"... high school football player"
....
Mitch was sitting at his desk typing away a memo to some of his
coworkers. The first one in the office, others were beginning to
trickle in.
He glanced at his computer's clock. "Damn. Only 8am. I'm already
hungry," he thought to himself. As he kept typing the memo, he became
more and more distracted by the clock. He spent five minutes on two
sentances - yet it seemed more like an hour. "Fuck I'm getting
hungry!"
Just then, Mitch noticed that it was becoming difficult to type. He
kept hitting keys to the sides and above the ones he aimed for. "What
the hell?" He became frustrated as he had to constantly backtrack. He
looked down at the keyboard, where he was surprised to find nothing
different... except for his hands. His hands appeared swollen, fattier
even. He held them up to look at them. His fingers were stubbier,
shorter; there were fatty deposits around his nails that made them
look almost sunken-in. Then they began to grow. The diameter of his
palms increased significantly, slowly, almost as though they were
being inflated. They retained their fatty-ish texture somewhat, but
now a very prominent, strong musculature and bone-structure were very
visible. The nails themselves were now very different. Mitch had
always manicured his fingernails delicately, but these were jaggedly
cut, and very short such that a deposit of skin and fat sat beyond the
nail's end.
Mitch felt like he was going to vomit.
In the time it took Mitch to run to the floor bathroom and discover it
empty, the growth had spread up his forearms and into his biceps and
upper back. Mitch tore off his clothing and locked the door. He
watched in the mirror as his arms inflated, seemingly tripling in size
from his former skinny arms. His back simultaneously gained girth, and
his new broad shoulders began to preface two, thick meaty pecs. The
inflation and expansion of his chest was the most disturbing sensation
to Mitch this far; it sent a chill up his spine and a surge of
adrenaline throughout his body. Suddenly his penis was at the ready.
The growth left two very square, full pectorals on Mitch's upper
chest, with two perfect - if larger - nipples facing forward, and was
now making its way down his torso. His abs pulsed with each heartbeat
as they became visible, his small love handles disappearing, giving
his torso a v-shape. Mitch's mind had already adapted to some of the
changes - he had a teenager's disappointment when the growth did
little to his dick, leaving it at a relatively paltry length, and only
giving it a minimal amount of new circumference. The growth Mitch felt
was surely destined for his beloved rod went straight to his legs.
They exploded with new size and sinewy definition, with calves
powerful enough to be described by the old part of Mitch's mind (still
the majority) as Herculean.
His feet were the last in this preliminary change. They expanded in
girth so quickly and heavily that his dress shoes gave away to them.
His feet were hairier now and very powerful in appearance. At least
size 13's Mitch concluded.
Mitch's face had transformed without his attention. He looked into the
mirror to a face he didn't recognize. He was a shaven head now, with a
protruding brow topped with thick eyebrows. His eyes were the same,
but his nose was now much larger, surrounded by prominent cheek bones.
His lips were thinner now, but only slightly. His face showed little
evidence of hair - much to Mitch's surprise. He was not handsome, but
rugged perhaps. His next change would take that away somewhat.
Suddenly his whole body began to convulse. His definition was
lowering. His pecs began to sag ever so slightly, and his abs
disappeared under a thin layer of fat. His arms were no longer
defined, but were now huge cylinders of mass. His body now matched his
hands. He discovered that his muscles' definition was still visible
when they were activated, so he was not disheartened too much. He was
a high school football player now, but he didn't know it yet. His name
was Mikey, he worked out most days, but still consumed too many
calories to retain the definition that Mitch would currently like.
Mikey doesn't care about definition. Mikey cares about power on the
field. Mikey doesn't care about many things except football. He is not
terribly bright, and does not have any work ethic for anything but
football either. All of this Mitch was about to learn.
He stared at his new face in the mirror, a cloud of confusion still
hovering beneath his eyes. Suddenly and overwhelming urge overtook
him. Mitch reached down and took Mikey's dick into Mikey's fat hand.
He began massaging it. A wave of euphoria overtook Mitch as the
confusion began to lift. The cloud in Mitch's eyes changed from one of
confusion to one of simplicity in Mikey's eyes. It was if the jerk-off
session were expelling all of Mitch from Mikey. Mikey was slowly
forgetting Mitch. Mitch was slowly becoming Mikey.
When Mikey blew his load into the sink, he stared into the mirror. He
flared his nostrils and flexed his muscles to take his mind off the
guilt. He turned around and saw his clothing on the floor next to him:
a pair of gym shorts, a tank, and cross-trainers. He dressed himself
and made his way out of the building. He wasn't going to be their
floor delivery boy anymore now that his senior year of school was
starting. No more time for anything but football. Mikey sauntered out,
not even bothering to wash out the sink.