#talismen

It hits him just as he enters Wok’N’Talk, he shivers as it flows into him, lightning his dark brown enough to be black eyes for but a moment as the few hairs on his arm stand on end. He pauses as the bizarre staticky, pent-up sensation fills him, though not for long as he’s just as soon assailed by the owner calling him to get back to work, “小伙子! (Xiǎohuǒzǐ/Young Man!) Alex! The phone is blowing up! Can you do one more run before lunch?” 

“Just one?” Alex takes in the scene as he sees Zhao nervously gulp at the still printing orders, continuing to pile up. He well knew how the older man operates and figured implicitly offering to help more would butter him up enough to at the very least get the easiest jobs left on the table, “感谢上帝 (Gǎnxiè shàngdì/Thank god) for you Alex, there are two orders very very close- Do you think you can do them at once?” Alex nods and checks the addresses before being interrupted, “Ēn- ah! I forgot one just came in and they asked for you by name Alex-” He sheepishly looks at his young employee, “Would you mind?”

Checking it to find it’s clearly from Nicky he rolls his eyes and prepares to harangue his friend for piling more work on him. For now he simply acquiesces with a deep nod and Zhao comes over with the horde of takeout he’s to deliver. Alex tries to wave off his boss as the older man pats him on the back, “What would we do without you 小伙子- (Xiǎohuǒzǐ/Young Man-) No wonder they asked for you too eh?” Alex tilts his head as he sees a dreamy look appear in the owner’s eyes as he inhales the faintest wisp of red fog. At the same time he feels the man’s arm go limp on his back. Immediately concerned, he leans in to catch the man before he trips only to hear him whisper, “You always were one of my best boys.”

The delivery boy almost flinches back as his words are joined with loud pop music descending upon the restaurant, a stark shift from the traditional instrumentals Zhao prefers. Every inch of the place is suddenly painted in a red haze as the overhead lighting tints crimson. Alex looks up to see Zhao suddenly standing at the counter, “Mr. Zhao is- what is happening!?” He sees wrinkles disappear from his face as he removes his tie, “Why, dear Alex- What do you mean? Do you not long to be one of my 肌肉 (muscle)Jirou Heroes?” Alex backs away as he sees the man reach out and a leash appears in his hands. Smirking, the owner continues, “Tell him Xian.”

Alex didn’t see his closest friend on staff standing there before now, perhaps he wasn’t. Just as off put as the delivery man, the cook looks around, equally as uncomfortable and unsure of the surroundings as the delivery man by the door. That is, before Zhao twists his hand and the leash shoots to attach itself to Xian’s shirt collar, bending its fabric into a thick black bondage collar. The red lights flash as Alex’s friend grasps at the leash before his arms fall limp and his mouth falls agog. Fear fills the delivery man as he watches Xian swiftly contort as his leash is pulled taut.

Zhao just smirks as the once cook surges taller, sleeves immediately bursting to nothing as arms perfect for their new line of work bulge into existence. Pecs made to be oiled and abs made to be rubbed punch into existence. Each distinct muscle presses larger as Xian puts his arms behind his back, standing at attention until his boss, his owner, suggests otherwise. Alex covers his mouth in horror and grimaces as his stomach turns from seeing his friend’s body contort into a titan, into pure sex appeal. He tries to ignore the desire that fills him as he can’t help but stare at Xian. The leashed man briefly looks to Zhao for permission to speak, “Why are you scared Alex, just give in.”

His voice is stone cold and deep, raspy while betraying no emotion. Alex moves his hand to cover his eyes and bring it further away from a crotch that pulses with need. He clenches his eyes shut to hide the red light that seeps in through his fingertips as his chest tightens. Skipping breaths, he swears he feels his own chest beginning to grow just like Xian’s. “No, nono-” Alex clutches at his shirt and feels his chest burning, bulging into his hand. He struggles to tug at his shirt as his biceps press awkwardly against the new chest, making it clear that they too are thicker. Totally overwhelmed he stares at hands that contort larger, fingers stretch and palms widen. He stares at hands that are not his own and then he blinks. And all is normal.

“Yo Alex, you alright dude?” He feels the fan hanging above the door blow air against dried tears on his face. Xian calls out from the window into the kitchen, “Sure you don’t need an early lunch?” looking around he’s reminded of how short-staffed they are before continues, “I mean, no one else can do it but-” While unable to compartmentalize really, he can certainly perform normalcy enough to fool a man half a dozen yards away, “Yeah no problem dude! Just uh-” he sees a flash of Xian’s face sharpening to stone and harshness of his echoing bass, Alex’s voice cracks as he continues, “just spAced out- I’ll be back after lunch!” 

Forcing a smile, he grabs the delivery bags and runs as fast as he can manage into the streets. Stumbling out of eyesight he takes deep breaths of fresh air. What kind of episode was that? Knowing where the first delivery is, he starts the trip into the apartment building next door, home of all their number one customers, and a haven of normalcy that for good reason Alex is desperately craving. 

Already rationalizing whatever as his being overworked the young man doesn’t take a second to look behind as the cute neon sign Zhao has kept for years tinges red as it begins to shift from Wok’N’Talk to Jirou Heroes. Just as he saw, Xian stands behind the counter, bloating and flexing as the interior of the shop corrupts from an almost stereotypical Chinese food restaurant into this new, younger Zhao’s take on a muscle cafe. 

Alex is thankfully none the wiser as he keeps his nose on the grindstone to maintain at least the illusion of someone not mid-psychotic break, as anyone who sees prescient images of the future must to survive. Riding up past happy husband Rich Adam’s apartment he squirms to try and ignore the feeling that his clothes are tighter than usual. It’s in his head, he’s just stressed. And yet, were anyone there to see him they could not help but notice as the elevator continues to climb, his sleeves grow almost snug and pecs begin to give his torso profile it has never held before. Getting a little sweaty he puffs stuffy air into his shirt and swears it’s just nerves.

Frog in his throat he clears it as the elevator finally reaches the sixth floor. DING. The guys’ll offer him some water. He pauses to judge the heft of their order, weird that they’re all here today? Game day’s usually Friday, he thought. Well, he shrugs to himself- guess they’re allowed to hang out when they’re not role playing, or whatever. 

Alex sighs to himself as he makes it to their apartment door. Content to finally be back in sorts, he takes a moment to himself to ensure he’s indeed all there. Smiling wide just to feel the strain on his face, clenching his teeth to feel the pressure on his jaw. He takes a deep breath and ignores how his shirt tugs just a hair more against his stomach before knocking. 

Despite himself his raps on the door are quiet, he doesn’t notice as just like from Nicky, red mist falls from his mouth and slinks under the door. The humble host of this little gathering reaches for the door knob and just before turning it he freezes. Eyes flash red as just like Xian, just like Alex, he is struck with something inevitable. It then shoves past him as soon as it enters, tendrils launching out to the other occupants, to the meek miniature painter and a pair of friends having a not-quite-lovers spat about their campaign. 

But first and foremost it fills Ian who after a moment that lasts forever and never happened at all he returns to his mind, shivers and opens the door. “Heyyy Alex! Didn’t know you work Wednesdays too!” Alex sheepishly smiles, laughing and follows the man in. Despite meaning something worlds different when Zhao said it, the delivery boy was indeed popular with the Wok’s customers. Alex looks down and squints as he swears he can see, almost like string, a red trail into the apartment. The red brings images back to his mind of Xian growing out of his apron and fills him with nerves that he’s about to have another episode he tries to gulp and is reminded of his thirst. Forcing his mouth into a docile smile he doesn’t even begin to try to hide the fear in his eyes as he asks, “Hey Ian could I trouble you for a glass of water?”

The host doesn’t turn to look at Alex as he answers, his own eyes already glassy and distracted, “Yeah yeah, uhh- I’ll go grab it for ya. Think I hear a leak or somethin’ in there anyway,” Alex furrows his brow as he watches the man saunter away, his upper body dragged behind legs walking with a cocky gait that Ian would never deign to perform. Alex clutches at his chest and for the second time feeling pecs that have begun to amass once more he is filled with despair, though this time he feels he can get a jump on things. He can stop the changes. Looking back at the red chain ahead he can almost see footprints that lead toward the room where Wes, the painter, works.

He has seen what happens, he couldn’t save Xian then, but surely now. Surely he can stop anyone else from changing. Maybe you’re not supposed to go along with it, and maybe it’s already too late, but fuck man he can try and help. Propelled forward with purpose alien, Alex unknowingly stomps onward precisely where glowing red footprints lie. With each step forward his feet grow to fill them as his calves and thighs stretch larger with his all-consuming desire to get there faster. His shoes change to something bulkier, more fashionable as the soles of his feet grow wider and toes stretch longer, filling them before they simply burst larger to catch up every new step. His work pants are field to the bursting with powerful thighs now laced with veins as he wills them thicker, stronger, as he wills himself to be faster.

And then he’s there, Wes is quietly working as he often is. Though Alex often delivers the party their meals on game days, rarely is he ever alone with Wes, but the man seems a quiet sort. When the painter sees the man enter he smiles and offers a miniature to look at, “Ah! Nice to see you Alex!” The thin Wes’ eyes brighten with a smile, veiling the red behind his irises, “How’s this lil guy look?” Alex struggles to quiet his heavy breathing and temper his clear overreaction, clearly nothing is actually happening, he’s being delusional. Were he to look down at his lower body to find his pants rapidly changing texture and rising to become shorts and exposing his new beefy calves he’d surely maintain the right level of fear. Instead catching his breath he leans in close to inspect Wes’ work.

“Woah huh, yeah. That looks huh, crazy good Wes!” He can’t imagine the precision required for such deliberate brush strokes. Wes must be a man of great patience. And then he blinks and there is nothing in the man’s hand. In fact that cannot be the hand of this shy artist. Instead he’s staring at a meaty paw and punching himself for losing sight of his self-assigned mission as he sees the unreal take hold of reality once more. He hears a burp tear through the air as the man in front of him guffaws, “buUURRP- Huhhuh! Sorry bruh, didn’ mean to getcha with that one huh!” He can’t tear his eyes away as the man's arms grow thick with fat and muscle in equal part as he clumsily wipes red paint on his beyond ratty shirt.

The sleeves disappear as it morphs into a sweat and paint covered cutaway. All the while the man continues oppressively laughing. He scratches at his now exposed pits and Alex stares with fear as with each stroke his fingers drag through more, thicker, darker hair. Apathetic as he simultaneously mars his sticky pits with paint and coats his ungainly fingers with a musk that now seeps through the air. His legs similarly burst free from their confines as they are covered with thick curls from his newly bulging package to his lengthening hairy toes. Wes goes to grab his paint cup and raises it to drink. Alex doesn’t even have a chance to react as it shifts into a beer can.

The paint covered slob downs whatever swill left in the can in one gulp before clumsily crushing it against his bulky thigh and tossing it to the floor, “What’s wrong fucker, look like ya’ve seen a ghost huhuh! Oh waiiit shit you got our food, ya?” Again Alex doesn't speak up or even move as the barrel chested man barrels past him to get to the Chinese food left in a heap by the entrance. Wes’ meaty hand forced on Alex’s chest leaves a sickly red stain, launching his top to begin its change from a plain uniform to more of a slutty crop top, one perfect to display Alex’s new meatier arms as they hang lower from shoulders that widen with every heaving breath. Seeing the man leave he is filled with an urgency to move himself, he needs to get out of here. 

He needs to- his eyes flash from the door to Wes tearing through the delivered takeout, to the red trail bleeding towards the living room, before finally landing on the kitchen. His throat burns yet again, what a thoroughly unimportant need, but one that nonetheless must be sated. Despite the world around him, poor Alex simply needs a drink. 

Unfortunately for the struggling delivery man, upon entering the kitchen he only finds more otherworldly horror. Alex is promptly torn between instincts of flight and fight as what he sees fills him with fear. Thoroughly stuck, he sees a massive man struggling to free himself from underneath the kitchen sink. Despite knowing this cannot be the case, when he stares at the cut abdomen of this figure wrenching away at a pipe he simply knows it to be Ian. Alex tries to jam his eyes shut and picture the friendly man who greeted him upon his entry.

Unfortunately, as soon as he does so the only thing his psyche can do is imagine the piecemeal conversion of his acquaintance into the pornstar posing as a handyman before him. He sees the smiling eyes of Ian go vacant as a dull, horny hunger fills him. Sifting through a lifetime lived, he sees the man pretend to stretch and reveal the lowest row of abs that now punch out of his stomach. Thick hands reaching out to massage shoulders as every soul he stands in front of seems to him nothing more than the chance for some release. In the most immediate moments of Ian’s new life, Alex sees the brute grow frustrated with adjusting his constantly throbbing package through his pants before simply tearing them off as if they were nothing. 

The delivery man is then pulled back to the now. Frozen watching the man before him, grease covered forearms barely visible beside a sweat covered meaty chest. His deep, dumb voice echoing out from the cupboard, “Yeah you shoulda called me out here weeks ago dude- Gonna have to be coming out, like, uhhh, every day next week probably.” Alex fails to gulp again as he can almost hear the wanting smirk on Ian’s face in that dark crawlspace. Seeing a cup of water Ian must’ve laid out for him in his last moments of lucidity, Alex quickly downs it before responding, “Uhm, Ia-” he clears his throat as it remains itchy, only for it to resound deeper, “Ian, you-  this is your apartment.” 

The handyman apparent struggles to remove himself from under the counter, flexing performatively and humping the air as he ambles, bumping his head a good few times before his escape. Each time a throatier grunt ushers forth as his arms tangle and his shoulders grow unfortunately larger, almost wedging him intractably. Alex bites his lip as he is struck with an urge to help only waylaid by the concern that were he to get closer he’d accelerate the kitchen captive’s changes, or worse yet, spread them to himself. Inching closer he discovers it’s quite the former as with each sparing movement closer towards Ian, hair begins to cover him just as it did to the now-slovenly Wes. 

Pubes thicken and race up his waist as a jungle of hair grows thicker underneath arms that seem to be in a state of perpetual flexing. Acne and curls dance across his meaty chest as he finally disengages from the kitchen sink. Head now in the free air Alex watches as a mustache bursts from his upper lip. The man Ian has become dully looks around the kitchen and laughs as he indeed recognizes it as his own. Alex struggles to look away from the cock that now bobs free in the open air, having finally burst free from the strained compression shorts. Watching as the man scratches his stubbly chin with his pipe grease-covered hand as he struggles to produce some wanton thought, Alex wonders what he’s even doing here. 

Where once nothing but horror filled the delivery man’s mind upon seeing such transformation, now he is struck with the absurdity of the situation. Watching two friendly, thoughtful men morph into slobs beyond imagination Alex can’t help but wonder why. When Wes enters the kitchen using his paint covered mitts to fist loose fried rice into his mouth, spilling it all over the floor, Alex decides to simply wash his hands of whatever this bizarre situation is. He hears the two dullards talk in their fried voices, “duuude put some pants on we’ve got company-” “Ah it’s just Alex sure he doesn’t mind seeing my balls huhuh!”

On the way out he passes a hall mirror and for the first time sees what the workings of this impossible realm have done to him. He can’t help but grin as he sees the heavy arms now totally exposed. His thick but still soft hands trace his thin waist and play with the few hairs that make up a treasure trail. His skin burns with sensitivity as his fingers leave an unmistakable red trace as they dance on his tight stomach. He fights the urge to continue upward towards a chest that hangs clearly in between his new pistons though stays strong, in a way, and starts for the door. He has still kept his mind and surely when he leaves all will be normal. This isn’t happening and he’s not about to grope himself in a customer’s apartment. 

And yet, when he hears the sounds coming from Ian’s small den he can’t help but take a look. He remembers Wes mentioning the pair had been arguing over the direction of the campaign but clearly Tyler and Chuck have worked out their differences, as it were. Alex rolls his eyes at his presumably repressed psyche having lost the plot of whatever episode this is as he sees the once dungeon master lean in to aggressively make out with the player who had long been yearning for some romance in their sessions.

Alex can’t help but allow his hands to inch towards his own wanting crotch as he stands to watch. His eyes flash red as he sees the room as it was when he entered the apartment. The argument in the living room abruptly ending as the men are struck with swaths of red mist flown in from under the doorway, light from the afternoon deepens and shifts to stage lighting as if the den was only a set. Chuck jokes about more sensual and sex-themed RPGs as he puts his arms behind his head, ignoring as his hairline rapidly disappears and sweat stains appear in his pits. Tyler licks his lips as the small crystal on a string he never leaves home without quickly thickens and grows heavy as the crystal itself shifts into a lock he hasn’t the key for. 

Both men shift awkwardly as they are immediately struggling against a primal hunger that rolling dice could never satiate. They pull at their clothes soaking heavy with sweat and oil, Ty’s hair shortens into something barely longer than the new hair that begins to pattern his chest. The player gasps as his master’s new beard scratches against his own rough cheeks, when his head is forced down to the man's pillow chest he is torn between desires to lick and lavish or to bite and tear. The pair then fall onto the stained couch as Alex simply continues to watch. Unable to look away, unable to remove his own sweaty palm from a crotch that begins to strain against his shorts. From afar Alex begins to understand his place.

When his fingers catch in newly thick pubes he suddenly comes to his senses and falls away from the men moaning as they struggle to strip from clothes that are almost tight enough to act as bondage for the fucking pair. Alex stumbles backwards, grabbing the remaining orders he has left to deliver with the hand he didn’t begin to publicly masturbate with and sprints from this true hellhole of an apartment, hoping more than anything that just like at Zhao’s it was all in his head. Just an imagination that has suddenly become overactive and obsessed with transformation. He’d heard of the fetish at least, stranger things have happened, probably?

Free at last from the slobs and exhibitionists that clinging to hope are actually just friends chatting over takeout once more, Alex contemplates just turning himself in for his own safety. Surely he’s not expected to just continue doing his job in the middle of what can only be a psychotic break. At the same time, what if he is indeed some courier of change. What if he is the one doing this somehow.

Looking down he sees himself at the very least wearing suitable clothes once more, tracing up his shirt once more however he finds that his form has not been spared. His skin is warm to the touch and the muscle beneath is tight, powerful. He feels thicker hair trailing up from his pubes up decorating abs that he never spent a second working for. A chest that would require him to simply live a different life to earn.

Eyes on the ground he sees shoes a few sizes wider and pants catching on his thick thighs and powerful calves. So too does he see a path forward, laid out, inevitable. At once he understands that he is not truly acting, he is but a messenger, a deliverer, a shepard. What is happening is happening and he must be there to see it through. He is a psychopomp of the changing world and avoiding it, if that’s even an option, can only bring ill. Coming to terms with what he has seen and will see, for the first time he allows himself to grapple with the powerful, primal fulfillment that witnessing these transformations has brought him. Pleasure beyond what he thought was possible. It is no wonder the men did not fret as they were molded into their new forms, it felt, good.

When he remembers the final delivery of the day his curiosity is piqued, another couple. Jen and Rob. Through and through gay he wonders what the next situation has in store as he begins to walk down the long hallway, his footsteps silent leave a trail behind. While in Ian’s apartment he was following a path laid out for him, now that he has embraced the reality of this unreality, now that his will has aligned to get this over with, quickly, he holds the power within himself. Just as Nicky does, just as Timothy did. He steps forward precisely where his feet are supposed to land.

Before he knows it, as if he’s willed it closer, Alex stands outside the apartment. All the while he has continued to grow. His pecs inflate and traps swell and while his tee has expanded a few x’s larger to hide his bloating figure. His pants, having torn a few times over, have given up the ghost to become compression shorts that allow thighs thicker than his head and calves that could kill to remain on permanent display. Feeling his biceps strain against the sleeves of this pump cover that should be too large for any man, he toys with the idea of simply removing it.

Before knocking on the door he smirks as his mind flashes to the shitty man that lies inside, Rob won’t know what to do with himself when he sees the little prudish delivery boy has ballooned into something better than man. Feeling his package strain against his shorts as his thighs flex from the simplest movement, Alex prepares for the first time with intention, though not volition, begin a scene of transformation. He prepares to usher the couple into their new selves, his mind can’t help but skip forward and imagine some twinkish Rob being dominated. “Spoilers,” he whispers to himself grimly as he approaches the door, it opens without him even needing to beckon and he walks in with the couple’s lunch.

“Alex!” Jen cheers, her eyes alight with forced delight as she has clearly been in argument with her fiance, as he often finds them. She stands hands on the counter and her ever-frustrating partner sits on the couch playing Elden Ring, she motions for the delivery man to come in and finally her eyes land on the man who now stands a few heads taller than her. “Wha-,” her eyes flash red as her desires are more than clear to Alex, I want to be the man in the relationship. He doesn’t care all that much to explore the gender dynamics, nor does whatever power that moves through him as he sees the woman gasp and shiver as it becomes clear that she is a woman no longer. On the couch Rob complains.

“Babe what the fuck? Are you flirting with that little bitch to get a rise out of me?” At last Rob turns to inspect the pair standing in the doorway as he sees his fiancee rapidly bursting free from the tight top he whined at her, them, this morning to wear. Jen’s chest pulls inward as their upper body grows with strength they have always been discouraged to pursue, but never stopped hungering for. Hair prickles their chest as a sculpted patch bursts forth between heavy pecs and around nipples that have thankfully not decreased in size.

Below the belt it becomes clear that their, his, masculinity is not in question as Jen in the minds of every person present irrevocably becomes Jake. His hips jut forward against the kitchen counter as permanently shaved pubes race up to meet the garden of chest hair, and down to cover burgeoning balls that begin to fill his bloodstream with enough testosterone to make up for decades of hormonal imbalance. Hair growth is of course centered around a cock that would put any man to shame, the same could be said for Jake’s mind as he almost drools looking down at his new rod.

Stick thin arms become biceps that hide pits almost steaming with b.o. that a life ago she mocked Rob for having, now he simply delights in the new way to exercise his masculinity, his undeniable virility unto the world around him. Groping at his crotch Jake lets loose a deep moan as a new adams apple bulges out of a neck framed by traps still continuing to grow. Veins carrying changes through his growing form tinge red with every beat of his racing heart as for the first time pre drips from his new cock.

On the coach Rob struggles to rise as he sees his boyf- no not his, fiance? No. His eyes widen and he puffs up his chest as he struggles not to meet this obstacle like every one he has faced before now, brute force and a dim witted mind. Alex tilts his head and frowns before raising his hand and faster than anyone could possibly observe a red tendril shoots out, through Jake and into Rob, I want to be the man.

The man who has always been a man falls back and begins to writhe. Muscles barely honed begin to atrophy as the workings of the world fulfill Jake’s desires in the only way they care to. Rob’s stubbled chin begins to grow smooth and hairless as he begins his transformation into Jake’s trophy twink. His sweaty hands, sculpted to a playstation controller claw at the back of the couch as he struggles to climb up and see what is happening to Je-Jake. Fingers thin and nails shine with polish and attention. He feels his stomach contract as he gasps in desire as his, lover, has only continued to grow.

While his own chest and torso begin to suck in and smooth over, Jake’s has only continued to expand and amass power. Hair begins to pour from every pore on the new man as he bloats larger. Jake’s legs burn with power as his figure converts child bearing hips into dense powerful thighs and a waist that will allow him to keep his slutty twink bouncing for hours in bed. Meanwhile Robbie’s does precisely the opposite, waist thinning out to be easily grabbed and manhandled by his tank. Standing next Alex the man almost goes feral with the need to mount his mate as his rough hands clench the counter with a fury.

The already sparse hair on Robbie’s form sloughs off as Jake aggressively scratches at dense hair growing thicker in his pits before shifting to claw at his stubble as it becomes a thick messy beard on his face. Drool drips from his mouth as he groans with a voice that grows decibels deeper with each haphazard breath, Jake glowers at the feminine figure biting his lip as it bloats larger, moaning and posing on the couch as his hair lengthens and curls. It’s all Jake can do to avoid climbing like an animal over their kitchen island to pounce on the twink languishing on the couch, his skin softening and growing more supple by the second.

Alex watches disinterested as Rob grows thin, docile, hungry for pleasure that only Jake will be able to offer. He sees Jake become the man he always yearned to be, the man he was always going to be. In his mind's eye he sees the scene that will happen as soon as he leaves, as soon as he allows it. Furniture broken, not for the first time, as the pair fuck as if there was nothing else in the world but sexual fulfillment, perhaps there is nothing else in the world. Alex ponders the paths that the world may go down if this is to be the case, he searches for futures that don’t go down this route and struggles to find one.

Hearing Jake chomping at the bit, struggling with the urges of a new powerful pair of blue balls, and seeing Robbie’s mouth reflexively hang open with lustful abandon he understands that his work here is done. He nods at the new beast and Jake as he has always wanted jumps his fiance. Robbie is all too happy to be put in his place by a man who is more than he ever could be. Alex watches for a moment but despite his embrace, if not understanding, of his role in this tapestry, he knows he has work yet to do as his own form begins to ephemerally change.

He turns to leave and shuts the door behind him, barely dulling the sound of shattering glasses and fervent moans behind him. Down the hall he hears the festivities he set forth earlier have not stopped, in fact it sounds as if the neighbors to the apartment have joined in on the fun. Alex is sullen as he looks down the hallway, seeing tendrils launching forth from his footprints into each and every apartment passed. Masculine moans abound, deepening in some and rising higher in others. Flashes of cowboys getting creative with lasso, smoke seeping under door frames as once powerful executives try to hotbox their suite, pajamas shifting into uniforms before being removed with haste. Men fighting against their own changing lusts and bodies, and others who are more than happy to give into them. And Alex can do nothing but deliver, accelerate, and watch.

Something of a unique figure in this situation thanks to Nicky, Alex maintains his wits despite his urges to join in on the ‘fun’. Work yet to do, he flexes to simply use some of the energy building within him and his form graciously expands once more. His shorts turn to briefs which leave little at all to the imagination. Sighing, the melancholy psychopomp is nevertheless pleased with what an impressive figure he has become. Holding one final delivery in hand he sets off to the place he has all along said he would. Holding but a small package of rangoons with Nicky’s name on the receipt he takes the elevator down to the ground floor.

Alex pointedly doesn’t look towards Jirou Heroes as he exits onto the street, bestowed with whatever power Nicky unwittingly did, he is well aware of what he would see if he were to look anyway. With the solemnity of the reaper which he is, Alex walks into the cafe to see Simon has arrived ahead and broken the news less than gracefully. His beefy arms are around the catatonic haphazard spellcaster as Simon, kind but incable, tries to make right the impossible. Explain the incoherent, make Nicky aware of what is going on so they may work all of it out together. Alex purses his lips and hesitates before smiling morosely at his friend and offers forth the smallest bit of levity, “Rangoons for Nicky?”

To say his eyes fall is not accurate, his hands cover his mouth as he sees the direct handiwork of his twisted words. Where his irises should be there are only deep red pits, “This isn’t what I wanted. Why would I want any of this.” The Talisman he never truly asked for glows red enough to be seen through his shirt, Alex and Simon both see it and instantly understand that this is the true source of what happened at the gym, what is happening next door, what is happening in the cafe around them had they the bandwidth to notice. 

In the eye of a hurricane of change, Simon grabs Nicky’s hand and squeezes, Alex puts his new meaty palm on his dear friend’s shoulder. Understanding there is no time to waste, Nicky bucks up and with the support of these two men he has irrevocably changed, opens his eyes and grabs at the talisman. Though not at all knowing what he should do, he knows and Alex assures him that it must be done right now. His hands tremble and his eyes tear up from the pressure, red tears dripping down his cheeks. And then he does what must be done.

Potentialities:

Ah poor poor Nicky, lotta pressure on the guy let’s see what he ends up doing! While the others have primarily been choosing between transformations these last lot are choosing the ending, all will hold transformations galore of course!

Post’ll go up on Sunday as usual but it’ll last a week as I’m probably going to take the week of Christmas off haha!  

World Peace - 47.2%

Well now, is it not the real responsible thing when granted unlimited power to ensure that all problems are solved? What could go wrong when something already twisting desires and morphing every living being it can get its hands on receives explicit permission to work globally. Nothing untoward I’m sure.

Self-Sacrifice 26.7%

No time to think, alas the guilt ridden and noble Nicky says take me instead. Instantly we return to the mystical non-place where this all started. After a bit of chat, gambling, and discussion of what a big ask it is to not only end but undo the changes. The man who gave him the power to change it all decides what, or whom, his sacrifice is worth.

Pass the Buck 26.1%