CYOC loved the chaos it was creating with its transformations, and sought to create more.
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Freddie was walking home after a long day of classes. He considered himself the epitome of a successful college student — he got good grades, was involved in several extracurricular activities, and had an active social life. He also took great care to maintain his appearance. His skin was tanned, but not excessively, and his body was thin but well-muscled. His black hair was neat and styled, and his clothes were always fashionable. Today’s outfit was no exception, as he wore a baby-blue dress shirt, a pair of dark gray pants that fit his legs perfectly, and white trainers.
As he strolled the sidewalks, his phone — one of the latest models — buzzed, signifying that he had received a text. With nimble fingers he took it out of his pocket and deftly navigated to his messaging app.
The text read, “hey freddie u wanna hit up the bar tmrw nite :)?”
Without looking up, Freddie replied, “sure. what time?”
So absorbed in his phone was he, that he didn’t notice the old man in front of him until they were both sprawled out on the ground. Seeing the sight before him, Freddie gasped, and immediately crawled toward his device. To his dismay, the screen was cracked. To make matters worse, his outfit was dusty and most likely torn. Furious, he turned around and faced the old man, dusting off his clothes as he did so.
“Well?” he asked. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
The old man slowly used his walker to support himself as he got up from the ground. “Wait, what?”
Freddie rolled his eyes. Old people were always slow on the uptake. “I’m expecting an apology for damaging my phone! You’re lucky you’re old and can’t work anymore, or else I’d be expecting monetary compensation!” As he said this, he eyed the old man critically. It was clear that over the course of his life, he had put zero effort into maintaining his body. Whatever muscle had been there was now covered with fat and sagging skin. His back was hunched over, and he had almost as little hair on his head as he did teeth in his mouth.
The old man scoffed. “You young people are all the same. You’re so obsessed with yourselves and your little trinkets that you barely care about anything or anyone around you! There’s more to life than yourselves, you know, sonny!”
However, Freddie wasn’t listening. He’d already heard that same lecture from various elderly people countless times, but he knew they were wrong. After all, he was going to do more than his life than they ever had. And nothing, not this old man, not his cracked phone, and not the brief chill he felt down his spine, was going to stop him.
When he got home, Freddie felt strangely tired, but he attributed it to all the hard work he was putting in for his classes. He decided that a quick afternoon nap couldn’t hurt. Stripping naked in his mirror, he couldn’t help but think there was something odd about his reflection. His black hair, while impeccably styled as always, seemed a little lighter than usual, like it was losing its color. Not only that, but his hairline seemed ever-so-slightly farther back than before. However, he dismissed it as a trick of the light combined with fatigue. And besides, even if his hair was thinning a little, so what? He was getting older. These things happened.
With that in mind, Freddie put his cracked phone on his bedside table, crawled into bed, and fell into dreamless sleep.
The next time he awoke, night had already fallen. Fred groaned. What time was it? Searching for his phone with his hand, he located it and turned it on. It took him a few seconds to adjust to the sudden brightness. The clock read, 10:17. Fred ran a hand through his thinning, salt-and-pepper hair. It would be hard for him to sleep well for the rest of the night, but he guessed he’d have to try. Before he did that, however, he noticed that he had a notification on his phone, and decided to respond before he went back to bed.
However, he was having some trouble figuring out how to open his messenger application. Even though his phone wasn’t that new — it had come out maybe five years before — he still considered himself pretty handy with all the newfangled technology everyone was using. Finally, after a few minutes of confusion, he found what he was looking for.
The text read, “so uh yeah i dont think i can make the bar tmrw. sry”
Fred squinted his eyes for a bit, trying to make sense of the strange abbreviations his younger friend used, before typing out his response. “Oh, that’s fine. I probably shouldn’t be drinking so much anyways. All the best, Fred.” He reviewed his composition one more time, and satisfied, he pressed send. If he was being honest, he wasn’t quite sure why he’d even wanted to go to the bar in the first place. He regarded himself, from his flabby arms to his big gut. Although in his youth he’d had some muscle, he’d really bulked up in his middle age.
He yawned. Oh, well. He was finally tired again, and so he fell back asleep.
Frederick woke up to the sound of singing birds. Grumbling, he searched for his glasses and read the time from his good old-fashioned alarm clock. It was 8:42. Time to get up. Preparing himself for numerous random aches throughout his body, the old man hoisted himself out of bed, wincing as his hunched back made an uncomfortable cracking sound. The first thing he did was put on a pair of clothes. He didn’t really care how he looked, so he just threw on what was most comfortable to him. A dirty wifebeater, a pair of boxers, and his favorite white slippers did just fine by him.
Grabbing his cane, he hobbled over to the mirror and took in his reflection. Staring back at him was a grumpy-looking old man. His thin white hair only existed on the side of his head, and his teeth were yellowing and falling out. His fat, wrinkly skin sagged under the weight of his bent spine and beer gut, and even though his muscles had been healthy when he was young over fifty years ago, by now they’d decayed away after decades. Frederick shrugged, mindful not to move his aching shoulders too much. A lot of people would tell him he wasn’t attractive, but what did he care? He was old.
As he walked slowly to the next room over, Frederick reflected on his life so far. In his youth he’d been obsessed with material success, but he’d soon found that there were better ways to spend his time. He’d settled down, developed a taste for alcohol, and stayed satisfied with his underachieving lifestyle. And now here he was, fifty years later. He was an old man, who still liked drinking maybe more than was strictly necessary, and who was still wholly content with his life. Why wouldn’t he be, when he spent his days sleeping, drinking, and relaxing as his life drew to a close? He’d much rather spend his days living a boring, slow-paced life than a fast-paced, hectic one.
Frederick looked out the window, and decided that that day was as good a day as any to take a nap in his favorite rocking chair on the porch. He shuffled outside, grabbing an oversized sweater on the way out, and sat down. He kicked his feet up, and was about to fall asleep when he noticed two college-age people walking down the sidewalk in front of his house. Both of them were on their bizarre devices they called phones. Frederick scoffed at that. He remembered when flip phones were brand new technology. In fact, he’d had his flip phone for twenty years, although he barely used it.
As the students passed by him, he noticed something. Despite being right next to each other, not once did they speak to each other, or even acknowledge the other’s presence. He chose to attribute that to the obsession of young people with the material.
Frederick, despite his diminishing energy, aching joints, and everything else that made him the epitome of an old man, still found it in himself to roll his eyes at those whippersnappers. Ugh. Young people.
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Nick moaned in pleasure as he reached his climax with whatever random girl (or guy) he was with at the moment. He never really bothered learning their names, since chances were they’d be out of his bed, out of his mansion, and out of his life by the same time the next day. Although, he thought as he prepared for another go and smiled a predatory smile, that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy them while they lasted.
Nick had made a bit of a reputation for himself in Springvalley as the town’s most eligible and rich bachelor. As a result, people flocked to his mansion not only for the lavish parties he threw, but also for him. And really, who could blame them? Nick considered his toned and chiseled physique, his impeccable jawline that always had just a hint of five o’ clock shadow, his deep black eyes accompanied by his winning smile, and his black hair which was always in line with the latest fashion trends. But he knew that the things everyone really loved about him were his money and his skill in bed. Everyone wanted the chance to woo THE Nick Billings, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
As Nick continued on, he considered how much more fortunate he was than so many of the other guys in town. He was in his mid-twenties — the prime of his life! And as long as he maintained his good looks and sexual skills, he could probably keep his status as the town’s most coveted partner for at least another thirty or so years. Compare that to everyone else in town. So many people let themselves go and became stuck with bodies, spouses, kids, and lives they didn’t want. Nick couldn’t even imagine such a thing happening to him. He was perfectly happy to just keep being Nick Billings, rich playboy, until the day he died.
Finally, Nick unleashed his last load. He fell asleep to the sensations of cum, lust, and just the slightest of chills crawling down his back.
When Nick woke up in the middle of the night, the mansion was quiet. Well, maybe mansion was overstating it; his house may have had two stories and more rooms than he and his girlfriend knew what to do with, but it was no mansion. For some reason, the thought that the house wasn’t supposed to be quiet seemed off to him. Of course it was quiet! He and his girlfriend needed sleep, after all! Even stranger still, the only reason he could think of for why his house would have been loud was because of a party, of all things. Nick may have been well-off as a kid, but he certainly wasn’t rich enough to be throwing ridiculous parties.
Dismissing those odd thoughts, Nick laid his eyes on his girlfriend. Although she lay tangled in sheets, fast asleep, Nick knew how beautiful she was. He still couldn’t believe she’d fallen for a guy like him. Although he knew he had a decent amount of muscle, he also knew that it was obscured by a moderate layer of fat that he’d gained recently as he entered into his early thirties. Said fat also made his jaw appear pudgy and deflated, which accentuated how scraggly and unkempt his beard was. His eyes were light brown, the same shade as his hair, which was undeniably thinning on his forehead even as it grew in increasing numbers everywhere else on his body. Not only that, but he knew that there was a bald spot beginning to overtake the back of his head. Honestly, the fact that she stayed with him through all of that made him love her even more.
While in his twenties he’d been no stranger to strangers in his bed, he knew from the second he laid eyes on his now-girlfriend that she was the only one for him. He was planning on proposing to her soon. He knew they could build a beautiful life together. On that happy thought, he fell back asleep.
Nicholas awoke to an empty bed and the scent of bacon. Seeing the disheveled sheets to his left, he knew that his wife had wanted to surprise him that morning. He smiled lovingly. God, did he love that woman. As he lumbered out of bed, he took notice of his large, hirsute body. Although it was mostly fat, he knew that it was supported by a powerfully-muscled core, one of the few things that remained from his carefree life in his twenties. While when he was younger he might have been insecure about his girth, now that he was in his forties he knew his wife loved everything about his body.
She loved his powerful gut and fat but firm torso and arms, all of which were covered with sandy-brown hair. She loved his scraggly beard, which was beginning to see flecks of gray, and she loved his hazelnut eyes. She even loved his thinning sandy-brown hair, and his bald spot that covered a third of his head. And since she loved everything about his body, he did too.
Scratching his hairy back, Nicholas picked out clothes at random from the closet and put them on, then waddled out the bedroom door. The kitchen, where his wife undoubtedly was, was only down the hall; after all, their house only had one story. They weren’t exactly middle-class, but they got by. As he reached the dining room, Nicholas’ eyes lit up as he saw the two other lights of his life — his two beautiful kids, enjoying their breakfasts.
“Daddy!” they screamed as they abandoned their breakfasts and went up to hug him.
Nicholas smiled a warm, loving smile. “Good morning, kids!” He looked up at his wife. “And good morning to you too, honey.” He placed a quick peck on her cheek as she handed him his breakfast.
As he dug into his meal, Nicholas reflected on his life. Even though he doubted it was what most people dreamed of when they thought about their futures, he knew that he couldn’t be more content. Some people would say that he let himself go, or that he settled down too early, but they were wrong. Nicholas loved his body, his wife, his kids, and his life. Nothing could make him happier.
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CYOC showed no sign of stopping its transformations.