davidchavlover

[davidchavlover]

Adrian’s Fate

I took great pleasure in this guy’s transformation. He had been messaging me for ages, wanting me to transform him. I had my fingers burnt in the past, so naturally, I’m hesitant about these things, plus I can’t risk changing people left, right, and centre or I might blow my cover, and people could discover my gift… if that’s what you want to call it.

None of my warnings put him off: “You do realise I can’t undo it… there is no going back! Your whole life will change forever! Reality will change around you, and any opportunities in life you had will have gone forever!” He was relentless. Day after day, he would message me, at one point begging: “Mate, please! I beg you! This is what I really want!” But he wasn’t going to get it that easily, so I let him stew for a few more days.

I knew from when we had chatted in the past that he wanted to be thrust into it, like just wake up and everything was different. But the constant nagging had wound me up. I was going to give him what he wanted, but not exactly how he wanted it.

It was quite late when I messaged him: “Get some sleep tonight, mate. You’re gonna need it because you’re in for a bumpy ride tomorrow.” I just didn’t tell him how long that ride would be…

He sent me a picture wearing nothing but a pair of trainers, football socks, and briefs. “I’m ready, mate! I can’t wait!” He was expecting to wake up and everything would have changed, ready to start his new life fully transformed. But for my entertainment, I was going to draw this out and humiliate him a bit before I fully altered the reality surrounding his life.

Adrian was happy when he woke up to see he was already dressed in some chavvy gear. Lying there on his bed, he was wearing a yellow North Face hoody, navy trackies, and blue 95’s. However, his joy was short-lived. He quickly realised when he saw his reflection that he hadn’t changed as much as he had hoped. Sure, he looked a little younger, but he was still largely recognisable as himself.

He messaged me, a little disappointed. I reassured him it wouldn’t be long; he would just have to try and carry on as normal for a bit. I had replaced all of his clothes with chavvy stuff, nothing remotely smart in sight. I had also changed his accent, so he sounded like he grew up on a council estate.

Adrian still had his office job. Lucky for him, it was a mufti day, and he would be able to pull off some of his stuff. It was difficult, but he managed to get by by saying as little as he could and watching what he said, with only a few slips. But that wasn’t his biggest issue. He was struggling to do his job now. He found it hard to read his emails, and the more he tried to write responses, the harder it became. Eventually, his boss called him into his office.

“Adrian, what on earth is going on with you today? Your work today has been off. And some of these emails… is there something going on? Can I help?”

Adrian forgot himself in the embarrassment, allowing himself to revert to his new natural voice.

“Nah, bruv, is sound, innit! What tha fuck yous sayin’ bout us? I ain’t good enough, like?”

His boss was shocked at the outburst. “Are you joking?”

Adrian continued to dig his own grave. “Jokin’? Are you dizzy, bruv? Fuck this noise, fam! You know what? Yous can stick your job right up yer arse, innit!”

Before he stood up and stormed out of the office. I forgot to mention I had also shortened his temper and given him a bit of an inferiority complex, because a proper lad should feel like he needs to assert himself as an alpha!

Well, the first step was complete without me having to do it for him… I had led him into taking the leap himself, walking out of his job. The next step I pushed him into was a little more humiliating. After discovering he didn’t own a car anymore and having to get the bus home, his key didn’t fit the lock to his flat!

I received quite an angry text: “Mate, what the fuck is going on, like? Why can’t I get into my flat?”

I smugly responded: “Flat? What flat? You still live at home with your parents!”

All I got back was: “R u fucking serious, mate?! I’m 35 and I still live with my parents?”

It wasn’t so bad, though. By the time he walked the rest of the way back home, he was already only 30. But he still had to stand in front of them in the living room and explain to them how he had lost his job using his chavvy voice.

The next morning, I decided to be a little kinder to him. When he woke up, he went straight to the bathroom to use the toilet. He was pleasantly surprised to see his better-looking reflection admiring his toned body.

“Aidan, stop hogging the bathroom! Also, you best start looking for another job if you want to stay here!” his mum called from the landing.

Aidan? Who the fuck was Aidan? Well, there was no Adrian anymore. I had changed his name to be a little more fitting.

After his parents had left for work, leaving him on his own, he started to look for jobs. But to his surprise, when he found his CV, it looked a little different from the last time he saw it! There was no job history! And where was his college? It said he had never done A-levels, and come to think of it, he was sure he had more GCSEs than that and higher grades! Looking through some job adds, he found one that I had circled:

“Scaffolder, no previous experience needed, all training on the job.”

He didn’t want to be a scaffolder! But right now, it was the only thing he could find. He managed to get himself an interview for tomorrow. Now that the job was sorted, he couldn’t help but notice how badly he was craving a cigarette! It started to drive him mad! Eventually, he had to give up and go to the shop.

Aidan went for a walk around to try and clear his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about his interview tomorrow. He had started to walk with an involuntary swagger he didn’t have before. He could already tell people were starting to look at him differently, like the woman in the shop who kept her eyes on him to make sure he wasn’t going to nick anything.

That would have all been fine, but despite the personality changes I mentioned before, he was still very self-aware. He was stuck in his changing body, unable to hide the chav taking over.

Aidan took some time to himself, overlooking the lake, for the first time starting to question if he had made the right choice… this was what I was waiting for! For pestering me so much, I wanted him to almost resist and change his mind. But he already looked so good, and I did promise him I would take his transformation the whole way, so that’s what he’s gonna get!

The next morning, Aidan woke up feeling a little different. He was going to need some more confidence to deal with the world of real work. I had also removed a little more worldly knowledge and given him a bit more strength. Aidan was finally starting to get a little more pleased with his daily changing appearance, admiring himself in the mirror after he had showered. He showed up at the address he had been given. It was their yard where they kept all of the scaffolding. Making his way into the cabin at the side of the yard, he saw the man sat inside.

“Excuse me, mate! Are yous Mark?”

The man looked up from his paperwork. “Alright, mate, you must be the new lad I spoke to yesterday! Aidan?”

Aidan answered, “Yes mate, that’s me, innit.”

Mark stood up and led Aidan out of the cabin. “Alright, lad, you’re on trial today! If you can handle it, you got the job!”

Mark already had two other employees, both in their twenties. Aidan wasn’t quite as young as them yet, but soon he would fit in perfectly with the lads. Mark handed Aidan some hi-vis gear. Mark jumped in one truck with one of the lads; Aidan jumped in the other with the other lad.

When they arrived at the job, Aidan was filled with fear. He didn’t expect this… the job was to put scaffolding up around his old office! I had been quite merciful on him recently, so a little bit more humiliation was overdue. I had made sure that even though his appearance had already changed quite drastically, his old work colleagues would still recognise him!

The first floor was fine. Aidan was just following orders, carrying poles from the truck and watching the lads as they showed him which joints he had to use. It was heavy work, but now his mind was starting to work differently. He was beginning to get a great deal of satisfaction from using his physique and strength over his brain. It didn’t take too long to get the first level up and put the boards in place. Aidan was hanging off the bars like a monkey and climbing up. It made him feel so good, almost primal!

Just getting into the job, he was walking along the first level when he heard a knock on the window. Up until now, he was certain no one would recognise him, but standing there was Hollie, the office assistant and the biggest gossip going! She looked him straight in the eyes before her face lit up and she called behind her into the office. Aidan saw loads of heads begin to pop up and look over. He couldn’t quite believe they all still recognised him.

Everyone was shocked to see Aidan looking scruffy and lumping scaffolding poles about. His leaving the company had come as quite a shock to everyone; no one saw it coming until that day when it was like a switch had been flicked. This was gold for them. He could see his old colleagues beginning to point and laugh at him, mocking the fact he now seemingly had a very basic physical job almost as if he had failed at life. Aidan couldn’t hide the fact he was clearly embarrassed. Luckily, none of the lads noticed!

I was kind of expecting it when he called me. I was greeted by the face of this lad on my phone. “Wow, you’ve come along nicely, haven’t you?”

Aidan didn’t share the same feeling. “Mate, I love the job! The lads are sick, and I’d never thought I’d enjoy this kind of work, innit… but what the fuck, like? Why do people from my old work recognise us? Proper fucking embarrassing, innit bruv!”

I couldn’t help myself and smirked. “Sorry, lad. Like I said, I’m not 100% at the moment, so it’s taking a bit longer than it would normally for everything to fall into place. Give it another couple of days and it’ll be fine. You’ll be a proper lad, and everyone will see you as one!”

Aidan was still angry at being made fun of. “You fuckin’ better, mate, you know what I mean, like!”

I cut him off. “Remember, I can stop this at any point! I don’t have to finish your transformation, and you’ll be stuck in this limbo!”

Aidan’s tone instantly changed. “Eerr… sorry, mate. Don’t stop it, like! I’ll deal with it, innit.”

“Ok then, it won’t be too much longer!” Then I hung up on him.

For now, at least, Aidan was going to have to deal with the disjointed and slow changes. By the time they had run out of poles and boards, it was lunchtime. On the way back to the yard, they stopped past a supermarket.

Aidan was about to get the next wave of his transformation. Jumping down from the truck, shocks shot up his legs as if he had landed badly. They ran all the way up through his body to his head, making his hairs stand on end.

Walking into the shop, his whole body felt tight and achy from the tension. Each step, months and months of his age washed away, quickly making him look visibly younger, like he was in his mid-twenties again. He could see how different he looked in the glass as he walked past, but his workmates didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong, so he silently dealt with it.

After lunch, Aidan - now the same age as the lads - found his friendship with them building up. He began to fit in like a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle that had finally been found. Mark tapped Aidan on the shoulder,

“Alright lad, I’m happy with what I’ve seen! Once today is done, enjoy your weekend and I’ll see ya on Monday, alright?”

Aidan’s face lit up. He was actually over the moon that he had this job, one that only a couple of days ago would have made his toes curl at the thought!

“Sound mate! That’s sick! Proper looking forward to it, innit like!”

As it was Friday and Aidan had successfully passed his trial, the lads invited him out for some celebratory drinks down their local. Adrian was never a big drinker, and he certainly didn’t go to places like that, but here Aidan was planning to go to a proper working-class pub and get smashed with the lads. For the first time, he was starting to realise how far he had come.

The next morning, he woke up with one hell of a hangover.

“Fuck mate, I think I overdid it a bit last night, init,” he thought to himself.

Opening his eyes and lifting his head from the pillow, he looked around his bedroom.

“Shit! Where the fuck am I?”

Aidan panicked. He had no idea where he was. This wasn’t his room! How did he end up here? Unless he had somehow managed to break into someone else’s house, which was entirely possible with how drunk he was last night, or he had to have gone back and crashed in one of the lads' spare rooms.

Then, from the landing, he heard a familiar voice. It sounded like his mum, but she sounded rougher, with the huskier voice of someone who had smoked at least 20 a day for God knows how many years! The door opened and in walked his mum, except she was different! She had always dressed smartly; Aidan had never seen her not looking like she was ready to face the world. But here she was, wearing comfy clothes with no make-up on, looking a bit rough and tired.

“What time did you call that when yous got home last night? You fucking woke us up banging and crashing about. You best not make a fucking habit of it now yous got ya self a job!” She slammed the door and walked off.

Aidan wasn’t expecting that! He stood up and looked out of his window. The familiar view of their driveway with their cars and borders full of plants and bushes he was expecting to see had been replaced by a small, unkempt front garden with patchy grass and a small pathway from the front door to a gate. Cars were parked on the street instead, and as he continued to look further around, they were surrounded by loads of the same terraced red brick houses.

It began to dawn on Aidan: if he was to be a proper lad, it made sense that he came from a humbler background. But it was going to take some getting used to. He sat back down on the bed, clearly able to smell the lingering smell of stale smoke and took that as it was okay to light up in his room. He sat there on his bed, taking it all in, still wearing the Adidas sweat top and joggers he had worn out last night and fallen asleep in.

Exploring his pretty empty new room, Aidan opened his wardrobe to find a mirror on the inside of the door. “Wow!”

Aidan realised how much younger he looked. His pleasure was short-lived as the door flung open again! This time, a lad who looked quite similar to him walked in. Aidan had been an only child, but now he had an older brother, Rhys, and a little sister, Tanisha.

Rhys asked Aidan, “Yous gonna need a lift with us to footy?”

Aidan once again froze at yet another surprise. He had never played any sport in his life before! In that instant, his mind flooded with past memories of all the matches he had played.

“Yes mate! That’d be sick like!”

Rhys gave him a thumbs up. “Sound, grab ya kit lad and meet us downstairs in 10!”

Everything had started to move so fast, Aidan was struggling to keep up with the pace at which things were changing. Saturday was a bit of a blur. Playing football was weird because, even though he had never played before, his memories said otherwise, and he just seemed to know what he was doing.

The rest of the day he spent adjusting to his new family life. The fact that he had siblings and his family were all working class and life was now a far cry from the sheltered upbringing he had originally had.

Sunday was D-Day. Today I was going to finalise his transformation. Aidan woke up again to discover he had changed even more, now looking like a proper lad. He was 19 years old now, which made him the nipper at work. Sure, he would still be mates with the lads, but he would look up to them from now on rather than being one of their equals.

I made my final adjustments to his mind. I removed any remaining aspirations, leaving him with just enough drive to get up and want to earn a basic wage doing his scaffolding job. His knowledge of the world and basic things that most people should know were replaced with useless information all about football and boxing.

I filled his head with all the memories he needed from his new past, but I left enough from his old life so he would have a constant reminder of the choice he made. Finally, to protect my identity, I removed any memory he had of me. He would know he chose to be this way and that someone had made it happen, but who would always remain a mystery.

Aidan would live the rest of his life never progressing, just getting by. By the time he was in his 40s, the fit chavvy looks I had bestowed upon him had long since faded, worn away by years of hard work, drinking, and smoking. But that’s part of the trade-off: a hard life takes its toll.

As the years passed, the memories of his old life remained. After the honeymoon period ended and the novelty wore off, the reality set in. This was it now, for the rest of his life. Over time, he grew to the conclusion that he had made a bad choice, but he was helpless to do anything about it.

______________________________________________________________

This story was originally posted by @scallylad89 on Tumblr. I have i kept it mostly original and also didn't change the pictures. They’re definitely older pics of chavs, as you can probably tell. ;)

[davidchavlover]

Be Careful What You Buy Online

It’s not something I had ever really thought about before and definitely not something I imagined myself doing. But when I stumbled across a post by a proper chav lad selling a pair of his used boxers, I just knew I had to have them.

When the parcel arrived, I felt a strange kind of excitement as I tore it open. The boxers looked ordinary. They were grey, slightly worn, but clean and fresh enough. I lifted them to my nose, half-embarrassed at myself, but still, I took a sniff. There was something about them. They were clean, but I could definitely tell someone had worn them before.

Without thinking much, I slipped them on. They were snug, a bit too snug, actually. They kept riding up my legs, but I didn’t care. I had them now, and somehow it felt right to wear them. I pulled on my usual jeans and t-shirt and headed out to meet my friends at our regular spot in town.

The moment I stepped into the restaurant, something felt different. One of my mates looked up and grinned, “Oh! You’re looking good… lost weight or something?”

I blinked. “Er... nah, don’t think so,” I mumbled, though I could tell that I somehow was slimmer than before. Even the way I stood felt altered.

We sat down, and the conversation started the way it always did - talking nonsense, swapping opinions on politics, science, whatever caught our fancy. But the longer it went on, the less it made sense to me. The words were there, but they felt foreign, like I was listening to a language I used to know but had forgotten. That was when I noticed a weird tingling. It started in my fingertips then spread through my arms, my chest, my legs. I felt hot, dizzy.

“Sorry lads, just gotta nip to the toilet,” I muttered.

Lads? I never called my friends that. And my voice… it sounded rougher and deeper. Panic bubbled up inside me as I stumbled through the restaurant towards the toilets. The tingling was intensifying, now joined by a strange pressure in my limbs and head, like my bones were shifting beneath my skin.

Slamming the cubicle door shut, I gasped. My legs were thinner, wirier. The boxers clung perfectly now, no longer too tight. I looked down at my jeans, but to my surprise they weren’t my jeans. Instead I was in grey tracksuit bottoms. I ran my hands down them in disbelief. My t-shirt was gone, replaced by a track jacket. My shoes had become Nike 95s.

I caught a glimpse of my hands. On the right one was a thick gold bracelet, a heavy ring that glinted under the fluorescent lights, and… a tattoo. Black ink etched into skin. My heart thudded painfully. “What the hell…” I croaked.

Panic was quickly giving way to something else. My thoughts were clouded, jumbled. Familiar ideas and memories seemed to slide just out of reach, while other new thoughts pushed their way in. I could feel words I never used bubbling to the surface.

I couldn’t stay in the cubicle forever. I took a shaky breath and opened the door, walking to the sinks. I forced myself to look up into the mirror. A tall, skinny chav lad stared back… cropped hair under a black cap, gold gleaming at his wrist and fingers. It wasn’t me. But it was.

My breath came quick and shallow. I staggered out of the toilets, barely noticing the people around me. My friends were still there, but they didn’t even glance at me. They didn’t recognise me. Why would they?

I pushed through the car park, my feet moving without conscious thought. My hand dipped into my pocket, pulling out keys I didn’t remember owning. I stopped in front of a grey car. My heart sank. I knew it wasn’t mine. But now...?

I stood frozen, clutching the keys, my head spinning. I had to find that lad. The one I had bought the boxers from. There had to be a way to reverse this. I couldn’t stay like this. But the more I thought, the harder it became to hold onto the ME I was before. Details slipped away.

I could still feel the remnants of myself somewhere in the haze, but it was getting harder to remember. Even now, as I stood by the car, I caught myself thinking in the new voice, with the new words. I wasn’t panicking so much anymore. Actually... yeah, it felt alright, you know? Comfortable, even. But no. No. I had to remember. I had to find him. I had to…

What was I saying? It's fine. I’ll think about it later. Can’t keep the lads waiting. We’ve got footy down the pitch and I’m already running late. Weird, though. Can’t quite remember what I was so worked up about a minute ago. Never mind. It’s sound, mate.

[davidchavlover]

I commute to uni and often when I finish for the day I go into town to JD Sports and try on chav gear wishing I could be like the boys that used to bully me in secondary. Always wondered what it would be like to be a chav lad, maybe next time I go to JD Sports it will happen.

Hmmmm I see… So are you sure you really want to give up everything you worked so hard for? All the work at uni and school just to forget it all and become a chavvy lowlife? Well if that’s what you really want, I will make it happen of course.

It had been a hard day at uni when you decided to walk into JD again. You needed that kind of escape, even if just for a little while. Trying on clothes had always been your way of unwinding, a chance to slip into a different version of yourself, if only for a few minutes.

Today, JD wasn’t too crowded. The usual music playing in the background was punctuated by the loud, boisterous laughter of a group of chavs near the trainers section. They were exactly the kind of lads who had tormented you back in school. Yet, there was something about that kind of lad that always made you get horny. The way they carried themselves, the effortless swagger in their movements. You pretended to browse, stealing glances as they joked and shoved each other playfully. One of them, the ringleader by the looks of it, caught your eye. He had a sharp skin fade and a gold chain glinting against his tracksuit.

After about ten minutes of covert observation, your attention was grabbed by a grey Under Armour tracksuit on the rack. The bold red logo called to you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed it and headed to the changing rooms.

The moment you slipped into the tracksuit, something felt… different. The fabric was soft, but there was something almost electric about it. You ran your hands over your chest, admiring the way it hugged your frame… until you realized you couldn’t move your arms anymore.

Panic surged as your muscles locked in place. Your reflection in the mirror flickered, warping before your eyes. Your body was changing. Your shoulders broadening, your waist narrowing, your skin tightening over new, lean muscle. Your face shifted next, your jaw squaring, your nose sharpening, your lips thinning into a smirk. Your hair darkened, shortening into a crisp skin fade with a straight fringe, just like the lads from earlier had. The biggest shock came when tattoos started to appear on your body. By the time the transformation stopped, you were panting, staring at a stranger in the mirror. You looked like an entirely different person now.

Then your thoughts slowed, words forming differently in your mind. Big words? Nah, mate. Too much effort. Your memories of uni, of studying, of being you were fading fast, replaced by new ones…

You were Kian now. Eighteen. A proper lad. Living with his single mum and two siblings on the nearest council estate. You were known as a bully. Which had recently led to you getting expelled from school once and for all.

You grinned at your reflection, rolling your shoulders. Yeah, this felt right. You remembered your mates waiting outside - Ryan, Josh, and the rest of the lads. You remembered bunking off school, nicking cans from the corner shop, and the rush of cornering some posh twat in the toilets to take his wallet. You remembered the way they had beg, the way your fist felt when it connected with their ribs. Fuck, it was a laugh, wasn’t it? You shoved your old clothes into the changing room corner, not even bothering to hang them up. Who cared? That soft, studious loser was gone.

You stepped out, spotting your boys near the exit.

"Oi, Kian!" Ryan called, nodding at your new gear. "Sick tracksuit, bruv. You robbin’ that or what?"

You smirked, patting your pockets. "Nah, left the tags on, didn’t I? Might go back for some Nikes after, though."

They laughed, clapping you on the back as you all shoved through the doors. You cracked your knuckles, already scanning the street for your next target. Life was gonna be well good from now on.

I hope you don’t mind being regressed into the very kind of bully that had made your school life a living hell.

[davidchavlover]

I’ve always taken on the role as a dominant Alpha; had a bunch of beta lads follow my lead. But my other chavvy mates have implied that they’ve had enough of me thinking i’m better than them. Had enough of serving my every whim. They seem to suggest that they can take me down a peg. Make me even more of a beta than they are, if that’s even possible. I overhead some remark about giving me a ‘tight bubble butt’ and a ‘change of clothing’.

Not that i’m too worried mind, those dipshits with all their brain power combined wouldn’t be able to organise a thing. And besides i’m far more assertive than those basic chav lads, there’s no chance in fucking hell I’d end up serving them. It’s proper hilarious they think they can try though, right?

You shouldn’t have been so arrogant. Maybe if you hadn’t strutted around like you owned the place, if you hadn’t sneered at the lads every time they cracked a joke, if you hadn’t acted like you were better than them, maybe then they wouldn’t have felt the need to put you in your place. But it is too late for regrets now.

The invitation had seemed normal. Josh had texted you in the evening: "Come over, mate. Just a few drinks. The lads are here." Nothing unusual. You had done this a hundred times before - drinks, banter, maybe a bit of fun with the lads.

At first, everything was normal. You cracked a few jokes, took a few swigs, but something felt… off. Your vision blurred faster than it should have. Your limbs grew heavy, your thoughts sluggish. Had you really drunk that much already? You tried to shake the fog from your mind, but your body wasn’t listening. The room tilted. The last thing you saw before the darkness swallowed you was the lads closing in their hands pulling at your clothes.

You woke up disoriented. The first thing that hit you was the smell. It clung to your skin. It was sweet and fruity. Not the musky cologne you always wore, not the faint sweat of a night out. This was something delicate, feminine.

You were in bed. The sheets were soft. You reckoned they must have brought you to a guest room after you had passed out. Panic flared as you tried to sit up, only to feel the cold bite of metal around your wrists. Handcuffs. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you thrashed, kicking the blanket away. Your body was different. Your arms, once lean but strong, were now slender, dainty. Your skin was smooth, hairless, almost glowing in the dim light. And to your shock there was a cage on your dick. A scream tore from your throat. It was high-pitched and not your voice at all.

The door creaked open. Josh stood there, arms crossed, grinning. "Not feelin’ so cocky now, are ya, princess?"

Your blood ran cold.

"Me an’ the lads reckoned you needed teachin’ a lesson," he continued, stepping closer. His fingers trailed along your bare leg, making your skin crawl. "So we made you into somethin’ a bit more… fun."

"W-what did you do to me?!"

Josh chuckled, pulling a small vial from his pocket. Liquid swirled inside, pink and shimmering. "Just a little serum. Made you more agreeable." He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t stress, bruv… by the time we’re done, you won’t even wanna kick off."

You screamed again, thrashing wildly, but he grabbed you and held you down while he emptied the serum into your mouth. Darkness swallowed you once more. But next time you woke up… You wouldn’t resist.

The golden light of evening spilled through the curtains as consciousness crept back in. You blinked slowly, your mind hazy, your body warm and pliant. You looked down at yourself. You were dressed in an oversized pink tee and some briefs. The realization of what you were wearing should have sent you into a panic. But instead, a different kind of feeling was low in your stomach. You shifted on the couch, thighs pressing together and God, you were so fucking horny.

Your fingers twitched, craving touch, craving a man to please. The lads would be here soon. Josh had promised. And they would use you, just like they always did. The thought made your pulse skip, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Wait… Always? A flicker of confusion cut through the fog. You tried to grasp at it, to remember… but your mind felt slippery. There were flashes - laughter, sneers, your voice, loud and arrogant - but they didn’t feel like yours anymore. Just distant echoes of someone else.

Now you knew you had never been the leader. You had never been one of the lads at all. You were Josh’s. His toy. His good little thing to share with his mates when they fancied a fuck. The knowledge settled into your bones, warm and right, like it had always been that way.

A mirror hung on the opposite wall. You caught your reflection - pouty lips, wide eyes, a delicate frame. Your hair was softer now, fluffier, and lighter in colour. You looked cute.

You squirmed, biting your lip. The fabric of your briefs was damp already from your precum. You couldn’t wait for them to get here. Couldn’t wait for Josh to grab you by the hips and remind you what you were for.

"Look who’s finally awake," Josh grinned, stepping inside with the others behind him. His gaze raked over you, lingering where your thighs squeezed together. "Missed us, princess?"

You nodded, breathless and started to undress for them.

______________________________________________________________

I hope you enjoy your new life as a twinky toy for your new owner. That nice bubble butt will definitely be used tonight, and I think your new clothes fit you way better anyways…

[davidchavlover]

The footie chav lads always try to tease and pick on me, trying to call me gay, or make fun of my outfit or hair, or just how I act, I've never done anything but exist and sit ideally by , all they do is play football and chill together. They also think there so slick trying to hide the cum stains on their trackies, they are such a horny bunch , it's hard to forget them with the sound of their tns squeaking against the tile floor.

Why they have such an interest in me , I have no idea

You might think the way they watch you is strange, the way they smirk when you pass, like they know something you don't. The truth is, they have decided something. You just don’t know it yet.

You were never part of their world. Not sporty, not chavvy, not loud-mouthed or confident like them. You were quiet. Bookish. You wore glasses and always had books in your bag. So why would the local footy lads pay any attention to someone like you?

The answer came sooner than you expected. The very next day, one of them called over to you. It was the team captain.

“Yo, mate,” he said, nodding you over. “Ever thought about playin' footy?”

You blinked. It felt like a joke. You shook your head cautiously. “Uh… no, not really.”

Ty grinned. “Nah, see, I think you have. Deep down. You wanna be one of us, don’t you?”

Before you could reply, something cold and rough clamped over your mouth from behind. Strong arms pinned you in place, dragging you backwards. Panic hit you, but there was no use in fighting. They pulled you into the changing rooms. The air reeked of sweat. Your cries were muffled, and your arms were pinned.

“Won’t be needin’ these anymore,” Ty said, yanking off your hoodie and chucking it into a nearby bin.

Your protests were useless. Piece by piece, they stripped away your old clothes - nerdy tee, awkward trousers, even your socks and shoes were binned. Instead, they dressed you in a worn football kit that smelled like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. The shirt clung to your skin. The socks were still damp. Then came the boots that somehow fitted perfectly.

Your body seized up after you were fully dressed. Then, slowly, you felt it moving, but not under your control. Your spine straightened. Your limbs stretched. Muscles you had never had before began to pulse and flex. Your legs thickened, becoming solid and toned like you had spent years running drills and sprints. Your chest broadened. Even your hands changed shape.

You watched your reflection in the cracked mirror across the room. Your face blurred for a moment, like something was being erased. Then it reformed… Sharper jaw, a cocky smirk resting naturally on your lips. Your hair reshaped, sides faded, the top messy but somehow styled. It also got lighter in the prosses. You barely recognized yourself. And then, your mind began to follow the transformation.

Your thoughts fogged. Your name… what was it again? James? No, that didn’t sound right… Mason. Yeah. Mason. You remembered playing your first match at ten. You remembered skipping school with the boys, chasing down corners on cold Saturday mornings. You remembered being part of the team. Your voice changed too, now only consisting of slang. The old you was gone.

The lads released you. You stood there for a second, blinking like you’d just woken from a dream. Then your lips curled into a grin.

“Yo, lads,” you said, tossing an arm around one of them. “Took ya long enough.”

The others roared with laughter, slapping your back, throwing playful jabs. Before heading to the pitch, one of the lads whipped out his phone. “First day as a proper lad. Gotta get a pic.” You stood tall and proud in the middle of the pitch.

Practice was brutal that day - sprints, tackles, drills that made your legs burn and lungs ache, but you loved every second of it. The thud of boots on grass, the smell of sweat and turf, the barked commands... it felt natural. Like this had always been your life.

You were Mason now. Chavvy footy lad through and through. No trace of the old you remained. Not in the way you walked, talked, or even thought. Your instincts had shifted. You moved with swagger. You spoke in slang. You had fully been assimilated into the team. Destiny had redrawn itself around you. You were never meant to be the quiet kid on the edge of the pitch. You were meant to be on it, shoulder to shoulder with your bros in sweat-soaked kits and scuffed boots. A proper chavvy football lad.

Within weeks, you scored goal after goal. Your mates slapped your back after every match, grinning like proud older brothers. But the real magic happened after the matches. After each training session and game, you joined in to the locker room fun with all your other bros to release all the build-up tension. You were just as horny as they were now…

[davidchavlover]

Jack’s Plan

Sam stood in the doorway to his bathroom, brushing his teeth. He was best described as a skater kid. He snapped a photo of himself to keep track of his progress. Sam had recently got a membership for a gym nearby; it was perfect because it was on his way home from college, so he could easily drop by on his skateboard or BMX, depending on how he felt that day.

Sam didn’t hate being skinny, but he envied some guys from his school. They were skinny too, but they were toned, and when they would get changed for sports, he would find himself admiring them. It was difficult because he hadn’t come out yet, not wanting to risk his friendship with the lads he went skating with in most of his spare time.

The lads Sam found himself admiring just so happened to be some of the more chavvy ones. Not all of them, but most came from the local council estate, which had a reputation for being pretty rough. He really had to watch himself, because if any of those lads picked up on him staring at them, who knew what they would do? They had quite a persona about them; they wanted to be seen as tough guys, and anything that questioned their masculinity was a big no-no.

What didn’t help was that Sam’s school had your stereotypical social divide between various groups. It sounded a little cliché, like something out of an American high school film, but you had your skater kids, jocks, geeks and nerds, popular kids, and of course, being from the UK, the chavvy kids. Just interacting with someone outside of your circle could end up with embarrassing consequences or just getting beaten up by some of the tougher groups.

Sam was nervous the first time he went to the gym. His worst nightmare was seeing anyone from school. College finished at 3 p.m., and Sam hesitantly made his way straight to the gym. When he arrived, he was met at reception by a woman who looked after both sides of the business, as it was also a spa. Sam signed in and collected his membership card. The woman told him to take a seat while she got Glynn, who would be doing his instructions.

He sat there looking around. He couldn’t see into the gym from reception, there were just two corridors: one leading off to the spa, and the other into the changing rooms and gym. The front was a big glass wall that looked out into the car park and, beyond that, the road he used every day on his route to and from school.

It must have only been five or ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Eventually, Glynn strolled into reception in his semi-tight matching set of shorts and a shirt, showing off his body and the fact that he clearly worked in a gym. All of it was branded in the gym’s colours, with a small logo to the left of his chest and a bigger one across his back with his name written underneath. He seemed like a bit of a cheeky chap, with a nice friendly smile and an inviting personality.

“Hello mate, nice to meet you! I’ll be taking you for your introduction today. It should only take thirty minutes, then we can get you started off with something simple to break you in.”

Sam actually felt quite at ease now. Glynn being really nice and enthusiastic, and not judging Sam at all, was a huge relief. Glynn led Sam through to the changing rooms, giving him five minutes to quickly get changed out of his uniform and start the introduction.

Walking into the gym, Sam looked around, eyeing the place up. It was quiet because most people hadn’t finished work yet - that was one perk of coming straight after college - and he couldn’t see anyone he recognised. Sam sighed with relief, now able to focus on what Glynn was showing him, not worrying about feeling self-conscious in front of anyone he knew. The induction was over in no time and Glynn had left Sam working his chest on one of the machines.

Sam, in his focus, trying to make sure he was doing it right and keeping count of his reps, hadn’t noticed Jack walking in. Jack was one of the chavvy lads from college. Reaching his limit, Sam’s eyes were screwed shut, forcing out every last bit of effort he had within him, before letting out a rush of air and relaxing. He opened his eyes to see Jack standing in front of him, smiling and holding out his hand, expecting Sam to join him in a biker-style handshake.

Sam was initially shocked to see Jack appear out of nowhere, but that was quickly overridden by the thought: what was he going to be like? Much to Sam’s amazement, he expected Jack to be like he was at school - rude, insensitive, and trying to undermine him in front of everyone for a laugh - but instead, he seemed genuinely friendly. Jack could see the confused expression on Sam’s face. Reassuring him, Jack said, “It’s alright bruv, I ain’t here to take the piss. Didn’t even realise yous came here. While we’re here, we’re just two lads with similar goals, innit!”

Sam once again felt a weight lift off his chest. He didn’t expect anything more than their first exchange, thinking Jack would just go off again and leave him to it, but Jack seemed genuinely interested in helping him. He helped Sam make a simple routine to get started and watched over him to help with his technique and keep him motivated. He knew how much it helped having someone there to keep you going, and it would mean Sam was more likely to keep coming and not give up.

By the end of his time there, Sam was pleasantly surprised. He felt like he had actually made a friend in Jack. Jack was clear, though… whilst they were here, it was cool, but at school, it would be business as usual, and they would keep their distance.

Over the next couple of weeks, Sam kept coming to the gym every day after school and kept training with Jack. It was like he almost had his own personal trainer. Sam also liked the fact that none of his friends were interested in the gym, and Jack’s friends who did go to the gym all went to other places. That meant they were able to get along, and there was very little tension or social expectation between them.

They had ended up forging quite an unlikely but close friendship, which had started to show through at college. It was little things like smiling at one another in passing and if there were any cross encounters between their groups, Jack wouldn’t do anything to Sam, directing his comments and actions at others instead. Unfortunately, it hadn’t gone unnoticed. It wasn’t so bad for Sam, but Jack, being part of the tougher group, got a little stick for it. He did his best to keep it a secret how they knew one another and just dismissed their comments, but he knew it was only a matter of time until they found out, now that suspicions had been raised.

Jack had also been keeping a big secret of his own. He had his suspicions about himself before, but now more than ever, as he grew closer to Sam, he couldn’t ignore it. He knew what he felt for Sam was more than just friendship. Ironically, Sam had grown to feel the same about Jack, but both of them, being so caught up in their own minds about what the other would think and how their respective friends might treat them, missed each other’s signals.

Jack’s feelings had grown to such a level that he had begun to harbour an irrational fear of losing their friendship. All of his spare time, he had been thinking of ways he could make it work. Jack wasn’t spiritual or anything like that, but in his desperation, he found himself one Saturday afternoon standing in the local magic shop. Jack made his way through the cluttered aisles and stood in front of the counter in the centre of the shop at the back. “DING!” Jack rang the bell, and quickly out walked an older-looking gentleman through the bead blind hanging over the doorway. Jack managed to hide his amusement, but the guy did look a little like what you would expect a wizard to look, just without the full cloak and hat.

“And what can I do for a lad like you?”

Jack explained his situation. How he had fallen for this guy, and it was not possible for them to be together due to their social groups, and so on. The old man pondered for a moment, looking through the index of a big, dusty, very old leather-bound book he had on the desk, before going “Ahhh,” and flicking to a page about two-thirds of the way through the book.

He looked deeply into Jack’s eyes as he let out a small sigh, then proceeded to explain: “Hmm, this is a difficult one… it sounds like an issue you may have with yourself. However, I can see the pain in your eyes… You do not want to lose either! I should not really indulge your desires. However, it has been a while since I have used some proper magic, and I am sure there is something we can do to remedy your situation.”

The old man smiled sweetly, stepping away from the counter and going back through the blind. Jack stood there, waiting patiently, listening to the old man rummaging through stuff in the back and muttering to himself.

Eventually, he came back through the blind with a large jar filled with a baby blue powder. It kind of looked like sherbet. “Now, this should do the trick!” he said, decanting 32 scoops of the powder into a smaller jar for Jack to take away.

“You will need to make sure the object of your affection takes one scoop a day for the next 30 days. This could be mixed with food or water or just eaten on its own. This will make him acceptable to your peers and should alleviate the issue you speak of.”

Jack nodded intently, trying to take it all in.

“Now I must warn you… the effects are irreversible. You can stop them taking it at any time, but anything that has changed up to that point will not change back. Also, you must consider the consequences it will have for them. This may alienate them from their own peers and could cause them to resent you. Are you definitely sure this is what you want? Now is the time to speak up, and I will sort you out with something simpler to ease your own anxieties.”

Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering the old man: “No, I’m sure. This is what I want.” The old man nodded as he placed the jar in a box for Jack to take home.

Jack knew exactly how he was going to go about this. Luckily for him, it was a sherbet-like powder, which gave him the perfect idea. Jack emptied one of his tubs of protein powder and replaced the contents with the baby blue powder from the shop. He kept a close guard on the tub until he arrived at the gym on Monday, placing it in his locker as he didn’t want it getting into the wrong hands.

Sam was pleased to see Jack walk into the gym. He had been waiting all day for this moment. The pair set about their usual routine, helping one another, laughing and joking as if they had been friends for years. Once they finished, they both went to the changing rooms together. Jack pulled the tub out from his locker, looking at Sam.

“Mate, you wanna try some of this? It’ll help yous recover quicker and boost your progress, bruv.”

Sam trusted Jack and his advice, accepting the pint of water with one scoop mixed in that Jack handed him.

“Mmm, raspberry!”

Jack smiled at Sam, secretly filled with a warm glow at the prospect they could soon spend more time together and not be separated if and when they got found out by their friend groups.

The next morning, Sam woke up to the sound of his alarm. It was time to get ready for college. Getting out of bed, he noticed how refreshed he felt. He had so much more energy. But what he saw when he looked in the mirror really made his day.

“Wow! That shit is good!” Sam exclaimed to himself. As if by magic, overnight his body appeared noticeably toned, his face seemed fresher and fuller, his hair neater, and above all the bulge struggling to remain contained within his boxers was the cherry on top! It hadn’t even dawned on him that his tattoos had vanished.

Sam had an extra spring in his step today; so much so that his friends couldn’t help but notice how well he had been doing at the gym. Sam was being complimented left, right, and centre today. He walked into the social area with his friends and their skateboards, setting them all down in a pile because they weren’t allowed to take them to class.

Jack was standing with his mates when he noticed Sam enter with his friends and his new glow. To Jack, everything went into slow motion. Everything else faded into darkness… no one else in the room but Jack and Sam. Sam noticed Jack on the other side of the room, offering up a cheeky wink that sent Jack into euphoria.

“Oi!.. Oi! Earth to Jack!”

The room became bright again as Jack shook his head, coming back to reality.

“Sorry mate, was miles away.”

Thankfully, Jack’s mates hadn’t noticed who he was staring at.

The bell went and everyone started filtering out of the social area to their classes. Jack and his mates hung around as usual, drawing it out as long as they could. One of the other lads had clocked Sam’s friends leaving their skateboards piled up in the corner.

“I’ve got a sick idea, lads!”

Jack felt his heart sink when he heard what he had planned. He didn’t want to do anything to upset Sam, but he couldn’t risk being caught by his mates, who would call him out for going soft or brand him a traitor. So, he had to play along. They each grabbed a board and snuck out of the social area, heading for the pond around the back of the school. It was the perfect place as it was out of sight, and it had a small island in the middle. They would be able to easily throw the boards on the island, but in order to get them back, someone would be getting wet!

Later that day, Jack was at the gym as usual. He kept looking at his watch, keeping track of the time. Usually, Sam would be here by now. Then, out the corner of his eye, he saw Sam walking in, looking like a drowned rat, heading for the changing rooms… Fuck!

Jack felt really bad knowing what he had done. He made his way straight into the changing rooms to find Sam. Sam looked over to Jack as soon as he walked in.

“Mate! You’ll never guess what I had to do!”

Jack noticed straight away… Sam never used to say mate before! However, quickly brushing his excitement aside, he confessed to Sam. He really didn’t want to do it, but he couldn’t risk their friendship being uncovered. Much to his shock, Sam didn’t take it too badly at all. Instead, Sam confessed to Jack that he had been going off the whole skating and BMXing scene recently. It just didn’t seem so interesting anymore. Jack still felt bad and offered his spare pair of matching Nike joggers and sweat top for Sam to wear home after the gym.

Both Jack and Sam worked out together as usual. Once they finished, Jack handed Sam his spare clothes. Sam hesitated as he took the neatly folded pile. He had never worn anything like this before - these were chavvy clothes! He always wore ripped jeans and baggy t-shirts. But unless he wanted to go home wearing his sweaty gym kit, he had no other option. Jack watched intently, admiring Sam’s body as he dressed himself. Sam tried not to look too happy; however, he couldn’t help but notice the smell as he pulled the sweat top over his head. It smelt of Jack. For some reason, he found this comforting, like he had a part of Jack with him. He didn’t dare let that on in fear of Jack thinking he was some kind of gay weirdo. A lad like Jack couldn’t possibly feel the same way as he did. Jack mixed the next shake for Sam, and they both parted ways until tomorrow.

Sam got home from the gym to a surprised look from his parents. They had never known him to wear anything like this before. Sam usually would have been a little shy about it, but he just felt a new kind of confidence within himself that forced him, almost totally involuntarily, to come back with a response.

“Yeah, they’re from a mate at the gym. I got wet at school getting my skateboard from the pond. I actually quite like these… I might buy some of my own, innit!

Sam’s parents were a little taken aback by his response but didn’t want to knock the newfound confidence their son had acquired. Sam was pretty tired from his busy day, so he took himself straight to his room to chill out, watching some films in bed. Sam lay there wearing Jack’s clothes, occasionally taking a comforting sniff of the sleeve. He was curled up, snuggling into himself and Jack’s scent, and before he knew it, he was being woken up by his alarm.

Sam opened his eyes, a little disoriented by the fact he hadn’t undressed and got under his duvet. He noticed the TV and his bedside light were still on before looking over to his curtains to see the light shining through, confirming he had in fact slept right through. It didn’t take very long for the boost of energy to kick in again, making it easy to pull himself straight out of bed to get ready. Passing his mirror, he stopped and stepped back, taking a second glance at himself. He was a little shocked to see his reflection. He didn’t remember getting his hair cut, but it did look good!

“I dunno what I was thinking with my messy hair anyway,” Sam thought to himself.

He stood there admiring this quite chavvy-looking version of himself. At one stage, that would have repulsed him looking like one of the skanky dickheads from school, but whether it was just the fact he was growing out of his skater style, or Jack had been rubbing off on him, Sam was actually growing to like the style.

After Sam had finished admiring his changed look, he got ready and went to school. It was quite easy to hide his shifting opinion on his style at school, thanks to the uniform, but he couldn’t hide his new haircut. Sam’s friends picked up on it straight away, making fun of him and likening him to some of the chavvy lads at school with their typical hairstyles.

“Looks like you’re turning into one of them!”

Most of Sam’s friends looked like he used to with longer and messy hair. Sam was hurt by their remarks. They had known him for so long, yet they could turn on him so quickly. He didn’t want to make a fuss, so he let it drop this time, but something had shifted. The path of their friendship had been laid down.

Throughout the day, Sam found that he wasn’t as into the usual conversations about skating or BMXing as much as he used to be. In fact, he felt a little bored by it.

“Earth to Sam!” one of his mates joked in a sarcastic tone.

Sam snapped out of his daydream… He had been thinking about going to the gym later with Jack, excited to be spending more time with him.

“Sorry, guys, I was miles away!”

Sam continued as normal over the next few days, going to the gym, training with Jack, and taking the protein powder. He noticed his interests continued to wane, and the wedge between him and his old friends was growing. It really became apparent when he found out they had been arranging things behind his back, purposely not inviting him.

To top it off, puberty seemed to be hitting Sam hard. He thought that part of his life was over. He had accepted his shorter stature and come to terms with the idea that this was just how he was. But over the last few days, he had been hit by a second wave. He was growing again, easily a few inches taller. His face was slowly changing too, and most noticeably, his hair had begun to grow at an alarming rate. He had to get it cut regularly to maintain his new style. But weirdly, the roots were coming in lighter… like he was becoming blonde. He had never heard of anything like it, but with several close relatives who were blonde, he figured maybe it was just in his genes.

Sam had also drifted away from his friends pretty quickly and found himself on his own, a little lost and pretty damn lonely during school hours. He found himself longing for the end of each day, just to be back at the gym.

About two weeks later, if you hadn’t seen Sam for a while, you wouldn’t have recognised him. The taller, toned, blonde lad he had become was a far cry from the Sam of just a fortnight ago.

 He was feeling pretty low when he got to the gym that day. The last couple of days at school, he had spent mostly alone. However, he did have some classes with Jack’s friends, and his changes hadn’t gone unnoticed. Sam had found a new voice in class - chipping in with sarky comments and banter with other students. Jack’s mates couldn’t believe they hadn’t noticed him before. He wouldn’t be out of place hanging out with them at all.

Jack did his best to raise Sam’s spirit that day.

“Wanna come back to mine after the gym?” he asked casually.

Sam’s face lit up instantly, beaming from ear to ear. Jack smiled, raising his eyebrows at Sam’s reaction. Sam accepted the invite without question.

“Oh mate, while I remember, I got your clothes in my bag,” Sam said, starting to pull them out.

Jack stopped him, gently pushing his hand back into the bag.

“Nah, mate. You keep ‘em, init. You look good in ‘em, lad.”

Jack and Sam finished up at the gym, and Sam took his next protein shake. The lads left together, walking back to Jack’s place. Sam was pretty nervous. He had become quite extroverted recently, but this moment made him feel on edge.

As they arrived at Jack’s, they went straight to his room and chilled out playing Jack’s music – which Sam had to admit was better than what he still had in his library. They were gaming for a bit, and eventually lying next to each other on the bed watching a film. Everything felt perfect. Both lads had been building up to this moment, they both felt the same, but until now, neither had managed to muster the courage to say it.

Suddenly, Jack blurted out, “Bruv, I like you.”

Sam smiled. “I like you too, init.”

Jack looked even more sheepish and continued, “Nah mate… like I like you like you, yeah? You get me?”

Sam was over the moon, barely able to control his excitement.

“Ahhh mate! You don’t even know how much I wanted you to say that, bruv. Ever since I met you at the gym, I’ve felt the same, init!”

The couple shared an intimate embrace, and for the first time, they kissed. Now that Sam had gone through his growth spurt, he was taller than Jack. Jack grabbed Sam’s hands, rolled over to face away, and pulled Sam’s arms around him encouraging him to spoon him.

Sam’s heart was fluttering. He nestled his head against Jack’s as they continued to watch the film. Nothing more needed to be said. They were just completely content being that close to one another.

Later that night, Sam sat on the stairs at home, wearing just his gym shorts. He snapped a photo of himself and sent it to Jack with a message: “Really enjoyed tonight. This is all yours now!”

It had been a few hours since he had taken his shake at the gym, and it was starting to kick in. Sam felt something shift inside him. It was like an awakening. Everything suddenly made sense. His chavvy personality was taking a firmer grip, and he couldn’t do anything about it, becoming more chavvy by the minute. Feeling lightheaded, Sam crawled upstairs to bed and passed out.

The next morning, Sam woke up feeling like a new man. It was a strange feeling, but all the negative emotions he had been building up over losing his old friends had just… vanished. His new extroverted personality was fully on display now. The filter was gone. Cheeky comments came out without much thought for consequences or others’ feelings.

Striding to school with a new swagger in his step, Sam had tweaked his uniform to match what the chavvy kids wore. His school shoes were in his bag, swapped for trainers on his feet. Over his shirt and tie, he wore a grey hoodie, blazer on top, and a baseball cap. Walking through the front gates felt like another slow-mo moment for Jack. Sam looked up, spotted him, and smiled, giving a nod as he approached. Jack’s heart skipped a beat.

Sam was totally in tune with the vibe today. Walking straight up to Jack, he gave him a fist bump.

“All right, bruv? How’s it goin’?”

Jack’s mates all turned to face Sam. They were stunned by how much he had changed. That shock was short-lived though, because they liked what they saw. He looked like one of them.

One of the lads spoke up. “Yous know this lad, Jack?”

Jack stood his ground, half-expecting some pushback from his mates. “Yeah mate, we go gym together. He’s sound, init.”

The same lad nodded. “Ight. He’s cool. Yous can hang with us if you like.”

Sam cracked a cheeky grin and offered up a fist bump. “Sound, bruv. That’ll be sick like!”

The bell rang, and they all turned to walk inside for registration, with Jack and Sam falling behind the group. Sam reached out, cheekily squeezed Jack’s butt, and gave him a grin.

Jack smiled but quickly raised a finger to his lips. “Shhh.” He had only just got Sam accepted into the group and they didn’t want to give too much away just yet.

In registration class, Sam was seated with Jack and some of his friends who happened to be in the same form group. Sam joined in on their banter, laughing and joking like he had always been part of the crew.

At the far end of the room sat two of his old friends from before everything changed. They were glaring over at Sam shocked not just by how different he looked, but who he was with. Sam’s gaze locked with theirs. He couldn’t help himself.

“What yous starin’ at? You scruffy hobos. Problem?”

His old mates didn’t reply and just looked away awkwardly, trying to ignore him.

“Yeah, thought so, init!” Sam snapped, while Jack’s mates cracked up laughing.

Things had changed for Sam so quickly over the past months. He had met Jack, lost his old friends, his outlook had shifted, and his style had transformed beyond recognition. Now, he was tight with a bunch of lads he wouldn’t have even given a second glance a few weeks ago.

Through the next two weeks of his transformation, he kept up his routine with Jack - hitting the gym hard. That second wave of puberty, as Sam saw it, hadn’t let up. Day by day, it continued to reshape him - physically and mentally - strengthening and reinforcing this new version of himself.

His wardrobe had undergone a complete overhaul too. The old stuff was long gone. Replaced with Nike, Adidas, Stone Island, and even some slick EA7 gear. If his parents hadn’t seen him every day and gotten used to the gradual changes, they would hardly have recognised him. Sam looked seriously good in his new gear. One of his favourite fits was a crisp white long-sleeve Nike tee, black trackies, and black-and-white Air Max 95s. Jack was over the moon. Not only had he fallen for Sam, but now Sam looked fitter than ever - confident, stylish, and totally fitting in with Jack’s world.

It was Friday night - nearly the end of the 30-day transformation period - and the lads were heading out drinking. Someone was throwing a house party in the posh part of town, and pretty much everyone from college had heard about it. Sam was buzzing. It was his first proper night out drinking with his new mates, and he had gone all out rocking his new grey Puma hoodie and matching joggers. He stood outside, drink in one hand, a smoke in the other, waiting for Jack to arrive. They were planning to have a few drinks at Sam’s first before heading over to meet the others at the party.

Jack finally showed up, opening the garden gate and stepping into Sam’s yard. Without saying a word, he grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him in for a kiss. Sam melted into it. That warm, glowing feeling he’d come to associate with Jack washed over him again. It was like a joy he never wanted to end. He kissed Jack back, smiling into it.

“SAM!”

The boys jumped out of their skin. Sam spun around, eyes wide. He had thought his parents were out. He hadn’t heard them come in through the front door and now they were standing there, having just witnessed him and Jack mid-kiss. Even though the new Sam wasn’t shy, he stood frozen, completely speechless, his face turning red with embarrassment.

His mum, seeing the look on his face, rushed over and wrapped him in a big hug and then hugged Jack too.

“Don’t worry! You didn’t have to hide it from us. But I might have known some of your recent changes had something to do with meeting someone!” she added, giving Sam a knowing wink.

Sam’s eyes widened in horror. “MUM… seriously!” he groaned.

She just laughed. “Alright, alright… I won’t embarrass you anymore! I’ll leave you toooo have some alooone time...” she teased, singing the words as she turned and bolted inside before Sam could find something to throw at her.

Jack chuckled at Sam. He knew the real reason behind his transformation, but Sam’s mum had unintentionally given Jack a cover story.

The two started drinking and then headed off to meet the lads at the house party. It was packed when they arrived. Anything valuable had clearly been stashed away, but that didn’t stop the place from getting trashed: drinks spilling everywhere, muddy trainers grinding grime into carpets.

Everyone from college was there. Even Sam’s old skater mates had showed up, though he hadn’t noticed them. He was too caught up in the chaos, laughing with his new crew, doing shot after shot and getting as wasted as he could.

The skater group, though, were stunned. They barely recognised him. Had it not been for one of the lads calling Sam over right in front of them, they might not have even realised it was him.

“How the hell had he changed so much?” they wondered. The personality shift was one thing, but the physical transformation, the way he walked, dressed, even held himself was something else entirely. Something had to be up… They agreed: they were going to get to the bottom of it. But they would have to play it smart. If Sam suspected anything, they might lose their chance.

It wasn’t until Tuesday that two of the skater lads decided to tail Sam and Jack after college. They followed them all the way to the gym. They were careful, silent, ducking behind hedges, parked cars. As far as they could tell, they were invisible, but Jack had clocked them almost straight away.

He knew what day it was. The final day. Sam only had to take one more scoop of the special shake. After that, the transformation would be complete. Sam would be 100% chavvy just like Jack and his crew. Whatever fragments of his old skater self still lingered would be wiped away for good., but now Jack was worried. With Sam’s old mates sniffing around, he couldn’t afford to wait another day. Normally, Jack gave Sam the shake after their workout, but today, he insisted Sam drink it during their session.

He pushed Sam hard. They stayed an hour longer than usual. Jack was hoping the skater lads would get bored and leave. No such luck. As soon as they stepped outside, they were ambushed. Two guys stepped out in front of them; two more blocked the path from behind. Even with his new cocky edge, Sam could tell this wasn’t worth a fight. They were outnumbered. Zach - his closest old friend - stepped forward.

“What’s up with you, Sam? Ever since you started hitting the gym, you’ve turned into someone else. We don’t even recognise you anymore. You’ve become a proper chav, hangin’ with these scummy rats.”

Jack tensed and leaned forward, ready to go for Zach.

“Oi!” Sam stopped him with an arm.

“Yeah? Well, you lot dropped me like a stone, innit, bruv? Least these lads got my back. Now do one!”

Zach looked hurt but didn’t back off.

“Come on, man. I’m sure we can work it out. Maybe we weren’t perfect mates, but we cared. Let us make it up to you. Come with us and we can catch up, like old times.”

But Jack’s plan had worked. The last scoop of the shake had kicked in. Sam’s mind reeled, but the changes locked into place. His old self was being erased once and for all. He looked at Zach with cold indifference.

“Sorry, bruv. Whatever we had? That don’t mean shit now, innit. So jog on. Me and my boy got lives to live, yeah?”

Zach finally understood. There was no getting through. He and the others backed off. As they walked away, Zach heard Sam mutter, “Who do they think they are? Fuckin' weirdos, init, bruv!”

Jack laughed, “I know, man. Fucked up, innit like!”

By the time they reached Sam’s house, the confrontation was a distant memory. At the gate, Sam paused and pulled Jack in for a kiss before letting him head off home.

Zach, who was still secretly following, froze behind a parked car. His jaw dropped. Everything made sense now.

The next day, the lunch bell rang. Sam and Jack were having a kickabout with the lads on the field when they saw the skater group approaching. Jack’s mates clocked them and started closing in, forming a loose wall of support around Sam and Jack. Zach pushed forward.

“I bet you lot would love to know a little secret these two have been keeping,” he said, loud enough for the whole field to hear.

Sam and Jack froze. Zach’s voice was venomous.

“These two… they’re a couple. Like, properly. Boyfriends.”

The group went quiet. Sam’s face flushed red. Jack looked down. This could be it… But before the silence could stretch too long, Aaron stepped forward. He moved in front of Jack and Sam, spreading his arms protectively, staring Zach down.

“And what? You jealous or summat?” he spat. “You wish it was you, innit? You wish Sam was your man, yeah?”

Zach’s bravado crumbled. Aaron stepped closer, pushing into Zach’s space.

“Why don’t you just fuck off and get your own boyfriend? Sam’s one of us now whether you like it or not. We got his back, ight? Prick.”

Zach and the skater lads slunk off, defeated.

Jack turned to Aaron. “Cheers, mate. That meant a lot.”

Aaron grinned.

“It’s cool, bruv. What you two get up to, that’s your business. As long as you one of us, no one’s gonna give you shit. You get me, fam?”

From that moment on, Sam didn’t need the magic anymore. Zach had burned every bridge. The choice was clear. He belonged with the lads now. The next day, Aaron invited Sam to hang out, just the two of them. It was the first time Sam had spent time with one of the lads without Jack. They hung out in town, drinking, laughing, kicking about. Sat on a bench, Aaron lit up a smoke and passed it over.

“You alright, fam? Forget them twats you used to hang with. You one of us now, yeah? We got you.”

Sam nodded, taking a drag.

“Cheers, bruv. I ain’t ever goin’ back, init.”

Later that night, Sam went over to Jack’s house with a couple of the lads to pre-drink before heading out. They all posed for a photo, arms around each other, beers in hand. Sam stood just behind Jack, who was wearing his new Silk Silk hoodie, grinning beside Olly in his camo-sleeved tee. Looking at them, you would never guess Sam had been anything but one of the lads.

Sometimes he would pass his old mates in town, barely even acknowledging them. To them, he was just another chav now. They would stare after him, baffled, wondering how the transformation had been so total. And deep down, some of them probably wondered whether they could have done something to stop it, to not lose the friend they used to know. But it was too late now. Jack’s plan had worked. He had changed Sam completely. And no one had ever figured it out. He felt a quiet sense of pride every time he looked at Sam now - knowing exactly what he had done. And knowing Sam was all his.

One afternoon, while passing through town, Jack decided to drop into the magic shop to thank the old, wizard-like man who had helped start it all. The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped inside. Jack made his way to the counter where a young woman stood, arranging crystals in a display case.

“Can I help you?” she asked with a friendly smile.

“Yeah, mate,” Jack said casually. “Where’s the old guy who works here?”

The woman tilted her head, clearly confused. “Old guy? What do you mean?”

“You know,” Jack continued, eyebrows furrowing, “the one who looks a bit like a wizard, proper mystical vibes yeah?”

She gave a small laugh but shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve owned this place for a few years now. There’s never been anyone like that working here.”

Jack stared at her, unsure whether she was winding him up.

“But… nah, seriously,” he pressed, “I came in here not long ago... he gave me this shake stuff, said it would help someone.”

The woman gave a polite but firm smile. “I think you must be mistaken. Maybe it was another shop?”

Jack slowly backed away from the counter, his expression shifting from confusion to unease. He stepped outside into the street, the door swinging shut behind him with another quiet chime. Standing there, Jack looked back at the window, his reflection faint against the glass. Everything that had happened with Sam was real - he knew it was. So, who was that man? Where did he come from? Where did he go? It was as if the mysterious old figure had appeared just when Jack needed him most. And then vanished, never meant to be seen again…

______________________________________________________________

This story was originally posted by @scallylad89 on Tumblr. I have improved it a little. It’s one of my favourite stories he wrote, so it deserves to be on Tumblr again.

[davidchavlover]

Was going away somewhere cold so got a 2nd hand puffer off vinted. Just got the first tone I saw, black shiny ea7 one that was quite battered but cheap. Wore it all the time I was away but since I got back I haven't stopped wearing it. Even in this heat I just need to wear it, feels wrong if not. Mates think I'm acting weird but who cares, been bumping into others guys in ea7 puffers and we've started to hang out together. Couldn't be happier

Clothes can sure change your life. And that black EA7 puffer definitely did it for you. It all started with you just being a bit more chilled out than usual, letting things slide that usually would have stressed you out. Lectures at uni started feeling pointless. And you couldn’t help noticing that, walking around town, you got nods from certain types you had never spoken to before. Blokes in tracksuits, Air Maxes on their feet, gold chains flashing in the sun. One of them clocked the EA7 jacket and gave you a nod of approval.

“Oi, nice puffer, fam. You local?”

From there, it was easy. The group opened up to you like you had always been part of it. Jay, Reece, Tyrell, and a few others. They had this easy way about them, like they didn’t answer to anyone. They introduced you to their routine. Mornings didn’t start until afternoon. You would meet outside the corner shop on the estate. Cans of Monster or Red Bull in hand, maybe a sausage roll, always a bit of something to pass around usually a rollie at first. You weren’t much of a smoker before, but everyone else was lighting up, and you didn’t want to stick out. Before long, it was just part of your life.

Then came the green. First time you had a pull; you coughed so bad they all laughed their arses off. But it hit you like nothing else. Suddenly, everything was funny, everything was chill. I felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That was when you finally stopped bothering with uni altogether. Now your days are all about the roads. You and your mates don’t do much, but it feels like everything. Your EA7 puffer became like a uniform that showed that you were one of them now.

Look at this pic your mate Dylan took of you yesterday… You don’t really look like a smart, posh guy anymore. The uni lad is fully gone. This life may be different to what you planned, but I reckon it’s the first time you’ve actually felt happy.

[davidchavlover]

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.

[davidchavlover]

I’ve been staying inside since the health warning. Today there was an urgent knock at the door, I just forgot and opened it. Standing outside was one of the binmen, dressed in his stinking orange uniform, he looked like a proper chav, short curly hair and those fake diamond studs in his ears. I guess having to work outside they were bound to be infected. He said something to me about the wrong bin being out. I couldn’t really focus on what he was saying though, it was like the stink from his uniform was dulling my mind…. I remember saying goodbye to him and closing the door. And now I’m sitting in my car parked at the council depot… I have no idea what I’m doing here… I can see all the bin lads loitering outside the office… they are pretty much clones of each other… I’m just staring at them… and now my hands opening the door… what’s happening??

Poor you. Seems like fate had already sealed your path long before you stepped through that door.

The air hits you first with the same acrid stench that clung to the lad earlier. It clings to your throat, coats your tongue, settles into your nostrils. You blink and keep walking, each step echoing down the narrow hallway. You reach the office at the end. The door opens before you even knock. Inside, the room is sparse and grim: a battered desk, paint peeling from the walls, and a man slouched behind the desk. He is in his mid-40s, with sunburnt skin weathered like old leather, and tattoos that twist and crawl across his arms. He looks up.

“You must be Jake, the new lad who wanted to join.”

You hesitate. Jake? That’s not your name. And you definitely didn’t come here to sign up as a garbage collector.

But… for some reason, the correction dies in your throat. You feel your head nod. The man - your boss, apparently - grins as if he had been expecting your compliance. “Good lad. Let’s get you sorted with some gear.”

He leads you next door into a storage room that smells even worse. The place is cluttered with shelves, crates, and piles of clothes. That same foul odour clings to everything, like it's seeped into the fibres themselves. He rifles through a heap and tosses you a pair of heavy-duty pants, steel-toe boots, a fluorescent vest, and a council-issue T-shirt.

“Here you go, mate. You'll be out on route soon enough.”

You strip right there in front of him without thinking. The clothes fit surprisingly well. As you lace up the boots, you feel something settle in your chest. He gives you an approving nod, eyes trailing over your new look. “You’ll fit right in with the lads.”

He leads you into the next room - smaller, with peeling tile floors and a plastic chair in the centre under a buzzing fluorescent bulb. A guy is waiting, clippers in hand. You sit down without a word. The clippers buzz to life, and in moments, your carefully styled hair falls in clumps to the floor. It’s all gone in minutes, replaced by a rough, no-nonsense trim.

You glance in the cracked mirror on the wall and pause. It looks... better. It suits you. You even smile.

“Route starts in an hour,” your boss says, guiding you toward the door. “Go outside, meet the other lads.”

Outside, the smell of engine oil and sweat fills the yard. Five or six other guys in the same kit lounge around, laughing, sharing smokes, swearing. You approach, and without even thinking, introduce yourself… “I’m Jake.”

They welcome you like they have known you forever. Someone hands you a cigarette. You have never smoked before, but you light up anyway and take a drag. It burns going down, but you don't cough. It feels good. The conversation feels surprisingly natural. You find yourself laughing too. With every minute, something shifts inside you. Memories blur. Thoughts slow. You don’t even notice when your real name slips away. You’re Jake now. Always have been. Always will be. Your old dreams don’t matter anymore. They were too complicated, too… clean anyways. You're made for this. A binman. A proud lad who wakes before dawn, picks up trash, jokes with the crew, and doesn’t give a toss about the rest.

And now, you're on your first route. The back of the lorry is hot, grimy, loud. You’re covered in sweat and stink already, but it doesn’t bother you. In fact, you kind of like it. It feels right. You chuck another bin into the compactor, wipe your hands on your vest, and grin. That stink is part of you now. No shower is ever going to scrub it out. But why would you want to? It’s who you are.

[davidchavlover]

A week in and my boss has said we have to go into the office… apparently we haven’t been productive enough working from home, I’m not sure it’s a good idea

You had spent the last week working from home, just like the rest of your team. At first, it had seemed like a decent arrangement, but after just three days, something felt off. You were still answering emails, joining video calls, and pushing through tasks, but your coworkers? No replies, no updates, no signs of life. Even the simplest responsibilities were left undone. You weren’t surprised when your boss finally called everyone back to the office to investigate the steep drop in productivity.

It felt strangely surreal stepping outside for the first time in a week. The sun was warm, the sky a calm blue. You kept your pace brisk. People were saying strange things about some kind of “infection” going around. You didn’t want to risk catching whatever it was.

The office lobby was quiet, unusually so. You headed toward the conference room where the team meeting was supposed to take place. As you opened the door, the smell of cheap cologne, stale beer, and cigarette smoke hit you. The room wasn’t filled with professionals anymore, but with a rowdy gang of tracksuit-wearing, loud-talking, beer-chugging chavs. For a second you thought you had entered the wrong room. But then you began to recognize them. The faces were familiar. Those were your colleagues.

They looked different now wither their hair styled in tacky cuts and their once-formal clothes replaced with cheap streetwear. Your boss walked in right behind you, stopping short as he took in the scene. The same horrified realization crossed his face. This explained everything. The missed deadlines. The unanswered calls.

As the shock settled in, you failed to notice the numbness spreading through your own mind. The worry, the confusion all began to fade. Your thoughts slowed, your focus disappeared. You stumbled into a chair, blinking heavily as your sense of self began to dissolve. One of the lads leaned over and offered you a can of lager and a cigarette. Without hesitation, you took them. You took a long swig and a drag, and just like that, the last pieces of who you used to be crumbled away. Your boss, too, sat down slowly, confusion melting from his face as the same dull smile spread across his lips.

Within an hour, your transformation was complete. Gone was the hardworking employee, the worried thinker. In your place stood just another dumb chav. Your former colleagues greeted you like you had been mates forever. As a group, you all left the building, laughter echoing down the street. On the way to the nearest pub, they gave you a new more fitting outfit. You slipped into your new identity without resistance. You were way happier just hanging out with your mates than you ever were in your old life.

Here you are with your former boss.

[davidchavlover]

Whats all this talk about an infection havent noticed anything. Surley a mask is enough to protect me right?

Let’s see if the mask actually protected you…

It clearly didn’t work. That much should be obvious. Look at yourself. You are barely even a shadow of who you used to be. Standing there, slouched against the wall with a hand covering your face and music blasting from your phone speaker, you look like every other lad hanging about the estate. Same fake tracksuit, same beat up sliders. You have blended in so completely that even you wouldn’t be able to recognise you anymore.

And the worst part is not just your changed appearance, but your new identity. Everything is gone now. Everything you once were. Your education was wiped clean like it never was there in the first place. All those years spent trying to claw your way into something better gone in a haze of weed smoke. You don’t remember how to apply for a job; let alone why you would want one. It’s almost as if school never happened. You have become exactly the kind of person you used to mock behind closed doors. But you don’t mock anymore. You don’t think at all, really.

Now, you spend your days doing two things: smoking and listening to music. That’s it. On repeat. Wake up sometime in the afternoon, scrounge a few coins together, get new cigs and when you’re lucky, someone passes you a joint and a bottle of something cheap and warm. You got fired from your job weeks ago. You just stopped turning up. You didn’t even think about it. You barely remembered you had a job. That life was gone now.

Sad, isn’t it? All of it could have been avoided. By listening to the warnings and just staying inside, but you didn’t listen and now here you are.

But you almost look… happy. There is something in the way you laugh with your mates at nothing, the way you bob your head to the beat of whatever track’s playing from your phone speakers. It’s hard to say what you have really lost when you can’t even remember what mattered in the first place, but now you’re just another lad on the estate.

[davidchavlover]

I saw the health warning, but surely I’ll be alright. I just need to pop out and get something from the shop. As long as I stay out of the sun and avoid any of the chav lads loitering around. Shit I think one of them has spotted me, he’s calling me over… he’s dressed in so much shiny gear… shaking a can of beer at me, telling me it’s so hot and I should just have a sip, well the advice did say to stay hydrated….

And just like that, your fate was sealed. Before you knew it, you were walking over to the lad hanging out at a park bench. It didn't take long before you were sitting next to him, cracking open your own can of cheap beer, laughing along to stories. The drink went down surprisingly easy. Somewhere in the back of your mind, there was a vague echo of a warning - something about a health risk - but it felt distant, like advice given to someone else.

First came the shift in your mood. That light, easy looseness in your limbs. You weren't tense anymore, not worrying, not thinking too much. Then you noticed the way your voice changed, picking up his tone, mirroring his words, echoing the way he spoke. You found yourself laughing about football, naming clubs you barely knew existed. Then it was about vapes, trading thoughts on flavours like it actually mattered. And then came the talk about girls… wait wasn’t you gay? It didn’t matter anymore now.

He stood up and gave you a pat on the back. Said something about heading back to his for a quick change "gotta look proper if we’re linking up with the boys." You followed him without question. The estate was just a short walk away, the kind of place you would normally avoid, but it felt different now.

His flat was cramped, plaster peeling, faint smell of weed and last night’s takeout lingering in the air. He tossed you a dark grey Montirex tracksuit. You changed in silence, pulling it on piece by piece. The fabric felt strange against your skin, but by the time you looked in the mirror, you didn’t recognise what felt off. You just saw someone who looked like they fit in. Then came the balaclava. He threw it to you like it was nothing, and you didn’t even pause before slipping it over your head. The reflection looking back looked right too you, like you had always dressed like this.

Before heading out again, he handed you a half-smoked joint and told you the plan: head to the next park, meet the others, chill for a bit. You just nodded. This is your new life now. I hope you don’t regret not listening to the health advice, although you might not remember much about the old you now anyways…

[davidchavlover]

Oi bruv what you chattin’ bout, some healf emergency? My mates is all too wet to come out now cos of yous all sayin’ it’s unhealfy to leave our yards. I ain’t some pussy tho you get me, I been goin’ their yards instead and nuffing’s peak bout me. All da walkin’s got me fitter dan ever innit!

Stop baiting out da mandem yeah? I’m goin’ my mate’s now so he can see everyfing’s sound!

You really should have taken the warnings more seriously. Do you even remember the person you used to be? You were right on track to finish university, something you had worked towards for years. You had plans, ambition. A well-paying job was within reach, just waiting for you. But that future is gone now. If you had just stayed inside… you wouldn’t be where you are now. You wouldn’t be a chav. Though truthfully, I don’t think you remember much of who you were. That part of you is buried deep inside you now. You’re too far gone to even reflect on it properly. Your mind is clouded now, cluttered with fantasies of being a “bad man”… whatever that even means.

It started slowly. First, you began forgetting things. Then your thinking dulled. Rationality gave way to impulse. You stopped caring about the big picture and started caring about appearances. Football, rap lyrics, street talk… they became your identity. You traded your textbooks for tracksuits and swapped your goals for a fresh trim and some designer trainers.

And now look at you. You blend in perfectly with every other chav loitering at the bus stop, trying so hard to look tough. You used to stand out. Now you’re just another face in the crowd. And the worst part is that you don’t even realise it. So, I will ask you one last time is this really who you want to be?

Let’s just hope your friend doesn’t open the door, because if he does, he will become a chav just like you. First in his choices, then in his habits, then in his very sense of self. Soon, he will be wearing the same tracksuits, speaking in that same forced tone. He will be doomed to live a simple, hollow chav life… just like you.

[davidchavlover]

HM Government – Official Statement

Public Health Emergency – Heat-Induced Behavioural Syndrome

31 May 2025

His Majesty's Government is currently responding to a developing public health situation following the recent period of unusually high temperatures across the United Kingdom.

Over the past several days, there have been increasing reports of unexplained and abnormal behaviours concentrated primarily among males. While investigations are ongoing, preliminary assessments suggest we may be witnessing the onset of a heat-related behavioural epidemic. At present, the precise cause and full scope of the condition remain undetermined.

We are issuing the following public health advisory as a precautionary measure:

Members of the public are advised to:

Avoid prolonged exposure to direct sunlight, particularly between the hours of 11:00 and 15:00;

Remain indoors or in shaded, well-ventilated areas where possible;

Maintain adequate hydration;

Limit physical exertion during peak heat periods.

The observed symptoms among those affected include:

Excessive drowsiness and perspiration

Rapid and unexplained weight loss

Sudden changes in personality or speech patterns, including increased use of regional or colloquial slang

Marked decline in academic or intellectual engagement

Elevated libido

Urge of wearing tracksuits and associated leisurewear

These symptoms appear to be lasting in nature. At this stage, no effective treatment or reversal method has been identified.

We regret to confirm that the condition is now considered transmissible via bodily fluids, including blood, saliva, and semen. In light of this development, the United Kingdom has enacted emergency protocols. All international travel has been suspended, and the nation is currently under quarantine to prevent the potential spread of the condition abroad.

Images of the affected continue to emerge, and we strongly advise all citizens to exercise extreme caution. Do not engage with individuals displaying the aforementioned symptoms and report sightings to local authorities via the dedicated hotline.

Further updates will be issued as more information becomes available. We thank the public for their cooperation during this unprecedented situation.

______________________________________________________________

I hope all of you stay save and don’t get infected. If you do, please stay at home and inform me. It would be a shame if some of my followers would turn into chavs too…

[davidchavlover]

The Tracksuit

Andrew was a pretty average guy. At 31, fresh off his birthday celebration, he had a stable job, a solid group of friends, and a loving husband by his side. Life was good. As part of his New Year’s resolution, he had joined a gym, as a step towards becoming a better version of himself. He wasn’t out of shape, really, but he figured a little self-improvement couldn’t hurt.

The gym was part of a larger sports complex, complete with tennis courts and football fields. All the athletes shared the same changing rooms. One evening after work, Andrew stepped into the locker room and noticed something on a bench. It was a crumpled football tracksuit, likely forgotten by one of the players. He picked it up, planning to bring it to the front desk. But then he paused. A strange thought crept into his mind. It was impulsive and totally unlike him. Before he could second-guess himself, he raised the fabric to his nose and sniffed. It reeked of sweat, like it had just been peeled off someone minutes ago. Oddly compelled, he took a deeper breath. The scent was overpowering, and his head swam. He felt… light.

Then came an even stranger thought: What if I tried it on? The room was empty. No one would see. Almost without thinking, he slipped the tracksuit on. The sleeves clung tightly to his arms; the fabric was warm and damp against his skin. His legs filled out the snug bottoms. It felt… good. A warm tingle spread across his body like static. His skin flushed. A dizzy wave hit him, and he stumbled to the bench. Alarmed, he stripped off the tracksuit and stuffed it into his gym bag. What the hell was that?

Back home, Andrew tossed the bag onto the bed and unzipped it. The tracksuit, which he had crammed in hastily, was now neatly folded, as if someone had laid it in with care. That was odd. Compelled once more, he pulled the tracksuit out and slipped it on again. The tingle returned instantly, stronger this time. He staggered, barely making it to the bed before collapsing onto it. The warmth spread, rising up his neck and into his face until it felt like fire was reshaping it, like unseen hands were moulding his features. His vision blurred. The heat became unbearable. The dizziness peaked.

As he opened his eyes again, Andrew found himself in an unfamiliar room. Where was he? He sat up on the bed and took a moment to look around. The room itself was relatively plain and boring, with white walls and wooden floors. Above the bed was a massive football poster. Looking down, he saw that he was still wearing the football tracksuit, but, weirdly, his skin looked a little darker than normal.

Why hadn’t he changed out of his tracksuit after practice? That was so weird… Wait?! What was he thinking? What practice? He didn’t play football… right?

The dizziness came back, and he had to sit down, grabbing hold of his head. After a minute or two, it passed again, and he realized that he did play football and had just returned from practice. He had been a member of the team from a young age. Being 18 now, he had been on the team for 10 years. Wait?! He wasn’t 18… right?

The thought really confused him, and he figured he should check his license. So, he got up and retrieved his wallet, which was lying on the desk in the room. He pulled out the license. It read: “Keiran Taylor, born: 05.02.2007.”

Shaking his head and laughing at his own confusion, he put his license back on the desk. Why had he even doubted that he was 18? His birthday hadn’t been that long ago, and he could still remember the start of the party out in town with his mates. It had been so much fun though he drank way too much. That didn’t sound like him at all… or did it? He never drank alcohol. Maybe once a year, at most. Well, to be fair, he might have had a drink or two on special occasions, but even then, it was rare. Conflicting thoughts plagued Andrew’s mind or was it Keiran now?

Last weekend had been different, though. He had been out with his mates again, and they had a few rounds of drinks. Honestly, he always drank when he was out with them, which was most weekends. So maybe drinking wasn’t out of the ordinary for Keiran. His mates even told him he was the worst out of the whole group. He didn’t really care. No drinking, no fun, right…?

Keiran got up from the bed, still a little confused. What were these weird thoughts he was having? He had the strange feeling that there was something important he had forgotten, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He brushed it off. Maybe he was just feeling unfocused today.  Didn’t he have something planned this evening? Right… his girlfriend! That was it. That’s what he had forgotten.

He looked down at his clothes. Probably time to change out of his football gear. He walked over to his closet, undressed, and opened it. Inside, it was packed: tracksuits, puffer jackets, shirts, and a full array of accessories - caps, beanies, chains, bags. Keiran instinctively picked out a grey Hoodrich tracksuit - one of his favourites - and a black hat. From the bottom of the closet, he grabbed his white Nike TNs. Fully dressed now, Keiran took a quick mirror selfie before heading out to meet his girl.

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Here we go again… Sorry for not posting for the last few days. I hope you enjoyed this little story. How did you like it?

[davidchavlover]

From Sam to Kieron

Sam stood alone in his bedroom, heart pounding as the empty vial slipped from his fingers and clinked onto the desk. He stared at his reflection, eyes wide, jaw twitching. He had downed the entire dose of the Serum in one reckless gulp. Too late to turn back now. A slow, unsettling churn started in his stomach. His gut twisted and bubbled like boiling tar. He staggered back from the mirror, clutching his sides. The pain bloomed fast. “Urghh… nghhh…” Then… “BUUUUURRRRP!” The belch ripped from him with surprising force. For a brief second, the pressure in his gut eased. He even grinned, wiping his mouth. But that relief vanished in an instant. A hot flush spread through his core. His skin prickled with sweat. He could feel the Serum coursing through his bloodstream, his heart thudding wildly. The heat rose.

The burning turned into searing pain, racing through his muscles. Sam gasped, stumbling back into the wall. His legs shook. “CRACK!” He screamed as something deep in his spine snapped. His knees buckled. Then came more sounds: Pop, Click, Crack-crack. His bones were shrinking, warping, his whole body curling in on itself. He held his arms out in front of him in horror as they retracted inch by inch, the sleeves of his hoodie now flopping over his wrists. His legs buckled again as they shortened beneath him. He watched helplessly as his surroundings grew taller, because he was getting smaller. His height slipped past six foot, five-eleven… five-nine… five-five...

“W-what the…?!”

His body was collapsing inward, compressing. His ribcage groaned under the pressure, the bones bending and snapping inward as if crushed by invisible hands. He could barely breathe. His face itched. He grabbed at his cheeks, feeling his skin clinging to newly shaped bones. His reflection was no longer his.

His hoodie split down the middle, seams pulling apart, threads reweaving into a grey jacket. His baggy jeans twisted, morphed, turned slightly shiny, plasticky - tightening around slimmer legs. His trainers melted and reshaped beneath him and reshaped into grey 95s.

Then appeared a pressure, deeper than before. Not in his stomach this time, but in his head. His thoughts were swirling. Something was bubbling up.

“Ffffuckin’ hell, like… is proper chavvy, innit!”

He slapped a hand over his mouth. That voice was different. Thicker accent, words lazily slurred, the tone cocky, careless. A rush of confidence washed over him. He felt carefree.

Sam staggered back, panting, gripping the edge of his desk. But he didn’t feel like Sam anymore. His memories were still there - his childhood, his mates, his favourite games - but they were drifting into the background, blurred behind new thoughts. His name wasn’t Sam now. It was Kieron. He didn’t know how he knew… it just was. Like it had always been. Sam was fading, slipping out the back door of his mind, leaving Kieron behind to take the wheel.

He stepped out of his room into the evening light, blinking like it was his first time seeing the street. Later, he sat on a bench, joint in hand, legs spread, laughing with a group of lads he somehow already knew. One of them pulled out his phone and snapped a pic. Kieron looked up. The camera caught him. He looked sick. From now on the former skater boy Sam was Kieron the cocky chav lad!

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This story is based on a story originally posted by @scallylad89 on Tumblr. I have changed quite a lot about the original story though.

[davidchavlover]

Challenge Accepted

It had all started as a joke between friends… Oliver and Alfie were the golden boys of their quiet, leafy neighbourhood - both from stable, well-off families, living in tidy detached homes a few doors apart. Their lives were clean, predictable, and largely uncomplicated. But beneath the surface, they were fiercely competitive. From whom could get higher marks on a maths test to who could beat who while gaming, everything was a contest. They never really fought, but there was always an edge to their friendship. A constant push to outdo each other.

One Friday night, during one of their classic gaming marathons the conversation turned weird. They had just finished mocking a viral video of some lads brawling outside a kebab shop when Alfie suddenly broke into the thickest, most exaggerated chav accent he could muster.

“Oi bruv, you seen my Air Max? Man’s lookin’ peng tonight!”

Oliver nearly choked on his drink. “What are you doing, mate?”

“Bein’ real, innit,” Alfie said, puffing up his chest and doing a ridiculous head-tilt. “Safe, yeah?”

Oliver burst out laughing and then joined in. Soon, both of them were deep in character, slouching in their chairs, arms flailing as they ranted about “mandem” and “peng tings”. What started as a five-minute joke stretched into the entire night. Every time one of them broke character, the other would taunt them for “slippin’ out the ends.” By the time they crashed on the sofa at 3 AM, they had invented alter-egos, fake street names, and a fully fictional feud with a rival crew from “down the estate.”

The next morning, they just kept it going. They messaged each other in chav slang. They made up new phrases. They even filmed short videos pretending to start beef with each other over who stole whose kebab. It was a full-blown competition now, and they were both playing to win.

As Alfie was heading out the door that afternoon, he turned back with a grin. “Bruv, I bet I could be the more convincing chav, no cap.”

Oliver didn’t hesitate. “Challenge accepted.”

By the next day, things got serious. They each tore through their wardrobes, trying to find anything that screamed "chav." Neither of them really owned the right gear, but they made do with some old tracksuits and beaten-up trainers. Alfie even found an old gold chain from a costume party and wore it over his sweatshirt like it was proper bling. When they met up again, they both burst out laughing.

Oliver had gone for the classic look: black tracksuit, hood up, hands in pockets. Alfie had taken it a step further with a grey Nike tracksuit bottom, white tank top, and a snapback turned sideways. He even sprayed himself with some cheap body spray from a corner shop to “complete the aesthetic.”

“Bro, you look like you’re about to rob a Greggs,” Oliver said.

“Safe, innit,” Alfie replied, dead serious. “Respect my ends, fam.” They couldn’t stop laughing. But beneath the humour, the competition was heating up.

“Tell you what,” Alfie said, eyes gleaming, “we should take this outside. Hit town. See if people buy it.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “In public?”

“Yeah, man. Let’s see who’s more convincing. Winner gets bragging rights and a Nando’s.”

Challenge accepted, again.

The moment they stepped into the local shopping centre, the game changed. They strutted through the entrance like they owned the place. Swagger in their step, mock scowls on their faces. To their surprise, no one really stared. A few sideways glances, sure, but most people just walked by without giving them a second thought.

“Either we’re nailing this, or people in this town have seen way worse,” Oliver muttered.

They hung around the food court, doing their best to blend in. They took selfies, made fake Snapchats pretending they were “on road,” and debated loudly about who had the harder “roadman persona.” Then they spotted JD Sports. It was like a beacon. They both froze for a second, then grinned.

“Go on,” Oliver said, elbowing Alfie. “Bet you won’t go in and try on a full kit.”

Alfie didn’t even blink. “Watch me.”

He walked in like he belonged there. Within minutes, he emerged from the fitting rooms in a full Nike tracksuit. On his feet was a brand-new pair of white Air Max 95s. He looked the part.

Oliver let out a low whistle. “Alright, you’ve committed. But I bet you won’t actually buy that stuff.”

Alfie locked eyes with him. “Bruv, you’re on.”

He walked up to the counter and tapped his card. “You madman,” Oliver said, grinning. “You’re actually doing this.”

“Too late to back out now, fam. Your turn.”

Now it was Oliver’s move. Not to be outdone, he doubled down. He found his own kit and threw down his own cash. They spent the rest of the afternoon in full character - posing in front of shop windows, filming TikTok’s, and rating each other's accents. Strangely, people still didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe they just blended in. The scariest part was that they were starting to enjoy it for real.

A week later, the joke was still going or at least, that was what they kept telling themselves. What had started as a one-off laugh had become a routine. Every time they met, Oliver and Alfie pushed the act further. It wasn’t enough to just talk like chavs anymore they had to live it. Each interaction turned into a new challenge, a new test of commitment. Who could go deeper without blinking?

They started wearing tracksuits every time they hung out. Not just to town, but everywhere: to the cinema, to the corner shop, even to family dinners, much to their parents’ dismay. One evening, Alfie showed up puffing on a disposable vape.

“You serious?” Oliver asked, half-laughing, half-impressed.

Alfie blew a thick cloud of sickly-sweet berry vapour. “Bruv, you gonna talk or you gonna man up?”

The next day, Oliver showed up vaping too. Soon, both lads had clean skin fades. They had completely dropped gaming in favour of spending their time loitering around town, mostly outside the local Tesco or on the benches by the bus stop, daring each other to do increasingly chavvy things - harassing seagulls, shouting random slang at strangers, filming themselves doing ridiculous impressions.

Weirdly enough, they were starting to actually enjoy it. What was once ironic had begun to feel... normal. Vaping, loafing, blasting drill music from a portable speaker… It felt relaxing. Each meetup became the highlight of their week, not because of how absurd it was, but because it made them feel more alive than they had in years.

Then, one night, Alfie said what they had both been thinking. “Bro... we should get more gear. Like proper fits. I’m not gonna lie these trackies are mad comfy.”

Oliver smirked. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

Within days, both of their wardrobes had undergone a full chavvolution. Their once-smart wardrobes - polos, jumpers, chinos - were gone, replaced by an ever-growing collection of branded tracksuits, trainers, bum bags, fake gold chains, and bucket hats. Each new outfit sparked a new mini contest: who could assemble the chavviest look and actually wear it in public?

Then the dares escalated. They started lifting weights in the garage because “mandem don’t skip chest day.” They decorated their rooms to match their new lifestyle - Alfie stuck up drill posters and replaced his old desk lamp with a neon “Boss Man” sign; Oliver hung a Union Jack tapestry and stacked empty Monster cans like trophies. And then came the weed. At first, it was another dare. Alfie rolled it and they passed it back and forth behind the train station, coughing and laughing like kids. But that soon became another habit.

Fast forward a year, and you wouldn’t recognise them. Oliver and Alfie were both twenty now. A year ago, they were college-bound lads with clear futures mapped out, but now they were proper roadmen. They didn’t just dress the part; they were the part. From their creps to their slang, every detail of their lives had been taken over by the aesthetic, the attitude, the culture. They rolled through town like they owned it, always in full kit: branded tracksuits, puffer jackets, bum bags across the chest, and fresh fades.

They spent their days linking up with other lads, kicking about, smoking, blasting drill from a speaker one of them always had tucked in their bag. Nights were for loitering outside the local shops, hitting shisha bars, or riding out in beat-up cars with tinted windows, half-down even when it was freezing.

They didn’t have jobs. Didn’t need them, apparently. They always had cash on hand - no one asked from where, and neither of them volunteered the info. A little side hustle here, a little "man-knows-a-guy" there. Whatever it was, they got by.

Their hands hadn’t touched a textbook in over a year. Their old schedules - revision timetables, weekend gaming marathons, family brunches - had been replaced with late-night linkups, early-morning munchies runs, and full days spent just hanging around.

Their bedrooms now looked like roadman shrines. Alfie had hung a massive Union Jack next to a football poster, and Oliver’s setup had flashing LED strips, a cracked TV playing YouTube freestyles on loop, and rows of trainers lined up like museum pieces. Empty Monster cans and Rizla packets littered every surface.

The way they spoke had fully switched too. “Wagwan, fam,” “man's movin' mad,” “safe, g” that was just how they talked now, to everyone. Teachers, shopkeepers, their mums. It didn’t even feel put-on anymore. It was just how it came out.

Their families had tried. They really had. Oliver’s dad gave him the “future talk” at least three times before giving up. Alfie’s mum cried when he shaved off his fringe for the fade and came home with a neck tattoo. But there was no stopping it now.

They had a new circle of lads from the estates. At first, Oliver and Alfie were side-eyed. No one took two posh boys in fresh creps seriously. But bit by bit, they proved themselves. They knew the music, the lingo, the codes. They backed each other, moved confident, never slipped. Eventually, they got accepted.

There were still moments where they remembered their old lives though. Like when Alfie found a sixth form photo tucked behind his wardrobe mirror, or when Oliver’s little sister asked him why he sounded “like someone off TikTok.” They’d just laugh it off.

“Imagine us back in school, yeah? With our lil' blazers and pencil cases.”

“Bruv, I used to revise. For fun. Dead behaviour.”

By now, if they tried to switch back, it wouldn’t even work. The posh accents, the neat clothes, the clean routines - none of that fit anymore. It was like trying to wear shoes that were two sizes too small. This was them now. And there was no way back…

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This is possible my favorite story I have ever written. How did you like it?