Bill's messing with the Chronivac had far reaching implications that even Bill himself did not know about. The entire world and it's history changed. The changes traveled like waves so that during those first few months, it seemed like a new fad to hunt boys and make trophies out of them. Those first few months saw a lot of creativity in the kinds of trophies boys were turned into. But after those waves finished altering history, everyone was so used to the idea because making trophies out of boys had been going on for centuries. It wasn't a new fad anymore.
The changes to history were so thorough that the Chronivac wasn't necessary anymore. Instead, drugs were discovered centuries ago that could turn males into trophies, males only, not females. There were only a few trophy forms available and by far the most common form was using dickweed to turn boys into their own dicks. The Chronivac wiped itself out of existence by rewriting history such that the inventor of the Chronivac had been turned into his own dick and forgot his idea of inventing a Chronivac.
Time as a trophy was temporary but addicting. Like any drug, the effects wore off leaving a person craving more of the drug. Unlike most drugs, this craving faded naturally over time. If a person resisted the urge to use dickweed for a month, he could return to a normal life with no desire for dickweed at all. Bill had no memory of the Chronivac. His history changed to him having dabbled in the trophy drugs as a kid but having gotten free of the drug.
Now the crack houses and rehab clinics were frequently littered with detached cocks. The use of dickweed was regulated like alcohol, not outright forbidden as long as you used it responsibly. Since detached cocks were fully functional, some men took dickweed just before getting married and stayed dicked at all times except when they needed to be human for work or other drudgeries of life.
Although there was nothing saying that a detached dick had to be a trophy, it was common to think of detached dicks as trophies. It was so common that it had become a requirement for most sports leagues that the losers became trophies for the winners for one week.
Chad slammed his locker. "I can't believe you missed that field goal. Everyone played perfectly except for you. It's like you deliberately threw the game."
Ryan changed his clothes in silence. No one else spoke either. They thought the same things Chad was thinking but they weren't sure enough to make the accusations Chad was.
Chad continued, "So which is it. Are you being paid off to throw the game or do you have a secret addiction to dickweed? What is wrong with you? I've managed to avoid dickweed so far but now I have to spend a week as a dick because of you."
The coach came in and said, "That's enough, Chad. It might do you some good to be a dick. It might humble you and remind you to be more of a team player. Everyone has to do this including the ones who sat on the bench and myself. Now come along."
As Chad followed his coach down the hall, Chad looked at all the cocks on display in the trophy case. Players were allowed to take trophies home but many chose to leave the trophies in public displays. There was Dirk, his brother and captain of the basketball team from Whitby. Dirk went with his mother to Whitby after the divorce. Chad was now headed to Whitby as a trophy. Chad almost laughed as that's one way his parents can see their kid that went with the other parent.
As Chad walked naked down the hall with the team, he looked down at his genitals and imagined what it would be like when that would be all he was. He wasn't ashamed of what he had. He thought about his low hanging balls on display. He was more of a grower though, not a shower. Would he be that impressive in the display case?
The team stepped outside and over to the basket. Each took his dose of dickweed and waited. The effects were quick. The team began spewing out of their mouths into nearby barrels. It seemed like vomitting but since the tongue and throat were among the first to go, everything just started flowing like water out of a hose. The guys began deflating like balloons.
When dickweed wears off, the dicks become very hungry and can eat almost anything that can replace the biomatter they lost becoming dicks. These barrels of biomatter are stored just for that reason.
Deflating wasn't the only thing the boys did. Their legs merged, becoming balls. While Chad still had arms, he felt his head as it became a dickhead. It felt good to rub his dickhead. Then he fell into the basket with the other dicks.
He still had eyes and ears even though they shrank so tiny they couldn't be seen. He closed his eyes because he didn't want to see all the genitals around him. Then he started to get comfortable about his situation. He was a cock in a basket of cocks. Many of these cocks were his friends. The blissful feeling of the drug took over. It was a bonding experience he and his friends shared, being cocks in a basket together. He could talk but like his friends, he didn't feel like talking. He felt like being a cock.
A hand pulled him out of the basket and he felt a sharp pain. He heard the word caverject. A minute later, he was fully erect. He opened his eyes to see the cheering fans looking at him. He finally understood why some people liked using dickweed. He was an impressive trophy. He now hoped he wouldn't be taken home so he could spend the week in the trophy case on display just like a trophy ought to be.