sneakerrlurkerr

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]

Laced In

Ian dropped heavily onto the sofa, letting out a long sigh as he stretched out his legs and rested his feet on the footstool. It had been a tough day at work and his arms ached, his back was sore, and sawdust still clung to his hoodie. Carpentry was not an easy job, but there was something honest about it, something real. A far cry from the stale, fluorescent-lit office he used to sit in for hours on end. Back then, Ian’s life had followed a very different path. Ties, spreadsheets, coffee breaks, emails. That had been his world… until he met Stuart. Stu was unlike anyone Ian had ever met and so he quickly became his boyfriend. Ian was in his early twenties at the time, still figuring things out.

It was Stu who convinced him to ditch the suit and tie. Said there was more to life than office politics and quarterly reviews. Stu had a way of getting into your head - not in a manipulative way, at least not at first. Just... persuasive. Convincing. He talked Ian into taking an apprenticeship as a carpenter. Said it suited him better. Ian took a pay cut, changed careers, and started spending his days in steel-toe boots and work gear.

Stu kept working his office job to support them, but there was an unspoken understanding between them: once Ian was earning more, Stu would find something new too. Something that made him happy. But over time, Ian began to realize that more had changed than just his job. His music taste. His slang. The way he dressed. Even the lads he started hanging out with. All of it had shifted subtly, naturally… or so he thought. Looking back, it was clear: Stu had been carefully shaping him into something else. Someone else. A version that fit Stu’s vision of what a boyfriend should be. Someone rougher, stronger, more “scally.” Someone who wore joggers and TNs and didn’t think twice about it.

Now, sitting alone with the TV droning in the background, Ian felt a creeping sense of boredom. The usual channels, the same rubbish shows. He flicked through without really watching, his mind drifting. His eyes wandered around the room, scanning the familiar clutter of their shared life. Trainers. Everywhere. Stu’s collection had slowly grown over the years and now took up a lot of space in their living room. Then, something caught his eye. By the door sat a red Nike shoe box. Ian opened it curiously. Inside, neatly positioned as if waiting for him, sat a pair of all-black Nike TNs. They looked new. Ian frowned. He didn’t remember seeing those before. And he knew Stu didn’t own a pair of TNs. They weren’t really his thing… or were they now? Ian couldn’t take his eyes off them. Something about them drew him in.

He tried to focus on the TV, even got up to make a cup of tea, but every few minutes, his gaze drifted back to those trainers. They looked… inviting. Like they were calling to him. He won’t even notice, Ian thought. Just for a minute. Just to see how they feel. Before he could stop himself, he was off the sofa and across the room. He picked up the trainers, surprisingly light in his hands. He sat, placed them on the floor, and slid his feet inside. They were a perfect fit. He wriggled his toes and leaned back; feet propped up again. They looked good. The all-black design hugged his feet in a sleek, almost custom-made way. Ian let himself enjoy the moment. He kept them on as he half-watched the TV, slowly drifting off into sleep.

But soon, things began to change. His feet grew uncomfortably warm, and he woke up from his slumber. At first, he thought it was just the snug fit. Then he noticed his socks changing… blackness bleeding up from the inside of the trainers, slowly crawling up the fabric. “What the...?” He leaned forward to take them off, but they wouldn’t move. He tugged harder, panic beginning to bloom in his chest. Still stuck. The socks were now fully black. His jeans began tightening around his ankles, hems stretching into elastic cuffs. He stood up quickly, heart racing. His jeans were changing before his eyes. The material changed; the seams shifted. The once-rigid denim took on a dark blue colour, thinning into a tracksuit material. His thighs narrowed. His legs felt leaner, more toned. His jeans were gone - replaced by a clean pair of fitted trackies.

He touched his waist. The fly had vanished, the button replaced by an elastic band that hugged a far slimmer waistline. His belt had disappeared. He could feel the changes working their way up his body, reshaping him from the inside out. His chest compressed, torso tightening. He looked down. His frame was visibly leaner, younger. His arms, once slightly bulky from years of carpentry, thinned into slim, athletic limbs.

Then came the shirt. His shirt suddenly felt tighter. The cotton shifted into a softer synthetic fabric. A zip appeared. The material took on the same dark blue colour as his pants. Another layer of material appeared on top of his tracksuit. It stretched over his upper body. Taking on the form of a slim puffer jacket.

He reached up, touching his face. The rough stubble was gone. His skin felt tight, soft. He darted to the hallway mirror. He didn’t recognize himself. He looked about 18. But not like he had looked at 18. This was something else. Cleaner. Sharper. Sculpted. His face was youthful and symmetrical. His receding hairline had filled in, strands sprouting and thickening on top, styled naturally into a faded cut. He stumbled backward. This wasn’t a makeover. This was... a transformation.

Needing air, Ian rushed outside into the back garden and lit a cigarette with trembling hands. The cold breeze hit his new skin differently. He could still feel the trainers on his feet… firm, unshakable. His mind was spinning. Did Stu know? Was this planned?

After about an hour and multiple cigarettes he had calmed down at least a little. A familiar voice behind him made him jump.

“I see you found my present.”

Ian turned. Stu stood there, grinning ear to ear. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist trying them on.”

Ian stared, stunned. “You did this to me? Why, Stu? What the hell is going on?”

Stu stepped closer, unfazed. “You know I like chavvy lads. You had to know this was always the plan. The job, the lads you hang with now, the music, the shows… everything’s been building up to this. The trainers just sealed the deal.”

Still speechless, Ian followed Stu back inside. Upstairs, Stu opened the wardrobe and pulled out another box. Inside were his own pair of black TNs. He kicked off his office shoes and stepped into them calmly. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled…. Then, it began.

His transformation mirrored Ian’s, but faster, more intense. He grew taller, leaner. His short brown hair lightened into a fair blond, grew, curled at the top, sides trimmed down to a sharp fade. His jawline became pronounced, cheekbones high. His ears now bore studs. His suit changed next. The tie shrank and morphed into a glossy strip before puffing out into a dark black jacket. His trousers lightened, thickened, and turned into grey joggers. The shirt beneath turned into the same grey material as the pants, with a hood growing behind his neck. A heavy golden bracelet now formed on his wrist and a Gucci cap formed on his head. Stu looked to be the same age as Ian now. He seemed like someone else entirely… but god, he looked good.

Still in shock, Ian watched as Stu came up to him. Slowly pulling him closer and giving him a passionate kiss. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Lust took over. Fully clothed, they gave in to it right there in their room. The sex was the best they ever had. Afterwards, Stu stepped outside for a smoke, bare-chested under his jacket.

He hadn’t planned to transform yet - hadn’t quit his job or tied up loose ends. But it didn’t matter. He sent his resignation by email then and there. His old bosses were furious, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going back. Soon, he landed a job at JD Sports. No experience needed. Decent pay. Massive discounts on gear. It was perfect.

And with each passing day, the changes deepened - not just physical, but mental. The scally mindset settled in, quietly overwriting their past selves. Old friends tried to keep in touch but couldn’t handle their chavvy energy. Parties, chaos, bad decisions… none of it mattered. They had new mates now. Lads who got it. Who lived for it. They weren’t pretending anymore. They were finally who Stu had always wanted them to be. In a way it felt like they were always meant to be this way. Chavvy. Loud. Proud. Unstoppable…

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This story was originally posted by @scallylad89 on Tumblr. Unfortunately, his account has since been deleted, so I thought I’d share a few of the stories I managed to save. I don’t have all the original pictures he used, but I’ve found some new ones that I think fit the vibe of the story really well. I’ve also made a few improvements and changes to it.

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]

Nickname “hands” 😉

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]

[sneakerrlurkerr]