----Transformation Tracker ----
Amelia Harper -
Stacey Whitmore -
Ryan Carter - Enlarged Manhood (12inch),
Clarissa Bennett -
(Stacey's POV)
I grabbed the dice, the cool plastic clicking against my palm, and gave them a confident shake. "Alright, my turn!" I announced, flashing a grin at the group. With a flick of my wrist, I sent the dice tumbling across the board. They clattered to a stop, revealing a total of 6.
The crystal ball's glow intensified, casting an ethereal light over the room. My figurine sprang to life, moving six spaces forward and landing on a white square labeled Action Command. I leaned in, curiosity bubbling up inside me.
Suddenly, the room filled with a soft, melodic hum. The crystal ball emitted a beam of light that projected a riddle:
"In the realm of choice, your will is bound,
To every dare, you are now crowned.
From this moment forth, you cannot flee,
Challenges posed must accepted be."
I furrowed my brow, reading the riddle aloud. "What do you think it means?" I asked, glancing around at my friends.
(Ryan's POV)
I watched as Stacey's eyes scanned the riddle, her lips moving silently as she read. The room felt charged, the air thick with anticipation. I exchanged a look with Clarissa, who shrugged, equally perplexed.
"It sounds like... you have to accept any dare we give you?" Amelia suggested tentatively, her fingers nervously twisting a strand of hair.
Stacey's eyes widened, a mix of excitement and apprehension flashing across her face. "Wait, so you're saying I can't refuse a dare? Like, at all?"
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Looks like it. Guess we'll have to get creative," I teased
(Stacey's POV)
A thrill shot through me at the prospect. I was always up for a challenge, and the idea of being unable to refuse any dare felt like stepping into an impromptu roleplay—something to keep the energy alive, to keep the night from settling into boredom. It wasn’t real, not really, just another way to push boundaries and see how far we’d go for a laugh. The excitement mingled with a hint of danger, making my pulse race in the best way. I squared my shoulders, letting the anticipation simmer in my chest as I met their gazes with a spark of determination.
"Bring it on," I declared, my voice laced with playful bravado, a mischievous smile tugging at my lips. "I can handle whatever you throw at me."
The game had just taken an intriguing turn, and I was all in—ready to lean into the fun, to make this night one we wouldn’t forget.
(Amelia's POV)
Stacey's eyes widened as Clarissa leaned in with that signature mischievous smirk, the one that meant she was about to say something none of us were going to forget anytime soon. “Alright, I dare you to walk down to the lobby vending machine... in just your underwear and that hoodie.”
Laughter erupted instantly, filling the cramped hotel room with the kind of infectious, teasing energy that only came when we pushed each other too far. I felt my face heat up, biting my lip as the mental image hit me. Stacey just threw her head back and laughed along with us, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder in messy waves.
“Oh, heck no!” she shot back, shaking her head, a hand clutching the hem of her hoodie like she was suddenly self-conscious. She hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes darting to Ryan, who had suddenly found great interest in the floor.
(Ryan's POV)
I kept my gaze fixed on the swirling pattern of the carpet, tracing the loops and curves like they held some kind of hidden wisdom. My brain had already gone places it shouldn’t have the second this game started getting weird. Dares. The possibilities had been simmering under the surface long before anyone rolled the dice, but I knew better than to say a word.
I wasn’t stupid. Being the only guy here meant every thought in my head had to stay locked down. It didn’t matter how close we all were—there were lines, boundaries, things you just didn’t say out loud. But that didn’t stop my mind from drifting.
What if someone dared her to do it without the hoodie? What if Amelia had to strip to just her underwear and stay that way for the rest of the game? What if Clarissa had to sit on my lap for an entire round?
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to focus, shutting it all down before it could go any further. I wasn’t going to be that guy.
I could feel Stacey’s eyes on me, gauging my reaction, but I wasn’t giving her anything. Just a casual shrug, fingers tapping idly against my knee like I hadn’t already imagined half the scenarios she was thinking of.
“Not happening with him here,” Stacey said, her voice teasing, but there was an edge to it—something real beneath the usual bravado. She hugged her knees to her chest, her fingers idly tugging at the hem of her hoodie like it could shield her from the attention.
I smirked but stayed quiet, relieved she’d put it out there. We were all thinking it.
(Amelia's POV)
Clarissa shrugged, leaning back into the pillows with a knowing grin. "Yeah, that’s what I thought."
Stacey’s lips twisted, that playful spark still flickering behind her eyes, but it wasn’t as bright now. She glanced at the door, then back at us, her mouth opening like she was about to say something else. Instead, she huffed out a breath and shook her head. "Look, I was just playing along, okay? I mean... come on, I’m not actually doing it."
She gave a half-laugh, but it sounded weaker now, like she was trying to convince herself as much as us.
Clarissa smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Uh-huh. Big talk, Stace. You were all ‘bring it on’ a second ago, and now suddenly you’re backing out?”
Amelia, sitting cross-legged on the bed, peeked up from under the sleeves of her oversized hoodie, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, I mean... if you’re really not scared, why not just do it?” Her voice was soft, but the teasing was unmistakable.
Stacey rolled her eyes, tugging her hoodie down further like it might somehow shield her from the attention. “Okay, relax, I was just hyping things up.” She gave a nervous chuckle, shifting her weight on the carpet. “I didn’t think you guys would actually expect me to—”
Clarissa leaned in, her grin widening. “Oh, we absolutely expect you to. You talked a big game, Stace. And now...” She gestured toward the door with a flourish. “Here’s your chance to prove it.”
Amelia giggled behind her hand. “We won’t even watch,” she added, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.
Stacey groaned, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. “You guys are the worst.”
Even Ryan cracked a smirk, though he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to—we all knew he was doing his best to keep things neutral, probably regretting ever agreeing to this trip right about now.
Stacey’s grin lingered, but there was a hesitation in her body now, a nervous energy that curled in her shoulders. She glanced at me, her voice softer, more uncertain.
Her tone wavered slightly, and for the first time since she’d rolled the dice, I saw something flicker in her eyes—something unsure, something that said she wasn’t completely in control anymore.
(Stacey's POV)
A slow pulse of warmth rolled down my spine, starting as a soft hum at the base of my neck before curling deeper, tightening in my stomach like an unseen force coiling around me. My legs twitched, a shiver rolling through my thighs, my feet tingling against the rough hotel carpet. I shifted in place, trying to shake the sensation away, but it clung stubbornly to me, an invisible weight settling over my skin.
“Guys,” I said again, laughing weakly, my voice wavering despite the forced casualness.
But my body wasn’t listening. My hands moved on their own, slipping under the hem of my sweatpants, hesitating for a brief, agonizing second before pushing them down over my hips. The cool air hit my skin as the fabric slid effortlessly down my legs, pooling at my ankles in a soft heap. The rustling sound echoed louder in the quiet room than I expected, and I felt every inch of exposed skin with heightened awareness.
The room fell into silence.
I stood frozen in place, my oversized hoodie hanging just low enough to graze the tops of my thighs, the fabric shifting slightly. Beneath, my white cotton panties clung snugly against my hips, the elastic band pressing firmly into my waist. The material stretched taut, hugging the gentle curve of my crotch with an unforgiving snugness that didn’t bother me till now that others could see, each subtle movement a stark reminder of just how little was left between my pussy and the open air.
I could feel Clarissa’s eyes widen, disbelief radiating from her. “Wait... you’re actually—?”
“I guess she’s doing it,” Amelia murmured, though her voice carried more doubt than confidence.
Heat rushed to my face, the blush creeping down my neck and pooling in my chest. My pulse pounded wildly, a thumping beat that drowned out my frantic thoughts. I wanted to cover myself, to reach for the discarded sweatpants at my feet, but my feet had other plans. They betrayed me, inching me toward the door in slow, measured steps, each one more agonizing than the last.
The air felt thick, my skin hypersensitive to the way the soft cotton hugged my form—every step a whisper of fabric against me, every movement a reminder of how little stood between me and total exposure. My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms as if bracing against the invisible force pushing me forward.
“No. No, no, no,” I whispered under my breath, but the words tasted hollow, powerless against whatever was pulling me.
My body was no longer mine to control, and the door loomed closer with every step.
(Ryan's POV)
I felt a hitch in my chest the second she pushed those sweatpants down.
I shouldn’t have looked. I shouldn’t be looking.
But there she was, standing in just that hoodie, the hem hanging teasingly high—too high—stopping right above her hips, leaving her legs completely bare beneath. The white cotton underwear hugged her hips perfectly, sitting snug against her skin in a way that left little to the imagination. The waistband pressed gently into her waist, forming a smooth curve that only made it clearer how well they fit. The fabric stretched taut without a single wrinkle, clinging naturally, moving subtly with every breath she took.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.
My gaze trailed lower, tracing the high-cut curve of the leg openings, the way they framed her hips and accentuated the length of her legs. There was something about the simplicity of it—the clean, minimal design—that made it impossible not to notice. The way the fabric sat so precisely, without any slack or bunching, suggested a perfect fit, designed to conform to her body effortlessly.
She shifted nervously, her fingers twitching at her sides like she wanted to tug the hoodie down but couldn’t. I could see it in the way her thighs pressed together, in the way her shoulders tensed ever so slightly—she was second-guessing this just as much as I was.
I dragged a hand over my face, trying to force my eyes away, trying to remind myself that this was Stacey, my friend. But my pulse thumped loudly in my ears, and despite every effort to focus on anything else—the patterned carpet, the flickering hotel light—my mind kept circling back to what was right in front of me.
I let out a slow breath and forced a smirk. I had to play it cool.
She was laughing—sort of. A weak, nervous giggle that didn’t reach her eyes. Her forced grin faltered for just a second, and I saw it—the twitch in her fingers, the flicker of unease beneath her usual bravado.
Something was wrong.
“Guys, I’m not doing this,” Stacey said, but her voice wavered now, softer, thinner.
And yet, her feet kept moving.
Clarissa sat frozen, wide-eyed, her usual smirk nowhere to be found. Amelia, though—Amelia watched with something different in her eyes. Like she knew. Like she could see what I was trying not to think about.
Stacey reached the door.
Her fingers hovered over the handle, trembling slightly, before curling around the knob and pulling it open.
(Stacey's POV)
My hand reached the doorknob before I even realized it, the cool metal biting against my palm. My fingers wrapped around it firmly, twisting slowly. I wasn’t in control.
My breath came in short, shallow bursts, I kept trying to squeeze my thighs together as if that could somehow hid my sensitive area from view. The oversized hoodie swayed slightly with every involuntary step, brushing against my skin, and I felt too exposed, too bare beneath it.
“Guys,” my voice cracked, pleading, “I’m not doing this.”
But my body had other plans. The door creaked open, a gust of stale hotel air rushing past me—except... there was no hallway.
Only darkness.
An infinite, swallowing void stretched beyond the threshold, blacker than anything I’d ever seen. No flickering exit signs, no distant chatter of late-night guests—just an empty abyss.
My breath hitched in my throat, a trembling exhale escaping my lips. I tried to step back, to slam the door shut, but my legs stayed locked, feet frozen at the edge of that oppressive nothingness.
(Amelia's POV)
From the bed, I watched Stacey’s body tense, the muscles in her legs rigid under the soft glow of the hotel room. Her hands trembled on the doorknob, knuckles white.
Clarissa stood up suddenly, her usually cool expression melting into genuine concern. “Stace?”
“I can’t—” Stacey’s voice was thin, shaking. “Guys, there’s... there’s no hallway.”
Ryan was on his feet now, standing awkwardly near the bed, eyes locked onto the dark space beyond the door. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I mean—nothing! Just... darkness.” Her bare feet inched closer, her body fighting her every effort to resist.
The air in the room turned cold. I shivered, my fingers curling tighter into the sleeves of my hoodie, fear settling like a stone in my stomach.
(Ryan's POV)
Clarissa moved fast—too fast for Stacey to react, probably from her volleyball skills, her body always ready to move, defend and attach on the court. Her hand shot out, gripping Stacey’s arm and yanking her backward with enough force to send her stumbling. The moment her feet left the dark threshold, the pull of whatever invisible force had been dragging her forward seemed to release all at once, and she went down hard.
I watched, frozen, as Stacey hit the floor with a soft, startled gasp, her legs sprawling wide in the fall. The hoodie—already too short—rode up instantly, bunching around her waist and leaving her completely exposed from the hips down. The soft white cotton of her underwear stretched snug over her hips, hugging the curve of her thighs in a way that made it impossible not to notice. My eyes traced the way the fabric pressed flush against her skin, the elastic biting into her waist just enough to leave a faint indentation. The thin material moved with her every breath, clinging in all the wrong—or right—places as she scrambled to push herself up onto her elbows.
I swallowed hard, the sudden tightness in my chest making it harder to breathe.
Then—thud.
The door slammed shut with a force that rattled the walls, making Amelia jump on the bed and Clarissa whip her head around in alarm. But I barely registered it. My focus was still locked on Stacey, sprawled on the hotel carpet, her wide eyes filled with something between shock and embarrassment.
She shifted slightly, one leg bent awkwardly beneath her, the other still stretched out, the angle doing nothing to hide the way the fabric clung to her, leaving far too little to the imagination.
Clarissa’s voice cut through the thick silence. “Jesus, Stace, are you okay?”
Stacey blinked, her face flushed as she tugged at the hem of her hoodie in a feeble attempt to cover herself. “I—yeah, I think so,” she muttered, her voice breathless.
I forced a laugh—something, anything to break the tension curling in my stomach. “Not exactly a graceful landing.”
She shot me a glare, but there was something softer behind it, something hesitant. I dropped my gaze, dragging a hand over my face, trying to erase the image burned into my brain. But it lingered—the way the fabric hugged her, the way her thighs pressed together, the way she’d landed with absolutely no control.
I shifted uncomfortably, clearing my throat. “So... what the hell was that?”
No one had an answer. Stacey was still on the floor, Clarissa hovering over her protectively, and Amelia was staring at the door like it might open again and swallow us whole. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how close Stacey had been to stepping into that blackness.
(Stacey's POV)
My breath came in ragged gasps, my chest heaving under the weight of the hoodie. I staggered backward, collapsing onto the bed, my hands shaking as I gripped the fabric over my thighs.
Clarissa paced the room, running a hand through her hair. “Okay, that’s... not normal.”
I could barely hear her. My mind was racing. That hadn’t been a trick of the light, or my imagination, or some weird hotel architecture. That had been real.
The game wasn’t just making us play. It was making us obey.
“I told you guys,” I whispered, staring down at my bare legs, my fingers tracing the hem of my hoodie absently. “I wasn’t doing that on my own.”
Amelia swallowed hard. “Stace... are you okay?”
I looked up at her, and the genuine concern in her eyes almost undid me. I let out a shaky laugh, brushing my hair behind my ear. “Nope. Not even a little.”
Ryan exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face. “I think we need to stop playing.”