Jake was not exactly enthused when he learned that the method for earning some extra bucks was going to be watching his middle aged neighbor's house while she was out. Supposedly, Mrs. Lachlan was going to be out of town another night, and he was supposed to watch her place and "not get up to any trouble". And honestly, they read Jake exactly for the kind of guy who wouldn't get into any trouble even if he wanted to.
The young man was not exactly swimming in cash himself, nor was he blessed exactly with affluent or "cool" friends. In fact, Jake barely had any friends whatsoever. He largely just hanged out with whoever seemed like they'd be willing to chat with him at lunch. And from there, that shaped the kind of company he kept. The 16 year old was painfully dorky and shy, and this was reflected in his messy brown hair, his likewise brown eyes hidden behind a pair of blocky glasses and an oversized polo t-shirt, jeans and nerdy property shoes that he for some reason thought would still be cool.
He was skinny, tall, and with narrow shoulders and a slight bit of concave chest - making athletic events a bit of a nonstarter for him. Not that he particularly wanted to socialize with the kinds of guys that would spend most of their day pretty much just sneering at him. At least, Jake assumed there was sneering involved. The other guys at school barely seemed to register he was there...
In truth, he had picked them out because he wanted something to hearken back to when things didn't seem quite so awkward. The girls at school were so complicated, and he didn't really get how the social games his more popular peers played even worked - not that he particularly found the idea engaging anyway. Just...jockeying among themselves to be...what? King Boy of School Mountain?
So instead, Jake went ahead and devoted himself to video games, writing, and contenting himself that surely, surely, college would be better. Right? He just had to...had to make it through another two years of this, and then he could really be appreciated by the other students. And maybe he would even get a real growth spurt...
Oh who was he kidding?
He was walking over now to housesit one of the dreariest and oldest houses in the neighborhood. He was spending exactly as much time with friends or with girls as you might expect. He wasn't even at home and he still felt like a loser.
Sure, his mom said that he wasn't exactly bad looking. But that was his mom talking. His features were still thin, wiry, and a little too skinny to be appealing to most.
He twirled the key around in his hand as he got around the block, looking up the street at the old Victorian that he would be spending his night at. Supposedly, the woman would be back the following morning, and he was not to bring over anybody or have any kind of unruly activity at the place. Not that he knew anyone capable of it, nor was he able to exactly party the night away. Jake frowned as he continued walking. He kind of wished he COULD misbehave some way, somehow. Maybe get into her booze or something.
By the time he was walking down her long, expansive porch and looking out over her broad, thick and green lawn, he was marveling at just how much was going on out here - and feeling disappointed by how little was going on in there. Supposedly, she was still getting the inside in order. Trying to remodel or something. As a result, there wasn't exactly much going on there. Her TV was not in working order. Her internet was...well. Functional at bare minimum, apparently.
So she liked to go out while she tried to find a good worker or company to help her get things in order.
By the time Jake slid the key into the lock, he rolled his eyes and complained, "Man. My classmates are probably out having the time of their night on a Friday. And here I am. Housesitting for a bored rich---" The door swung open stronger than he would've thought possible, and left Jake reeling from the rush of wind. As the door swung into the side of the house, he stood there - awkwardly panting and looking where it had so very ALMOST smacked him one as hard as Clint Kartovsky the jock did back in freshman year.
The inside was predictably messy.
Miss Lachlan was a messy woman. She liked going places and doing things, and she tried to remodel with not all that much of an understanding of how that would go before she did it. As Jake closed the door behind him, watching the light fade a bit as he entered, he found himself awkwardly poised at the entrance. The windows were all fastened shut, just in case. The blinds drawn closed. To best conceal that the person inside was just a gawky teenager.
The halls were all in a completely bland tan and light color that pretty much made it clear she had stuck with as much of the starting look to this place as possible. She just wanted to have a nice home base to go to when she wasn't running off to the mountains to enjoy herself. Jake honestly felt a little jealous of the older lady. She got to run off, to enjoy her day, to make her time feel accomplished. And here Jake was. Minding a house that had nothing to do...but leave him with his phone.
Rolling his eyes, Jake pulled out his phone and charger cord to plug in, and began walking through the house to get a better feeling for it.
Weird.
There were a bunch of empty picture frames hanging along the walls. Two of them in the first TV room that he entered past the door, and then another in the hallway next to a bunch of hats and sunglasses racked on the wall. Jake stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked around. He checked in the kitchen past the hallway, and then the fridge and cupboards within. At least, he figured as he looked at the well stocked food and drink cabinets, this was not exactly a poorly stocked kitchen.
He could probably eat better than he had at school by far.
But then he saw another of the weird empty picture frames, hanging on the wall overlooking the kitchen table. And by now Jake was starting to wonder what the deal was with those. Was she just replacing some old pictures of her and like, whatever guy was in her life or something? Jake wiped his forehead and crossed his arms. Seeing as he wasn't exactly hungry yet, he decided to see about checking out the upstairs area. As Jake walked, he started to feel weirdly hot.
His large polo shirt was weirdly heavy on him. Like the fabric was catching more moisture. Even though it was pretty crisp there as of now. The young man promptly bit his lip and ignored it. Stepping on to the stairs and climbing the long spiral staircase headed to the second floor of the Victorian. And as Jake climbed, he felt weirdly like he was gonna see something. Something important coming up. There was another empty picture frame on the wall...
And then, as he crested a line of stairs, he found himself looking at a full picture frame. Containing a full size, full body picture of a guy standing there. Getting professionally photographed and giving a small, confident smirk at the camera. And what made Jake tilt his head and cross his arms over his skinny chest was---was the fact that the guy looked a whole heck of a lot...like Jake himself. Jake bit his lip lightly as he stood there at the midpoint between the first and second floor.
Just...looking at what he could best describe as himself but Better - in just about every single way. He had the same kind of hair, wavy and thick, but rather than messy, he'd had it styled and gelled such that it looked good on him. He had no small acne scars from the various run ins with pimples that so many teenagers including Jake had endured. And his body was lean, muscular, and strong - not that big, but definitely athletic and capable.
And if Jake was feeling hot before, he was now starting to suddenly feel like his body was coming to a boil.
His skin was slick with sweat, droplets of it fell from his forehead down betwixt his eyes, making him blink and see that figure over and over again with every wavering of his eyes. Jake gasped, wondering if he was having like...a heart attack or something. His whole body was tingling. His hands were shaking. His legs were trembling, and his chest was burning...! Jake fell first to one knee, then almost fell fully on to the floor, only catching himself using his hands.
His fingers immediately clasped the rough texture of the thick grey carpet.
Jake's eyes were dilated, and as if compounding issues, his cock was rock hard between his legs. As if he needed more going on. He was having some kind of health incident here, and on top of it all, his body saw fit to stiffen up between his legs. His balls felt fucking weird. Like they were suddenly occupying more space between his legs. He wondered briefly if erections also made your balls bigger, but he was definitely in no shape to just...pull out his phone and get any answers on that front.
"Ahhh...ahhh, fuck..." Jake moaned, and he swore his voice sounded deeper, thicker, darker. Older. He wondered if he was having something go wrong with his lungs or something. Were they involved in whatever health problem he was having too? He could feel his chest thrumming, feel his pecs burning, and he grunted, groaned and let out a loud, teeth-gritted exhalation as he felt something pound against his shirt.
Little did Jake know, his chest had just righted itself. Among other things. His shoulders were suddenly feeling like the polo shirt he was wearing was less spacious. Pressing against his sleeves. Yet even as he wondered if he was trembling and pulsating or something, he didn't notice his shirt itself changing. The fabric weaving and turning from white polo to a blue and yellow soft, finely made button up shirt - one by one the buttons etched into existence on his midsection - which in turn, as each button formed, tightened and grew more athletic, lean, and toned - as opposed to simply skinny.
Jake grunted again, staring at the ceiling, feeling his jaw clench up, and he ground his teeth against each other - even as they grew more perfectly aligned. More picturesque. Model-like. His jawline itself grew more square, with a bit of a cleft at his chin. His hands grew more broad, and his arms thickened a bit with muscle - his biceps pressing against his sleeves much as his triceps did, though he was far from truly impressive...yet.
His legs kicked, and Jake grunted as he swore his sweat and whatever was going on here was making his pants legs feel so tight on his body. Little did he see the athletic, lean and muscled legs that filled out what was increasingly a pair of khakis rather than a youthful pair of jeans. The young man's shoes themselves edited on his bigger feet, becoming a pair of laced dress shoes.
Jake's eyes stared up one more time at the picture as he looked into the man's bright blue eyes - as his own likewise swam in a new blue coloration and changed. One last shift for the evening. Before long, Jake stood back up and breathed, barely noticing at first that his clothes had shifted. Or that he looked closer to 30 than he did to being a teenager. His hair was styled much more like the man in the picture's hair. His breaths were heavy - and it took him speaking to realize something was different.
"Whew...woah, man, something's---" He paused as the words left his throat. "Man. Man. Man." He repeated. His eyes widened like saucers as he heard himself iterate. "Man." His hand reached to his throat, feeling his thick, strong adam's apple. And that was when Jake beat feet. He hurried downstairs - almost tripping over his oh so mature and sensible shoes, and he pushed the doors open to the first bathroom he saw - the downstairs one by the living room next to the kitchen.
The door slammed into the wall, hard, making him wince on instinct.
And Jake stood there in front of the mirror, seeing a man who was definitely not him, moving and breathing in ways that indicated that he definitely WAS Jake. Every movement was matched in turn by the man in the mirror. His mature jawline and perfect teeth made the gaping, blanching expression all the more intense. His hands flew to his shirt next, seeing how he was dressed - and how little it matched up with how he walked in there.
Jake bit his lip lightly, and looked down at the erection still defiantly tenting his pants. "The why boner...the why fucking boner..." He muttered, pacing back and forth. His voice was deeper, more resonant, older and more mature. He sounded less like a teenager trying to sort out who he was than a confident, strong and capable man - who just happened to have a teenager's mind. "What...what happened to me?"
The man paced in the bathroom, trying to figure it out. "Was it...was it the fucking empty picture frames?" He pondered, "Was it just agreeing to fucking do this!?"
As if compounding the issue, his phone rang. And Jake's heart sank.
His mom's number was on there, and he could just...IMAGINE...how it would sound to his mom if some guy like this answered the phone. Just imagine how she would panic, demand to know where her son was, and maybe even say she was going to call the cops. And Jake wasn't even sure he could affect his old voice any more. He had a deeper voice than a lot of the jocks at school! Let alone his old self!
But he just could not bring himself to just put his mom on ignore. He bit the bullet, pushed his finger on the phone to accept the call, and timidly stated, "...Yeah mom?"
He waited for the panicked scream. For the woman to demand to know where her son was. For his mom to do any number of things. What he didn't expect for her to do was to respond immediately and calmly, "I just wanted to call and make sure that you got over there and weren't making a mess at Miss Lachlan's place. Everything okay?"
Jake blinked once, then twice. Reality was officially out to fucking lunch.
"Uhh, yeah mom," he said in his new, masculine, deep voice, casually leaning against the bathroom door as he spoke to her, "I'm fine. Nobody's over. No parties, no nothing. Just me, the house, and whatever I can find on TV or online." He honestly could not believe it. Honestly couldn't believe it. Here he was looking like some guy who probably had a nine to five, and his mom was talking to him like...like he was...
"Good to hear. Now you enjoy your night in the Lachlan Place." The sound of her blowing him a kiss, "I'll miss you. Make sure when you come home tomorrow that you lock the place up."
"I uh. Will do, mom." And with that, the call ended. And Jake was left standing there in the bathroom. Staring at his newly mature face, the spitting image of the woman he was housesitting's husband. At least, probably. He never remembered hearing anything about Mister Lachlan. Weird. He walked back on out of the bathroom - figuring he could look into whatever happened.
He felt his new clothes, and chuckled, "Man, whatever the hell this was...at least it dressed me up nice."
Jake figured he could dress down a bit now, though, seeing that he was going to be alone and nobody else was gonna be visiting. Jake went ahead and removed his shoes - followed by oddly carefully removing his button up shirt and his pants in short order. Leaving the young man standing there, looking at his well muscled, athletic body in a pair of tighty whitey underwear and tube socks. He wasn't one of those big muscle men - certainly nothing like Greg the bodybuilder from his school.
But he was definitely at least in shape now. And he was liking that. There was a bit more chest hair at the middle of his chest, and he didn't have that deformation to his chest any longer. In fact, it looked broad and strong. Jake generally looked capable. A grin spread over his thirty year old face. "Well, if my mom hasn't noticed...maybe nobody will."
He chuckled, looking in the reflective surface of the TV as he examined his body, "Maybe I'll just get to have the body of a thirty year old man." He then gulped as he looked down at the boner still sticking up proudly in his underwear. A bead of precum staining the material. Jake was honestly still surprised by the sheer size of his balls and his cock. Fuck! He'd never had a decently sized cock in his life, and his balls correpondingly didn't inspire much confidence in the amount of testosterone circulating in his bloodstream even if that wasn't wholly how that worked.
Jake thought about what to do from here.
He could either try and be a responsible guy, more like how he looked - and try and figure out what in all went on with him...
Or! He could just do as his body was obviously telling him to do...and fucking jack that thick 7 or 8 inch cock until he spurted cum into a rag or a paper towel or something. Even if he was indulging himself, something told him to at least be a little more clean around here.
Jake cupped his chin, rubbing his fingers against his jawline...