My life was awful; truly, truly awful. I hated it. I hated every single moment of it, to the point that I sometimes considered ending it entirely. I lived in a
rundown flat near the centre of London (not the posh London, mind you; the shitty area) and have a no future job with little to no chance of promotion. I
worked in a call centre with a boss that had it in for me. Anything I did wrong was blown several times out of proportion, and whatever I did right was
completely unnoticed. It was unbearable, to the breaking point. I hated life altogether, and my girlfriend breaking up with me just over a week ago didn’t help
either. To be fair, she was miles out of my league: beautiful girl, intelligent and witty too. She was a doctor and was paid very well. Her money was what was
keeping me afloat before, but that’s over now. So now I’m leaving in a shit flat, with my shit job with my shit life.
I slumped on the sofa in front of my TV and flicked it on. The old thing slowly beamed into life. It wasn’t anything special, just one if those box TVs they
don’t even sell anymore. Unfortunately, it was all I could afford so it had to do. I switched on Film4 and saw that a showing of ‘What’s Your Number?’ was on.
I had always admired the actor: Chris Evans. He was such a hunk: muscular, handsome and confident. Basically, everything I wasn’t. I was short, fat and
embarrassed about my body; to the point where I barely go in pools anymore. My ex always had a thing for him. We’d watched ‘What’s Your Number?’ before we
broke up and you could practically see her drooling over his muscled features. God, I’d give anything to look like him. Maybe even just for a day.
I pulled myself from the TV and slumped to bed. It was uncomfortable, but it was a bed and that was enough. As I dozed off, I dreamt of the Hollywood life and
it’s many privileges. The money, the houses, the women. Maybe if I was Chris Evans my ex would take me back. If only…
Little did I know, being in my unconsciousness, was that I was Chris Evans- or at least becoming him. Lying there, in my loose, grey boxers, I was slowly
changing, reforming. I grew from my 5ft 7 stature to a manlier 6ft. The excess fat on my body had been absorbed by the growth. My face began to change. My
skull and facial structure was changing, reforming. In the end, it became an exact replica of Chris Evans’ minus some facial hair and a different hair colour;
which came later. As I lay there, my shoulders broadened as my chest muscles began to grow becoming defined pecs. My waist narrowed and a six pack formed on my
stomach. My arms grew, becoming toned and strong like Captain America. My body was lifted off the bed slightly as my bum grew more muscular. Visible back
muscles began to show, and my legs thickened and became stronger. My blonde hair became a dark brown and a 5 o’clock shadow set in. My eyes went from brown to
a deep blue and chest hair grew in. This was much more unusual. I couldn’t get chest hair, it was physically impossible for me. Somehow my very hair follicles
were being changed as well. The chest hair covered the base of my pecs. Not too much but enough to be noticeable. Lastly, my tragically small dick grew to
Chris Evans’ 7.5” one.
I had become the spitting image of Chris Evans.
I awoke early on a Saturday morning. Oblivious to the changes that had taken place the night before, I got up normally. I walked into my bathroom and as I got
into the shower, I knocked my head on the curtain rail. I was taken aback slightly. I’ve never had this problem before, the curtain rail was higher up than me;
so how could I? I looked into the mirror and had a heart attack. I wasn’t looking back. I hesitantly edged towards the mirror in a mixture of fear and slight
excitement. Sure enough, it was my body and it was my face. But- it wasn’t! Was it?
I decided to continue with life as usual. Perhaps this was just a lucid dream. A very realistic, unnoticeable dream. I felt my body to see exactly what it was
like. It was hard and muscular, sexy- something the ladies would love. I smiled. I was starting to enjoy this.
“He’s got a good body, hasn’t he?” I said, noticing his voice was in place of my own.
“I’ve changed all over!” I looked into my boxers “ALL over”
I had a shower, and a new more-thorough exploration of my body, and got dressed. Obviously all my clothes were tighter, I’d have to go shopping soon, but
somehow it worked. I liked it.
And my new life was just getting started.