Brad Ferguson was one of the four members of Northridge Prep’s swim team, and the de-facto leader. He also represented the team on the school’s Sports Council and regularly asked for increased funding for the pool facilities, to little avail. Instead, the school decided to spend thousands of dollars installing a new rugby pitch and bleachers. Brad was genuinely passionate about his sport - unlike the rest of the team, which consisted of two apathetic girls he barely knew who were only around to stay slim and a chubby guy who he was friends with some time ago. He’d been swimming since elementary school, and so his body was fairly well-toned by now, which complemented his tousled light brown hair - going off what his parents always told him.
This particular evening, about 5pm, the other three members had already gotten changed and headed home, while Brad decided to get some extra training in after the official meet. After his 20th lap, Brad hauled himself onto the cracked tiling around the edge of the pool, pulling off his goggles, and grabbed his towel to dry his hair and face before gingerly tip-toeing to the men’s changing room to avoid slicing up his feet on the poorly-maintained floor. He pushed open the changing room door, but jumped in shock as he was faced with two burly football players grinning at him, arms crossed as they seemed on the brink of bursting out of their burgundy-coloured uniforms. He was fairly sure that he had seen at least one of them at the Sports Council meetings before, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on their names. Brad, suddenly feeling quite out of place in his skimpy swimming shorts, backed up a little and asked, “Can... I help you?”
The two students chuckled for a second, before the larger of the two replied, surprisingly eloquently, “Mister Ferguson. Haven’t you noticed how pathetic your team is? The school management has decided to shut down the pool facilities, but they don’t want your motivation and talents as a leader to go to waste.” Brad stared back at him in horror, unable to respond. The shorter, though just as indimidating, student suddenly lunged at Brad, overpowering him easily as he was pinned against the wall. The other approached him with a syringe filled with an orange liquid, and pushed it directly into his neck, causing Brad to flail about to try and stop him, yelling in pain. The two students glanced at each other, and walked out the changing room as Brad writhed on the floor groaning, before losing consciousness.
When he awoke, he had no clue as to how long he’d been out. It could have been a few seconds or a few days, but he figured it’d been some time since he heard his stomach rumble in hunger immediately. However, when he tried to lift himself from the ground, his arms betrayed him and he collapsed back on the ground. Brad looked down, his vision swirling, to see his arms’ veins showing through his skin quite considerably. The power in his arms suddenly returned, as they pulsated - and seemed to be in fact growing in size. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, his biceps were swelling up in front of his eyes! The growth was accompanied by a strange warmth, which made Brad almost feel like he was dreaming, although a pinch of his solid forearms with his meaty fingers proved otherwise.
He looked rather strange, with his otherwise lean body accompanied by a pair of hefty arms, but that soon solved itself. While Brad stared at himself with a mixture of horror and ecstacy, breathing heavily, his shoulders crunched outwards to accommodate his arms and further changes, which was surprisingly painless. Next, Brad watched as his flat pecs slowly pushed themselves outwards like an inflatable, and with a squeeze found them hard, yet pillow-like and bouncy. The growth slowed to a stop as they reached a very admirable size, adorned by two surprisingly sensual nipples. To Brad’s surprise, his abdomen didn’t change all that much - his abs became a little more toned but not very defined, but other than his torso as a whole widening a little with a crack, not much changed.
Next, Brad felt himself lifted off the floor a little as his ass became firmly padded with muscle, stretching his swimsuit tight. His quads and calves swelled at an alarming pace before finishing abruptly, thickening into firm tree trunks of legs, with his feet also growing to match them. This was too much for the swimsuit, which after being pulled to its absolute limit by his thighs couldn’t withstand the slightest movement, and so snapped off loudly, leaving him stark naked in the changing room. In addition, Brad grinned widely as he watched his cock grow erect, thickening and swelling into an 8-inch hunk of flesh which he could barely wrap his fingers around.
The changes finally moved onto Brad’s face, which he couldn’t see, but could certainly feel the grinding as his jaw was widened and sharpened, although the rest stayed mostly the same, bar his skin becoming a little roughly and his hair being cut into a trendier style. Assuming that the changes were complete, Brad pushed his heavy new self off the floor, feeling a little groggy as he did. Suddenly, the orange serum reached his brain and he was bombarded with new thoughts and memories, like playing rugby from a very young age, to becoming one of his school’s best players, to becoming the captain of the school team, and being signed with the national team for immediately after when he leaves school. All of his interest and enthusiasm for swimming disappeared just like that, and was instead diverted towards rugby instead. A new attitude and new mannerisms were placed into his mind, making this Brad totally unrecognisable to anyone who would have met him before.
As the new Brad regained his senses, he remembered what he’d been tasked to do - help recruit players for the new rugby team. Realising that he was totally naked, he went to get his brand new kit from his backpack on the bench, finding it inside, neatly folded. He pulled the compression shorts up his legs and over his crotch, tightly hugging his cock, and then the tightly fit white rugby shorts bearing the school logo, nicely wrapped around his thighs and ass. Next, he pulled the burgundy-coloured jersey, made out of an expensive sweat-proof material, over his head and tugged it on, so that it fit neatly and perfectly framed his arms and chest with its snug fit. Finally, he pulled on the matching burgundy socks up to his calves, and slipped his own electric-blue rugby cleats onto his feet to complete his outfit.
Brad admired himself in the mirror, crossing his bulky arms triumphantly and smirking at his reflection, “Lookin’ good,” he laughed, pointing his finger guns at the mirror, before slinging his backpack over his shoulder - failing to notice how it had grown into a large duffle bag for his equipment - and walking back through to the pool. Or, rather, the state-of-the-art rugby team gym, as it had now become. Brad gave it a walk-around with a satisfactory grin, appreciating all of the small details, such as the wide array of gym equipment for any situation, the common area with its variety of extremely comfortable-looking seats, huge tv, and bar, and of course, the captain’s office. Brad sauntered into the separate room, formerly the pool chemical storage, which was now a surprisingly luxurious office fit for a CEO, with a huge window over the outside rugby pitch, and a one-way mirror looking into the gym.
Brad placed his duffle bag onto one of the many spare sofas in the office, before sitting himself down in the leather office chair at his desk, and stretching out his arms with a yawn. Now, all he needed to do was to figure out what to do next to expand the team.