He was so distracted by the shiny bauble that he wasn't even paying attention when he rounded a corner and ran right into a group of cheerleaders in the hallway, practicing their routines for the first football game of the season.
Lester stopped dead in his tracks as he saw them. He always tried to steer away from cheerleaders, partly because they always seemed to be creeped out in his presence thanks to years of Mo-Lester jokes, but mostly because he got nervous around young girls in short skirts jumping and jiggling and showing off their underwear. He was always tempted to stare, but he knew that would just give people further proof to believe all the rumors about him, so he usually just spun on his heel immediately and found a different route to avoid them.
Today, though, he couldn't turn around. He felt frozen in place. Then he noticed that the cheerleaders weren't moving either. In fact, one was suspended in mid-air, having just been tossed to do a somersault. Her long red hair was swept back from her head like the tail of a comet, and Lester could see right into the collar of her sweater, giving him a lingering private view of her cleavage...and her lack of a bra. He knew he should look away, but it was a physical impossibility. Then he noticed a warm sensation in his left hand that was slowly moving its way up his arm, then spreading throughout his body. Lester figured he must be having a stroke...although he'd never heard anyone say that a stroke felt this pleasant, this invigorating, this...arousing.
He couldn't move his head, but could peer down and see his body -- or at least as much of his body as wasn't blocked by his gut. His pudgy left arm was outstretched in front of him and the gem in the ring appeared to be glowing as the heat intensified around his finger. To his astonishment, the flesh under his skin looked like it was starting to bubble, as if his fat was boiling off and leaving his hand and arm thinner. His eyes shifted to his torso, where his beer gut was churning similarly, gradually deflating like a beach ball with a leak. He felt like he was sinking closer to the floor and wondered if his unseen legs were melting, like the witch in "The Wizard of Oz". Lester feared that his entire body was going to evaporate, but he was unable to move, unable to speak, unable to scream for help. All he could do was watch.
Lester then realized that, although his paunch was receding dramatically, he still had man-boobs stretching out his gray custodial shirt. If anything, they actually seemed to be getting bigger! His nipples seemed more sensitive than usual as they rubbed against the rough fabric. The chafing faded quickly, though, as Lester noticed his uniform changing, its texture growing softer and its color shifting from institutional gray to a muddy maroon and finally to a bright crimson with gold highlights. The school colors, Lester realized. The sleeves of his shirt were rapidly retreating toward his shoulders, revealing suddenly skinny and hairless arms, while the fabric morphed into a knit sweater which clung tightly to the curves of his still-enlarging chest.
Lester could feel his bald scalp tingling, as if he were being poked with a thousand needles. He wondered what was going on, and got his answer as strands of hair began to creep past his eyes. Although what little hair he still possessed had turned gray years ago, these wavy tresses were chestnut brown. Lester started to feel claustrophobic as the curtain of hair grew thicker, filling his peripheral vision and spreading down past his shoulders. The skin on his face seemed to be drawing tighter, as if invisible hands were giving him a facelift.
His legs felt strangely cool, as if they were suddenly exposed to the air, while prickly heat intensified through the rest of his body and particularly concentrated in his crotch. His system was overwhelmed with an ecstatic sensation stronger than any orgasm he'd ever experienced, even though Lester could swear his cock was actually receding rather than engorging. The overwhelming pleasure spread to his brain and he grew lightheaded, almost like he was buzzed or stoned. Lester didn't realize that his lips were curling upwards to form a smile as his body gradually began to regain some flexibility. Lester's eyelids fluttered, feeling slightly heavier than usual, and he could feel his heart rate increasing as feeling returned to his fingertips.
He could hear the sounds of the school slowly returning, as if being heard from a far distance. It was like someone was starting a vinyl record, with the music starting off slow and murky before accelerating to reach the proper speed. Movement was resuming too, as the girl hanging in midair gradually rotated and the other cheerleaders eased back into their routines in ultra-slow motion.
Finally able to swivel his head, Lester glimpsed a figure to his right. A gorgeous cheerleader with long wavy brown hair seemed to be staring at Lester, peering sideways out of the corner of her eyes. Lester couldn't help but smile, and the cheerleader simultaneously smiled back, sweet and friendly. Lester's heart fluttered at the rare experience of receiving a kind look from a student. Lester could feel his usual sour attitude, replaced by an unfamiliar sense of giddiness. As his eyes darted around, he no longer felt oppressed by the dreary confines of the school hallways. He felt enthusiastic about being here. He was proud of his school. The teachers and the staff were awesome, and the football team just might go all the way this year. Those boys deserved it because they worked so hard.
Lester realized with some embarrassment that he was still locking eyes with the pretty cheerleader, then realized to his chagrin that he was actually looking at a reflection in the glass on the front of a trophy case. Lester rolled his eyes, thinking how much of a ditz he could be.
"Look out!", a young girl screamed as Lester felt something slam into his body and knock him to the floor. The back of Lester's head smacked into the tile, and for a moment everything went black.
"You need to watch where you're going, Leslie!", scolded an annoyed female voice.
"It was an accident," said a kinder girl.
"It wouldn't have happened if she'd been here on time."
"Cut her a break. It's her first day."
The brunette sprawled on the floor peered up at the huddle of cheerleaders gathered over her.
"Are you okay, Leslie?", asked a petite redhead, genuine concern in her eyes.
"Yeah, I think so," Leslie replied, sounding a bit out of it, although not too much more than usual.
"You're late," said a humorless blonde with her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. "Don't let it happen again."
"I promise," said Leslie, recognizing the blonde as the cheerleading captain. Leslie would need to impress her if she was going to stay on the cheerleading squad. She noticed another girl spread-eagled on the floor beside her, and recognized her as the somersaulter who had smashed into her. "Are you hurt?"
"Sure, sweetie," the redhead said, boosting herself to her feet and extending an arm to help Leslie stand.
"Okay, back to work, girls!", commanded the cheer captain.
Leslie took a moment to check her reflection in the trophy case. Her green eyes sparkled and her pink lipstick fortunately hadn't smeared. She brushed her long brown hair back, using a scrunchie to pull it into a ponytail. She brushed some dust off her sweater and adjusted her bra, pleased with the way she filled out the new C-cup her mom had bought her for the start of the school year. Her flat stomach peeked out between the sweater and the skirt, showing off her golden summer tan, as did her short but toned legs.
She felt hands gently patting her butt and looked back to see the redhead brushing away some dust from Leslie's mini-skirt. "Can't have you going around with a dirty ass," she said to Leslie. "It reflects badly on all of us." She winked, then bounded down the hall to join the others, who were assembling a human pyramid. Leslie grinned as she watched the girls piling up one layer at a time. These girls were gonna be so fun to cheer with. Except for that bitch of a captain.
"Short stuff, you gonna join us?", barked the captain. It took a few seconds for Leslie to realize she was the one being spoken to. When it finally hit her, the little spitfire sprinted down the hall and climbed her way shakily one level at a time until she reached the top of the pyramid. She steadied herself before raising her left arm victoriously. The ring on her pinky finger seemed to glow extra bright.
From her high perch, she noticed that a janitor had abandoned a mop bucket at the corner of the hallway. She thought that was rude. Somebody could run into that accidentally and get hurt.