"No no no." Rebecca whispered in a panic.
She had accidentally knocked something over, but quickly managed to catch it. She looked at the item and realized it was a blue Swiffer wet jet, nothing too suspicious. She wondered why it fell, but just shrugged her shoulders before leaning it against the wall. "Whatever, time to met the girls for a-" She began to think before she noticed a camera in her hand. "What was I doing with this old thing?" She wondered.
For a moment, she could briefly remember being interested in the thing, though, for the life of her she couldn't understand why she was holding it. Her father did say it was some family relic, and Rebecca knew exactly how Daddykins can be when it comes to family stuff. Sighing, she set the camera down next to the Swiffer to hold it up, after all, if no one heard her, she could easily sneak down to the party and get herself up the social league!
She could see it, as she tiptoed slowly across the room, she could see herself chatting up the cute football player who thought her reddish tinged hair was absolutely adorable, that he could see them making out at Make-Out Reef in his hot red sports car... That she could-
Rebecca flinched, knocking the base of her queen sized bed and nearly howled in pain as she felt the hot sting of her foot. She quickly recoiled and bounced on the free leg slightly, cursing herself for her clumsiness. Things were going so well! Hopefully, her parents didn't hear her, and she could easily get back to her mission at hand.
The popular group was hers for the taking, and so was Prom Queen if she could just make it out of the house! As she found footing, Rebecca swore she could hear a thump somewhere, but after a few seconds, she ignored it and was about to tiptoe once more when suddenly the Swiffer fell once more.
"Oh no!" Rebecca strained to whisper, just as the head of the Swiffer knocked the camera and enveloped the room with an intense light.
[FLASH]
Brent grunted, heaving the heavy dumbbell as he curled them as hard as he could. On the cusp of 18 and going to college, he was determined to not only gain a free ride to college career with a football scholarship, but he also loved the way the girls ogled his ripped, full physique. He slammed the dumbbells on the floor, so caught up in his workout he couldn't help but flex a bulging bicep and kiss it. Wasn't his fault he was blessed with such good genes, his father was a pretty fuckin' ripped guy too, he used to have some real defined six pack abs, he thought, but the way things have been, dad was rocking a solid powerlifter look, massive meaty pecs, rugged forearms...
Fuck, Brent flexed harder, he had the definition, but man if his dad didn't have the freaking MASS. At this rate, he was gonna reach a plateau if he didn't kick up his routine a notch or two. He removed the velcro fingerless gloves and tossed em on the bed, shit was making his whole body burn up and he was in the mood to max his chest press routine even more.
Running a hand through his dark brown wavy hair, Brent could feel his body in pure adrenaline. He was gonna get huge, he was gonna get everything he wanted and more! It was just a couple of workouts, and maybe a few chicks and dudes, away! As he moved to throw himself into bed to take his rest minute, Brent's foot touched something foreign and he quickly saw a pink fluffy bunny stuffed toy with a red bow tie was lying near his bed.
"Huh, didn't think I'd see you here." He picked up the plush animal and gave it the once over, noticing how new it seemed, almost, life like. Suddenly, Brent could recall the time he won the bunny from a carnival game and tried to present the animal to a cute guy that caught his eye near the Ferris wheel. Things were sweet, but the guy didn't wanna pursue something with him, his loss, and so the tiny bunny remained as a memory of a long forgotten day.
Gently holding the plushie in hand, Brent walked to his vanity and placed the bunny on a shelf nearby a snow globe and a few other trinkets of his life. Accomplished at the organized room, Brent could hear the alarm of his rest minute being over and came back to check it over.
Just then, his bedroom door opened, and a very disheveled Eric grumbled as he slowly peeked his head in from the side, body too wide to fit in the doorway as usual.
"Uh... Hey, son." Eric blinked, as though he was somewhat confused to see his own son in front of him.
Brent looked up, hand grabbing a bottle of water from his nightstand and popping up the cap effortlessly.
"Sup, pops. Everything okay?" He sipped, looking away to the floor for his easier weights to do some exercises for tone.
Eric rubbed the back of his titanic neck and cleared his throat, his tossed on black tank top was straining at the mere size of his chest and thankfully didn't show the wet arm pit stains and wrinkles he was sure would have given away the "extracurricular" activities he and Paula were participating in.
"Ah, nothing crazy, just uh... Heard some thumping, felt like I should check on ya. You know." He slowly found the words to say, still a bit reluctant of something.
Brent chuckled. "Heh, nothing here other than me trying to bulk up again. Seriously pops, how the heck did you get so HUGE, anyway? I mean, look at me, I'm not even your size yet and I'm training with YOUR weights!" Brent flexed again for emphasis, to Eric's intrigue.
Eric smirked and enter the room, once again appreciative of the fact that the dark fabric of his sweatpants would not show any hints of his previous activity. He quickly made a double bicep flex, the furry canvas of flesh tightening to display an impressive brawn as Brent made a wolf whistle. "Almost bigger than Coach, dad."
"Bigger, I made that son-of-a-bitch cower when I was with him in high school." Eric beamed, dropping the flex and cupping his lantern jaw with a rugged hand. "Heh, say, did I ever tell you the time I- Huh?" Eric began, before noticing a certain item laying on the floor. He moved away from Brent and maneuvered to the side before realizing the Camera was laid down rather carefully next to the computer desk.
"Yo, where'd you find this, Kiddo?" Eric said, a tad more seriously.
Brent shrugged his shoulders, "Dunno, I was working out when you came in, otherwise I'd never see it." He folded his toned arms across his equally broad chest.
"You know what that is, Dad?" He asked.
"'Course I do, it's your Uncle Harry's Camera. Said it's apparently got some kinda mumbo jumbo crap on it. Something like, if you're not careful it could turn a guy into a major babe. Guy was always a little off his rocker, I mean come on. A camera that can make a kid into someone like me? Don't make me laugh."
Eric guffawed as he touched the buttons feeling them on his finger tips. It wouldn't really be a bad idea, though, turning one thing to another. But then again, maybe it was one of those dumb things Harry picked up from a yard sale, what kind of camera could change your body, or your mind, or even your looks, much less take a good shot anyhow.
"Heh, don't tell your mother, but we used to take some real good pictures with this thing." He chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows at Brent. His son snickered, pushing his father's shoulder.
"Gross, old man... So, how's it work?" Brent questioned, intrigued by the supposed mumbo jumbo.
Eric looked over the Camera, thankfully, it had no kinds of damage to it, so it was reassuringly in one piece. "Look, there's a photo coming out." He pointed out, pulling a delicate polaroid and shaking it in the air. Brent's eyes widened as the picture was formed, it was him, working out his lat muscles, shirtless as always and only in his gym shorts, but boy did he look great.
"Lookin' great, a real Mr. Olympia at this rate." Eric laughed, as Brent eagerly swiped the picture and looked it at every angle he could.
"Ya think?" He beamed, imagining himself in the shoes of a champion. Eric nodded, before pulling himself up from the bed and holding the camera in hand.
"I know it, son. You got what it takes. Just, uh, be sure not to eat that Mcdonald's too much." He said, patting his well nourished gut and laughing deeply. Brent rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, the minute you eat salad is the day I'll stop eating chicken nuggets pops. Say, whatcha gonna do with that Camera, anyway?"
Eric looked down, feeling something in his head trying to warm him about this weird relic, but he attempted to shake himself away from those thoughts. He looked up and said,