This would be tough. Ty wasn't sure he could handle transforming twenty people at once. Concentrating, he summoned his willpower, and began the change.
*~*~*
Dylan was scared stiff. He was calm, but scared stiff nonetheless. Not that he had no reason; in fact, he had excellent reasons to be as frightened as a mouse cornered by a tiger. First, the pool had somehow grown from normal pool-size to gigantic triple-olympic size in the middle of his swim. Then, when he had naturally panicked and tried to swim for the edge, he hadn't been able to get there. He had simply slowed down to a complete stop about a foot from the pool's edge. Finally, he was CALM. How on earth could he be CALM about being stuck in a gigantic pool with no hope of escape in the forseeable future! He wanted to scream himself hoarse and thrash around in complete panic, but somehow couldn't bring himself to. It was almost as if his mind recognised all of this as useless theatrics, and so discarded it in favor of a quiet optimism. That singlar lack of panic freaked him out more than actually being trapped.
Dylan was sixteen, and a rather scrawny sixteen at that. He had joined the swim team this year in vain hopes of bulking up slightly, but he hadn't seen much improvement at all. He privately thought he looked absolutely ridiculous in the rather sparse speedo he was required to wear; he simply didn't have the mass. He was almost as lanky as the proverbial beanpole, with strength to match. His rather nondescript brown hair and grey eyes did nothing to help, and neither did the fact that he was one of those unfortunate individuals that the polite tend to term 'late bloomers'. As far as he could tell, his voice had never deepened from it's childish pitch, and his, ah, 'development' in the genital region was proceeding at a pace a snail would laugh at. All in all, he was one of those many blah mediocrities that the world produces in such great abundance, and what was worse, he knew it.
Dylan felt a twinge, a sort of stretching sensation, quickly spreading from his head downwards throughout his entire body. For a second he thought he would finally be able to panic, but his hopes of showing off his mediocre acting abilities were quickly dashed. Something was happening to his body! His skin, which had always been rather white despite all the sun exposure he got during swim practice, was slowly turning a deep, burnished tan, and his muscles were bulking up underneath. His shoulders broadened as his biceps and triceps enlarged, his stomach flattened into a sharply defined six-pack as his pectorals swelled, and his legs thickened with rock hard muscle. A small treasure trail creeped up his chest almost to his pecs, disappearing into the waistban of his speedo, which didn't look so ridiculous anymore. In fact, it was filling up by the second, stretching slightly to contain his improved 'maleness'.
This was awesome! Amazing! Unbelieveable! As Dylan felt the bones of his face shifting slightly, he looked up, and found that around the pool, his teammates were looking down on themselves in astonishment and incredulous joy. The insistent tugging at his legs couldn't pull his gaze from his massive friends. Some he could no longer recognize, they had changed so much. Other people, wearing differing suits, were doing much the same beside them. The few women who had been sunbathing on the pool's edge were becoming rather... statuesque. Their 'attributes' were swelling up like balloons, and their waists thinned as their hips flared. It was almost possible to see the youth and vitality filling the people around him.
On that thought, Dylan spun around, his eyes seeking his coach, a rather nice man, for all his scowling and yelling. What he saw was nearly beyond belief. His coach's body was slimming, hardening. The accumulated fat of years of neglect was melting away like so much candle wax. His hairline advanced as it became it's original (or so Dylan assumed) color, a dirty blonde. His new head of hair was short; it looked like a crew cut. Hell, coach even looked like he was thirty or so, instead of fifty; he was regressing fast. The rest of the coach's body was undergoing far more drastic changes than his hair. His hard, muscled body was swelling, nearly overflowing with pure power. "He can't be any more than eighteen or nineteen," Dylan thought, "and he looks really hot!"
Dylan shook his head. Where had THAT come from? He was fantasizing about someone over three times his age! Well, not anymore, really... surely it was okay... just this once... Oh, no. Dylan realized he was rationalizing. That was no good. He attempted to push all such thoughts from his mind, and almost suceeded. It was the parting shot that clinched his excuse's argument:
These were special circumstances. After all, it wasn't every day one saw one's coach changed into a muscled, massively hung hunk right in front of one's eyes. This might very well be a once-in-a-lifetime chance.
That was it. He was going for it. He dolphin-kicked over to the coach. That was funny; he had always had trouble with the dolphin kick before, but was now doing it almost reflexively. Oh, well. Chalk it up to his improved body.
Speaking of which... Dylan looked down at his legs. He didn't really want to swim up to coach with a massive hard-on poking out of his speedos.
As it turned out, he wouldn't have to worry about speedos. He was no longer wearing them. He had a tail instead.
Dylan came perilously close to fainting. Thankfully, he didn't, because everyone else was too busy making similar discoveries to wake him up if he did. Looking down upon the nave blue tail, he felt an astonishment so complete it left very little room for thought. Was that... thing... HIS?! No way... it couldn't be... because that would mean... he was a merman?! No, he realized; not a merman... A Triton!
How on earth was he going to explain this to his parents?