Eric got home, not even noticing his latest change, and immediately decided to head upstairs. He had to find out what this weird dissonance in his head was. He remembered spirit week in high school or something, and then all of a sudden college cropped up in his mind and choosing a college that wanted him for its football team. The new teenager felt a swirling moirass of other confused emotions inside of him, just as many urges and needs as well. He remembered having a girlfriend, and wondered if he might be able to meet her at some point. More than meet her, he mused to himself in a cocky way.
He did not even ruminate on that little thought as he went upstairs to take stock.
Opening the bathroom door, he walked inside, locked the door behind him, and stripped off his jacket and shirt. Viewing the image of an incredibly healthy young man, strapping and of a great form, most likely the subject of the lust of a good number of the female members of the audience, not to mention the cheerleaders. A spartan physique honed through countless hours in the gym, and a handsome face on top of that. Stubble that was well trimmed and scruffy, but never veered too close to ill taken care of. Grinning at the reflection, he noted how his pecs jutted, and his abs were toned to the point of resembling a carving of a rennaisance painter hoping to capture the strength and form of the ideal human man. Yes, he thought, this was his form, earned through hard wo-
He thought about that, trying to remember his work through the fog of his memories. Trying to think of his work outs, of his friends on the team, of who he was in relation to people in his high school. It was these naggling thoughts, returned, that brought forth a dawning realization. A surge upward of internalized memories.
This was not how it always was.
He was Eric, a young boy, first. Then he was sixteen, then he was nineteen.
What. The. Fuck?
He had literally seen six years of his life pass before his eyes, and he was out of high school and a prospective college student awaiting the most well advised option in terms of a college. He had an athletic scholarship, he was a prime member of the community, unlike other jocks, he had never been a bully. He was...different.
He slipped his shirt back on, inspecting himself for any further signs of aging, but could not find anything. What was causing this, he wondered. It was certainly moving quickly, that much was for certain, and it was altering how his life was going. He was some sort of big football star now, but he still remembered being Eric the Boy.
Maybe some sort of oversight by whatever had done this. It was certainly not a bad thing, though, as he noted. He had become tall, muscular, well beyond the age of eighteen, and his own man. His parents, apparently, gave him the ability to do as he pleased mostly, and let him independently make choices, a vast improvement over the "stay here and touch nothing" of his youth. He was hitting the jackpot, and here he was worrying about it! He was growing up into a mega-stud, and if trends held, he would be able to live comfortably. Football Players made quite a good amount of money, not to mention other perks to that kind of life.
Well, at any rate, he would need to test this somehow. See what made him change, and whether anything played a factor on it.
Eric made his way to the gym he'd set up in his parents' basement. There was everything a young athlete would need: a treadmill, a bench press, a rack of dumbbells, and plenty of weights for the bar, which he used for bench, squat, clean, and deadlifting.
He decided to start with the treadmill. He ran at 6 miles an hour for 20 minutes, during which time his physique leaned out somewhat. Then he loaded up on the bench press, doing 10 reps each of 220, 250, and 280 pounds. This caused his chest to swell considerably, and his arms to a lesser extent. Eric evened them out with the dumbbells and they swelled up too. Finally, he did 10 squat reps each at 200, 225, and 250 pounds, which caused his legs to swell.
After an hour had gone by, Eric paused to breathe. He was 22 years old, and he was the youngest and handsomest football player in the NFL. After a successful college career he had been hastily drafted as a first-string quarterback, displacing the 34-year-old veteran, who was pissed. But the guy was a jackass anyway, what did he know? Eric Guthrie was the biggest name in football right now.
Back home in his small town, he was a superstar, the stud athlete who'd finally made good. He still went home every week or so as a mentor for up-and-coming players from 2nd grade to 8th grade. His favorite was that 6th grader, Jack, who wanted to be a defensive lineman. Eric wanted to help the kid get there, he thought Jack had a lot of potential.
Most of the time Eric lived in a spacious apartment in the city, which was decorated by his girlfriend, Myra, who worked in interior design. He had his gym, she had her studio office, and they shared the bedroom every night, intensely. Myra might even be expecting, in which case Eric would have to move up his proposal plans and the wedding.
Eric admired himself in the mirror. He had the biggest chest of any guy he'd met who was not a fat bear, and thick arms and legs, plus a sweet set of 8-pack and. His gorgeous face and body had earned him the title of Sexiest Man Alive from a widely read magazine. He flexed and posed for himself...
Damn, it had happened again! Eric realized he'd gone from a scrawny 12-year-old to a 22-year-old Adonis. What was causing this?
He looked at the band. Ever since he'd put it on things had gotten weird...was it the cause? Eric slipped it off to see if the changes would continue. If not, great, he'd find a new home for it. He liked this new life very much.