Your ranks freshly bolstered by the addition of Tony, Vinny leads you to the entrance of the Black Moon, to watch the performance of Frank’s (or rather Farrell’s, Frank’s old identity) younger brother.
As you approach the bar’s bouncer, you hear Tony crack his knuckles and step up to the guy. You scratch your chin, the bouncer had humiliated the guy that had transformed into Tony, directly leading to his conversion into your “club’s” muscle. And now Tony had the bulk and confidence to pay the bouncer back. The bouncer, a tall, bulky man himself had previously towered over Tony’s old persona, but now he had to look up to him.
“Well pal,” Tony grunted at him “you figure the lot of us is fancy enough for your bar?”
The bouncer was clearly intimidated, but naturally didn’t want to show that, “Who are you guys supposed to be? Al Capone and his cronies?”
“Now don’t give us any lip,” Vinny told the bouncer and calmly smoothed out the creases in his leather gloves “I’m much more handsome than Al Capone." He snapped his fingers at Tony, who reluctantly backed away from the bouncer and the lot of you entered the club.
The inside of the bar was painfully generic; roughly crafted wooden tables, empty bottles used as candlesticks, tacky pieces of “Americana” lining the walls. There was a little, rudimentary stage at the far end of the room, as of yet unoccupied.
As you and your “pals” entered the bar you instantly captured the collective eyes and minds of those around. Some of the other patrons were whispering about you, others just stared, some bemused, some attracted, some intimidated. You enjoyed this attention, especially the looks and hushed words of those that felt intimidated. In a way those were the smartest ones in the bunch, because they realized that you weren’t just a bunch of cosplayers, but the real deal; the second coming of the old prohibition era mob.
“So, Frankie-boy,” asked Vinny as he surveyed the room, drinking in the attention just as much as you did, “when is the band going to show up? I hope you didn’t direct us to the wrong joint?”
Frank’s eyes went wide at that accusation “No! Of course not, boss! Laughlin and his band should be here any moment.”
Y
ou chuckle at this, it was clear that Frank was the lowest one in your internal pecking order. He also seemed the least changed out of all four of you. Granted this was difficult to judge since you hadn’t known “Farrell” before he became Frank, but he had changed the least physically (really the keys had just put him in a suit and tidied his hair) and he seemed to have retained some of the old loyalties from his life as Farrell.
“Well then let’s find a good seat to watch the show…” Vincent declared and then snapped his fingers at Tony, “Tony, tell those gentlemen that they are sitting in our spot…”
Tony simply nodded and walked towards a table with perfect view of the stage, presently occupied by a bunch of college kids. Tony merely had to crack his knuckles at them to send them fleeing.
“All sorted out, boss!” you are still awed by Tony’s huge proportions and deep baritone voice when you remember the half-dead, scrawny bindlestiff he had been created from.
“Good job, Tony!” Vinny pets him on the shoulder like one would a loyal guard dog, as the lot of you took your seats at the table.
Soon enough a waitress shows up, a pretty little thing with dark blond hair, wearing simple, black pants, high hills and a matching shirt with a name tag that reads “Monica” on it. Seeing Vinny sitting there, dressed to the nines and oozing confidence from every pore seemed to do it for her, as she flashed him a smile that was more than just friendly.
“Well good evening, gentlemen…” she said and gave Vinny a wink, “my name is Monica and I will be your waitress for tonight. Is there anything I can do for you?”
You chuckle as you see her trying to charm Vinny. It’s pretty ironic; Keith, Vinny’s old persona, would have been all over Monica, while waitress would not have given him as much as a glance. Meanwhile, Vinny, who had no interest in women had her whole attention.
Vinny smirked at the girl “Well, doll, the first thing you can do for me is transforming into a completely different person.”
Monica seemed confused “Pardon?”
*click*
In an instant Monica’s clothes vaporized and she stood there in the middle of the bar, naked as the day she was born.
Under the gasps and occasional catcalls from the other patrons, Monica quickly rushed to cover her breasts and shaven vagina, shrinking together in shock. Then her body started to change, beginning with the feet. Monica’s feet, while visibly under the strain of her stressful and demanding career as a waitress, where beautiful, white and small. Size eight probably, nails coated with dark red polish, a band-aid covering the side of her largest toe. It was plainly visible Monica looked after her feet to keep them soft and alluring
.
Now, under the power of the car-keys, these soft, white, dainty feet started to expand, stretching out in all directions, gaining meat and mass. Size 8 ½, 9, 10, 11…eventually crossing over into the men’s sizes; 9 ½, 10, 12, 13 even. The little waitress now stood atop a pair of huge gunboats! Their shape and colour changed as well. The pedicured, polished nails lost their deep red shine, becoming clear, clipped and chipped. Bits of hair started to sprout on top of the toes, the skin became darker, rougher, visibly calloused.
This change in skin became spread up the ankles and onto the waitress’ clean, smooth legs and as it did so the slender legs started to fill up with muscle her calves became defined like that of a muscular man, her thighs thickened…and more, her very bones, her knees, everything seemed to expand and become larger, thicker, stronger. And all this was soon covered in a dark, coarse carpet, as her shaved-off leg hair returned with a vengeance.
Her hips, which had been very shapely, became narrow, as if her pelvis was folding up. And there in the centre of it, Monica’s vagina gave way to its polar opposite. Thankfully, by now the waitress was too engrossed in her changes to keep bothering to cover any part of her physiology, so you had free view of her changing genitals. Monica moaned as her labia pushed apart to make room for an emerging glans and finally shaft. Inch per inch emerged from the vagina; fife inches, six, six and a half…and all of it rock hard. As Monica’s new dick had finished to emerge her labia, still surrounding the fully erect cock started to merge with it, and to droop as they formed a sizable pair of balls. Monica’s moaning grew deeper as those were created, her voice blending over into that of a guy. However, the hand that gripped the hard shaft was still the delicate, manicured hand of a woman.
Monica’s torso was next, her sides filled out somewhat, until they formed an almost straight line with her hips, broken only by the contour of the pelvis bone. Around her belly button her stomach lengthened, flattened as, one by one, a collection of rock-hard abs started to push against her darkening skin.
Each and every of her heavy breaths now seemed to expand her ribcage, an effect that made her breasts bulge a couple of times before they were abruptly absorbed into her body, leaving behind a pair of sculpted pectoral muscles, like that of a Greek god. Like with her legs, this new torso was soon submerged by a dusting of dark hair, clustering between her pecs and at the lower part of her stomach to form a virile tuft and treasure trail.
As her shoulders started to push out to both sides, giving her new torso a distinctive V-shape the end also came for her slender arms, as they ballooned up with bulging biceps and deltoids. There is a tattoo on Monica’s upper arm; a facsimile of a jewelled armband. You expect it to fade from this new, masculine body, but instead of disappearing, it adapts. The ink not only changes motive, but greatly expands, covering the whole, muscular arm into a tribal-looking sleeve-tattoo. Less hair sprouts on the arms, likely kept shaven to show of the tattoo.
Glancing down at the one of Monica’s hands that played with her new cock you can see it changing similarly to Monica’s feet; elegant, white hands with delicate fingers expand into the meaty, sweaty, positively huge hands of a man, red polish fades from the nails which are clearly clipped, not manicured anymore.
Finally, the changes creep up Monica’s neck; that tiny, slender neck that now looks comical atop the large, manly body. It expands, thickens develops a prominent Adam’s apple, deepening her voice even more.
The face is the last bit of Monica that is still unchanged, but it doesn’t stay that way. Her chin pushed out, becoming longer, more prominent, sharper, her whole face broadens, her nose becoming sharp and aquiline. Her red lipstick fades as her lips narrow, while her mouth broadens. Her eyes grow smaller, lashes shrinking, eyeshadow disappearing while her plucked eyebrows grow thicker. Monica’s long, blonde hair retracts back into her scalp and darkens, leaving a stylish, pitch black undercut behind. The same dark hair also sprouts on her upper lip and chin, the individual hairs soon merging into a goatee. The last bit to change are her ears, enlarging and exchanging her pearl earrings for black plugs.
The new man, a 6’7’’ dreamboat of rock hard muscle, also gains a new waiter’s uniform. The clothes that arrange around his body are not causal, like Monica’s had been, but more elegant; a white button shirt (sleeves rolled up to show off his tats) and black slacks, topped by a black, pinstriped vest and a bow tie. His new name tag reads “Marty”
As the transformation is finished Monica…or rather Marty…flashes your group a welcoming smile. “Ah, Mr. Fontano!” he greats Vinny with a bow “good to see you and your friends again, the usual?”
Vinny gives you a wink and chuckles “You know it, Marty.”
And with that the new waiter hurries off to fetch your drinks. As you watch him hurry off you are not only left to marvel at his spectacular transformation from slender woman to muscle hunk, but…you notice that you remember Marty! Yes, he has been serving you and the “club” their drinks for quite some time…he knows you and you know him…but how is that possible…Marty had not existed until moments ago?
“What did you do that for, boss?” Frank pipes up. You look at him in surprise; it was not the place of any of you to question Vinny.
Vinny cocked an eyebrow “Because I felt like it, because I can and because I find him hotter this way,” he looked straight at Frank “don’t you?”
Frank looked confused “I…” he bit his lip “I…don’t know, boss.”
Vinny just chuckled at this, something in his smirk made you think that he had expected that confusion. As Marty brings your drinks you grab yours (Whiskey on the rocks) and sit closer to Vinny.
Your boss, the hard, dangerous mobster created from a sleepy couch potato called Keith, took a sip from his drink and drew closer to you “And did it work?” he whispers into your ear “did ya get memories of Marty?”
This surprises you “Yeah, boss, it’s like he’s been serving us for ages…”
A smug grin spreads over his handsome face “So everything’s goin’ according to my plan…” He picks up the keys and lets them jingle in his gloved hand “I’ve been experimenting with these babies… different degrees of transformation, different kinds of transformation”.
He subtly nods at Frank, the blond mobster oblivious to your conversation, still looking confused as he drinks his beer. “With Frank I wanted to try how subtle the changes could be…I wanted to make him one of us with as much of his original personality, memories and appearance remaining as possible.” He nods at Tony next, the huge, bald muscle currently scanning the bar for trouble “With Tony I wanted to turn the guy he originally was into as much of his polar opposite as possible in everything; personality, body type, preferences, while still keeping his original memories.”
“With Marty,” he nods at the hot waiter, now busy with a different table, the patrons starring at him in disbelief, “I not only wanted to see if I could upgrade a dame into a hunk, but if I could alter not just his, but your memories as well…he himself has no memories of being a broad at all anymore, at least I think so, the lot of ya, meanwhile has memories of him serving us.”
You stare at the keys, you didn’t think them that powerful. Even as Vinny and you had become your new selves, you still remembered Keith and your old self, Frank still could recall Farrell’s brother and still loved him as such, even Tony kept his beef with the bouncer from before his change. But the idea that Marty could not even remember Monica and that his transformation had altered your memories as well…you didn’t quite know if that frightened you, or turned you on.
“You sure like changing people, boss.” you say.
Vinnie glares at you “Shouldn’t I?”
“Of course you should,” you quickly clarify, “but changing a waitress into a waiter in front of all these folks, what if somebody freaks?”
Vinny waves his hand dismissively “So what? If anybody has the guts to give us trouble, I’ll have Tony crush them and then…” he makes the keys jingle again “I’m still in need of a lotta folk to test these babies on…”