Sam sat in his old swivel chair, gazing thoughtfully at the list of profiles. Weighing his options. He had several potential test subjects to choose from -- Arnold, his brooding son, currently in the living room playing on their one outdated console. A neighbour out trimming their law. The dog outside. And himself.
After a few minutes, he opened his profile again. Best to do himself. On the one hand, he couldn't bring himself to experiment on someone else in case something went wrong; not even the mutt deserved to have its life screwed over if this machine's powers were wonky. And on the other, he felt like he had nothing to lose.
And, admittedly, he was pretty desperate to change himself.
Sam had dreams. Big dreams, if essentially simple. Even at his age, with the weight of disappointment bowing his shoulders, he still clung to them tenaciously. Dreams of money, luxury, and women. His women, working in his opulent gentlemen's club. Sam had hidden it to keep peace with his prudish wife, but he was not just a horny man, but a committed philosophical libertine.
And first and foremost, he wanted to look the part. He needed. To be the part of handsome, suave playboy. The Chronivac couldn't give him the cash or the wardrobe, but it could give him the body. Even the mind. So why not indulge and try it on himself first? If it didn't work, no harm done. If it did...
His smirk grew.
Let's find out.
First thing to be changed was his name. "Sam Alderman" was, perhaps, not a bad name, but it didn't have the high-class ring he wanted. And more importantly, it was too deeply associated with the life he had lived, and hated. He had a new name already picked out.
Maurice Quentin Renault.
Classy and a touch exotic. To him, "Maurice" had always sounded sohpisticated and mysterious; dark with even a hint of danger. And Renault, well, definine old-world power there. He had always liked the uniqueness of "Q" as a middle initial, but while his old middle name "Quincey" had been okay, "Quentin" was dashing and romantic, and fit much better with the rest of his new moniker.
Then some touch-ups to his body. He lowered his biological age to a mature thirty, erasing most of the ravages of time. He removed the flab and tweaked his body structure, giving himself some decent muscle definition, more height, and thick chestnut hair.
Then the most important changes -- physical changes anyway. His manhood. From a mediocre almost-five-inches he increased his erect length to a solid eight, increasing girth to 6". He adjusted his position in the seat as his rod began to harden in anticipation, and he could feel his heart speed up. He finished this by not just increasing his ball size, but also the quality and quantity of their product.
And finally, mental changes. Sam took a few deep breaths to calm himself, so he didn't make any mistakes. Not there was much to edit. Mostly he just needed...
To slide the confidence bar to max. Charisma too. May as way top off intelligence too, heh. Delete all the unwanted inhibitions he'd accumulated over the years. Maybe a bit more extroverted, more libidinous, and a lot more assertive. No more taking shit from people.
He was salivating now, almost squirming in his seat like a boy in bed on Christmas Eve. But he forced himself to go over the changes, making sure that everything was in order. Yup. Then he brought the cursor down to "save".
He hesitated. This was so much. Of course, part of him was still skeptical of anyhting happening at all. But he had convinced himself this was real... and it scared him.
But then he felt something. A black bubble of hatred and rage swelling inside him. He'd suffered so much, and this was his chance. He deserved a better life! Or -- hell -- why should he care whether he "deserved" it? He wanted it, and he didn't have to answer to anyone any more. He didn't need to justify this. He had the means now to achieve his dreams, and --
Click.
-- Nothing was going to stop him.
His fists clenched, his body going taut after forcing himself to hit "Save." He was committed now, and -- ?
For a second all he was aware of was the tightness of his muscles and the blood pounding in his ears. But then he felt it. Heard it even: joints popping as they shifted, giving him longer legs, broader shoulders. His back straightened as he instinctively rolled his shoulders, fixing decades of poor posture. That already made him taller, but he could feel his clothes strain as he grew from 5'9" to 6 feet, his mass shifting as fat turned to hard muscle and sinew.
The grey in his hair washed away, growing out thick and glossy into a wild mullet. The premature wrinkles on his face smoothed away as his features became subtly more angular, as if someone were touching up a photo. around his lips and across his chin, his five o'clock shadow grew into a goatee. His blue eyes sharpened, burning with newfound purpose as his doubts were brushed away by surging confidence in his decision.
Confidence, and lust. Feeling his already-erect cock begin to expand uncomfortably within his tightening jeans, he grabbed some tissues and swivelled around, undoing his fly. He groaned as his meat pushed out, sliding the band of his boxers along its length as it demanded attention. Thick, uncut, clenching; glorious.
He stood up, stretching, feeling the tension ease with a series of louder pops. His gut subsided and tightened into a light sixpack, and strength flowed into his arms and legs with growing muscles. Then he pushed down his pants some more, admiring his cock as it reached its new full length, teeth grit to control the pleasure surging through his manlier form from his strength and his virility.
He could feel his balls become heavier, fuller, as they grew out between his chiseled thighs; the mighty trunk of his phallus rising from the thick, aromatic forest of his brown pubes. Goddamn I look good now. I SMELL good. A heady, musky scent that filled that air now that he had released himself from its cloth confines.
He couldn't resist any longer -- he didn't want to. As pre began to spurt from his cock, he wrapped his makeshift sleeve around it and began to squeeze and thrust. With his other hand he braced himself against the desk, grunting as he began to thrust his hips, his larger, more sensitive dick already driving him wild with the friction.
It was like he was fucking away all his old defects. Like the weak, frustrated man Sam was being drawn down into his mighty balls. Never to be heard from again. "Ohrrghh... yesssss..." Even his voice was different; deeper, suave but with a wild edge to it. His hips bucked with the fantasy, feeling his manhood swell in preparation.
Good-bye... Sam...
"URRRGggghh!"
The cheap kleenex gave way, his cockhead ripping through it to shoot stream after stream of his semen against the wall. At first it was thin, kind of watery -- the old man pumping out the last of himself through his veiny, thick manmeat. Then it thickened, filling the small room with the scent of unbridled masculinity.
"Ohhggh... oh god yes..." He caught his breath as his orgasm began to wind down, the tattered tissues keeping the last few spurts from staining his jeans.
He. Maurice. Not Sam any more. His lips curved back into a smirk, now darkly alluring, as the afterglow of sex and completed metamorphosis rolled through him. He was Maurice now. He still remembered everything, he hadn't tampered with his awareness at all -- why would he? He was just beocming the man he was inside all along. Just setting himself free of the shackles of his body and past.
He stretched again, enjoying the strength and limberness of his musculature while working out a few remaining kinks form the change. God he felt like a beast. A human tiger with the mind of a genius. Even the tightness of his shirt across his shoulders felt invigorating, signaling his new power.
He popped the top button of his shirt, easing some fo the strain and exposing thicker chest hair. Then he wiped off his cock and pulled his pants back up. Fortunately they was not too tight, though his package now made a very obvious and satisfying bulge, hugged by his boxers. If anything, his jeans were loose as he had lost his paunch; and they were definitely too short.
He made a quick, token effort to clean the cum from the wall and carpet, but he wasn't bothered about that. This place was kind of a dump anyway; his office carpet was basically a thin grey mat, a stain wouldn't do much to hurt it. Then he hit "save" on his profile again to lock the changes in place. No hesitation this time. Maurice was a man who not only knew but got what he wanted.
Leaving the office he locked the door behind him -- nothing new, it was both his sanctuary and there were business files in there that his kids and wife shouldn't be snooping through. So there would be no suspicion about him keeping it private. Then Maurice made his way to the master bedroom; noting on the way that his son was still glued to the TV screen.
"I'm going to take a shower."
No response. Arnold was seemingly oblviious of what had transpired. Maurice chuckled to himself. That was fine, for now. It would change soon.
He hummed as he entered the bedroom and shucked off his clothes, thinking about his next move. He would need to be circumspect with the thing, at least at first. But he put that aside as he moved to stand in front of the mirror his wife had installed.
He ran his hands over his pectorals, feeling the hardened flesh through the dense hair, then down to his abs, his humming roughening a bit as his lust began to build again. He looked magnificent, he felt magnificent. Muscles obvious but not obnoxious; he'd describe himself as "lean" now. He let one hand rest on his hip while he ran the other through his new mane, then traced along his jawline and felt the hair there as well.
"Heh." Monica had never let him grow a beard; he loved the way it looked, sophiscated and frankly villainous. As for his wife -- she was going to learn to like it.
His cock twitched, coming half erect. "Unh." It felt so powerful as it pulled against its own heaviness. He reached down, stroking it up to full again while he fondled his pendulous balls with his other hand. He was already prepared for another round, fuelled by thoughts of what he would do.
With this new body. With this new power.
Oh yes.
Everything would change soon.