Sean spotted his roommate Adam sitting glumly at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of cereal. His short black hair was disheveled and his scrawny frame was hidden beneath a bulky grey shirt that read “Cromwell High School Phys. Ed.” His hairy legs stuck out from a loose pair of black gym shorts. He alternated between glaring at the partiers and reading a textbook he had propped open on the counter.
Sean walked up and nudged him in the ribs. “Top o’ the morning to ya, laddy!”
“Ugh, leave me alone,” grumbled Adam, “I have a Psych midterm tomorrow and your little party isn’t helping.”
“Come on! It’s St. Patrick’s Day! Where’s your holiday spirit?”
“Why do you care so much about this stupid holiday? It’s just a lame excuse to get drunk, just like every other weekend. It’s boring and, frankly, it’s kind of idiotic. Sorry, man.”
“Now, now, Adam. It isn’t wise to insult St. Paddy, especially when you’re not wearing green!”
Sean gave Adam a playful pinch and felt a burst of static electricity jolt between them.
“Whoa, I’m sorry man, I didn’t mean to- Adam, are you OK?”
Adam had turned white as a sheet, staring off into space.
“Adam?”
“What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Perfectly fine,” said Adam, snapping back to reality. Was it just Sean’s imagination or did Adam sound a bit sick? His voice was a tad deeper than a second ago, but it has this weird musical quality that made it sound strained.
Adam returned to eating, cutting off a nice thick slice of corned beef and hungrily devouring it. Sean did a double take. Wasn’t he eating cereal earlier? He took a good long look at Adam, wondering what the hell was going on. He still looked pale, like he had seen a ghost.
But wait. Were those freckles on his nose? When did he get those? He must have been spending more time out in the sun. But come to think of it, he was actually still looking paler. And the color wasn’t isolated to his face. As Adam ate, his arms flashed pale white in the florescent light, showing no trace of their previous color. This time, Sean was perceptive enough to notice the freckles appearing on his flesh, dotting Adam’s alabaster arms like dripping paint. Adam looked up.
“Anyway, Sean, what was I saying?” That strange, musical quality in his voice had grown even stronger. Sean frowned.
“You were talking about how much you hate St. Patrick’s Day…”
“Me?! Hate St. Patrick’s Day? Pull the other one!” he laughed, then stopped and looked down, “Oh, I see the problem. I haven’t changed fully into my costume yet. I must look like such a Grinch!”
Adam pulled off his baggy shirt and gym shorts, revealing a sparkly green Speedo that read “Kiss Me, I’m Irish.”
“Now, that’s better.”
Adam gaped at this display. Normally, Adam never walked around shirtless, let alone in clothes that actually fit him. He said he was too embarrassed about his skinniness, but his bony frame was on full display now. He was shameless, and he seemed much less high-strung than he’d been in the past couple months.
Adam tucked back into his corned beef. As he chewed, Sean noticed something strange. Adam’s hair now hung down over his forehead, at a length he’d never let it reach before. As he watched, the dark hair crept downward, reaching his brow then ever so subtly curling around itself in loose ringlets. The pigment seemed to fade, from black to grey to white before a wave of fiery red spread from the roots, winding through his curls until the color reached the tips. Adam shook his new copper-red mane out of his eyes as he ate.
His chewing seemed to cause new freckles to burst from his pale skin, spreading onto his neck and down his lean, milky chest. His jaw muscles worked and worked, tensing and releasing within his neck, which grew thicker with every chew. The rest of his body followed suit.
Chew. His shoulders widened and he sat up straighter. Chew. His chest grew broader. Chew. His nipples perked up as firm pecs poked from his taut flesh. Chew. His abs showed signs of definition. Chew. A four-pack emerged from his flat stomach. Chew. A six-pack. Chew. His waist expanded, the Speedo fabric clinging to his new frame. Chew. His gluts grew round and firm, raising him an inch or so in his seat.
Chew. His thighs thickened with muscle. Chew. His calves followed suit. He bit a particularly tough portion and gnawed at it. As he chewed, the bulge packing the front of his speedo slowly inflated like a balloon. He washed down his bite with a gulp of whisky, adjusting his new package, straining at the thin fabric.
Suddenly, his dark pubes shrank away, leaving no hair on his crotch. However, the hair on his legs thickened even more, shimmering and turning deep red. He wiggled his toes as crisp red hair graced the tops of his feet. His crotch may have been bare, but a thick copper treasure trail rose from his speedo like a charmed cobra, leading a thick patch of hair up past his navel, over his tight abs, and into the valley between his pecs, spreading into a profuse red blanket that swirled around his nipples.
He wiped his mouth, leaving a smear of whiskey that bubbled on his skin, which sprouted a trimmed red beard. He closed his eyes and belched contentedly, opening them to reveal they had become a sparkling green. He turned to Sean, his musical tones suddenly bursting forth into a full, thick Irish accent.
“Oi, what’re you looking at? Now let’s get back to that party. I’m getting tossed tonight or my name’s not Aiden O’Quinn!”
The newly christened Aiden grabbed the stunned Sean by the arm and led him back into the party. Sean stared at his hands, which still tingled something fierce. What had just happened here?