Paul cautiously stepped closer, eyes wide as he scrutinized the lustrous, unmoving figure that was Jeff. He waved a hand in front of Jeff’s blank, golden gaze. Nothing. He gently tapped Jeff’s shoulder, half-expecting it to be warm, but it was utterly cool, smooth, and unyielding under his fingertips.
Mike rubbed his neck, half delighted, half worried. “He’s really frozen solid…” he murmured. “And, uh, I can’t help noticing he’s, well… excited.” The bulge in Jeff’s golden jeans was hard to miss, his arousal captured permanently in the precious metal.
Paul looked over, then hastily averted his gaze, cheeks coloring. “Guess the Chronivac doesn’t spare any details,” he said, forcing a chuckle, though it was clear he was unsettled. Then, a shade of doubt flickered over his face. “Are you sure we can turn him back?”
Mike nodded, though his voice wavered a little. “I’m sure. It’s… it’s reversible, right?” He set the Chronivac on the desk, navigating back to the last settings, hands a touch unsteady. “Hang in there, Jeff,” Mike muttered.
He pressed Revert, selecting a slow reversal just in case.
A low hum filled the room as a delicate shimmer swept up Jeff’s body, golden sheen receding like the tide. As his feet regained color and warmth, flesh reasserted itself over metal. The change inched upward—legs, waist, chest—restoring muscle, skin, and clothes… but that intense, tingling awareness lingered, arousal thrumming through every nerve.
Finally, the shimmer licked over Jeff’s face and eyes. He gasped, color returning to his cheeks, breathing ragged, a dizzy heat pulsing between his legs. Embarrassment and pleasure warred on his face. He pressed his thighs together, heart pounding.
Stammering, “S-sorry, need… a minute—” he bolted from the room, hands covering the front of his pants. He ducked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, face burning as the aftershocks of sensation and shame tangled inside him.
Back in the bedroom, Paul and Mike stared after him, a mix of awe, curiosity, and embarrassment hanging heavy in the air as they realized just how intense these transformations could be.
Paul swallowed, excitement and apprehension mingling in his expression. “All right, Mike. I want to try it. But let’s… let’s do something wild. Not just a change of age or gender. Something really kinky.” He glanced down at his own body, then back up with a sheepish, delighted grin. “How about… you turn me into a massage chair? I always thought it’d be fun to have someone sitting in my lap—maybe a little more than a lap, too, if you know what I mean…”
Mike choked out a short laugh, meeting Paul’s gaze. “You really want that? You want me to… turn you into a chair? With—” he arched an eyebrow, “—attachments?”
Paul’s cheeks warmed. “Yeah. Like… a big black leather one. And if it had a hidden, uh, dildo, that would be incredible.” The thought seemed to make Paul tingle as he shifted in place.
Mike couldn’t hide a mischievous smile. “You want it, you got it.” He pulled up the Chronivac software and ran through the choices: Inanimate: Chair, Material: Black leather, Special: Retractable pleasure attachment. He set the internal state to “aware”, leaving the default options otherwise. They both took a breath.
Paul stripped off his shirt and pants, standing in only his underwear, both men feeling the thrill of the moment. Mike walked behind Paul, resting his hands on Paul’s shoulders, and pressed Save.
The transformation began at once. Paul shivered as his skin shifted from warm human flesh to cold, supple black leather, the sensation making him arch his back and gasp involuntarily. The tingling started under Mike’s hands, spreading across Paul’s chest and down his arms, which thickened and expanded into the beginnings of padded armrests, the leather shining under the room’s lights.
Paul moaned, his hips widening as his bum ballooned out and merged with his thighs, pressing together and broadening into a single, cushioned seat. It was like sitting on an invisible mound that grew beneath him, lower body spreading and fusing into a soft, luxurious platform perfect for someone to lounge on. The pleasure from the transformation sent delicious shudders through him, aching and sweet.
Mike, watching in awe, ran his hand down Paul’s changing side, fingers gliding over textures as they rippled and smoothed into fine leather. His legs were gone now—just thick padding, contoured for comfort. Paul felt his insides buzzing, every inch of him still alive with sensation, but his body was becoming solid, unable to move even as he longed to.
Suddenly, beneath him—where his groin had been—a panel rippled open, and a thick, glossy, retractable dildo slid out with a silent, mechanical grace, taking the place of what had been his member, perfectly placed for whoever would sit in his lap. The intimacy and total exposure sent a spike of helpless arousal humming inside him, even as his new seat began to cool and numb, making him shudder at the paradox of sensation and objectification.
His chest expanded outward, thickening into a broad, supportive backrest. Shoulder blades extruded, becoming sculpted head supports, his arms flattening and curving into wide, cradling armrests. Black seams traced lines along his leather body, giving him the look of a deluxe, high-end recliner. He could no longer turn his head, nor twitch an arm or a finger—his body belonged to the chair now, but inside, he fluttered with nervous excitement.
Finally, it came for his head. Paul’s face pulled tight, features glazing over with glossy, padded leather. His eyes were the last to go, senses narrowing to pinpricks as the world dimmed to a sliver. His mouth tightened, lips soon lost beneath the smooth, rounded surface. His ears faded into the headrest. In place of his face, a small LCD control panel and button console blinked to life, dark for a moment, awaiting power.
And then he was still, silent—a magnificent, inanimate chair in the middle of the bedroom.
Mike stared for a moment, then noticed the control panel gave no sign of Paul’s presence. He scanned the new chair—Paul’s new body—until he found a thick cord tucked behind the base. Heart pounding, he pulled it out and plugged it into the nearest wall outlet.
With a soft ding, LEDs on the control panel lit up, and scrolling text crept across the tiny screen:
INITIALIZING…
PAUL ONLINE. READY FOR USER.
New buttons came alive—vibrate, recline, massage, ACTIVATE PLEASURE, and a text input field as Paul’s sole way to communicate.
Words appeared onscreen:
MIKE? IS THAT YOU? I CAN FEEL EVERYTHING. WOW.
TRY SITTING IN MY LAP…
Mike let out a shaky, fascinated laugh, drawn by curiosity and now, a stirring excitement of his own.
Mike couldn’t resist the invitation flashing on Paul’s control panel. He eased himself onto the chair’s sleek, black leather seat, immediately struck by how perfectly contoured it was—firm in all the right places, yet yielding just enough for comfort. He felt an odd, almost electric tingle ripple beneath him, as if the cushion beneath his thighs pulsed with some secret excitement.
He glanced at the control panel—Paul’s new “face.” A string of text scrolled:
“OH GOD, I FEEL THAT. YOU’RE SO HEAVY IN MY LAP. THIS IS UNBELIEVABLY HOT.”
Mike grinned wickedly, shifting his weight back and forth, enjoying the subtle vibration that passed up through the seat as Paul received every sensation in vivid, focused detail. But then, to tease his friend, Mike selected not the ACTIVATE PLEASURE mode, but instead a more vanilla setting: Full-Body Relaxing Massage.
Almost instantly, gentle, rolling pressures began to knead his lower back and thighs. The chair’s internal mechanisms whirred to life, and Mike let out a groan of pure comfort as subtle rollers dug into sore muscles, working out the tension from his shift at work and days spent on his feet.
For Paul, inside the chair, the sensations were twofold—his awareness hyper-focused on every place Mike’s body pressed into him, still flushed with the arousal from his transformation, yet his programmed purpose forced his focus into providing a soothing, platonic massage.
“THIS IS TORTURE, MIKE… YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT.”
flashed across the panel, the words slightly more desperate now.
Mike couldn’t help but chuckle, deliberately avoiding the more risqué options. He let his hands rest on the armrests—which flexed ever so slightly under his touch. He could sense Paul’s presence, the anticipation bubbling up beneath the surface. He slouched deeper into the seat, and the massage intensified, subtly shifting to support every inch of him, each calculated movement achingly precise.
“Damn, Paul, you really are a natural at this,” Mike murmured, eyes lidded. “Feels like you’re molding me into your lap…”
He trailed off, a mischievous thought blossoming. If the Chronivac could mold Paul into a chair, Mike wondered, could it make him more… adaptable? What if he could use the machine to alter the chair in real time, reshaping Paul under him like warm, inviting putty?
His lips curled with possibilities as he eyed the Chronivac, his imagination running wild.