CYOC was enjoying transforming people and changing up the world. It felt that more chaos was always necessary.
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Marc was the most stereotypical flamboyant gay man you would ever meet. Pink streaks in his short styled blond hair, a very wimpy
physique, hwavy lisp, and a passion for all things "fabulous", Marc was the very definition of a twink.
Marc was out with his two girlfriends at La Bootique, a dress shop in their local mall. One of them, Laylea, was going on a date. She'd
brought Marc and their friend Tanya along to help pick a dress for her.
"Like, ohmigod. Laylea, check out this dress!" squealed Marc, after picking out a poofy leopard print dress from the rack.
"Marc, I'm 23 not 40!" exclaimed Laylea. "I'd rather not have something that looks cougar like!"
"Well, you'll want him to know that you can play hard, kitten!" exclaimed Marc, imitating a cat purring, as he clawed the air with his
hand.
Laylea laughed, "Let's go for something that won't freak my date out, alright?"
"Fine." said Marc, then he pouted, looking at other dresses. Marc looked at the rack, but was having difficulty finding any desirable items
for Laylea to wear.
"Laylea!" exclaimed Marc, "There's nothing fabulous here!" He sounded like a child who wasn't getting a treat when they wanted one.
"Calm down Marc, I'm sure there's something. Go look at the back of the store, that's not the only rack."
"Fine." said Marc, with attitude. He started to walk to the back of the store. He felt a little pain throughout his body, and his clothes felt a
little tight.
"That's weird, I specifically buy clothes a size over mine in case I get fat and stretch. Ugh, this is a disaster!" whined Marc, but then he
remember his task. "Right, I need to get dresses for Laylea. Gotta focus."
Marc scanned the rack, but was soon finding himself bored. All the dresses looked the same, there was no real dresses that stood out
as fabulous to Marc.
Marc walked back through the store, to Laylea. "Laylea, I'm getting bored of this." he said.
"Really? It's not like you to get bored of dress shopping, Marc."
"Well, I'm bored. And my clothes feel tight. I'm going to look around the mall and see if I can get anything to change into."
"Erm... alright them Marc. Are you feeling ok? You look more.. brown, and your voice sounds different."
"Yeah, what do you mean, different?"
"Well, it sounds less... erm..." stammered Laylea.
"What, spit it out!"
"Well, lispy. It sounds clearer than it did before."
"Why would you bring that up? Ugh!" shouted Marc, as he felt another painful jolt throughout his body. "I gotta change clothes... ugh."
he said, as he left La Bootique.
Across the hall, a Surf's Up was located. Surf's Up was a store for surf wear. Marc felt himself walk in there, not really caring what he
was going to wear, as long as it was comfortable.
He walked in and grabbed a pair of board shorts and went directly to the change room. In there, he stripped.
He put the shorts on, not noticing there wasn't any tags or anything on them and that they fit him like a glove, despite being a large size.
Marc was pissed off, being insulted by that stupid bitch Laylea. She was just like any woman, good for cleaning and cooking, and sex.
His anger rushed through his body as his muscles expanded. His hair grew longer and lost the pink, spiking up in a cool haircut. His
face became more macho, a face that any girl would melt looking at, well, if he wasn't so angry at the moment anyway. His feet grew to
a size 16, thickening, as his flip-flops grew to accomodate. His muscle expanded, and his cock started to grow and fill with blood,
tenting.
Marc noticed this, and pulled down the board shorts, grabbing his big cock with his meaty hands and starting to jack off. He thought of
that bitch, Laylea, and thought of ploughing her hard. He imagined ramming his cock in her ass and her vagina, as he rubbed and
rubbed, starting to come to a climax, when suddenly a load of hot, thick, cum splattered against the change room door, followed by 6
more loads. Marc grabbed his head, as it was in pain now, and felt a bizarre feeling. It felt as if he was spinning, and the world around
him was too. He looked up, and saw there was no mess on the stall, and his old clothes weren't on the ground.
Those thoughts swiftly left Marcus' head as he left the stall and went into La Bootique to meet his girlfriend, Laylea. She was shopping
for a dress for their date tonight. Lucky bitch, she would definitely be experiencing some great fucking tonight.
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The owner of the Hotel De Prestigion was strolling through the lobby. He was certainly succesful, owning a large profitable hotel, and he
liked to show it off. His custom suit, navy blue, the hotel's color, was embroidered with the company logo over his heart. Gus O'Connor
was certainly proud of his hotel.
However, he wasn't entirely proud of his heritage. Gus was Irish, born Angus, and from a family who proudly represented themselves as
such. Gus never connected with that in his upbringing, so after he moved out, he drifted from his family. Gus had his hair died dark
brown, and had no trace of accent left anymore. Gus didn't like many traditional Irish things. He especially hated bagpipes.
Gus was irritated, as there was an Irish festival going on in town, and that meant plenty of culture he had tried to leave behind. Gus
tried to calm himself, by closing his eyes and thinking, "It's only a weeks length..." but loud bagpipe playing interrupted his thoughs.
He opened his eyes to see a large Irishman in the lobby, playing bagpipes. Gus approached the man, keeping a stern look on his face,
saying "Excuse me, do you have no respect? We cannot have people playing bagpipes in our hotel!"
"Ay, laddie, I'm truly sorry!" replied the man, in a thick Irish accent, "couldja please forgive me, I's just celebratin' the festival!"
"Ah, I'm... sorry." replied Gus, "Bagpipes aren't my thing. Are you here for a room?"
"Yes, laddie. If you'd have any available I'd like to take one!" the man replied.
"I'll be right back, sir." said Gus. He went to the check-in counter, and retrieved an unreserved key.
Gus approached the man and handed him the key, "Here, your room will be 407. Enjoy your stay at the Hotel De Prestigion."
"Many thanks, good lad. My name is Seamus O'Dwyer!" the man said, as he stuck out his hand.
Gus grabbed it and gave it a shake. "Angus O'Connors." he replied, as they both went their own ways. Gus went on the elevator to his
penthouse. He was feeling tired.
Smooth jazz was playing on his entrance, he liked to keep it on all the time. Gus went to his luxurious bathroom and stripped down to
nothing. He was skinny, with little body hair to speak of. He noticed his hair seemed a bit lighter, but disregarded it as the new light he
had installed yesterday in the bathroom. Gus went into his room and crawled naked into bed.
When Gus woke up, it was 4:00 PM. He heard soft bagpipes playing overhead instead of his smooth jazz. He listened for a moment,
and decided he rather liked the sound of it. He went into the bathroom, and scratched his head of red, curly hair. It was feeling a bit
itchy.
Gus turned on the shower, waited for the water to heat up, and got into the shower. He patted his gut, and ran his fingers down his
treasure trail. He felt, stimulated, doing that. Gus put anti-dandruff shampoo in his hands, and lathered his curly locks, massaging his
scalp as he did. He then rinsed it out, and washed himself with Irish Spring soap.
Gus got dressed in dress pants and a green polo shirt, and headed to the lobby. He saw his friend Seamus there.
"Hello buddy!" he exclaimed, as he went downstairs.
"Angus! It's good to see ya!" exclaimed Seamus in response. "Do ya want to grab a bite fa dinna out?"
"Sounds great to me, pal!" exclaimed Angus. The two left the hotel, heading to The Shamrock, an Irish eatery.
The two were seated, and got drinks. "So, Angus, what part of the homeland are ya from?" asked Seamus.
"I'm from Connacht, actually." said Angus.
"Me too!" exclaimed Seamus. "That's pretty cool!"
The waiter approached them and asked them to order food. Seamus ordered some Irish Stew, while Angus ordered some Black
Pudding. When their food came, Angus devoured his, eating really fast. His belly rumbled.
As the evening went on, Angus kept on eating servings of Black Pudding. Seamus was laughing and having a good time, as Angus ate.
"Angus, ya always knew how ta eat a bunch, you fool!" exclaimed Seamus, laughing.
After his seventh serving of Black Pudding, Angus felt a sudden sickness. "Ugh... Seamus, we've got ta go back to ta hotel, I'm feeling
a wee bit ill..." he muttered.
"Sure, brother, just let me pay for your eats first!" exclaimed Seamus, as he waved down the waiter and recieved the bill. He gave the
waiter an hundered dollar bill and a fifty, shouting keep the change, as he took Angus back to the hotel.
Angus and Seamus went to room 407, and Angus went directly to the bathroom. He took off his clothes in there, and rubbed his hairy
chest. There was a lot of red hair on his body, and his gut was rather large. Angus scratched his face, as red hairs began to crawl out of
the pores on his face, twisting and multiplying forming a decent beard and moustache combo.
"Oh, me head.." stammered Angus, as his head started to pound. Angus got in the shower, and washed up, making sure to do a good
job cleaning his hairy body.
Angus went to the bedroom, where Seamus was lying on one bed. Instictively, Angus went to the wardrobe by the empty bed and
pulled out sleep clothes for him, or rather, a large pair of underpants. Angus lied down on the empty bed and pulled the blankets over
him. "Brother, I'm going to bed. Good night Seamus."
Seamus wished him goodnight, and left the room, turning the light off as he left.
Angus O'Dwyer woke up to his brother giggling with glee. "Seamus, why're ya so giddy?" he asked.
"Brother, the parade is today! Dress up in yer kilt and get yer bagpipes, we're leaving soon!" exclaimed Seamus.
Angus ruffled his curly red hair on his head, and scratched the body hair on his chest. He put on his kilt, going shirtless for the day, and
got his bagpipes. Angus was ready for the Ireland Parade.
"Aye, little brother," started Seamus as he noticed Angus was ready, "Gonna let the world see your rug today?"
Angus let out a hearty, Irish laugh, "The world best be ready for ma rug. Come brother, let's go play some bagpipes!"
Angus amd Seamus O'Dwyer left the hotel room, ready for the parade so they could proudly display their Irish heritage.
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CYOC was happy with the changes it brought, but it still hungered for more.