“What the fuck is this shit?” Rod asked, looking at the odd little collection of items which lay next to him on the table. “Body spray? Cologne?”
“The jocks left it.” suggested Rock, wiping his sweaty body down with his wifebeater, then sniffing it experimentally. His nose wrinkled. “This stinks.”
“Stand up.” said Rod, taking the cap off the can off Axe musk and giving it an experimental spray in the air. “This stuff’s ok.”
Rock stood, raising his arms in the air. Rod, shook the can and began to spray it under Rock’s arms, round his chest and back, then round his lower half. The room was soon full of a light grey mist.
Rock let out a mighty sneeze and began rubbing his eyes. “Enough! That shit’s going up my nose!”
Rod laughed and his friend’s irritation and gave himself an all-round spray from the can.
They both began to pull their shirts and jeans back on, threw the bottles and canisters into Rod’s backpack and left the room, striding out into the corridor. A janitor was mopping the floor at the far end and saw them leave. As they rounded the corner, he discarded the mop and went to investigate what the two young men had been up to in the small room.
Rod scratched is stomach. “What d’you want to do? Class?”
They both laughed.
“Yeah. Let’s be good boys.” agreed Rock. “Or we could just hit the streets.”
“Sounds good.” said Rod, continuing to march down the corridor. Then he realised he was walking along. He turned back and saw Rock a few feet back, head against the wall.
“You ok?” he asked..
“I feel … weird.” Rock groaned.
Rod began to walk back, but suddenly doubled up as he felt a large cramp in his stomach. “Shit. What is this?”
Rock shifted his back to the wall and slowly slid down it, scratching his pecs. “Dunno, but I’m gonna throw up.”
He breathed heavily as he sat down. As he continued scratching he became aware of a changing sensation under his fingers; the usually smooth rub of his chest against the cotton of his wifebeater was becoming more coarse. He slid his hand under the fabric and rubbed a new layer of hair which was quickly growing. He glanced over to Rod and saw that he, too, was slumped to the floor, scaratching at himself. Rod’s normally smooth, tanned arms were rapidly sprouting a layer of blond hair.
“What the fuck was in that spray?” Rock thought to himself, but his musings were interrupted with a slow tearing sound. He felt the cool clammy paint of the wall on his back and realised that his wifebeater was slowly tearing, his already broad shoulders expanding and thickening with muscle. His jeans felt tight and began to split at the seam as his legs burst through, exposing rapidly expanding, hairy limbs.
The wave of nausea seemed to pass, and he stood, breathing heavily, sucking great volumes of air into his expanding lungs. With every breath he felt his body expand and his clothing grow more constraining. Idly, he tore the remains of his jeans and shirt off and strode over to Rod, whose own changes were accelerating.
Rod saw the enhanced Rock cast aside his rags, exposing a moist, hirsute body, his piercings glinting in the light. He felt his own clothes shred, unable to cope with his increased mass. As Rock approached, he regained his feet, marvelling at the ease of his movement and the freshly bulging flesh at the periphery of his vision.
“Remember what I said?” he asked Rock. “This time round, your ass is mine.”
Rock smiled. “Back to the room?”
“Back to the room.”
As they returned up the corridor neither saw the chubby goth kid peering down at them. And they certainly didn’t see him ease stealthily the discarded rucksack.