His legs soon filled the wide legs of his shorts, pulling tight against his quads and thighs. His shoulders grow to a wide stance. 

His small hands began to thicken, transforming into massive meaty hands. His fingers now round and sausage like.  Callouses forced themselves up unto their palms, coming with memories of farm work he had done. His feet grow too, becoming easily a size 17s, never to be covered by shoes again. His face began to broaden, becoming a dull sort of handsome. His long blonde hair began to recede and darken into black. Every part of him benefited from his new southern charm. 

“Ya’ see dis’ hut bod.” He remarked as he flexed his new biceps.

“Perfect by dumb little farmer boy, now just remember to respect Demeter, my boy, and you’ll be fine.”

The leftover space in George’s mind was soon filled with an unwavering loyalty to Demeter, his mistress. He was soon remembering slight bits of her, the goddess of farming, his Parton mother. He felt a strong desire to get back to the farm, work hard to grow, both the plants and the number of loyal farmhands.  His mistress' wishes merged with a pure desire to please. Thinking already of the enjoyment of making people into his perfect brothers, it’d be nice to have a fuck-buddy too. 

“You are perfect, I’m to come to you when the next step becomes clear, son.” Her voice made him feel a pleasantness that shot through the heavy mental fog of stupidity. 

He looked up and got out of the car, looking around for the promised farm. He remembered something, the road, it led the dusty way down to the holy place, farm of Demeter. He looked back at his car, now a worn dirty pick up truck, with a full gas tank. Time to get back.

“George, you are chosen”

“Chosen?” He said experimentally. “By who?” 

“Me, The immortal goddess of the harvest, Demeter.”

Splash.

The sound of choppy water, upset by slick muscled swimmers diving in, filled the school's indoor pool complex. Interrupted only the burly coach’s barking and the sharp blow of the whistle, whipping his team into shape after winter break. Thankfully, the team was easily the best in the state, not really thanks to dedicated coaching though. More thanks to a special  formula developed by the man that made anyone into perfect swimmer jocks. 

With a final scratchy whine of the worn out whistle, he ended the practice. The team then pulled themselves out of the water, putting away used equipment and slapping each other's asses playfully. The typical bantering of locker room talk mixed with the sounds of squelching slides and metallic rings of the lockers. The topic had eventually shifted to sex and dating. Most guys on the team were gay thanks to a side effect of the coach's serum. Most of the team boasted loudly of their happy relationships and active sex lives, everyone except for the newest recruit: Jake and Liam.

Jake and Liam had been best friends since that fateful kindergarten swimming lesson at their neighborhood pool. At least that’s how they remembered it, Thanks to memory altering chemicals. 

And that’s how both boys found themselves in the coach's office. The faint smell of mildew hung in the air accentuated by the layer of dust over the framed state titles and clutter of trophies. The boys shifted uncomfortably, their feet wet from the pool, sticking to the already damp tile floor. Their voices overlapping and interpreting each other in a frantic rush.  

“No.”

The boys stopped their mad rush of words.

Liam blinked. “We didn’t even-”

Coach grunted. “Didn’t need to. You idiots only come in groups when you’re about to say something unbelievably dumb.”

“But, Coach. I just want a hunk to hook up with.” Jake begged, trying not to show how desperate he was and failing miserably. 

Liam tried a different tact. “Look at us, Coach. We’re thriving. Morale’s up. Relay times are sick. Everybody’s locked in.”

Jake stepped in sensing where his best friend was going. “We just think the team could benefit from… more dedicated recruitment.”

Coach narrowed his eyes immediately, but Jake leaned forward seriously and continued. “But like…What if the new guys are super hot and fast?”

The older man rubbed both hands down his face slowly.

Jake folded his arms. “So… that’s not a no.” The fragile thread hope in his voice a tangible thing. 

“I literally said no first.”

“Yeah, but not with conviction.”

Coach glared at both of them. And two hopeful idiot faces stared back, the idiot faces that were technically his fault. Liam finally played the card he knew would work.

“Think about the senior class leaving in a few months”

Coach’s expression twitched and Jake clocked it instantly. “Ohhhh, there it is.”

Coach exhaled heavily through his nose before standing and walking to the filing cabinet in the corner.

The boys straightened immediately.

“Fuck ya,” Liam whispered as Coach pulled out a small six-pack carrier full of brightly colored sports drinks. Coach pointed a warning finger at them. “One each. No random idiots. And one of you two needs to get a water polo recruit for me, the water polo coach has been riding my ass about it ”

Liam carefully took one bottle from the pack like it was sacred. “So we can like, pour ideal type, guys that are, y’know…”

Coach pointed instantly. “Don’t say ‘hung’ in my office.”

“We weren’t gonna say hung,” Liam lied horribly.

Jake failed to hold back a laugh.

————————

Hunter missed his friend.

At five-foot-three, he was even shorter than Liam used to be, all sandy blond hair that looked permanently windblown, and his thin frame carried a weariness that came from years of bullying and torment. He had a habit of chewing the inside of his cheek when he was nervous, which was often, and he constantly adjusted the strap of the messenger bag slung across his chest like he expected someone to yank it away at any second, which also happened often.

Liam had been Hunter's best friend since middle school, or that’s what he thought. Yeah, they had bonded because nobody else wanted either of them around. They spent lunch periods hiding in the library, ranking superhero movies and arguing over game lore while pretending not to notice the football players barking insults from the next table over. The swim team had Liam's back and Hunters by default, wait…swim team. Liam had just joined the team, hadn’t he? Then why did Hunter remember him being a swimmer his whole life. Something was very wrong.

Because now Liam sat with the swim team. Hunter couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t but that conflicted with the memories of hanging with Liam at a back table, geeking out over the next Star Wars TV show. Hunter's brain hurts from trying to make sense of it. 

All he knew was Liam now walked through the halls with his shoulders back and his wet bag slung casually over one broad shoulder, laughing with Jake and the others like… normal? His glasses were gone, because Liam had always had 20/20 vision. His hair was longer, messier, hung over his forehead in an effortlessly cool manner.  And now, for the first time in weeks, Hunter was going to talk to him. 

He saw Liam chatting with Jake one morning, both casually leaned against their lockers stuffed full with swim memorabilia. Medals hanging out, faded team pictures taped to the sides, and the faint smell of wetness hanging around them. He tapped Liam on the shoulder timidly. 

“Yo, Hunter, I was just coming to find you!” The jock exclaimed, loud enough for the whole hall to hear, his brassy voice echoing. He waved off Jake, who grabbed a neon colored water bottle and trotted off. Slapping Liam’s on the back causally as he did so.

“You- haven’t be-en com- coming to robotics club?” Hunter tried to get out, looking up at  Liam who was giving him a friendly smile.

Liam snorted. “Practice ran late and I don’t do robotics.”

There was no edge to Liam’s voice, but Hunter still shrank a little. His hands shook as he adjusted his glasses. “Right. Sorry.”

Liam glanced sideways at him then, expression going soft for a second. “Dude, stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Acting like you’re about to get yelled at all the time.”

Hunter laughed weakly. “Habit, I guess.” 

Liam saw his opportunity and took it. “You ever think about swimming?” He asked casually.

Hunter blinked. “What?”

“I’m serious.” Liam nudged him lightly with one arm. “You’re wiry. Coach likes that. Says lean guys cut through water better.”

“I can barely dog paddle.”

“So? Neither could I.”

“That is objectively not true anymore.”

Liam laughed at that, deep and easy. “Okay, fair.”

Liam laughed at that, deep and easy. “Okay, just think about it man. Come to the pool this afternoon for my practice.”

Hunter didn’t think he would actually go, but Liam’s words had been ringing in his ears all day. So that's how he found himself outside, sitting on the bleachers, sweating his ass off, watching the swim team get ready for practice. Liam was one of the last guys to arrive and when he saw Hunter he walked over immediately. 

“Hey, you came, dude!” He greeted Hunter with an outstretched fist. Hunter returned the fist bump awkwardly while Liam pulled out an orange Gatorade bottle out of his bag. Cold condensation rolled down the plastic.

“You thirsty?” Liam asked.

Hunter grabbed the bottle, it was so hot Hunter, sitting in the glaring sun, had stripped himself of layers of clothing. He looked back at Liam’s face and saw an unnerving expression of hunger there. But he brushed it off as the first sip hit him. It had a citrusy limey tang with a strange metallic aftertaste. 

Within seconds his mouth started to feel cotton dry, he quickly guzzled more of the drink to quench himself. A strange feeling of cold wetness hit him, spreading slowly across his body. Also spreading was a new tan, darkening the nerd's pale skin. The new skin was clear and healthy, the faint scars of acne fading away completely. The sparse body hair vanished completely, perfect for smoothly moving through the water. The only hair remaining was on his head and has reformed into a cleaner style, short and shaved sides and longer gelled hair atop. 

Hunter's slim, tiny frame began to grow upwards and outwards. His nonexistent chest began to blow up like a water balloon, giving him firm pectorals. Below his newly grown shelf abs popped out from the slight pudge of his stomach. The changes spread outwards, his limbs gaining years worth of muscle tone and memory. Biceps, thighs, glutes, all growing hard with round muscle. His feet grew, becoming comically large, more like paddles than feet. His hands grew to match as well. The final happened with a crack of the jaw, as his whole face began to widen. Giving him broad features benefiting his new masculine frame.

Hunter kept drinking, sucking down the citrus drink in its entirety. Once he had finished he handed the bottle back to his friend. 

“Thanks bro, I needed the pick me up,” he said, his voice comically gruff. “Bro, why do I sound like this bro.”

Yet as he puzzled this a mental rewrite began to occur once the drink hit his bloodstream in full. His mind began to rewind to old memories, flickering like an old film wheel. He watched as old memories of being bullied, his friendship with the dweeb Liam, and his entire sci-fi nerd persona flashed before his eyes. Faster and faster they played until they began to blur together. From the beginning, new memories began to paint themselves across his mind. His early meeting with Liam now remembered as being at the pool instead of the school honors club. His old interests felt lame in the face of his new life, a life full of swim meets, practice with the boys, and messing around with Liam. Speaking of Liam, the more he thought of his friend the more those feelings began to change, no longer did he see Liam as his best friend, but as his hunky bottom boyfriend. He even began to stiffen up the more he thought about it. 

Liam, of course, noticed this, “after practice.” He said with a sly wink and a meaningful glance at his new jock boyfriend’s massive member.

———————————

Jake leaned against the doorway casually, bare arms folded across his chest as football practice wrapped up around him. Lockers slammed close while exhausted players shouted over one another. Somebody was blasting bad rap music from a speaker buried in a gym bag. The locker room smelled like old sweat, disinfectant, and something distinctly male.

But Jake had his eyes locked on Mason Kane, standing in the center of it all like a king. Six-two, Built like a truck, he was starting linebacker. Consistently, he was also a complete asshole.

“Move, shrimp.”Jake watched as Mason flicked the back of some freshman’s head while passing by. The kid stumbled out of the way immediately, his eyes wide with fear. 

Mason just laughed with his teammates before grabbing his duffel off the bench. That was when he finally noticed Jake standing there.

“The hell do you want, swim fag?”

Jake grinned easily. “Coach sent me.”

That got a couple of odd looks, the worlds of football and swim barely interacted outside mandatory pep rallies and occasional hallway beef. They operated on different levels.

“Coach just wanted me to tell you you can use our recovery pools on the off seasons. Don’t wear those gray sweats though, bro, can’t promise the team will control themselves.” Jake continued, pushing off the doorway into the locker room. 

A few players barked out laughs at that.

The words had the intended effect on Mason, his eyes burning with the fire of both annoyance and challenge. “You’ll just be a bunch of fags over there.”

“True,” Jake admitted. “But you should still come by. Try it out.”

Mason swung his bag over one shoulder. “Why would I?”

Jake shrugged. “Because football season’s over. Because you’re bored. Because if you didn’t we’d all think you're too scared.”

Mason’s expression twitched slightly at that. Jake grinned, Got him

“And honestly?” Jake continued casually, “you’d probably kill it in the water.”

“Doubt it.”

“C’mon,” Jake said. “Just one recovery session. We got the cold tubs over at the natatorium. Athletes only. Helps soreness.”

“That actually sounds fake.”

“It’s literally not.”

One of Mason’s teammates spoke up. “Coach has us do ice baths too, dumbass.”

Mason groaned. “Traitor.”

Jake stepped backward toward the hallway. “You coming or what?”

The pool was mostly empty by the time they arrived. Only the distant sounds of splashing water echoed through the massive room. Overhead lights reflected across the pool in shimmering blue patterns that danced along the tiled walls. Mason followed Jake past the pool itself toward the training room in back.

“You guys seriously spend all day here?” Mason asked.

Jake opened the door. “Pretty much. Better than sweating all day on a field.”

Inside sat a row of blue plastic tubs sunk into the tile floor. Steam curled faintly from one side of the room while the cold plunges sat dark and still.

Mason dropped his bag near the wall. “Okay, this actually looks legit.”

“Told you.”

Jake crouched beside one of the tubs casually, unscrewing the cap from a bright neon sports bottle hidden beside the towels. Mason didn’t notice and started to strip himself down.

“So what, I just sit in there?” He said pointing to one of the tubs

“Yeah, bro. Never used a cold plunge before” 

Spurred by Jake’s teasing he threw himself over the edge of the tub. Water splashing up as the buff athlete plunged beneath the surface. Jake smiled slightly and he poured the glowing liquid into the water. The liquid swirled invisibly beneath the surface.

“Just relax.”

Mason gripped the sides of the tub, his teeth chattering in the cold. He expected nothing to happen, but within seconds, his body froze up, leaving him paralyzed as the coldness sunk deeper and deeper into him. He took deep breaths and began to realize something was very very wrong.

Seeing his panic, Jake gripped Mason's head and pushed it beneath the water, speeding the transformation along, 

His forearms shrunk, as his bulky biceps tightened into lean arms with veins defined against pale skin. His height plummeted, his shoulders stretched over a thin torso that’s muscle was quickly vanishing, his abs rigid with no fat in sight. His legs shrank, the density growing greater, thighs bulging and calves carved out of marble. His feet, still massively jockish, were now well groomed and set with pool deck calsouses.  Every bit of hair was quickly vanishing from his body, the skin left pale and smooth.

He struggled under Jake, his new body leaving him sufficiently weaker than the swimmer. Once Jake saw Mason's mostly finished changes, he let the new swimmer go. His now slimmer face broke the surface with confusion.

“Bro, what the hell.” He practically screamed.

“Chill out babe, you're fine.” Jake responded, his hands still lingering on Mason's neck. 

Suddenly Mason laughed, his mind reshaping with a final push. He looked at Jake admiringly, his brain filled with new memories and information, this was his boyfriend, Jake. They had been dating for the last 6 months. He remembered their first kiss in the locker room after one of Jake’s swim practices and the water polo evaluations Jake had encouraged him to try. He remembered other things as well, his ass suddenly becoming sore at those memories. 

He reached out to Jake, “why’d you bring me in here again.” He asked, voice breathy.

“You know w-” Jake started to say, but was cut off by his boyfriend pulling him into the tub as well.

Splash 

—————————— The sounds of teasing and laughter filled the pool locker room after practice once more. But this time Jake and Liam joined in, Jake happily bragging on his attentive Polo playing boyfriend, as he shaved any hair off his body in preparation for date night. Liam and Hunter were too busy making out in the corner of the room to pay the rest of the team much mind other than the occasional jeer and comment. After a while the boys trotted out the locker room, hair wet from showers, backpacks slung over their shoulders.

Hunter, Liam, and Jake walked together, heading to wait for Mason to finish his practice. 

Hunter had his arm slung over his boyfriend possessively, “thanks again for that drink earlier babe. I feel more like myself every minute.”

Jake and Liam laughed. “Course, it feels so good to be one of us, I hope everyone feels this comfortable in themselves.”

“Maybe everyone can…” Jake muttered, his minuscule brain working overtime as he thought of him and Liam’s Neighborhood pool…