Matthias had never really liked balls.
He had come because he had to, because it would have looked strange not to be there. He wore his poorly fitted grey suit, with that stiff collared shirt that scratched at his neck. He had planned to stay for an hour, maybe two at most. Stay discreet. Avoid the people who got too comfortable with alcohol, the ones who danced without shame.
And then, Loki arrived, declaring he had come to “perfect these young men.”
He didn’t understand right away. At first, he thought it was a joke, a performance, maybe a teacher in disguise. But when his clothes suddenly vanished, leaving him only in his boxers and black socks, panic surged.
He crossed his arms over his chest, glancing around in alarm. The other boys were also in their underwear. Heat rose to his cheeks: shame. His heart pounded faster, his knees trembled slightly. He wanted to step back, but his feet wouldn’t move.
“First, trousers—so as not to shock the ladies more than necessary,” announced Loki, with a theatrical smile.
Matthias didn’t have time to process. A pair of black dress trousers appeared and pulled themselves up over his legs. He felt them climb to his waist, hugging his hips without needing to be buttoned. His eyes widened. A strange sensation ran down his spine and through the bones in his legs. His pelvis seemed to realign, his bones stretching. It was unpleasant, like a constant tingling, but he felt… taller. And it wasn’t just an impression. His head now stood several centimeters above the nearby group of girls. He had never been tall, and this novelty both unsettled and excited him.
“A tuxedo shirt!” exclaimed Loki, waving his hands like a conductor.
It slipped onto him without warning, wrapping around his arms and covering his bare chest. The cool, perfectly pressed white cotton hugged his skin. The pleats settled in the center, and then, without him lifting a finger, the shirt tucked itself into the trousers. That’s when everything began to spiral.
A sudden surge of heat rushed into his muscles. His shoulders widened instantly, as if invisible hands were pulling them apart. Tendons tightened beneath his skin, his back broadened and grew stronger. Then, silently, the transformation began within his arms. His biceps hardened and swelled abruptly, like steel spheres inflating beneath his skin. He could feel them taking shape, warmth coursing through them. His triceps bulged next, taut and clenched like never before. He didn’t need a mirror to know he was becoming stronger. His legs too—heat spreading down into his thighs and calves, hardening and swelling them, making them more toned, denser, firmer. He felt his muscles being shaped as though someone were sculpting his body by hand, perfecting it. He let out a low moan involuntarily, a shiver shooting up his spine. His pecs, once flat and unremarkable, clenched painfully and sprang forward from his chest, stretching the shirt’s front and straining its buttons, nearly warping the fabric. Square and firm, his new pecs added power to his now-imposing frame. Below them, with subtle contractions and tugs, his abs hardened, carving tight grooves into his now-flat belly. Every muscle seemed to awaken, expand, and reinforce itself. As Matthias ran his hands down his shirt, he could feel both the smoothness of the cotton and the firm ridges of his new muscles—his fingers slipping into the valleys of his abs, pressing curiously against his pecs. He felt heavier, denser, more… solid. He hadn’t expected the transformation to feel so good—or so complete. He now had the body of an Olympic athlete, perfectly proportioned and shaped for peak performance.
“Belts are crude on a tuxedo; personally, I prefer a cummerbund,” announced Loki.
A silky black sash wrapped around his waist. It tightened with a sharp snap, applying firm pressure to his hips. He felt his stomach compress, his flanks pull in. His hips narrowed, giving the impression his torso was rising. His body now formed a clean V-shape, like something out of a fashion magazine. He had never imagined he could look like this. He stood tall without effort. He breathed deeply, almost with a newfound ease.
“The cufflinks,” Loki warned with a knowing gesture.
Two small objects clipped themselves onto his wrists. He looked down. Immediately, a vibration ran down his forearms. His hands… had transformed. His fingers, once short and clumsy, were now long and elegant. His palms, broader and firmer, radiated a strange confidence. He clenched a fist. The strength he felt was new, and his movements were now precise, refined. Matthias examined his hands, amazed by this newfound dexterity, the fine structure of his fingers. They looked more agile, more elegant—but still powerful. He could crush someone’s hand in a handshake and then sit down to play Chopin, and neither act would seem out of place.
“A black bow tie,” said Loki, mimicking a fluttering butterfly.
The fabric settled around his collar and tied itself. A gentle but firm pressure against his neck made him feel… dignified. Matthias felt a vibration in his throat. Something was changing in his voice. His Adam’s apple was maturing slowly, adding to the sensation of tightness from the bow tie. He whispered something—a simple “what?”—and he heard it. It was deep. Rich. There was velvet in that tone, something that resonated from his chest. He coughed in surprise. Even that sounded good. His voice, now more commanding, huskier, and captivating, seemed to demand attention effortlessly. He found himself speaking louder—or softer—depending on what effect he wanted.
Loki straightened and clicked his heels: “Patent leather Oxfords!”
The shoes slipped onto his feet. They adjusted to his now-changed feet, which felt more grounded. He took a step. His foot landed naturally, with a grace he had never known. He knew, instinctively, that he could dance. Not just walk or move—dance. His heels slid gently on the floor, his steps now confident, fluid, firm. He felt… nimble, and suddenly more sure of himself. Matthias could now respond to music with his whole body, perfectly in sync.
“The jacket,” Loki said in a sensual tone.
It draped over Matthias’s shoulders, falling over his chest and hips. The fabric stretched, fitting perfectly. His shoulders broadened even more, making the seams taut. His muscles gained in density—as if someone was stuffing more power into them without increasing their size, producing a subtle creaking like rubbing leather. The jacket tightened across his chest without wrinkling; it cinched at the back, emphasizing his new mesomorphic shape. The flaps fell neatly over his now-prominent rear, enhancing the impression of strength in his glutes. Matthias wasn’t huge—he didn’t look like a bodybuilder. He was powerful, proportionate, elegant. He looked at himself: undeniably more handsome. His body now seemed like a work of art sculpted for harmony. He turned slightly, feeling his silhouette settle into place. The form had stabilized: a man who once was ordinary, now an idealized version of himself.
“And finally, the finishing touch: a white silk pocket square,” said Loki, adjusting his own on his grey suit.
It slipped into his breast pocket. To highlight that small flourish of white, Matthias instinctively puffed out his chest. His spine aligned naturally. He stood straight, proud, without effort. He looked around. The other boys had changed too—but he no longer looked at them from a distance. He felt like he belonged. He felt… good.
“And one last bonus…” Loki added, looking satisfied.
A fine mist floated toward Matthias. The cologne settled on his temples and neck. Fresh. Woody. A warm sensation bloomed across his face, and he felt it twisting. When it finally faded, he saw in the eyes of others that something had changed. A girl next to him—someone he didn’t even know—pulled out a compact mirror from her purse and handed it to him. He touched his cheek. His skin was smoother, his features sharper. His cheekbones more pronounced, jaw more square and defined, his complexion even. His eyes now had a different light—sharper, clearer. His face had become the image of perfection without excess, a beauty almost unimaginable for him just minutes ago. And in his mind, the thought formed: “I’m handsome.”
Then, in the silence, Loki clasped his hands behind his back and calmly declared: “Gentlemen, you are now ready for your ball.”