multiplicationdivision

[multiplicationdivision]

Season 3

Random TF Blurb: Good Trim

Ally needed to trim up her bikini area and decided to clean and use her BF's trimmer. What she didn't know was this trimmer was only made for him. The second she touched it, her body began to expand and grow. Torso broadened, as her shirt bursted open revealing a toned chest and abs. Her voice deepened, as her hair receded.

Her hands got larger, as her arms bulged with muscle. Her legs ironically got hairier, as her thighs and calves filled out with muscle. Her panties ripped off, as she saw a familiar looking cock grow between her hairy legs. She watched as her bare-feet widened, and grew to a size 11.

Ally's face warped, and chiseled as he was now an exact clone of Todd, his BF.

Ally was shocked, but before he could react, another zap from the trimmer shocked his hand, and with the shock Ally's eyes reset, as he now thought he was Todd. New Todd put on a pair of briefs holding the trimmer, as the OG Kane walked in to see his new clone.

[multiplicationdivision]

Being Tim

Tim thanked god for his good old cloner.

It was an old DIY piece of crap he’d built when he was a young punk, wired out of the crap he’d found in the dump and bound together with a dream and some loose nails. It was no miracle crafted by ARC Corp or ReUni Inc. , but a perfectly functional Frankenstein of all their best vintage goods dressed up with some classic neon signs he’d thought were ironic back in the day.

The youngins had their replitech, streamlined and “perfect”. Instant duplicates, formed of hardlight, their brains edited from the original to be just like them except for any bothersome bits of existentialism or self-preservation. The same 20 year old fucks leading around their small armies of similar faces, duplicates blinking out with ignorant smiles and replaced in turn by another just like them.

Not that Tim had any moral high ground, but he had a respect for the hand-made. Old cloning tech couldn’t harness photons or multiply the mass of particles. It needed material to be reworked, clay to be reshaped and DNA to be momentarily rewound.

Tim had never had need to find that material, they flocked to him. Tech could give a person anything, but anything achieved was just second rate satisfaction. You could simulate everything that Tim was, replicate the burning sun and the dripping sweat down his cheeks. Submerse yourself in a fluid that would encase you, pressing down in the perfect ways to make your skin believe the air was hot and the dirt under your finger nails were a gritty concrete muck.

Their brains still knew the truth though, so they arrived in line every morning. They separated themselves into lines subconsciously, the newbies confused and nervous in their shiny neo fabric clothes, faux plastics and metals gleaming untouched by wear. They stood in contrast to his old boys, the addicts to the cloner, Tim’s regulars.

There were maybe ten regulars, the number meaningless once the day began. Their faces changed, shifted and warped break after break. This day they were even further shifted from their typical set, a three day weekend leaving them desperate for a day of work, desperate to get another fix. Tim enjoyed seeing it, knowing he had them hooked.

They dressed in the clothes he’d left them in, now baggy or tight on their frames. A pair of boots he’d decided to trash this last weekend, the t-shirt and jeans they’d sweated to ruin and boxers likely disgusting with all that contained musk. Some of them wore different shit, the ones who probably cherished every set of clothing he sent them home with, as if they weren’t crap he’d found second hand in the few honest stores that were left in this dystopia.

Tim was in a new pair of boots, freshly bought and ready to break in, and the men drank them in with familiar envy. They travelled up his body, worshipping the jeans he’d shrugged on and the long sleeve curving over his reliable muscle.

Tim was addicted to this audience and happy to provide, knowing every one of those adoring minds would be purged for a blissful week, someone much more deserving of existence would inhabit their pathetic frames.

He’d flick on the cloner and the first of his gaunt regulars would push himself in, slamming the aluminum door with the typical desperation. They hated being themselves and Tim thought they were right to. Half wished he could fix them all up permanently, hell he probably could. He got of on that desperation though.

It was only a moment of steam and the door opened, a familiar face staring back at Tim with a slick smile. The expression he’d had on just minutes ago when he’d updated his template now plastered on this perfect figure, the junkie neurons restricted in a much better form. Tim and his new twin would look each other up and down and chuckle. “We’re fine motherfuckers aren’t we” Tim would say, “Damn right”, the other Tim would respond.

He’d leave that Tim to operate the machine as he watched, enjoying seeing the people homogenize into him. More and more faces of smug enjoyment drowning out the previous human shaped messes, an identical crowd that Tim would get lost in. Handsome mugs shoving the newbies into the machines, not bothering to listen to the fanciest second guess this shit. They’d learn to need it, just like they should. Being Tim was a damn privilege, and they all knew it.

Hell once there was enough of him crowding this place, it was hard to remember who was the original. Each of them had enough room in their memory to doubt their status and it was intentional, made them work better and form a better crew as they collectively narcissistically thought they were the og Tim. Each trying to outcompete each other, reveling in the potential of being truly Tim.

With a cloner’s effect lasting a good work week, they’d go home together and continue the competition there. 15-20 Tims fitting themselves into Tim’s pickup, sweaty bodies against each other practically crushed on the way to his fine handmade home. They’d built it when he’d had 7 Tim’s worth of suckers and it was a beaut, full of real wood and with a barrack styled bedroom to fit 50 of him, maybe even a hundred. He had an eye for ambition, every Tim fantasizing about the dream of even more as they scrubbed each other down in his locker room of a bathroom. Countless identical cocks, half-chub as they happily stroked each other, escalating to a few sloppy fucks every now and then.

They’d make dinner, enjoying steaks and home brewed beers as whatever passed for football played in the bathroom, essentially white noise for the men as they traded brotherly remarks between each other, chugging the ale down as they crowded a old kitchen table, warm freshly showered arms pushed against each other. They preferred to be shirtless at home, often just clothless. All to show what they’d earned of course, relaxed muscle compacted from head to toe by hard work even despite their age. It made the clean up when they got to boisterous easier too, less laundry necessary for any clothes caught in the crossfire of beer and cum that their dinners would eventually lead too.

It was a working man’s paradise of a life, existing in a desert of integrity. Each Tim was settled down for the night after regriming themselves with a fresh load of body fluids and pick a bunk, nestle between their favorite counterparts for the night and thank the cybernetic gods that they were of the lucky few who got to experience heaven. They’d shove an arm around a twin and look at the man with greedy malice as they imagined his face when his body began to change back into a fucking loser, every worthy quality of them drained out as they became wretches again. The same greedy smile would be placed on his twin’s sleepy face and Tim would be half in the mind to fuck the guy again just to prove a point, how obvious that he was just borrowing being Tim.

They’d all fall asleep with something sideways of camaraderie in their heart, self-love and vanity combined in the form of their classic masculinity before waking up the next day to start it again. A Tim would come out on top by Friday and he would be the original, each of them knowing in their heart that they’d get to tell all the quickly degenerating fakes to go back to their articial techie houses before their refresher the next week.

It was a fine system, Tim thought. He was sure many more would come to appreciate it.

[multiplicationdivision]

The Replication Phenomenon

Mitosis felt good, like a full body message that releases a lifetime of tension. Matthew was tense after these past few weeks of nonstop work, so he’d needed some help with balancing the books and cussing out shit customers. Nature provided.

He could feel it the day before, scrubbing dishes in the back, that rare telltale feeling of tightness in his brain and chest. Saw the little crease of skin on his forehead and the ridge of bone beneath paired with that slight gap in between every action, like his movements needed to be decided upon by committee before they could be proceeded. An echo of neurons just ever so off synch on the same intentions.

He’d slept on it after eating more that he’d thought possible, a confused doordash driver shovelling bag after bag of cheap fastfood into his ravenous hands. The guy had eyed him up, seeing the tiny valley forming from Matthew ’s chin down, hearing the odd way a slowly doubling pair of lungs and vocal cords changed the man’s deeper voice. The man had just grinned at him and wished him well, Matthew catching the site of the man’s car down his drive way, a man dozing off in the driver’s seat clearly bored from waiting.

A perfectly identical man tapping on the wheel, same clothes, same hair, same everything.

He’d passed out scrolling Youtube, having already deepdived WebMD for all its worth as his dinner got confused between which throat it should travel down. His vision just ever so confused as the irises widened, a second pupil splitting off in a perfect simulation of a dividing cell.

1/4th of the population experienced Replication in some form or another in their lifespan. It was a strange an unpredictable process with a thousand names in every culture, spanning history. Even the most primitive form of humanity felt its effect, finger paintings of twinned men and women in every combination that division would produce. It was so impossible to be always divine or demonic, religions never deciding whether to be hateful or worshipping to the doubled individuals in their halls.

Once Kane had killed Abel, God had spited the action by pulling him in two, a simulacrum of brotherhood he’d spoken. Yet Jesus’s earliest miracles was splitting James his cousin into a greater and lesser pair, forming an absolute mess of beliefs to dictate the view of duplicates in this god-fearing country. An evil curse or something that created an unequal pair of doubles. That or it was still a pagan thing, witches in the night spilling potions and elixirs with the essence of the Morrigan, the Morai, the Norns, Janus and the wicked Furies.

The advice portion on WebMD told him to drink water and relax, listing every way his mitosis could conclude. Positive outcomes were the greatest majority, links to 100 years worth of articles describing the healthiness of the process. Alcmaeon of Croton said it balanced the humors, the excess shared between two bodies. A study from last year described a vast decrease in stress and negative health effect associated with the dualism movement, a recent and legal trend that acknowledged the lack of initial individuality between doubles.

He remembered a two headed lawyer arguing for a ruling outlawing another remaining individuality bill, something related to distinguishing duplicates between different legal identities. He hardly remembered it all, although now he wished he could.

Matthew was thankful he wouldn’t mostly deal with the perception of a lesser or greater James to his new selves, so far removed from old bible bullshit still hot and concentrated in the distant south. He’d fallen into unconsciousness with two sides of his brain imagining the mirror of himself, unable to feel the differences between each other as intentions were predicted, body temperatures and heart beats identical. Unable to feel any difference in themselves

His dreams that night were pleasant, but strange. Two perspectives to every stray thought, old friends passing notes in class. He was doing the taxes he put off, his hands multiplying, scribbling numbers down at rapid efficiency. Grinning to himself through three mouths. Going further than grinning.

He’d woken up what felt like two times, blearily feeling his brain(s) coming to awareness before lazily shifting to look in his bedroom mirror. His facial features danced, stretched between two forming skulls, the desynchrony in his mind now two minds struggling to be one as a quarter of their brains was still shared. He had three eyes now, one sat between the two originals, two pupils in it that couldn’t decide whether it belonged to the right or left. They’d swallowed, one after the other, necks still one, yet separate beneath, two adams apples moving up and down, sliding aginst each other.

Their body felt tight, but not in an uncomfortable way. Hell, if Matthew had remained like this, feeling doubled musculature beneath his skin, he wouldn’t feel mad. Half of him wanted to stretch as they lay there, the other agreeing through the echo of thoughts as two pairs of biceps squeezed against each other beneath their arms. They looked through multiplying eyes at their bare chest, all that multiplicity beneath deceptively appearing as if they’d been taking steroids their whole lives. It wasn’t a perfect disguise though, given the way actual division pocked through.

A quite literal poking that was, a glance at the dual monsters making their boxers tight showing two tips peeking through the nylon.

It hadn’t taken negotiation to relieve themselves, although deciding which one was first had been a battle. A meaningless one, considering that while their erections were seemingly split down to the base between their forming sides, both cocks were happy to provide a slew of sensation to both forming minds, whether they stroked the left or right.

They’d taken to one then the other, one equally full stream of cum shooting from each from their doubled balls, four testicles beneath their shared ballsack. Their sweaty palm felt the same yet different in its grip, stronger and bigger, two people’s worth of tendons and strength overlaid and making every motion just that little bit unpredicatable. One dick being slowly messaged as the other felt fingers pass by it, a sensation like they’d never imagined.

They’d cleaned up with unsteady steps towards the bathroom, struggled through an upright piss through two penises before staring far too long into the mirror. An hour lost to a morning stress relief and yet in that time, their body had already changed again. A chin and nose became two as their hair thickened at the top, follicles rapidly producing hair to eventual distribute between two scalps.

Matthew tried to grin, but there were less pretty things about replication relating to the teeth and bones that were better left unsaid. He’d attempt to talk though, but with two tongues battling for control over syllables, it was a fruitless effort.

Any grin or reassurance was unnecessary. He’d been worried the night before as any person should be. Sharing was a scary thing, especially with personhood. The interviews he’d found online had been right though. It wasn’t scary at all.

A HGTV star showed off his change on screen, reveling in his new “improved” self to his adoring audience. Twin heads taking turns at how it felt, how easy the transition was. Flexing their shared muscles, paired with copious shots of them swinging a hammer at dry wall and the like. Soft porn for the middle-aged woman, as well as Matthew.

A basketball star who’d split just a little more, animatedly talked to a reporter who’d found him at a community court. They only shared a pair of legs, yet Matthew had seen them deftly play through so many games, two men from the waist up abusing their two pairs of arms to pass and shove. In fact, nearly half the athletes on the field were doubled in some way, replication just another factor to a great athlete like height and strength.

Perfect dupes were the most common and Matthew had seen enough of them in his life to know they never seemed to have problems. It was an almost annoying thing to witness, like a pair of twins so codependent as if they were competing against every other pair of complete dupes to be the best clone stereotype. The door dasher before an excellent example, likely having a closet of two pairs of every item, fulfilling the oddest psychological need to be identical that was ingrained in every dupe. Getting their hair cut, piercing their ears, getting tattoos by the splattering of specialized locals, cared for by similarly duplicated pairs of service workers.

Matthew had thought it so bizarre, yet even as he did his damned best at cleaning up his beard, just the thought of the two halves of his splitting face having a difference ate a little at him. A thought of difference that now seemed so alien as to be laughable. Logic was there stating that it didn’t matter, but his instinct said it did.

Humanity had an obsession with enforcing distinction and Matthew was thankful he’d never have to face experiencing this in any other time. There wouldn’t be an original or copy dictated by a authoritarian government, or a lesser and greater self-assigned by the church. Practices of trying to manipulate a replication had been mostly outlawed, no people trying to force a person back into one or any medical practices to force a partial dupe into a complete dupe.

The Matthews ate breakfast as their shared eye slowly split and their noses separated. They were fortunate to be a relate fast duplicator, a part of both of him praying that this ease didn’t mean they were predisposed to repeated duplications, the greater part of them hoping for it.

Cooking had felt nice, humming coming from two voices as they fumbled a song both half remembered. It was still a hulking meal, although they were now of two minds to multitask the doubled portions. Food eventually settling in whatever was going on with their stomach(s), leaving them a satisfied man.

They’d gotten dressed in loose stretchy clothes, pulling on a pair of joggers and some comfortable slip-on sneakers. Medical advice stated they continue on with their day as they were best able, so they’d gone through their morning routine, even as they felt their chest widening and as the skin on their neck tighten as it began to separate. They’d gone on their morning run, any clumsiness from the morning gone as even as their brains now seemed fully separate, their muscle memory was alive and well. They were sure they had multiple lungs now, given how easily they shrugged off any sense of physical exertion, their compounded muscles having caused 14 miles to feel like 1.

They’d finished half out of boredom as they settled in their garage, focused on the tightness of their sneakers and joggers as they dozed off. It was enough to distract the two from the obvious, their heads having diverge at some point in the run, temples now resting against each other as they leaned against their old workout bench.

They’d noticed it when one of them had satisfied sighed and the other had woken up just enough from the post-run stupor. He’d glanced as much as he could at the other, half surprised even if he shouldn’t have been. The other had the same expression, taken aback yet unable to look away.

“Hello” Matthew had said, both of their voices ringing out. It felt awkward until it didn’t just a moment ago. “Nice to meet you Mat” they both said, laughing after it came out in sync. It felt good where it should’ve felt strange. Instincts were a hell of a drug.

“Mom’s going to fucking flip man” his other self said. They hadn’t told anyone what was happening, half hoping for a surprised reaction and half nervous. No one in his family had replicated in recent history, so he’d be the first. His sister had a kid and he supposed he’d make up for the asexual reproduction.

“Imagine Dad’s reaction” he suggested, already visualizing his ridiculous old man screwing up pronouns for his new pair of duplicated sons. “He’s going to vomit he’ll be so confused” his other self said fondly, thinking back to his part of sexual education where they’d awkwardly fit in replication and his father had tried to explain to a 9 year old Matthew how that worked. Didn’t help that the guy didn’t know himself.

They’d be good sports about it though, given they were a rare pair of liberal boomers. They’d be embarrassing sure, but he wasn’t worried about their reaction.

“Still don’t want to call them though” his other self said as if reading his mind. Their similar thoughts would never stop and Matthew wondered how living would be like from now on. Another guy with identical worries and hang-ups to him.

“Nah” he agreed, imagining if his other self was just as scared of telling anyone as him. They were different now, not clones like a sci-fi movie and a whole world of differences away from being twins or brothers. Research had shown that dupe’s brains never really diverged in the long term, never reaching that point when they could be called separate people. Especially if they never fulling split, although given their collar bones already felt a little tautly built and a third peck was forming on their chest, they were pretty sure they wouldn’t remain just a two headed man.

He wasn’t afraid of sharing being Matthew, but he was terrified of everyone else. His sister would hug him and her kid would love having kinda two uncles. His brother-in-law would be a toss up of being uncomfortably curious or completely apathetic and his grandparents were a complete mystery, apolitical wild cards that they were.

He’d have to go into work and explain to his boss. The woman was kind enough, but legally being enforced to raise his pay according to his degree of replication was always a messy situation. Same with trying to juggle this new life with all of his friends and acquittances.

Dating especially was daunting, now more so than before. Steven had left him just 2 months ago, a stressor that likely contributed to his replication in the first place. Loneliness was the greatest contributor to duplicate formation and he could only imagine his ex’s pleased reaction to thinking Matthew had coped by multiplying.

“How can I feel so worried about this shit, yet also excited” his other self said, sighing as he ran on of their hands through his hair. He paused afterwards before running it through Matthew ’s head in turn, making a part of his newly own heart melt a bit.

“Steven’s going to call this extreme narcissism you know” he commented. The fucker never liked dupes, probably some misplaced anger from his duped father and mother, never having time for him despite their doubled status. Matthew wondered if that’s why they broke up now, Steven smelling the signs so soon.

“He’s a dick though and I think I’m fine with being self -obsessed now” he said, not bothering with whatever internal dialogue they were playing out with two voices. The other him laughed and Matthew wasn’t even embarrassed when his cock hardened against its twin. Was hard to be self-conscious when that other cock hardened just the same moment later.

“Yeah, I’d imagine we’ll be pretty self-involved for a bit” one of them said, both absent minded touching their cocks already rearing to go so soon after their morning masturbation session. Precum already wet their slightly uncomfortable joggers, the pants now stretched a little too tight as their legs were itching to begin actually splitting.

“Don’t get carried away bucko” he said for the both of them, getting up from their place sweating in the garage. It wouldn’t do to get lost in this advanced masturbating before some key steps. First of all, shrugging off these remaining clothes.

The sneakers were a bitch to get off, the old pair ripping off to reveal his feet with a couple too many toes than before, a little oddly shaped for the doubling of the ankles and the properly dividing musculature. They’d inspected the shoes and noticed their hands, extra fingers appearing in secret, a thumb doubling before their eyes as it widened and split. It looked alien, yet was simple to control to roughly shrug off their joggers, even as their appendages split at random.

Their legs were both wide, the freedom from their fabric prisons allowing the bones to enlarge then separate. It was rapid, leaving them only the time to get to their couch before the tingly sensation of rapid skeletal growth left them largely immobile.

It was sensory hell, yet their erections remained, somehow getting larger as they lay there, feeling as if they were costumed in each other. Their legs all but separate aside from the skin, joined to a waist that seemed ready to split itself if only for their cocks that were at the moment refusing to move, if only so they could release again.

Both Matthew s desperately hoped no one looked at them through their patio door as they furiously worked at their cocks in their living room. They’d realized as the cum streaked over their chest again that they’d been able to jack off both with their dominant hand due to it completely splitting at some time in the process. Identical right hands now wet with sum were held up in front of their eyes as they sat their ass naked. A distraction enough for a moment before their satisfied cocks decided to stop resisting the rest of the duplication and the world shifted again.

Matthew felt his cock sink, its sensitive skin post ejaculation feeling like electricity as it was pulled beneath the muscles of his crotch, dragging two of their four testicles with it. The other Matthew reacted as if it truly did disappear, momentarily yelping as one of their hands touched the now empty space.

Matthew ’s waist separated from behind and he drew his new singularly his cock and balls out of the other guy’s ass, the immature part of him giving a brief shove with it against the other guy’s prostate to make him yelp again.

“Fuck do that again” his duplicate said, although Matthew was rendered unable as the separation between their waists quickly travelled up their body, his abdomen and chest pushing out from his duplicates back, feeling their muscle fibers and blood vessels untangled. Matthew only had the brief urge to hold his breath before his head was pull back as well, feeling as if he was being born as they truly separated, awkward splayed hands and feet parting to leave them a mess of limbs atop each other on their now messy couch.

A complete duplication, an incredible yet messy (legally and emotional) affair. Incomplete duplications were just as chaotic, but there was some comfort in always knowing where your double was, attached to you in some form. Matthew now felt an otherworldly sense of unease as he held his double as he breathed steadily through the exertion beneath him. A part of his soul atop him, able to wander off if he so chose.

It felt vulnerable and Matthew wished he could just hold the other guy close. The other guy seemed fine with it, happy to push himself back down onto the man, nestled deep. Sneakily pushing Matthew ’s cock into himself as if it would emerge back out of his waist.

They’d get up some time, probably to shut the blinds to then get back onto the couch. When they actually got up though they’d nervously wait for their order of clothes to arrive, wearing whatever they had in duplicate that was already in their closet. They’d call their parents, call their boss, send a inquiry to their state department about their completed replication. Arrange to get a new pair of ID card, both of them in squeezed together into a single shitty photo.

They’d masturbate again, figure out how it felt in two bodies rather than 1 ½ and 1.9999 bodies. Meal prep and update their dating profile, check the box that said duplicated and scroll through other men who were just like them in circumstance.

But for now, they would sit here, comfortable and sleepy. Ignore the complications oncoming and cuddle, hot and heavy against each other.

Still Matthew, alone together and so much more.

[multiplicationdivision]

Someone Like Him

When Dan’s good friend moved out to take a job in another state, the young man was devastated. Not only because he missed his friend, but because the next rent check was coming due. And despite having a good job in sales, the extra cost this month would set him behind. So when Amir had answered his ad online, he was elated. But flashforward a few months and Dan was slowly losing his patience.

“Your room reeks dude, could you do your laundry?” “Your plates are piling up and you spilled your protein powder all over the kitchen, can you clean it up?” “Could you be a bit more quiet when you bring guys over?” And Amir would just nod and tell him to chill out.

And so Dan was finding himself doing the cleaning, keeping up as best he could while managing his stressful job, while Amir seemed to be living his best life- partying, working out, and thriving at a job as a personal trainer. And Dan was getting tired of it. As he lay in bed, kept awake by the moans of the man Amir was fucking in the other room, he grew more frustrated.

“How is he this fucking inconsiderate?” Dan mumbled, “I wish he’d fucking know what it’s like to live with someone like him.”

As those words left his lips, he felt a sudden searing pain well up from within his abdomen. Dan flipped over, falling off his bed and gripping his abdomen tightly, the pain slowly subsiding. Tears in his eyes, Dan pushed himself up against his bed, panting heavily, a cold sweat soaking through his clothes as a heat welled up inside of him. Slowly, he pulled his shirt and pants off, basking in the cool air of his room. He looked down at his stomach- hairless, pale, and skinny in the dim light that creeped in through his window. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

“What was that?” he whispered, as he rubbed his sore abdomen with his hand. His large, tan hand. Dan’s eyes widened and he lifted his hand, staring at it closely. It looked unnatural at the end of his skinny pale arm, and as he flexed his meaty fingers, he felt an aching sensation course down his arm, “No, no, no! What the fuck?!” He shouted.

He watched as the darker tan traveled down his arm and the muscles in forearm begin to contract. His arm swelled and the muscles in his forearm became more pronounced, only to be blanketed in swirling dark itchy hairs. The young man groaned as the same feeling started in his other hand, which quickly began to expand. Dan cursed as his biceps and triceps contracted before violently expanding, the muscle toned and refined. He looked down at them in shock, unable to process what he was seeing. He was always called a beanpole growing up and throughout college. Now he had arms that could rival any of the guys on the football team. Arms that must’ve seen the gym frequently. Arms that he realized must look ridiculous on his pale and skinny body. But his worry was unwarranted as he felt his shoulders begin to expand and fill with muscle, causing his frame to widen. The muscles in his upper back followed suit, contracting and expanding, causing his body to widen.

“It hurts...” He moaned, a few tears falling down his face. He let out a yelp as he felt his torso seemingly expand, taking him from a modest 5’8” to 6’0.

He tried to push himself up- he needed to get help. But another round of muscle contractions knocked him onto his larger back. This time his pectorals and abs contracted violently. First his pecs began to swell, at first with only a little muscle, but then more quickly- expanding and growing. They became more toned as the skin turned tan and matched that of his arms and back. His abs were next, each one popping forward one at a time- becoming larger and more defined. His obliques followed suit, becoming toned and defined- giving him a set of abdominal muscles any man would dream of. But Dan couldn’t help but feel this was a nightmare. The cold sweat that covered him and the soreness that radiated throughout his upper body was too much. And before he could even catch his breath, the intensity of that itching returned. It started in his chest- hair emerging from each follicle before lengthening, darkening, and curling around his once bare chest. His lifted his arms as his pits filled with dark and curly hair. He watched, amazed at how long and dark his new pit hair was becoming. And when he caught a whiff of the musk that now emanated from them, he quickly lowered his arms, feeling tears run down his eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” He breathed out- it was like he just ran a marathon and hadn’t showered for several days or worn deodorant.

Before he could fully process the new smell wafting from his pits, the itching returned- this time to his abdomen. A dark treasure trail emerged, running down to his light, well shaven pubes at the base of his cock. And once it reached there, all thoughts about his new size and smell were replaced with pleasure.

“Oh fuck yeahhhh...” Dan moaned, his large hand wrapping around his small dick.

He gave it a few tugs, and felt his dick harden to his usual 5 inches. With each tug, he felt his member lengthen. And to his pleasure, he felt his cock widen with each pump, filling his large hand more and more. Overcome by the pleasure he let go, breathing heavily while his new 13inch dick remained painfully erect. He looked down at the new python between his legs, his eyes widening as his previously cut cock became wrapped in foreskin, the pleasure nearly causing him to black out. But when he looked again, he was shocked- it was massive- putting his old dick to shame. Not to mention much darker as the skin around his upper legs similarly darkened. He let out another moan as his ass inflated with muscle, lifting him slightly off the ground. But his pleasure came to an end as he felt an intense cramping in his feet and legs. He looked down at his feet, he could see that they were also expanding, quickly increasing from size 10 to 11 and then to 13. He winced as more hairs pushed themselves out along his feet and as his legs similarly began to contract. The muscle in his calves and thighs expanded rapidly, before toning and becoming covered in a thick layer of dark leg hair. Dan watch through tears as his skin darkened there as well, until each pale patch on his body had been replaced by a rich caramel. And finally, his body and its muscles relaxed, although his new python remained painfully and pleasurably erect.

“Okay, it’s over, it over.” Dan reassured himself, pushing his new muscular body up.

He felt unbalanced on his new larger legs and he stumbled a bit towards the mirror in his room. And in the mirror staring back at him was a body of an absolute beast. Hairy, muscular, taller- his new dick twitched slightly and continued to leak. He gently rubbed his pecs, feeling the hairy between his new large fingers, taking in his new size. But his head remained unchanged, the pale skin of his thin neck and clean shaven face was completely off from what the rest of him had become. He rubbed a hand through his matted and sweaty hair, taking a deep breath. But when he looked down at his hand, his eyes widened. He was holding a clump of his hair. And when he looked up, more of his locks fell from his head.

“Am I going bald?” He questioned, rubbing his hair more and watching it fall out.

But before he could even fully register that, the pain returned, this time in his neck. He fell to his knees and watched as his neck expanded with muscle, becoming wider and wider. He could barely keep his eyes open as his face began to change. He watched as his jaw expanded, taking on a typical lantern jaw appearance, while his head expanded and matched the size of his new body appropriately. His soft features hardened and became rough, while his eyes shifted from a light brown to a dark brown. Finally, as his skin began to darken even more, he watched as hair sprouted from the top of his head, mostly shaved at the side, while a thick beard sprouted from his once clean shaven face. At this moment, a realization hit him hard. The face staring back at him in the mirror was none other than Amir. And any trace of his old physique was finally gone.

“No.... no way.” He whispered, his voice deepening and taking on a slight middle eastern accent, “Why? Why am I Amir?”

He looked over his body, a feeling of dread passing over him. This couldn’t be happening. As he racked his brain for reasons, he felt his stomach drop. Was it that stupid wish? This isn’t what he meant! But as he tried to think of anything he could do, he felt another throb of pleasure coming from his dick. And another, and then another. He fell to his bed, moaning in his deep baritone, matching the sounds the real Amir was making in the other room. He gripped his new monster and with new vigor began to stroke. Without thinking too much, he lifted his arm, again getting hit by the smell of his own musk. But this time it was different- he didn’t dislike how it smelled. In fact, it smelled kinda good. Like actually really good. He smiled and took in a deep whiff, his mind in complete bliss from his own musk. It was all starting to make sense now- Amir wasn’t inconsiderate. How could Dan have expected Amir to deprive himself of such an intense musk? And if he wanted to maintain that musk, he’d need to workout. How could he have time to clean up after himself? He had to prioritize. Dan nodded in agreement at his own thoughts, all while moving his large hand faster up and down along his dick. And that was another thing too! A dick this large needed to be shared with the world. This body needed to be shared with the world. All other things were trivial- his job, his education, his friends, his interests. All he needed was the gym and sex. He listened to the men in the other room moaning and let out a moan of his own. The sound of Amir dominating another man- it made so much sense. And slowly, Dan felt his interest in women shift. Instead, skinny guys with big asses danced through his mind. Having them suck him off or him plowing their asses caused Dan to moan even louder. And finally, after a night filled with pleasure and pain, his breathing hitched and Dan released his load. His dick throbbing- load after load landing across his chest. After a few minutes of lying in bed, nearly having blacked out from the pleasure, Dan forced himself out of bed, rubbing his cum across his large hairy chest and abdomen. He grabbed his cellphone and quickly texted his boss that he was quitting his job at the sales firm, before blocking him. What did he care anyway? As he walked towards the door, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and smirked.

“Good looking guy.” He chuckled.

His attention shifted when he heard their front door close. He smirked- Amir wasn’t interested in any of that cuddling BS after a good fuck. Dan entered the living room where he came face to face with a shirtless Amir. The other man looked confused, taking in what essentially was a mirror image of himself, except this one was covered in dried cum and completely naked. Amir raised his eyebrow.

“Well hey there, aren’t you handsome.” Amir smirked taking in the sight, “But who are you exactly?” He continued to look over the man and started trying to put two and two together, “Wait, Dan? Is that you?”

Dan chuckled and he seemed to ponder it a bit. Who was he exactly? Who did he want to be? The name Dan- the very idea of being Dan- didn’t really seem to fit him anymore. He shrugged and looked at his twin.

“I guess I was Dan once, but I feel more like Amir.”

“Wait but dude, I’m Amir.” The two stared at each other, both trying to think through their dilemma. Their brains were mostly geared for sex and working-out, this was almost too much for them. And why should it matter? Wasn’t this the best thing for both of them? The real Amir finally cracked, fully accepting their new predicament, “You know what dude! That’s fucking awesome!” The two fist bumped, “I think I’ll call you AJ since ya know we share the same last name too.”

And AJ smiled, the two of them fist bumping as he fully embraced his new identity.

A week had passed since Dan became Amir, and the two of them were living their best life. Amir had let AJ borrow some of his clothes in the meantime given that all of Dan’s old stuff was too small on him. AJ didn’t mind that none of it was washed or anything, fully enjoying the musky smell. They had spent the last week removing any old memories, photos, and possessions that Dan had, making room for AJ’s new interests. Maybe at times AJ felt a pang of resistance somewhere from within his psyche, but he never had a hard time suppressing it. Especially as the apartment became messier and messier, the smell always provided some comfort to AJ. Amir also helped AJ find a new job as a personal trainer, which wasn’t too difficult. In fact, the two had just finished up an intense workout. AJ couldn’t help but snap a photo of the two of them. And if you asked, both he and Amir had to admit, it was in fact great to live with one another.

[multiplicationdivision]

Becoming Spiderman

The sirens screeched through the streets of New York City, echoing through the night. Mary Jane Watson looked from the window of her high rise apartment at the flashing lights below, biting her nails to help soothe her nerves.

It had been two weeks since Peter had disappeared in the middle of the night. Mary Jane had awoken to find her boyfriend hastily packing a bag, saying he (and more importantly, his alter ego Spider-Man) were needed for an emergency situation. Mary Jane had tried pressing him for details, but Peter remained frustratingly vague as he slipped into his Spider-Man costume. He had promised to be in touch as soon as he could, hoping it wouldn't be a long trip. With a quick parting kiss, Peter leapt from their apartment window and swung off into the night.

Two weeks with no sign of Spider-Man had resulted in all out chaos. As soon as the criminals realized New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was on holiday, they had decided to seize the moment. The police didn't have the resources to keep up with all of the bank robberies, looting and other petty crimes that had been plaguing the city for weeks. And when Spider-Man's greatest foes realized they had free reign, things really started to escalate. Mary Jane watched the news report on her television detailing Sandman's attack on Times Square mere moments ago, the latest in a string of supervillain schemes.

For what felt like the millionth time that day, Mary Jane dialed Peter's number. As she had predicted, it went straight to voicemail without even ringing. Wherever Peter was, it appeared to be way off grid and she had no way of reaching him or knowing when he would return. Mary Jane was terrified of what another few days without Spider-Man would do to New York; god forbid if he remained AWOL for another few weeks. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she knew it was time to enact their emergency protocol.

Mary Jane hurried to the bedroom, pulling open the closet door. She slid her hand along the back closet wall until she felt the hidden switch, pushing down on it. She took a step back as the closet wall swung open, revealing the hidden compartment behind it. It didn't take her long to find the black briefcase among Peter's emergency stash of Spider-Man gear. She pulled the briefcase out and set it on their bed; a warning in bold capital letters reading 'OPEN IN EMERGENCY SITUATION ONLY'.

Mary Jane clicked open the case, revealing the contents inside. Along with a Spider-Man suit, there was a small syringe filled with a neon green liquid. Mary Jane took off her civilian clothes to put on the Spider-Man suit. It was not designed to fit her curvy body and she struggled to pull the skintight suit over her breasts, but eventually she succeeded. She took a look at her reflection in the mirror; seeing as the suit had been designed for Peter's specifications, it fit her surprisingly well.

She eyed the syringe warily as she picked it up. It wasn't that Mary Jane didn't trust Peter's scientific formula; she was sure the injection would work just as he had designed. And it had been her suggestion that they needed a contingency plan if Spider-Man was ever unavailable to meet the needs of their city, after all. With gritted teeth, she slid the needle into her wrist and pushed down on the plunger, feeling a sharp sting as the formula was injected into her.

Mary Jane anxiously paced her small apartment, waiting for the serum to take effect. It wasn't long until she has hit with a sudden wave of dizziness, nearly stumbling to the floor as she reached out for the wall as support. She knew it was starting.

Mary Jane's calves burned as they stretched out, lengthening while also bulking up with lean but defined muscle. Her thighs also widened with mass and strength, the suit's skintight material hugging her muscular quads. She let out a gasp as her wide hips narrowed, her round butt deflating as it firmed up.

The burning sensation moved up her legs, settling into her crotch. Mary Jane looked down as an unmistakable bulge formed in the groin of her suit, pushing against the material. She reached down and grasped her new manhood, trying to readjust the member to a more comfortable position. Peter would often complain about his suit being too tight in the crotch, and she could now fully emphasize with his plight. She let out another grunt, this one slightly deeper than the previous one, as her ball sack emerged. She gently cupped her balls through the suit, moaning as they pumped testosterone throughout her body. Her dick was beginning to swell, hardening from her state of arousal.

Mary Jane was still exploring her new genitals as the transformation continued upwards. Her slim, tight stomach hardened into a defined six pack of abs. The suit's material pressed down on her breasts, crushing them downwards as they sunk into her chest. Her former breasts were reshaped into a pair of muscled pectorals, her hardened nipples visible through the fabric.

The changes were coming fast and hard now; Mary Jane knew she was nearing the end. Her shoulders broadened while her arms thickened with muscle, growing to be twice their previous proportions.

Her fiery red hair darkened to brown, shortening and styling into a masculine hairstyle. Her round face squared out as her jawline hardened, a thin layer up stubble sprouting up along her chin. Her soft facial features gradually shifted, her warm bright eyes darkening while her eyebrows thickened and plump lips thinned out.

With an overwhelming sense of nausea, Mary Jane stumbled into the apartment bathroom to look at her reflection. She saw her boyfriend Peter looking back at her.

"Wow. It actually worked," Mary Jane marveled, shaking her head in disbelief.

The nauseous feeling continued to grow as the room started to spin, Mary Jane tightly gripping onto the vanity for support. Dark spots blinked across her vision, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. The blackness crept in, and Mary Jane knew she was going to black out...

--------------------------------------------------

Peter opened his eyes, startled from his slumber by the sounds of a police siren. He jumped up off the floor, arms at the ready for any sign of a threat. After his senses had settled, he realized he was in his apartment's bathroom and allowed himself to relax. How had he ended up here? Last thing he remembered, he was...wait, why didn't he remember anything?

"MJ? Are you here?" Peter called out. He did a quick scan of the living room and kitchen before checking in the bedroom. His eyes widened as he recognized the case on the bed, picking up the empty syringe from where it'd been dropped. That explained the memory loss, Peter thought somberly.

"Damn it, MJ," Peter cursed, shaking his head. He had never wanted to agree to this contingency plan, that she should step in as his replacement if he was ever unable to fulfill his role as Spider-Man. She had been stubborn and persuasive, arguing that Spider-Man was more important than either one of them. And she had alieved his fears by assuring it would never likely come to that, anyways.

That was evidently not the case, Peter thought bitterly. He wondered about where the original Peter was and if there would be a way to reverse the process and get Mary Jane back. The thought that he may have lost her for good filled him with an overwhelming panic, but he pushed those thoughts aside. If Mary Jane had taken the serum, things must have been dire, and he had no time to waste.

Peter slid on his mask and pried open the bedroom window. He could see flames burning in the distance, and the sirens sounded like they were coming from every direction. It was time to get to work. He'd save the city, and then he'd find a way to bring his girlfriend back. Either that, or the original Peter would be dating himself whenever he got back from wherever the hell he was.

Spider-Man swung out into the night, ready to save his city.

--------------------------------------------------

Thanks to everyone who has read this! It's my first time attempting fan fiction, combining characters I love with the transformation genre. Would love to have some feedback on what you thought of this and if you would want to read similar stories in the future or prefer entirely original characters?

[multiplicationdivision]

"You look as smug as that snap he posted last night, babe. Let me get this picture better, who do you have in mind?"

"Oh babe, I think it looks awesome if you can stand in front of me while my fucking big arms rested over your body. Must be such a turn on to see that kind of picture over and over again, that it's possible for a pathetic nerd like me to be built this big with the help of my beautiful enchantress,"

"Well, okay. But let's make today even hotter. Who do you want to see sucking your cock, babe? I mean......hello, powerful enchantress lover that can change herself and loved ones,"

"Ahahah, you know I love you the way you are. And I hope the same goes for your love to me. But, are you sure?"

"Totally! Let's make some spicy content together with your wildest imagination,"

"Well then, seeing peak Megan Fox won't hurt tho, but to avoid slandering her, maybe mix-up some of your feature in the process,"

"Good choice, love her too,"

"And then after that, maybe you should try to copy Drew over here, imagine how hot it is to have a video of muscle twins fucking the shit out of each other?"

"That sounds crazy, yet also hot. Never really posed as a man before. Like this?"

As she said that, her body quickly morphed to look like the perfect copy of the guy her boyfriend currently posing as, with just a slight different in the hair length

"Hot damn we're twinning. And these clothes, you just came up with this all in a sudden, hell yes this is such a gym douche clothing! Mmmm.....even you nailed the post-workout smell and everything.....Fuck, always surprised me to see the morph and all its supporting effect happened in front of my eyes. Babe, fuck.....I'm getting hard,"

"Let me set the camera first and you can start by ripping that shirt off. Let's do some roleplay!"

[multiplicationdivision]

My Dad has been really on my case lately. He’s always wanted me to be more manly like him, and he’s never been good at hiding how disappointed he is that I’m so feminine. He says he’s sending me to a special camp to ‘Man Up’. I’m really nervous. What should I do?

Your dad stood at the entrance to Mu Alpha Nu Camp, a stern look on his face. Trying to do his best to contain his excitement. It had been a few days since he dropped you off here. Initially, when your dad told you he was sending you to one of these “Man Up” camps, you thought he was joking. But your old man had tricked you- promising to take you to a concert to celebrate the end of your first year in college. Foolishly, you believed him- thinking he was trying to start anew. But he had no feelings of guilt.  

Truth be told, you two never really got along. His interests and yours were polar opposite, even antagonistic. He couldn’t understand where your feminine hobbies came from and instead of trying to understand, he resisted them. Time at college- sissy liberal university as your father would say- only cemented these interests. No matter what he did, he was never able to mold you into the rugged, masculine specimen that he wanted in a son. And while his disappointment initially hurt, you came to realize he was the epitome of toxic masculinity- a true narcissist.

“Hey bro,” A jock greeted him, “Your son is done.” He chuckled dumbly.

Your father nodded, a smirk forming on his face. He would never really know what you went through over the past few days. He would only see the end result. But when he dropped you off, he did give the facility specifications. He checked off boxes, indicating what qualities he wanted in his son. He would never know how they would initially start easy. Daily gym sessions and lectures about masculinity. How you ignored them at first and resisted their brainwashing. But then it became more intense. They threw you in a chamber. Metallic hands gripping your weak arms. Others massaging your lean chest.

“Wait! Let me go!” You had cried out.

But they continued to manhandle you. Continued to massage your muscles with their ‘special lotion’. You had cried out as your muscles expanded rapidly, at first with firm muscle, and then followed closely by fat. Your new abs and pecs quickly covered by a layer of soft fat. You tried to use your new strength to break free, but even with your massive bis and tris, you were powerless. Only able to watch your metamorphosis in a mirror on the wall adjacent to you.

“No! What is that?” You groaned as you were injected with a serum.

Tears filled your eyes as your skin lost its youthful glow. Wrinkles formed and your skin weathered with age. The firm fat sagging ever so slightly. You looked to be in your late 40s, just like your dad. And before you could fully process this horrific realization, you were sprayed from head to toe with a foul smelling liquid. The burning, prickling sensation that followed caused you to squirm. And as you watched closely in the mirror, you could see your hair follicles come alive. Tufts of manly hair erupted from your chest and abdomen, coating you in manly fur. Even your clean-shaven face became blanketed in a manly beard. And your hair darkens considerably, interlaced with a few grays.

“Please... please stop...” You groan.

But you’d find no mercy. You were being molded exactly to your dad’s specifications. Before you could resist any further, the screen in front of you comes alive. Spirals interlaced by manly images fill your vision. Images of beer, trucks, guns, and working-out are forced into your brain. And as they enter, your prior interests start to fade. You envision a life working construction, just like your dad. Drinking beers at the bar. Picking up chicks. And this continues. For hours, days even. Your cock rock hard.

Your dad’s eyes widen when you approach him. Naturally, you were shirtless. Showing off your manly chest. A smirk plastered on your face. And your dad can’t help but feel as if he’s looking in a mirror. The stupid jock smiles.

“We’ve followed your specifications to a tee.” He says with a dopey grin.

And then it dawns on your dad. He wanted you to be more manly, just like him. Just like him. In his self-absorbed narcissism, he didn’t realize that his specifications led them to create a twin. Gone was his son. Instead, he had a twin brother. One that matched him in all ways- stench, masculinity, and size.

“What’s up, bro?” Your baritone voice matches your father’s brother’s, “You wanna grab some beers?”

Your twin brother nods, slowly accepting his new reality. And the two of you head out. Perhaps not what your father initially intended. But as you throw back beers down at the local bar and cheer for your favorite football team, he can’t help but appreciate the newfound camaraderie.

[multiplicationdivision]

Triple Shot Theft

Trying to nab himself a sweet treat, Liam finds himself growing into the behemoth whose order he stole.

Shorter story! Petty thief to meathead bodybuilder, hope you enjoy this slightly more succinct story! -Occam

The coffee was in his sights. Liam just needs to wait for a moment when the mobile order counter was unattended andddd- There. He’s already out the door and headed down the street with enough caffeine to get him through his morning. I mean he’s not proud of his little act of delinquency, but it’s not like anyone’s suffering right? The coffee shop has unlimited resources, they'll make whatever poor schmuck whose drink he just nabbed a new one. 

Speaking of, now that he’s home free it’s well time for the first sip. Liam briefly checks the name on the cup, Elijah. “Well Eli, cheers to you. Bottoms up-” Raising the steaming togo cup to his lips Liam prepares for the ritual first burning sip. Not checking the label as he wants to be surprised by whatever hides underneath the lid. As soon as the drink touches his tongue it is revealed to be quite the unpleasant one as he rears back from the scalding drink and grimaces.

Totally unrelated from the boiling heat, the taste was the single most bitter thing he’s ever experienced before in his life. Sticking his burned tongue out before whispering a complaint he checks the label, “Jesus Christ dude!? What the fuck did your order?” Taking no time to analyze his criticism of a man who is by all intents his victim, his eyes grow wide as he sees the drink is a Black Dead Eye, that is drip coffee with three shots. 

He feels his heart flutter as he thinks about the amount of caffeine he now holds in his hand and plans how he is going to ration it out so he doesn’t completely overload himself. His mind briefly tries to picture the type of man to order this, though before a clear thought could be produced he shrugs and takes another sip. Could’ve at least had some syrup in there guy. Still taking a strained sip, an idea unfamiliar fills his mind, ‘psh as if I’m gonna drink some empty calories to start my day.’ 

Eliam’s eye twitches as he scrunches his face, presumably from the bitterness and grunts, “ugh, I hate-” Feeling a frog in his throat he clears it a few times in short succession. “Man, this drink sucks.” His brow immediately furrows as he hears his voice almost sounds deeper to his ears? Eliam eyes the drink for half a second before shrugging and assuming he must be coming down with a cold. Something within his subconscious questions how that will affect his time at work? No, not work, something else. Something close though, his arm rises in a right angle and he tilts his head as the thin limb tries to flex, immediately confused as to why he just did that, after a pause he reconsiders. Why does his bicep look so puny?

Uncomfortable with his bicep barely manipulating the sleeve of his shirt he considers, “Maybe I should start hitting up the gym?” Eliam scratches at his chest and frowns as he feels truly no muscle definition hiding under his T-shirt. His head buzzes with foreign emotion and instinct as the general apathy he has for his body and appearance is rapidly being replaced with disdain nearing disgust. He grunts and keels over as static, burning pins and needles, begins to overwhelm his senses. In the process he nearly spills his coffee which hits him with far more anxiety than losing a drink you didn't even pay for should.

His mouth is cold and dry as he stares at his nearly lost midnight dark drink and, even greater than the bizarre numbness and strange sensations contorting his body, he feels an urge, a need, to drink. Lips puckering as they strain to get closer to the cup as he brings it to his mouth, his legs give out and he falls back against a shop window. Passersby sneer at him as doggedly sits on the sidewalk and raises the cup completely upside down and lets it pour into his wanting mouth. His throat struggles to keep up as something besides himself, something with a will stronger than his own, forces him to down the burning drink in one go.

Mission accomplished, he gasps for air and wipes the few drops of coffee that landed outside of his mouth off his face before sucking them off his stained finger. When a businessman looks down at him with an eyebrow raised Eliamh feels a burning in his chest at the challenge. His jaw clenches and every muscle burns with the desire to show the pen pusher what’s up, dude doesn’t even know what the grind is! Eliamh’s eye twitches and he clenches at his gut as for the first time in his life it seems to be straining his intentionally baggy shirt.

The pettiest thief struggles to stand, using the wall for support as his legs suddenly struggle to carry his body. All the while making embarrassing grunts. He begins burping loudly as his stomach tries to get him to reject the drink in the only way it can. He feels more bloated with every labored breath and heavy movement, his midriff now exposes his thin treasure trail as his arms begin to fill the sleeves of his wrinkled button up. In between burps and groans he just gets out in his now decidedly duller voice, “Whuh- what was in that cup-” 

Usually happy to hide, Eliamh feels a rising need to challenge every man in sight, realizing something is beginning to overwrite his usual instincts, his rational ideas. As his pants begin to strain, thighs and ass bulging larger, Eliamh realizes that no matter his new desire to post up he needs to wait out whatever, uh, food poisoning this is. Stumbling into the storefront he’s thus far used as a stabilizer he groans out to the clerk, hand covering his mouth as he tries to hold back a loud burp, “Burmgh- I, ugh. Need yer restroom, dude.” Mouth curling into a frown at the clearly unwell man the cashier just points to the room at the back and Eliamh quickly stumbles through the door and locks it behind him.

Panting, Eliamh falls to the floor. Sweating through his clothes he leaves a trail on the door as he slides against it. Unconcerned with the filth of being on a bathroom floor his mind screams as his body begins to expand in every direction. Fabric tears as his bloated gut redistributes itself across his whole form. His arms that only recently bulged with any weight at all suddenly rip entirely through his shirt. Veiny biceps tear through, bursting larger than his thighs before his forearms race to match. His hands grow rough with callouses as he tears at his clothes as they begin to suffocate him.

Elijam’s shoulders pecs are initially inhibited by the clothes barely hanging in there. As soon as they give way and his torso is freed to the air do they begin their transformation outright. Drool pouring from his mouth as his mind flitters between the horror of becoming something anathema to himself while at the same time rapidly recognizing the arms as the powerful weapons he has honed for years now. Initially absent, the muscle on his chest pointedly makes up for the years spent abandoned. Pumping larger as his lungs expands and his chest widens to match shoulders that thicken to be shoulderpads, his pecs begin to become unseemly. Weighty enough that his current legs could never support them, his pecs surge to a size where the idea that he could ever be anything but a diligent bodybuilder is foolish.

His rougher hands trail down his sweaty, impossibly large chest and find that there are now swaths of his body where his bulging biceps and dense pecs collide that he simply can no longer touch. Moving down to feel abs as they push themselves out of his lower torso like cobblestones, his grunts and burps turn to deep moans as he bathes in the pleasure of becoming Elijah. Finally reaching low enough to free his package as it begins to fill his constricting pants, Elijah palms his balls as they begin to fill his body with hormones that make his boorish mindset make far more sense. 

Outside in the store the clerk contemplates calling the authorities as the deep moans echoing from the bathroom begin to scare off customers. Back in the restroom the bodybuilders thighs expand to truly the size of tree trunks as they lengthen along the cold tile. Immediately do they tear his pants as it becomes clear that he’ll never take a step without his massive legs rubbing against each other. It’s a wonder his package has any room at all to be as large as it is given the real estate taken up by his massive lower body. In no time at all the sweaty behemoth finds himself filling the small room with his musk which only heightens his heady delight.

His eyes cross as the few shreds of Liam that remained ingrained in his psyche through it all begin to give up the ghost. His balls pulse as the paltry aspects drain from his mind and every inch of him fully shifts to that of Elijah. Memories of countless hours spent underneath the bench press bar, tracking protein consumption, comparing his form with other massive titans. At the very same moment do loads begin to fly. Shooting high enough to grace the ceiling, his spunk stains the wall behind him like splatters on a canvas. His impossible changes took less than a minute but in his ecstasy he feels each and every one of Elijah’s memories soar to fill his mind.

Stumbling to his thick soled feet Elijah scratches his head as he tries to think how he’ll leave this store with nothing to cover his titanic form. The cogs of his mind turn slow enough that it seems like he can barely produce a thought at all. He grabs toilet paper to start to clean the mess made, but only ends up smearing it against the walls. Suddenly he laughs a dull guffaw as he remembers he lives nearby, just needs to run through the store and he’s home free. He’s sure the customers won’t mind seeing him in the buff, he thinks as he smirks at his peaking bicep. 

His cock stirs again as he wonders when he got this pump in. Knowing he doesn’t have time for another session right now he covers his impressive package with his torn clothes and sprints through the lobby, the clerk doesn’t have time to finish his name before he’s exited the storefront and begun to sprint homewards. Pushing through any man who doesn’t quite move out of the way in time, Elijah hits himself in the head as he realizes he needs to apologize to his bro for stealing his coffee this morning. Just as soon does the thought fade with another slow witted guffaw. He’s sure Elijah won’t mind, he’d probably do the same even. After all, they’ve got a lot in common.

[multiplicationdivision]

Synchronization

The regular brainwashing, which gradually aligns his personality with that of the other jocks, occasionally requires brief rest periods for his brain to reboot until, after several updates, the young bro is finally 100% in sync with the team spirit. Each subsequent update floods his mind with the thoughts and feelings of other jocks, which he must gradually learn to deal with. By the end of this process, the new jock will be so used to the other jocks' voices in his head so he won't want to live without that connection anymore.

In any case, his assimilation is already far too advanced to be able to stop it without the young bro falling brain dead into a coma. Some bros try to resist the team spirit at the beginning if they still feel the suppression of their own personality as a loss. But the other jocks then just dig deeper into the bro's mind to further adjust him. All memories, like those of the previous family, get blocked by the team spirit and literally torn out of consciousness, so that the new jock completely lost touch with them and will never remember again or only perceive them as strange stories.

His family wouldn't recognize him anyway, as the young bro has also been fully adapted physically to the ideals of the team and looks just like his jock brothers. If family members or former friends saw him now, he would just be some young backward cap wearing jock in shiny baller shorts who seems to have numerous brothers for they can hardly be distinguished from one another. Over the next few years, thanks to the influence of the team spirit, their bodies, even facial features, become increasingly similar to the point that they even start to look like twin brothers.

[multiplicationdivision]

Alex and Thom are best friends, inseparable. They grew up together and did everything together. One gay the other straight and were their best wingman’s scoring for each other as it should be.

On a faithful night, they boys were together in the field as our of nowhere a storm hit. Rain pouring down and lightning hitting all around them. Only the lighting was purple of color, as it continued they held each other fearing it was their final moment. The lighting struck them hard…

They woke up in the field, as if nothing happened. It was near daybreak and when they came back home nobody noticed a storm. When they went back to the field to mow the grass, they could not shake the feeling they had. They felt being pulled towards each other. They looked over the field, when their hand reached towards each other fist and they bumped against it. A bright purple flash of light came from it, and as the light obscured them both in mere milliseconds it happened.

Their bodies collided and started to merge, their whole being squashed into one. Their bones and flesh shaping into a bigger human form. Their best features taking form and nullifying any bad ones with that. They became a whole new person, standing naked, proud at 6.4 feet, thick bulging muscles, sharp chiseled jawline and a slight beard covering the face. Their personas combined into one turned the submissive gay and the dominant straight into a now dominant bisexual. He took the name Thex. His cock even flaccid flopped with each step he took, thick already like a beer can and long enough to need three hands.

Disoriented he stumbled home, the neighbors son jaw dropped when he noticed him. Walking there, coming closer. The boy just 20 years old, very muscular for his age and tall, they had known him for years. Hell Alex got regularly used by him, only now it’s going to be different. He walked closer and noticed the boy, now going straight towards him as the boy got all warm already inside. The closer he got to the boy, the harder his cock got, growing bigger, and rigid. It began oozing liquid as it got fully hard. Once he reached the boy, the boy instinctively got on his knees and sucked the massive pole. Shortly after the boy told to get in his home, and continued there his sucking. The liquid oozing from the cock started working perfectly, numbing the boys brain to be a submissive worshipper. The other effect is the relaxing of his muscles.

The boy intoxicated leads Thex to his bedroom, there the boy layed down on his stomach, back arched and ass up. Thex rubbed his steel rod against his hole, as thick clear globs escaped the slit. It lubricated the hole and numbed it, just in time cause Thex shoved it immediately in that tight hole, and without any pain his hole gave in with ease. Thex could feel his cock still oozing the clear liquid and made it so slippery around his massive shaft. That enormous thing what looked bigger than 10 inch now balls deep in the boys hole. Thex took a good position and started pounding with no remorse or constraint. The bed creaking and banging against the wall. The boy moaning loudly, which echoed through the house.

Without breaking a sweat Thex plowed the boy, took him in every position imaginable. The boy nothing more than an easy hole, while the boy had only serving Thex on his mind. A solid two hours of relentless pounding finally took its toll. Thex pumped the first batch of baby batter deep inside the boy. It’s so much it filled up his insides causing his belly to look like a 3 months in pregnancy.

He pulled himself out of the boy, his hole gaping as wide as a fist without Thex thick meat to keep it that it slowly tightened back to a few fingers wide hole. Thex walked away and took a nice picture and reveled in how good he actually looked.

Thex came back in the room, all horned up again from his own reflection and right as his eyes caught that gaping hole he just grabbed his rock hard shaft and pushed it back in.

During the pounding the poor boy lost consciousness from all the pleasure and exhaustion of previous round. Then Thex his eyes started to glow purple as he got relentless again. Slowly the boy his muscles shrank down and he became much more plumb instead. His masculinity slowly faded as his body hair disappeared. Thex felt a power surge going through him and pounded with new invigorating strength. Thex just grew bigger and bigger, his body hair growing and the stretch around his shaft got way tighter and he reached in even deeper. The bed broke yet he didn’t care he kept plowing as the boy was awake again and moaning his head of from orgasmic pleasure. Thex looked down as the boy came, but his cock was more a little nub or clit to rub instead.

Thex had the boy orgasming so much, the boy was now completely empty. Unlike Thex cause his next batch was ready to be released. He got quickly on his back and leg the boy sit on it and bounced him up and down with his inhuman new found strength. He then pumped his load deep in the boy. He watched as the boys belly got bigger from the sheer amount of cum flooded his guts. The boy now had the belly of a 5-6 months old pregnant one.

Thex just kept his steel rod just deep inside the boy as he caught his breath again. He finally started sweating, so his muscles glistened in the light. The boy was laying there, he looked so used and yet very big smile on his face. Thex cock once more twitched with excitement. The final round has just began.

Thex took everything his body got and made use of it. Like a toy the boy felt the full force of his muscled weight. He got flipped on his belly and pulled into doggy position. He could feel the loads in him slush around and felt blessed by it. It didn’t take much time this time as Thex led out the loudest roar and orgasmed deep fir a final time. He emptied his balls and the boy just looked like he was about to burst, like he was carrying triplets about to be birthed. As Thex pulled out the boy just went into an orgasmic coma and won’t be awake for a few hours atleast. Thex took a warm long shower and admired his physique.

Once home Thex split himself up in a purple light, the boys now both looking bigger and manlier went to their own house. Ready to merge themself once again tomorrow and visit that girls only tennis club.

[multiplicationdivision]

For the Team: A Real Man

“I’m not going to stand here and let you belittle the team.” Brett slammed his locker shut and turned to face his coach, “We’re trying out best.” The locker room fell silent. No one talked back to coach.

Coach Andrews glared at Brett, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in anger. “You think you know better than me, boy?” he growled, his deep voice echoing off the locker room walls. “I've been coaching football for decades, and you're just some punk kid who thinks he knows it all.”

“With all due respect, Coach, your behavior towards us is unacceptable.” he replies firmly, trying to keep his voice steady. “We're here to improve our skills, not be belittled and humiliated.”

The other players watched in silence, unsure how their coach would react to their star quarterback’s bold challenge. Coach Andrews' face turned an alarming shade of red, and he took a menacing step closer to Brett.

“You think you're so special, huh?” Coach Andrews sneered, his hot breath washing over Brett's face. “Brett, you don't understand a damn thing.” He chuckled, “Throwing a ball well doesn’t make you a leader.”

“I'm just telling it like it is.” Brett snapped back, “Why would we want to dedicate ourselves to this team if you’re treating us like shit during a regular practice?”

The other men remained quiet. No one knew what to say, but they watched closely. Brett was always their leader. Sticking up for them. And while they mostly agreed with him, they weren't about to face coach's wrath.

“You wouldn't know true leadership, dedication, or what it means to be a man if it bit you in the ass.” Coach Andrews replied, crossing his large, hairy arms, “Let me show you, boy. Let me show everyone here.” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. With a swift motion, he reached out and grasped Brett's chin, forcing the younger man to meet his gaze.

Brett tried to pull away, but the coach's grip was unyielding. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the coarse hairs on Coach Andrews' palm brush against his smooth skin, “First and foremost, these arms. You think these toned, well-groomed arms make you a man?”

As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands began to glow with an eerie light. And he dug his hands into Brett's impressive arms. Brett gasped as he felt the coach's fingers making contact with his skin. Brett's eyes widened in shock as he felt the coach's glowing fingers sink into his muscles. A tingling sensation spread through his arms as they began to shift and contort. The definition in his biceps softened, the veins disappearing beneath a layer of new flesh. His forearms thickened, growing hairier as dark brown locks sprouted from his skin.

“Wha...what's happening?” Brett managed to choke out, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief. He tried to move his transforming arms, but they felt heavy, cumbersome. Bulking with both muscle and fat. The skin becoming tanned and weathered with age, “Coach, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Real men have substance, not just flash.” Brett gasped as coarse, dark hairs sprouted from his shoulders and traveled down his back.

As the coach's hands moved over Brett's chest, the young athlete felt his pecs begin to expand and contort. The lean, defined muscle mass that had once been there gave way to a softer, more rounded contour, reminiscent of Coach Andrews' own mature physique. Darker, coarser hair erupted across the changing skin, until Brett's chest was covered in a thick mat of brown fuzz, mirroring the coach's own hirsute appearance.

“What...” Brett whimpered, horror dawning in his eyes as his previously firm pecs sagged, “I...” He looked at his teammates- his friends. All just stared wide eyed, unsure what to do, “Please! Stop...”

“Keep quiet and take it like a man.” Coach Andrews commanded gruffly, squeezing Brett's newly enlarged, hairy pecs, “Maybe then you'll understand the importance of discipline and hard work, right boy?”

“I’m no boy! I’m a fuckin’ man!” Brett's eyes widened at his sudden outburst, while Coach Andrews just grinned, “No, why did I...?” Brett tried to understand where that outburst came from.

Coach Andrews leaned in close, his breath hot against Brett's ear as he whispered, “Because deep down, you crave the power and control that comes with being an alpha male. Your body is responding to its primal urges, even if your mind resists.”

As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands continued their work, sliding down Brett's torso to grasp his hips. Brett felt a strange heat emanating from the coach's palms, seeping into his skin. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his abs started to shift.

Coach Andrews grinned, seeming to relish Brett's distress. “That's it, boy. Let it happen.” he purred, his hands sliding across Brett’s firm torso, “Feel the power surging through you. It's what separates the men from the boys.” Wiry hairs sprouted from Brett’s abdomen as coach’s hands made their way down. Each strand growing thicker and curlier.

“No...no, please!”

The young athlete tensed, expecting another painful alteration, but instead felt his stomach muscles relax and soften. The six-pack that had once been so prominent began to fade, replaced by a rounder, flabbier midsection. Still, Brett could appreciate the muscle behind the soft, hairy flesh. Brett's face contorted in anguish as he watched his own body take on a different form. 

“Don’t you want to be a real man?” Coach Andrews goaded, “Like me?” He emphasized.

Brett's gaze dropped to his reflection, his heart pounding in his ears as he took in the sight of himself. Gone were the chiseled features and athletic build he'd once possessed. In their place was a heavier, more imposing figure, with a rounded belly and broad, muscular shoulders. Thick, dark hair now covered every inch of exposed skin, from his chest to his arms to his back.

“I...I look like you.” Brett whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and awe. He couldn't deny the raw power radiating from his new form, the sense of strength and dominance that seemed to pulse through his very being.

Coach Andrews nodded approvingly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “See? This is what it means to be a real man. Not some hairless pretty boy. You’re learning what it means to be a real man. To be me.” Coach Andrews replied, admiring his work so far.

With a firm squeeze, Coach's fingers made contact with Brett's pert ass. The skin rippled and shifted, the muscle mass shifting as it grew and filled with fat. The lean, chiseled curves of his rear gave way to a broader, heavier set of cheeks, now covered in a thick, wiry mat of dark hair. The muscles softened, turning to pliant flesh that jiggled slightly with each movement. Brett winced as the process extended to his thighs, the lean, toned flesh giving way to a heavier, more bulked-out build, marred by jiggly fat.

“But I don’t want to be like you!” The transforming quarterback insisted, shifting uncomfortably as a forest of dense hairs sprouted from his new legs, “It's too much...I can't...” 

Yet, even as he spoke, he found himself admiring the new contours of his body in the mirror. The heavy, hair-covered muscles seemed to throb with power, drawing his gaze like a magnet. Coach Andrews noticed the change in Brett's demeanor and smirked knowingly. 

“You're starting to come around, aren't you boy? Admitting that maybe I know what I'm talking about after all?”

Brett swallowed hard, his mind reeling as he struggled to reconcile his conflicting desires. Part of him still longed for his old, lean physique, but another part - a darker, more primal part - reveled in the sheer masculinity of his new form. 

“N-no, I don't...I mean, yes, I guess.”

Coach Andrews simply smirked as he ran his hands through Brett’s hair, “That's it, boy. Embrace your new reality. You're no longer just a pretty face and a strong arm. You're a force to be reckoned with.”  

As the coach's glowing fingers massaged the quarterback’s scalp, his proud locks began to fall away. Brett could only watch as his styled hair fell in front of his face. Each lock making their way to the locker room floor. Finally, coach let go and Brett shivered at the cool sensation of the air on his bald head.

“N-no, I won't...” Brett protested weakly, but his voice lacked conviction, “This isn't me. I'm not...I can't be...”

But Coach Andrews shook his head and brushed his glowing hand against Brett's cheeks. Immediately, the youthful contours began to blur and shift. His angular jawline softened, rounding into a squarer, more weathered shape. All of which was quickly covered in a beautifully thick, manly beard. His high cheekbones receded slightly, and his nose lost its sharpness, taking on a more bulbous, fleshy appearance. Even his eyes seemed to alter, losing their bright, eager sparkle in favor of a duller, more world-weary gaze.

“All done.” Coach Andrews grinned, “You’re perfect. A true man.”

Brett stared at his reflection, his eyes turning to Coach Andrews. And in that moment, he realized- they were the same, down to the last strand of hair on their chest. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His own resistance was crumbling, swept away by an unfamiliar surge of masculine pride and dominance.

"Brett!" One of his teammates called out, "Don't...!"

"Shut it, Johnson!" Brett growled, his voice low and gravelly- the same as Coach Andrews'. His former friend took a step back, clearly intimidated by the transformation in their usually affable leader.

Inside, however, Brett was reeling. How could he have spoken to his friend like that? He'd always prided himself on his kind heart and good judgment. Now, well now...

Coach Andrews placed a meaty hand on Brett's shoulder, “Now you're learning, son. Don't let weakness cloud your judgement. A real man stands tall and asserts his authority without apology.”

Brett nodded slowly, his expression hardening into a mask of stoic determination. He could feel the change coursing through him, reshaping his very essence.  

“I needed a little help coaching you pathetic excuses.” Coach Andrews says turning to his team, “And who better to assist me than me? Right, Coach Andrews?” He says, looking over at Brett.

Brett stared blankly at his reflection, his mind struggling to comprehend the enormity of the transformation. The man staring back at him was no longer the person he once was - not even remotely. Every fiber of his being had been rewoven into the image of Coach Andrews, right down to his thoughts and desires.

“I am Coach Andrews.” he muttered, the words feeling foreign yet comforting, “My team needs discipline. I'll whip them into shape, no matter the cost.” He turned to face his stunned teammates, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down their spines, “Listen up, boys. From now on, I expect nothing less than perfection on the field. Any slacking off will be met with severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

Brett's teammates cowered under his intense glare, nodding quickly in fearful agreement, “Yes, Bre... er, Coach Andrews” one of them stuttered.

Brett/Coach Andrews sneered at their subservience, his chest puffing out with pride, “Good. Now get out of my sight and report to the practice field immediately. We have a lot of work to do to turn you into the champions I know you can be.”

Both coaches watched as their team scrambled to obey the orders, a twisted sense of satisfaction filling them. Coach Andrews could only grin at the sight of the new coach- his twin- a specimen of true masculinity. And without another word, together, the two Coach Andrews stepped out onto the practice field, ready to unleash their unique brand of discipline upon their team.

[multiplicationdivision]

Successor

As soon as the notification came, Alan accepted the weekly meeting with his boss. He readjusted his new tie and tailored navy suit as the invitation sent him through.

“Good morning, Alan.” His boss was an older man, a large, refined one at that. Rumor had it that he would soon be leaving the company for retirement. Alan hypothesized it was arriving much quicker than people realized.

“Good morning, Sir.” Alan had quickly picked up the honorific through these weekly meetings. “How has your day been so far?” 

“We will skip the questions for today and be prompt to work. Hit the ‘Record’ button.”

This always happened. Alan’s boss never wanted to discuss anything outside of business. He was always so worried about the company and their profits. Without a second thought, Alan hit the ‘Record’ button. Across the screen, his boss smiled as Alan face went pale. His eyelids drooped and his jaw went slack.

“That is much more appropriate,” Alan’s boss relished smugly. “Let all those pesky thoughts dissipate and evaporate. Clear your mind completely for our meeting. Let my words be the only thing that resides within your mind.”

Alan remained empty and still on the other end. His boss held a malicious smirk. “You have been coming along swimmingly as my successor, Alan. It still fascinates me that you have not realized it when this is our last meeting.”

It was true. Since these weekly meetings had begun, Alan’s boss had been prescribing various updates into Alan’s system. Each time Alan hit the button to ‘Record’, his conscious state went on standby while his subconscious transcribed each addition, subtraction, and modification his boss made. Once Alan’s boss was finished, the recording ended, leaving Alan unaware of any changes or abnormalities.

“I should have solved this issue long ago, but no more of those brazen personal questions. Being stern and direct is more productive. It is much better commanding attention.”

“Yes sir,” Alan replied flatly.

“Speaking of commanding attention, it is time to address that sound of yours as well. A deeper voice that contains emotions is better suited to keep others calm and in control at all times.”

Alan’s neck thickened, significantly jutting his Adam’s apple.

“Yes sir,” Alan agreed, his voice now mimicking his boss’s deep, disinterested, and gruff texture.

“I see you have acquainted yourself to the glory of a three-piece,” his boss grinned. “But it appears to be a little large on you. If you want to be as successful in my position, then perhaps you ought to wholly fill the space I am leaving behind, would you agree?”

“Yes sir.” 

Each part of Alan seemed to pulse as the recording translated across his body. His legs stretched and thickened, the torso magnificently broadened, his butt swelled from underneath. The chest expanded, his neck and arms bulked, and his height ascended ever so slightly. Even his feet vibrated, slowly expanding and widening until they fit perfectly into the shoes that had been previously tailored and then altered larger by his boss’s words. 

“Tall and thick, just like me,” Alan’s boss purred. ”If you are to lead our company, you ought to have my strong jaw to capture our investors.”

Alan’s face rippled, losing its youthful charm as it morphed into traditional masculine perfection. His bouncy curls receded and thinned slightly, a thick coat of pomade gelling it up into a mature quiff.

Alan’s boss was jubilant. The physical work was always much more fun than the tedious mental tasks they had been dulling over for the past few months. “I believe something will need to house your newfound testosterone, Alan.”

Alan’s crotch tingled, swelling and growing. He now had a thick, juicy member, swollen and throbbing. Alan’s low-hanging balls swelled as he began to palm himself.

“As you are aware, Alan, the majority of our meetings have been spent on realigning how to address this issue.” His boss then pulled out a stiff cock from his suit pants, one identical in length and size to Alan’s. He began stroking it as he continued. “As a leader, I adapted to the needs of the majority. You must do the same.”

Before the meetings with his boss, Alan had been a proud member of the LGBTQ+ community. But week by week, he had found his fantasies shift from his masculine boyfriend to twinks, to femboys, to watching the male in straight porn, to eventually watching the woman in straight porn. His boss had monitored all this behavior, waiting until the lesbian porn appeared in Alan's search history to announce his retirement to the board, and enact the physical changes to his successor.

“You have already given up so much for me, for the company. Your boyfriend, your personality, your figure and identity. Now all that remains is your genetic code.” His boss sniggered taking a dramatic pause before instructing, “Rid of it, Alan.”

With a forceful grunt came a massive load. Alan’s existence was expunged out into the suit pants. His boss smiled with satisfaction, ready to present his successor to the company.

[multiplicationdivision]

The Flash & The double

I was sitting at my breakfast table one morning and scrolled through Instagram like I always do. Like always I never really find something but I looked at some Reels, alot of cute animals, like cats and dogs, I really love those videos.

I looked and saw that CW had put out an audition, it was for The Flash, I love that show and Grant look so hot in it too. I sended in my application with photos and resume, it was a little chance I got this job.

A week later a girl from CW called and said I was welcome to a audition next week. I thanked her and I got the script sent over.

I arrived at the location she sent over, it was this an apartment, not what I had in mind but I didn't question anything. I walked in and sat on a chair in the hallway and waited till somebody called my name.

" Steve " a blonde girl yelled and I followed quick after her in to the room.

In the room sat 4 people, I guess then would judge me, probably a jury to see if I fit the small part I was auditioning for. When I looked up I saw Grant Gustin himself sit at the table, he smiled and looked me up and down.

" So Steve, can you do any acrobatics? " Grant asked me with a big smile, his teeths are perfect I though for myself.

" Yes, I can do both acro and parkour, I been training for years, I used to be a stunt double back in the days.. well 2 years ago " I laughed and smiled.

" So we are looking for somebody that can do this small part and also be a stunt double for Grant if that would be needed " the blonde girl said, I smiled answered her.

" Okay we are switching things up, here, take one of my scrips" Grant said and gave me a page with a few of his lines from season 1. I read them and did the audition and after, I went home, questioning how good I really did.

A few days later calls Grant himself my phone to congrat me on getting the job, he said I would only work as his Stunt double as they cut the other character, I didn't really complaine ofcourse, it's The Flash. They would need me on set tomorrow for a Suit fitting.

The next day I was on set early since I didn't want to be late for my first day. " Steve, there you are, welcome " Grant met me with open arms. He smelled so Woody and musky, drove my mind crazy. Me and Grant walked together to the costum departementet since I didn't really know my way around.

We both arrived and walked in to the costume departement, it was so big, and it had mini rooms and a whole closet, I had never seen something this big before.

" Hey Steve, sorry for calling you in this early , just needed to check some things, your suit is over there, we will leave for a while when you change. " the girls said and left me and Grant alone. " Is It okay if I stay " he asked, I felt myself getting harder, but answered him and he stayed.

The suit looked really good for it to be a stunt double one. Usually the company don't really put in the effort when it comes the the stunt double's costumes because they often get trashed on set.

I took of my clothes so I was only in my white boxers, I could see Grant checking me out in the corner of my eyes. I took the suit and started dressing myself, on leg at a time, then over my butt, over my abs and all the way up. I asked Grant to zip it up, and he did. " let me help you with the mask too" Grant said and put the mask on me.

I could feel my body start to shake, a wave past through my body and I felt my feet grow bigger, my legs and thighs got thicker, my butt got fuller, in the pain I saw Grant lick is lips and grab his bulge. My spine cracked and I was in pain, so much pain, my arms got bigger and thicker. A wave of pleasure went down to my dick and it started to grow harder and longer. I could feel the mask heating up, my jaw got shaper, my nose got smaller, eyes went brown and my hair shortend and became brown.

" Looking good Sexy, damn, my ass looks so good in that suit " Grant laughed and walked towards me. " You did this, you planned all for this " my voice cracked and came out darker. He laughed again " Ofcourse I did, from the start, that's why you got to read my lines at the audition, remember, now look in the mirror and say you don't look hot "

Damn I look good and I snaped a picture, I could here Grant laugh behind me again. He came behind me and started to touch my new body.

" I see somebody is excited to see his new face and body " he grabed my bulge and I moaned. " You know, when you're as famous as me, you can't be at two places at once, so I planed this, so you could do half the work and I do the second one. " he laughed and gave me his script " You do the scenes today, I'm sneaking home, I texted my adress, come over with your stuff, you're living with me now". Grant grabed my bulge again and I moaned, he laughed and left.

I went over the lines, went out on set, I kept telling myself I'm Grant Gustin.

Hello I'm back with a new story, this one is inspired by @dulafer and his story " The stunt double " but with a twist. I hope everybody likes it.

[multiplicationdivision]

Similar

[Better Resolution] Caption by TravisTheDemon

[multiplicationdivision]

Forgotten Mask

Oh, forgot my mask” you run back inside your house. You were just about to head out to work when you forgot your mask inside. Grabbing the first mask you saw on the table inside, you didn’t notice it actually belonged to your jock brother, who left it there last night when he came home drunk from a party. Driving over to the mall where you work, you finally found a parking spot and was just about to get out as you put on the mask. You immediately smelled the powerful scent of alcohol and protein powder. “Oh god ew. This is my brother’s” you say as you try to take off the mask. Until you notice that for some reason it’s stuck on your face. You start to panic as you continue to try and remove it but it seems just to get tighter and tighter. You start to feel pain travel through your body as you moan out loud. You start to feel your body pulsating as your upper body starts to grow. Your arms come first as your biceps become as large as basketballs replacing your skinny arms. They grow so large they rip the sleeves off your work shirt. “Ughhh.. what…. Is happening… please…. Help” you moan out. Next, you feel your pecs start to jut out as they grow huge and your nipples darken and grow, moving downwards with your growing pecs. Along with your pecs, you feel abs starting to protrude from your small stomach as your entire torso starts to expand outwards. You yell in pain as your shirt starts to stretch and rip until it burst leaving you shirtless in your car. You catch your breath thinking it’s over until you look down. The material of your work pants starts to change becoming gray and turning into sweatpants. As the pants finish up their changes your thighs start to expand as your legs stretch out. You had to push back your seat to make room for your now long and muscular legs. Something else started to change but you couldn’t make sense of it until you felt two straps hug your now huge ass and tighten as you realized your underwear has changed into a jockstrap. Your thoughts are confirmed as you lift the waist of your new sweatpants and see a big black pouch with an Underarmor logo…. Wait wasn’t that the same underwear your brother had. Your thought is interrupted as pain from that same pouch appears. You moan in a mixture of pain and pleasure as your cock starts to expand outwards. It feels like you are being jacked off as your cock continues to expand into the pouch filling it out perfectly along with your heavy balls filled with cum ready to breed. “An…anyone…. Please help” you yelled but there was no use as the parking lot where you were was empty. You then pull down the mirror in your car to see everything that has happened as you start to feel your face change, while you are wearing a mask and can’t see much, you do see your eyes change to look identical to your brothers. The change moves upwards as your hair changes to a typical jock cut which you only had a small time to look at as a baseball cap materialized onto your head. You were about to touch your face and try to remove your mask one more time until your hand unwillingly starts to move into your pants you feel it grab your cock and start jacking it off as it continues to grow making it impossible for you to encompass it with just one hand. As you are forced to watch your unconscious hand jack your cock you start to see images appear in your head. Working out in the gym…. Fucking…. Flexing. All these memories start to flood your mind as your old ones get flushed down being stored with your cum. As you start to edge up you moan one more time “please…. I don't… want this…” and with that, you cum all over your jockstrap as you lay back in your car seat panting from exhaustion. Out of nowhere you get a call on your cell phone

“Yo bro, did you take my mask?” Your brother asks over the phone

“Huhuh yeah bro, sorry about that” you replied as your brother noticed your voice sounded different…

“Um, alright dude, you can bring it to my gym after work”

“ lol fuck work Bro! I’ll join you at the gym now” You replied, hanging up and getting ready to drive over.

As you got to the gym and greeted your brother he was shocked to see that you look like his twin. He soon realized that the mask was the reason why you have transformed. Of course, he decided to do nothing about it as he finally had a brother he liked and can hang out with. You even ended up quitting your job and joining him as a personal trainer at the gym.

[multiplicationdivision]

Brotherly changes

"Ok, so just add this to me and then I put them on," said Austin as he applied the potion to his crotch and thighs before putting on his brother's shorts. Austin was the older brother of him and Dylan. Dylan however, was superior despite being younger. Dylan had been blessed with good looks and golden curly hair, whereas Austin’s face had gone rugged from the lack of sleep, and his once blonde hair had gone dirty brown and grown out a fair bit. Dylan got praised for every little thing he did and got gifts from their parents, while Austin worked himself to death. Dylan was incredibly well built and had become something of a star on the pitch and on social media where he had a large following. It was large enough he was given contracts and paid to post selfies for all the thirsty people out there. Austin had twiggy arms and a slightly fat belly, he couldn’t afford to workout and had no desire to. Dylan was also very popular because of this, he had parties lined up nearly every weekend, and from whispers, Austin had heard, he had been with at least a cohort of girls. Austin had a few dates over the years, but they all disappeared. Since then he barely tried as every date ghosted him.

Dylan was infinitely superior to Austin, and they both knew it. Whenever they met, Dylan would always open by mocking his brother for being a loser. Austin though, knew how to hit back at his fragile ego. Dylan would always then finish off with something homophobic, before shutting up and then repeating the process thirty minutes later.

Dylan’s homophobia was definitely one of his less attractive traits, but it was only one of them, and somehow, despite being open with it, people just ignored it and loved him regardless.

Austin had had enough though now, he wanted a piece of his younger brother, so he could finally stand up to him. Austin, through various conspicuous connections, had found his way to a secret site. The site sold various items, some illegal and some weren’t even known to authorities. One of the items, which he had taken a special interest in though, was a formula that when applied with someone else's DNA, would let them add part of that person to themselves.

It was a perfect time too, as both were back at home. Austin had the house to himself now, as the parents were out together and Dylan had probably gone to the gym, he didn’t care. He stole one of his brother's sweaty pairs of grey workout shorts and put them on before applying the formula. Surely his brother's sweat would be enough so he could get his strength?

Everything was set and ready to go, and yet he had no idea what came next. Austin sat in his bed waiting for something to happen. He felt tingles and a breeze brushing his skin, but it went nowhere.

“Fuck I knew it was to be good to be true! I’ve been scammed!” he yelled to himself in frustration. He sighed a deep breath and stared at himself in silence. Unbeknownst to him, someone was still in the house and enjoying the disappointment of Austin.

“What's going on, dipshit?” Came Dylan’s youthful and cocky voice. Austin was taken from his haze and stared at him in shock. He thought he was out?

“What are you doing here? I thought you were out?” stuttered Austin, who was trembling at the thought of what Dylan could do.

“Wandering around my parent's house, fuckhead. What are you doing in my workout shorts?”

“Ughh…” Austin stopped as he realised how awkward the situation was. Dylan smirked and started laughing though when he saw the bottle of formula.

“Haha, you fucking bought it, bro, you fucking dumbass. You really are that sad aren’t you,” Dylan jabbed. Austin was nearly tearing up at how awkward this was but also at how real Dylan's words were.

“Fuck you, Dylan,” Austin said quietly

“What was that?” replied Dylan

“Fuck you,” he said louder

“Haha, you are such a loser. I know you hate me, but fuck, look at what I get for a brother. You’re useless and I’m perfect. Honestly, changing you if or the better,”

“Well, as you see…” Austin was about to rebuttal his brother, but Dylan cut him off.

“Don’t speak,” Dylan ordered, he glared at him for a second. Austin sat in amazement, as he stared back, his brother's golden curls then began to glow brightly for a second. As this happened Austin felt as his mouth shut and a weighted feeling locked them together.

“Finally got to use that on you. I don’t why I have this lit power bro, but it's amazing. I’ve had it all my life and no one knows. It's how I’ve achieved so much bro. You see, whenever I talk and force a command on someone or tell them to change, my hair glows and it just happens, how lit is that?” Dylan explained. Austin sat in confusion as he tried to understand, he wanted to ask more, but his jaw was sealed shut still.

“I don’t why but it’s never worked on you, and I dunno if you ever had it. But it works on everyone else. When mom and dad bought me my first car, when I got that sponsor-ship when I got those high grades while barely studying, and pretty much getting everything I ever wanted!” He continued. Austin lay there in amazement, it was so stupid and fantastical and yet it seemed so real. Dylan wasn’t dumb, but he didn’t exactly have the brains to pull off straight As. And it was true that he got everything he ever wanted for no reason at all.

Dylan gleed in triumph at finally getting his secret out, as if it did anything. Austin would have no power in stopping Dylan as he could just convince people that Austin was mad. He started flexing and looking over himself, admiring his body before smirking widely at Austin.

“You might want to brace yourself for the next bit, but this body wasn't all hard work,” he said as if setting up a huge twist.

“You remember your first boyfriend, Riley, right. Well, I fucking hated that flamer, more so than your other faggy boyfriends. So one day while you were out and he was waiting here, I wanted to get rid of him, I ordered him into my room and I don’t know how I did it, but I joked that he was a part of me,” Dylan began laughing maniacally as he readied for the punchline.

“AND HE FUCKING BECAME PART OF ME, BRO!” Dylan roared. Austin sat bewildered by what was going on and yet there was some truth to it all.

“He just fell onto my chest and in a few seconds sank in. Afterwards, my body was twice the size and far more muscular. I did it to all of them, well except Jacob. When my mate, Jake fucked off, a couple of years ago, I took the liberty to turn Jacob into an exact copy of him so he would still be here with me. The best thing is that all those fags were forgotten about completelyl, well except for you and me,” Dylan went, on laughing as he explained how he had secretly and yet obviously been tormenting Austin.

Austin sat there, unable to speak and absorbed all the information. All these years it had been his brother fucking him over. And now that he thought about it, he remembered Dylan talking about Jake leaving, and yet he still hung out with him last week. This fantasy of Dylans was real and Austin went from bewildered, straight to angry. He jumped up to go over and hit Dylan, maybe even kill him. But Dylan saw this and smiled at him.

“Go lie down bro,” He said swiftly before his golden hair glowed brightly. Austin's legs stopped walking forwards, and uncontrollably started walking him backwards. Despite his rage and anger, and his desire to hurt his brother, his body seemed to obey his brother's will like a slave. His body went and laid back down on the bed, while Austin tried to push against it. But his body was kept in place by an invisible force.

“Haha, you can’t do shit now big bro, I don’t know why I can do this to you now but it's great,” Dylan mocked again, he seemed to be enjoying it. He went over to Austin's phone and whispered to himself that he knew his code to enter, his hair glowed gold and just like that he accessed it straight. He began scrolling through his dating apps licking his lips.

“Oh, bro I have access to a whole load of tasty meals, which should I go for, do you think, Tim… or Colin?” He joked, Austin was unable to do anything and so looked at him, despairing at his brother for such cruel games.

“Haha, don’t worry I’m gonna share em,” Dylan finished, putting the phone to the side and focusing on his frozen brother.

“You're not the only one that hates their brother, Austin. I thought having a brother would be cool or some shit, but your boring as fuck. All you do is sit at a shitty job and complain, and now you want to be like your little brother. Well don’t worry bro, cos I feel the same and now I’m going to make you just like me!” Dylan yelled at his inanimate brother. Even though it was Austin's plan to steal parts of his brother, he felt terrified of his brother changing him. Austin only wanted his strength so he could stand up to him, but with his brother in charge, there was no way of knowing how much he could change. Would he still be like he was now or an exact copy of his brother?

“Oh yeah, I’m gonna make you so much more like me and we’re going to do everything together, like actual bros. We’re going to work out, party and have damn lit time, and we’ll forget all about this shitty version of you. I’m even going to give you the same power and hair I have, just to add to our fun. College is going to be a fucking blast together,” Dylan went on. There was an excitement to his voice, in that he truly wanted to turn Austin into a better brother, one that closely resembled himself. Austin however didn’t feel the same way, the idea of being 20 again made him sick. He thought he had an ok 20s, studying and doing other various nerdy stuff that he loved. He didn’t party or anything, but the idea that that would be what he would do for the next few years unsettled him. But then again, Dylan would make sure that the new Austin would love it.

“And don’t forget with our hair and power we can be like this forever, partying forever, changing people into whatever we want forever, getting whatever we want forever, being young forever, we can do everything and more, bro,” Dylan teased, he knew Austin hated the idea of becoming like him. Austin was absolutely terrified of becoming just like Dylan, but forever, that instilled a chilling fear in him. Dylan stood up and smirked down one last time at his brother.

“You ready bro, time to get you freshly minted as a young hot jock bro like me,” Austin had no way of replying or pleading as Dylan had left him permanently silent and inanimate.

“Oh fine, I’ll let you beg for me to stop, but only so I can enjoy ridding the world of you. Speak”

“Oh fuck, PLEASE, I don’t want this, I’ll give you money, anything,” Austin screamed.

“Haha, bro haven’t you been listening, I can get everything I want, it's time to let go of being a loser. Time to change,” Dylan finished, this time for good.

“I wish my brother was more like me,” He said before his head glowed bright gold once again. Austin instantly felt as his body began to heat up.

“Please, no,” Austin begged.

“That reminds me, I’ve got a party after this, perfect to introduce you to people and this girl I think you’ll want to fuck…,” Dylan went.

Despite being able to talk again, Austin was overwhelmed by the heat that was coming from his skin. He didn’t sweat, nor feel dry anywhere, but it was like he was in the middle of the desert.His skin was the first to change, as the heat sent a bright rose colour across his chest before spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes. As the heat intensified, his body began to inflate in size, ballooning out his fickle frame. The bulging fat then changed into muscle, his arms and legs were ripped, his stomach settled and a six-pack rippled unto them, while two ballonish pecs softened into big pillowy cushions. His body was exactly like his big bros now. As the heat began to move, quickly erasing all of Austin, he found that his skin was now softer and far more youthful. His brother's shorts fit him tightly now as his body was the same size and build.

“Go on bro, give your body a feel,” said Dylan. Austin’s arms then moved uncontrollably, feeling over the new body. Austin gasped in horror as he felt muscles and young hairless skin. It was just like his brother’s.

The heat now moved down to his hands, which both expanded from tiny, wrinkled things into large, protruding claws. The heat also moved to his feet which exploded from size 9s out into monstrous size 13s. The heat then moved back to his flat butt, blowing it into a large round bubble butt that would have any top drooling over. However, as it grew, his loose hole from old dates and hook-ups tightened and closed up, ensuring nothing could penetrate it. The heat then went for his crotch next, heating up his bush and turning from brown into golden blonde, while his shrivelled up slug of a dick began to feel a pulse going down it. Each one expanded it further and further until it reached his brother's size of a solid and firm, 10”s.

“You’re almost looking just like me bro, gotta change your face now, but keep a little different to mine,” said Dylan, his hair yet again glowing.

All the heat now shot up to Autin's face, erasing years from it and infusing him with my energetic look. His blotchy stubble vanished, while the rough skin softened up. Soon his chin and cheeks were delicately smooth and soft with a smidgen of fat. This wasn’t all though, the proximity of his eyes, shape of his nose were altered, becoming similar to his brothers. His hazelnut eyes squinted without notice, gaining the same light blue colour as Dylan. His long and sharp mouth shrunk in width before turning pouty, so he could give off that cute fuckboi look. Austin saw a stray hair fall just in front of his face. One hair came out at a time at first, but as he uncontrollably pushed his hand through his hair, it all came out in clumps. In its place, new fairer and cleaner brown hairs began to sprout. Instead of growing up straight or flopping to the side, they gained the same curly texture and style as his brothers, though they remained a light brown colour. Austin began feeling up his face and hair. As his meaty fingers got caught on a curl, knew that the changes truly had consumed every vestige of his old self. Dylan sat back in an armchair and continued to smirk at him, smugly looking over his new brother in triumph.

“What have you done to me?!” He yelled, before realising his voice had gained the same silky masculine tones of his brother.

“I turned you into me, bro, don’t worry I don’t intend to leave you like this, bro,” Dylan replied calmly.

“So you can turn me back?”

“Oh no, I mean to wipe out your personality bro, it's in dire need of updating, with some of my personal touches,” Dylan joked. Austin gulped, head changed so much already, it was clearly possible now that he was going to change further.

“Make my brother Austin, be more like me,” Dylan spoke again. His hair continued to radiate some magic as it glowed. Austin then fell back to the bed grasping at it as a headache shot through him.

Austin struggled on the bed, grasping at his head, trying to save his damned intelligence and personality from being twisted into what his brother wanted. There was no build-up or preparation for what came next. Austin instantly realised as his memories and thoughts were washed away, draining away until he forgot every part of his old life. New memories then began to fruit in his head, each one he thought of or remembered, he knew it was wrong. The memories were not what had happened, but what Dylan wanted. Some were twisted re-imaginations of him and some were completely fabricated out of nothing. His old rivalry with Dylan was no-more, now the pair were almost inseparable. They would do everything together, studying, working out, parties and gaming. Where they had brotherly fights, they had brotherly shenanigans, where they would do all kinds of pranks. The job which Austin slaved away at, was gone, now he spent his life working out for the brother’s shared Instagram account where they had millions of followers who adored them and their bodies. He also had the same vain aspirations as Dylan, no interest in anything that didn’t involve their bodies, which meant sports, working out and their social media influence. All these memories and aspirations built a new foundation for a life similar to Dylans. Of course, he couldn’t truly remain at his old age, and with each memory added, his age was reduced by a year until he was 21 again.

Austin no longer felt horror or fear as his changes became his reality. He took in the sight of his body once again, but now it filled him with arrogance and cockiness. He was a sexy stud, who gained influence and importance from his body. He no longer had any aspirations, all he wanted was to party, fuck, workout and make easy money.

“Haha, now you're thinking right bro. I gotta get rid of that gay bit and add a few more touches of myself to you and then you need to get rid of your old self,” Dylan proudly added, as Austin began flexing and smirking to himself.

Dylan’s hair then lit up once more, and Austin felt eager to let his brother change him further, despite not realising how much of him was going to be changed. This time, the heat was centred around the top of Austin’s head, primarily in his hair, which tingled. But this wasn’t the only place heating up and tingling, the same sensation was felt down by his crotch. Austin couldn’t help but shove his hand in his shorts, before pulling out his jackhammer. He began to rub at it, soothing the pleasure that now infested it.

At first, his head went to his usual fantasies of college guys and bears. He continued for a while until he realised they weren’t doing it for him anymore. Bears repulsed him as he hated the idea of associating with anyone that wasn’t fit, beautiful, and young. To him, fat people were a waste of a potentially beautiful person, if they put in the hours to become like him.

Then college guys felt weird to him. He no longer felt an attraction to them, rather found them cool to hang with and would enjoy partying with them. In a split second, the idea of college bimbos was forced into his mind before taking over. A new feeling overcame him, he couldn’t help but feel uncontrollable lust towards dumb bimbos with big tits. Austin had the desire to fuck as many as he could, it wasn’t as if they would say no to him, and if they did his bro could make them do anything. Any attraction towards men now dissipated, and the same dumb horny straight boy thoughts as his brother were what he strived for. He strived to be just like him, he wanted to bang as many chicks, no, he wanted to bang more chicks, as they had a contest between them. Austin rubbed harder, his balls filling with old memories and thoughts, as he persisted towards becoming just like his bro. He expelled any desire towards men to his balls, and now he openly allowed his brother's deep-rooted homophobia to take him, feeling the same repulsion his brother had towards it. Of course, his brother and he could change them however they wanted or maybe devour them for bigger muscles, the options were endless.

“TITS, FUCK TITS, NEED TO FUCK…” Austin moaned as his dick was ready to go. As the last traces of old Austin flowed into his balls. His brown hair then began to glow as he became infused with the same power his brother had. Austin couldn’t imagine being anything other than being a hot sexy jock bro like his brother. He pumped harder now that he desired release.

“FUCKIN TITS, BROOOOOO” His dick exploded, expelling his old life from his and allowing the new douchey Austin to take full control. As he lay there out of breath, the glow from his hair faded. Instead of reverting back to his natural brown, it was now the same perfect golden blonde curls as his brother.

“You had a good time bro,” Dylan smirked

“Fuck yeah, bro, I need more though” Austin replied as he got up.

“Don’t there's gonna be plenty of pussy tonight big bro,” said Dylan as he put his arm around his big bro.

“Thanks, little bro, not sure what I would do without you,” Austin finished, smiling at his bro now that they were best bros. The two would get anything and everything, fuck any girl and be great players on the pitch, Life was gonna be lit.

[multiplicationdivision]

Red Card

Brett loved being a referee in the year of 2048.

Nothing beat that feeling as he ran alongside the swarm of players, watching the tangle of young nanotech enhanced players weave in and out at superhuman speeds through the mud. Brett had been one of them years ago, but he could still keep up with the fleet of speedsters in his reliable living polymer under-armour and cleats. Feeling the rush as he tracked the semi-holographic ball, matching its speed as he streaked down the sidelines, his living clothes acting just as much as he did to keep his eyes trained on its movement through the air.

The sport still retained the same problems it always had, even despite how extreme technology had made it. Players still took every opportunity they could to win fouls, feigning injuries despite their titanium enhanced bones. Coaches still worked themselves up into their rages, caring far too much about a non-name league as if their egos hinged on winning every game. Crowds still cussed at him fro the sidelines at every one of Brett’s calls, whining as if it would make him care.

To all those overwhelming mountains of human garbage though, Brett had an ace up his sleeve. In his established rights as a judge and jury of these games he’d been given certain technological privileges.

If a player, coach or even observer were just a little too distracting, Brett could make something useful out of them. He had admins rights to anyone in his courts and a full copy of his biomatrix ready to fire and upload.

A repeat offender player Ashton screamed at him and in a moment Brett had activated the chip in his spine to repeat the same conversion it went through practically every week.

One moment Ashton was practically foaming at the mouth and the next he was squirming on the grass, likely feeling that ants crawling on the skin sensation of his nanotech expanding and restructuring. It worked off a template it had come to know well, pulsing with a ghostly blue radiation as it worked in overdrive.

Brett had been lured into this sidegig just for these privileges. Hell it was practically expected to be used at least once every day, lest he be unable to keep up with the day of games. Bret couldn’t be in two places at once, except when he had a troublesome volunteer.

Ashton’s blond mop of hair would retract into his head, a pulse of blue changing the sandy yellow into thick brown. The frat boy’s patchy whisps of facial hair thickened into a healthy stubble, just like how Brett had shaved it that morning. Angry eyes turned calmer as Ashton’s biotechnical brain overlaid a fresh perspective, overpowering any of his meager young memories and personality with a copy of Brett’s own dominant mind.

The young man grew much less young as his teammates watched mostly apathetically, although a trained eye could catch envy in some of them, especially as Ashton’s leaner frame gave way to Brett’s own larger set of muscles. Sure, the set now replacing ashton’s body were a recreation by nanotech, but the memory of Brett’s years in the gym filtered in with them, enlaying muscle memory and experience into the guy’s synthetic nerves.

Even the superficial details eventually got transferred. A scar from his own years of playing on his neck. The tattoo he’d gotten months ago reflected back at him, having been drawn precisely as every bit of Brett replaced the angry twenty year old who’d body checked a teammate.

The transformation was complete when the other Brett looked at him, just the same as him in every important way. The same confident grin and a challenging look in his eyes aimed right at him. They were a competitive person, even in his role as a ref.

A few quick transfers of his outfit code to his other self and Ashton’s dirty uniform melted into a copy of Brett’s, down to the same semi-personality running through their living clothes. It enwarpped both of them, urging some semblance of camaraderie.

“Well this is my game to ref now, 1.0” the other Brett said, already talking down to his original. “Why don’t you set up for the game in field 7?”

Brett would narrow his eyes but give up the game to his copy. Let the new guy have a head start as his prime self showed why he was the truest Brett.

It was a game they played to no one else’s knowledge, he and the clones he’d collect over a game day. A game of one-up-men-ship that decided the prime Brett by the end of the day. Losers get turned back into the players and whoever showed the greatest performance by their invisible scores got to go home as the real him. Whether that Brett was the actual original hardly mattered. It was fun like this. Hell it was probably the same for the thousands of other refs across the country, as well as the other folks abusing this tech.

Maybe the Brett who’d set up today would fall behind and get replaced with a template of Ashton at the end of the day. Maybe one of his collection of new brothers would go home the victor and start the next day as if nothing had happened.

Brett was going to win this game. So far he had never been the loser, but that was the flaw of always being the one remembered winning the coin toss. He couldn’t even conceptualize losing.

He was excited to see so many of himself lose. Just like always.