When you've drunk a few gulps of the wine, you start itching uncomfortably.
"Is it hot in here or is it just me?" you ask yourself. You feel a weird urge to go back to
your car, and you obey it, not noticing the blond streaks appearing in your dark hair
and the sleeves on your shirt slowly getting shorter.
You finally find your car outside the mall. Your car used to be a small minivan, that
your parents had bought for you, but you don't notice that it's changed into an old,
rusty jeep.
You swagger up to your old ace, getting in slowly, not noticing that your pants have
shortened and that your shirt is fully sleeveless.
When you drive off, you feel uncomfortably hungry. "Might as well stop at Maccas on
the way home." you think to yourself.
When you get out of the car, you suddenly feel cramps. "Oh damn, that bush tucker
must've gotten to mah stomach." You mutter, not noticing the extra foot you shot up,
setting you at a lofty 6 "7. You rub your stomach as you walk in.
"Gday mate." you tell the clerk. As you place your order, you absentmindedly run your
fingers through your dirty blonde hair. "Takeaway, mate." you say. When the clerk
passes you the order, you tip the hat that wasn't there before, saying "Thankee." to be
polite.
As you eat in the car, you suddenly feel cold all over. As you rub your arms, you don't
notice that, ever so slowly, they're thickening.
Your biceps are pumping up, the results of years of hiking, and your arms grow tan
and scarred, from setting your tent in the wrong way. You massage your jaw, feeling it
freeze up as it slowly grinds forward, giving you a long nose. As your eyes change
colour to blue, your normal pale complexion turns ruddy.
You stroke the mounds of muscle that had once been your stick like arms, and then
start massaging your pecs. Once flabby and without definition, they started bulking up,
veins showing as they get tan from lazing in the sun shirtless. You stroke the mounds
of muscle, absentmindedly caressing the 6 pack that was your paunch, feeling every
ridge, every curve that was your hard, muscled abdomen.
Your legs slowly thicken as you stop at a traffic light, the muscles gaining definition, as
if you did a fair bit of running and hiking.
Bored, you shove your hand down your pants, not noticing your equipment lengthen
and thicken, the dark bush above it turning blond instead of dark brown. "I should
really get that nice bloke over at the barbershop ta give it a trim." you think to yourself,
as hair starts sprouting all over your body. Your pecs, once smooth, gained a forest of
light hair, with a thick happy trail leading down to your dick.
You rub your face as a thick 5 o'clock shadow sets in.
Slowly, you begun to grow older, lines setting on your face, your blonde hair getting
streaks of gray. You thump the old jeep, as the engine rumbles in protest. "Darned
machine. I should take a lookie at it." you say out loud, your Australian accent
twanging the words.
You stop at your apartment building, your plaid shirt not quite concealing your small
paunch, which keeps inflating while you take the stairs to your home, settling yourself
on the couch with your feet propped up.
Your old life forgotten, you know your name is Ben, you're 42 years old and Australian
through and through.