chavvyluc

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It’s my birthday this week 😌

[chavvyluc]

Happy birthday!

How kind. I’m pleased that you guys are giving me the attention I deserve. I would expect nothing less than being worshipped and served as a birthday present to me. Maybe to entertain myself I’d turn you into something. Man, the possibilities are truly endless. But a nice footstool would suffice, so that I can relax and you can ensure my big smelly feet are propped up.

That or a nice stretchy pair of new boxers - your face pulled taut over my rear. My bubbly ass is pretty sweaty this time of year, but I’m certain you’d do an adequate job of soaking all that up, isn’t that right?

Or maybe something else, equally humiliating. It’s okay, just think of it as a gift to me.

[chavvyluc]

A birthday gift for one of my followers @wakeup01 who wished to be transformed into a sock for his birthday. I think he meant to say "for the DURATION of my birthday" but oh well. I'm sure he's learned a valuable lesson about the importance of phrasing... which he will probably forget along with everything else over the next year of absorbing foot smells. It's fine though, he'll still be a very good sock for a long time and that's all it needs to be.

[chavvyluc]

Toxic narcissist growing in power

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Sexy

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Hey, bro. I think you'll find the situation I'm in interesting. I'm currently on vacation and relaxing on a provincial beach. Not far from me, a group of noisy teenagers in tracksuits were relaxing. I ignored them and went swimming in the sea. Soon they left, and after that I discovered that my sneakers were gone on the beach, and instead there were huge white nikes. I don't mind taking it, but it seems strange to me....

It seemed odd to you at first. You just stood there, towelling off after your swim, when you noticed your trainers were gone. The pair of beat-up old runners you had left by your bag were no longer there. In their place was a pristine pair of white Nike AirForce 1s. They looked brand new. Did one of the lads from earlier take your trainers and leave theirs by accident? But these weren’t just nicer, they were your size. You had always had a thing for trainers. Especially ones like these. You picked them up, admiring the finish, but immediately caught a faint smell rising from them - definitely not box-fresh. They had been worn before. Shrugging it off, you set them down and moved on.

You dried off completely, put on your socks and boxers, then reached for your clothes, but they were gone too. Instead, a folded grey Nike Tech Fleece lay neatly in your bag. Als looking brand new. You blinked. The same confusion as before stirred in your chest. But just like the trainers, this was the style you had always admired but had never bought for yourself.

You looked around. No one else was in sight. For a second, your instincts told you to question it, to figure out what was going on. But… there wasn’t much choice. You couldn’t go to your car in just a towel. And the outfit did look sick.

So, you pulled it on piece by piece. The fit was perfect. Then the sensation started. It began like a tingle under your skin, like static electricity across your whole body. Not painful, but it quickly grew more intense. Turning into burning. You tried to move, but your limbs locked up like they weren’t yours anymore. Then your shoulders narrowed. Your chest flattened. Your hands looked smaller. Your face tightened - cheeks smoothing, jaw sharpening. Hair at the top of your head grew just a little longer, while the sides buzzed neatly into a clean skin fade. You felt your posture relax, your stance widen slightly. You were shorter, slimmer and younger now.

After about ten minutes, it stopped. You blinked, breathless, and reached for your phone, hand trembling slightly. The camera opened to a stranger’s face—only… it wasn’t a stranger. It was you, just different. You looked about 18. A cheeky, confident expression rested on your face like it had always belonged there. A fit, street-smart lad grinning back at you. The Tech Fleece fit you perfectly now. Like it was made for this version of you. Curious, you slipped your hand into the jacket pocket and found something in there. It was a grey Louis Vuitton hat. Fake, most likely, but who cared? You pulled it on, letting your hair stick out slightly from under the brim. The look was complete.

Then your phone buzzed.

"Yo mate, come over to mine. The boys are all here. We’re waiting for you, innit! – Reece 🔥"

Reece. Of course. You were supposed to meet the lads. Funny how you had forgotten, but now it felt obvious, like it had always been the plan. You grabbed the black Trapstar crossbody bag that was somehow also yours now, left your old belongings behind, and made your way to the nearest bus stop.

Reece’s house was already loud when you arrived. The door opened before you could even knock. Cheers erupted. “Oi, man’s finally here!” “Bruv, you took long!” The inside was filled with laughter, smoke, the bass of drill music vibrating through the walls. Someone passed you a beer. Another lad offered a joint. You didn’t hesitate. Later, Reece pulled you into the kitchen for a photo session. “Pose hard,” he said. You did.

You barely remembered the rest of the night. A blur of shouts, jokes, music, and smoke. The next morning came with a hangover. Your head throbbed, but your body felt light. You should better get used to this. This is your new life now after all.