"Oh, jeesh, Tyler, what now?" cried Dalton, his voice rising to a higher, near soprano pitch as the bones of his skull compressed and compacted. It felt like his head were elongating, his face made a more heart-shaped contour. Dalton's hair filled with an innately copious new moisture against his scalp. Lifting his hand to his hair, combing fingers through its spiky barbs, Dalton said, "What the heck's going on, Tyler? It feels like my whole head's a hundred degrees hotter! Holy cripes! It's definitely getting warmer, and wetter! I can feel it, like it ... it's getting completely saturated and runny with sweat! Jeesh, it made my hair so slick and slippery. Way frackin' dirtier, too. Oh heck no, it ... that's not sweat! It's oily, now, too!"
Dalton looked at the shiny moisture coating his fingertips until the slow crunching squeeze in his head was displaced by a loud crack at the crest of his nose between his eyes. It felt as though something had smacked against it, violently, enough to break the bones within. But the bone-cracking agony coursing downwards from the bridge of his nose was quickly joined to a stranger flexing, pulling, and nasal passage clearing sensation flowing inwards and downwards through both nostrils. The commingling effect had drastically improved Dalton's sense of taste and smell, revealing the pungent body odor's muskiness radiating from his perspiring flesh and unwashed, hairless armpits beneath his baggy football practice shirt's ripe smells.
It wasn't his own body odor he'd smelled. It was Justin's, ripe with the same strong zesty spiciness that the sweaty Gook emitted. It's cloying, oversweet boyish scent was increasing its potency and pungent stench with every inhale Dalton breathed in.
Dalton's mind equated the funky smell to Soy sauce and pork fried rice, coupled to the sweaty odors of dirty feet. But breathing the odors into his lungs deeper with his next inhale also stiffened his already swollen erection to a near ejaculating boner.
Curiously, Dalton now shyly--and genuinely--believed that he should cover up his turgid boner's exposed shaft to the other teens, especially the gay homosexual Vietnamese teenager ogling at it sporting a hard, severely upright stiffly curving boner. But his thoughts revealed he also appreciated Justin's ogling stares despite the geek's sickening shiny brown uncut erection's cum dangling arousal.
Justin's orgasm slowly spilled down that upturned rigid boner's grease-shined foreskin from a thick clump of discharge trapped at its wrinkled spout-like crown, suspended off the tip with an oily, frothy white string.
Dalton couldn't glance away from the disturbingly repulsive sight of the sperm flowing into the teenager's bushy black forest of oily-looking pubic hairs around the dark boner's blackish hidden root.
For several moments, Dalton watched the shiny white rope's flow coursing downwards along that upwardly arched sheath of brown flesh encasing Justin's 6-inch length, hypnotized, fascinated by its frothy sheen as the ropy cable grew fatter as more discharging semen was supplied to it. The larger forward end of the string spread Justin's creamy cum into his pubes, saturating and shining the jet-black hairs on its slow downward journey as some actually soaked deeper within the thick mass of bushy hairs and disappeared in the oily, chocolate brown Asian flesh.
And it was certainly the thickest, bushiest nest of glistening black pubic hairs Dalton had ever seen on any Freshman. Or that he'd ever seen on any students in the boys' gym showers. The Senior jocks and football players he'd recalled taking showers with, and all of his own jock friends, didn't even have the same massive growth of pubic hair at their more matured crotch.
And Dalton thought he could almost smell the rank moisture secreted from that sparkling jungle of charcoal black pubic hair he was staring at, unblinking.
That's when Dalton noticed the peculiar briny aroma from down below, secreting out of the hairless groin he'd recently shaved, waxed, and even plucked every white-blonde pubic hair from almost 10-hours earlier during a daily morning hair-removal ritual. Unlike Thatcher, his twin only trimmed his pubic bush every so often, his excuse that it simply prevented those unexpected painful short hair pulls whenever they wore their regulation cups and jockstraps that playing football necessitated. Otherwise, Thatcher said, he would never ever shave his mighty-whities--as he liked to call his curly snow-white bush--like Dalton.
Shaving yourself bald every day like that, Thatcher kept telling him, was something only those faggy gay homo lady boys ever did, not that he'd ever seen one.
There was another smell coming from below, too, Dalton realized. But it wasn't his pits or his pubes causing the odor. It seemed like it was coming from his feet, but he knew his foot odor had never been that bad, or as overpowering a fouled stench. But now it was, and it was also getting stronger, and more noticeable.
Violently kicking off his football cleats, one of the size 15's striking the metal lockers across the locker room and nearly hitting Thatcher on its returned ricochet, Dalton's bare feet reeked far worse than even the sweaty musk pouring from his groin. The overwhelming heavy odor had a peppery sulfur-like rancid stench far stronger than anything his own body or feet ever released. It was abnormally potent, and quickly overwhelmed his own musky pubic jock odor and his uniform's imbedded sweaty tang he enjoyed and discreetly coveted.
Strangely, Dalton's memory was somehow altered as if he'd always liked his own sweaty jock smell. Sometimes he'd even sniff his used jockstrap's pouch when beating himself off, imagining it was some other guy who had worn the weeks-worn dirty jock. But something didn't seem right with that, Dalton thought. He had never been attracted to guys before, but his memories were that he had been aroused by them since puberty. That was why he'd agreed to follow Thatcher's interest of football and play it with his twin, all the time, 24/7. But he also knew he played because it'd allow him to get naked with all those sweaty hot naked football players, too, getting tackled and pig-piled on. And more importantly ... smelling them.
Dalton looked up from his hairless groin, bedazzled, thinking he shouldn't like being naked in front of his own twin and ... and his other 'older' identical twin brother, but for some bizarre reason he now liked being completely naked. He liked exposing himself in this erect condition to other guys. Including the Asian geek Justin. It got him harder when he was seen by other guys popping a raging boner. And stranger still, Dalton thought he'd often got a full boner just looking at, or even thinking about other guys. Even if they weren't sporting a boner. Especially, the hot blonde sweaty muscle jocks and football players.
The slow crunching squeeze at his head finally stopped, but it wasn't the only bone snapping torment he felt. Because, as he moved his hand and lowered his stare to look at his legs and feet, Dalton saw them changing now, too, and he'd felt bone shifting within each toe and ankle as his legs became smaller and thinner.
His feet had curiously changed their appearance into much smaller, bonier-looking narrow feet, smaller than those size 15's he'd thought he had, and a lot smaller than he and his twin's feet were at 13. He remembered having large feet even as a preschooler, just like Thatcher, and his legs looked slightly different then they were supposed to look. Both he and Thatcher had hit puberty fairly early, and by age 11, they'd both matured faster than most other kids their age, with visible light blonde hairs sprouting across their legs and groin.
But the legs and feet below looked even younger, without any indications of early puberty or the blonde hairs that'd lightly dusted them since childhood. His legs and feet were now as hairless as his groin.
"Oh jeesh, Tyler, what ... the heck, bud?" Dalton said, comparing his own legs with the two blonde twin jocks' identical legs. "I-I don't even look like Thatcher's bro, anymore! What the heck are you frackin' doin' to me? You gotta change me back, bud. Back into my twin's twin, Tyler. Please? I don't wanna be some little freak-a-zoid no more."
"I'm ... sorry," Ty lied, chuckling at the smaller blonde boy he'd turned Dalton into. Maybe Dalton would be less offensive and a lot less anti-everyone who wasn't a jock at school. His appearance was clearly boyishly young-looking as a 13-year-old. It was strange, though, because he clearly looked different than what Ty had remembered when his mother and father visited the Murdock's, dragging him with them to play tag football with the teenage twins while they visited. "Hey, Dalton? Was your weird nose always that flat, that wide-looking? I thought your nose was always upturned and sorta pug-shaped at that age. Wasn't it just like Thatcher's? Or maybe I was thinkin' it was Carlos's nose that'd always had a sorta pug-like tilty-ness, huh?"
"No, Tyler, it ... it was always the same as Thatcher's," Dalton said, reaching up to feel the wide, flattened shape of his nose. The wide nostrils he felt seemed far different than he remembered, too. "Jimminy Cricket, Tyler! Aren't you gonna change me back into a Senior now? Into Thatcher's twin? Come on, Tyler! You gotta frackin' help me! It's like what hot cheerleader's gonna want some greasy-haired little runt makin' out with them when they're procreatin' silly with 'em, right?"
Ty shrugged. "Maybe the hot blonde you're always ogling over will wanna go out with you. You know, the head cheerleader captain, Cris Ingersol? I've heard that blonde Junior bitch, the one with that mouthful of blue braces, will go down on any blonde in our school. Isn't that what you heard, Thatcher? Carlos?"
"Ah, yeah, word," Thatcher said, nodding, his face flushing pink. "The guy's a total gay homo cocksucker for blonde jocks ... so I heard, yeah. I'm pretty sure he's done some Freshman players, but I've never asked him if he was into kissin' and makin' out or not, hmm."
"Yeah, he ... he is," Carlos interjected, his face turning as bright a pink shade as Thatcher's. He crouched down and picked up Dalton's discarded cleats. "I mean, I heard that somewhere, from someone, I-I think. So, um ... how about givin' me the rest of that uniform, Dalton. Seems like you ah, you're not gonna need it for a few years, know what I'm sayin'? And it'll fit my body friggin' better than it does your's, dude."
Dalton looked at Carlos as though he had two heads. "Oh. Come on, Tyler, you are gonna fix this, right? I don't want HIM wearing my ... my frackin' uniform, bud. It's ... it's mine for gosh sake's."
"No, give it to him, Dalton," Thatcher said, sidestepping back toward his own open locker. He'd planned to take a shower right after practice, but now he didn't really want to waste his current sweaty condition taking a shower. He liked the manly odors he was still generating. "Besides, Dalton, you don't wanna chance ruining school property with any protein stains from ... well, the boner you've got, right? You know how badly cum stains the material of 'em."
"Oh, um, yeah ... right," Dalton said, finding it harder to remember that tidbit of information. Maybe, he thought, that's why the jockstrap I have is stained so badly. "Okay, then, sure. Okay, Carlos. As long as you're not gonna be squirtin' your load into my jock or my uniform, then, will you promise me you won't?"
"Of course, Dalton," Carlos lied, and scratched at his rippled abdominal muscles. He was close to doing just that already, without said uniform after he'd learned all the information Thatcher's brain had shared with his mind. "I'll never waste my cum like that, bro!"
Carlos should've been disgusted finding out the unexpected sexual interests of his blonde football jock twin.
But Carlos was also unable to prevent the same sexual feelings from the blonde twin's mind with his own mind and reacting body now, too, and they did at least still include fucking women.
When a willing--or even unwilling--male wasn't available first.
"Hold it up a few, Dalton," Ty said, thinking some of the changes he'd thought were not quite done, yet. Ty's memory was that he'd felt the sensations inside him during only some of what he'd thought, but not everything. "I'm not sure everything's actually completely finished, guys."
Ty hadn't felt anything when he thought Dalton should be Justin's boyfriend. But he'd definitely sensed that odd and brief tingling sensation after thinking Dalton should be Justin's identical twin brother.
With Dalton's slightly thinner skull and lengthier, gaunt facial appearance, his nose flattened with broader, wider nostrils that were now more like an Asian or black teen's, along with every trace of the blonde hairs on each of his legs, feet, and toes, seemingly disappearing due to his younger age, Dalton no longer resembled his identical twin Thatcher--or Carlos--or even a brother to either one of them.
Dalton's pale white skin was noticeably shinier from the extra oils his perspiration likely contained, clearly excreting a more abundant supply from every pore in his body. And the spiked up blonde hairs on his head were visibly sweaty and far greasier than they had been before. But Dalton's light blonde hair and coloring hadn't been altered or changed his near perfect complexion. The teenager's younger age and 4-year regression to his prior 13-year-old physique had given Dalton a more attractive, more innocent, guiltless-looking appearance to his somewhat cuter and younger teenage Adonis features.
However, Dalton's own brain and thoughts had obviously been connected, blended, and partially transformed with the Asian geek's smarter, quirkier language the two teenager's now used. Dalton had even replaced using his previous profanity and slang expressions with the geek's own peculiar terminology. It was as if Dalton's own thought processes or psyche had been re-written, or in Dalton's own earlier words, 'My ... my mind is like thinkin' like it's ... it's like his.' And Dalton stated he thought it was stopping a second or so later.
Maybe Dalton's mind had become just 'like' Justin's mind, Ty thought. A twin duplicate of Justin's.
But what had happened to the rest of his changes? Why, Ty thought, wasn't Dalton turning into Justin's twin? He'd certainly felt those same sensations when he decided Dalton should become a Vietnamese geek and identical twin exactly like the Freshman geek Justin Li.
So if Dalton still wasn't turning into Justin's identical Vietnamese twin, what was happening?