#but wow my mondays suck | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

janeyseymour · 8 months

Note

As per your request! I just copied and pasted it from my comment!!

Also. Love your stories. Love it when you post them. They’re just always so short!! I’m so greedy! I always want more!! I’m always full of ideas so if you need any just ask. (I feel like you don’t need them though you do so well writing!) I’m far to ADHD to actually write any of them so happy for you to create the magic lol

They randomly meet a few weeks/months later in a coffee shop and sit down and chat… or she just happens to Bert her bestie Ava at the school hoping to get a glimpse of her!!

I dunno. You’re the artist! As long as it’s happy and smooshy!! 🥰

Thank you for your sweet, sweet words! As requested, here is part 2! I definitely didn't follow the prompt at all, but this is what I came up with, and I hope it's okay!

Enchanted- pt 2

Part 1

WC: ~2.4k

You went to text Ava the next day after meeting Melissa, but you just couldn’t find the courage. So here you are, still just sitting at your desk job, thinking about her. Your mind is filled with what she could be doing right now- actually you know what she’s doing: it’s 11 am on a Monday morning. She’s at school, probably teaching her second graders. You sit there for another half an hour before it’s finally time for your lunch break, and you take the walk down to the Wawa around the corner like you usually do.

Melissa opens up her Tupperware container, only to let out a loud groan at the odor that comes out of it.

“What the hell is that smell?” Ava scrunches her nose up as she walks in.

“I knew it was a risk bringing this today,” the redhead grumbles as she dumps the contents out into the trash can. “But I thought I could get another day out of it.”

“Damn, girl,” the principal laughs. “That sucks. Wawa lunch for you, I guess.”

“Anyone want anything?” the second grade teacher asks as she slings her bag over her shoulder. Jacob goes to say something, but he’s cut off by Melissa loudly announcing, “Alright, if no one wants anything, I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

She storms her way down to the convenience store- the same convenience store that you’re currently standing in. She sees you as soon as she walks in.

You’re not nearly as dressed up as you were the other night when she saw you, and you look to be in deep concentration as you decide what you want for lunch that day. She chuckles as she watches your furrow your brows deeper than she ever thought possible. She’s absolutely enamored.

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N,” you chastise yourself quietly. “Just pick something.”

She stands behind you and laughs softly. “You know, you can’t go wrong with their quesadillas.”

You nearly jump three feet in the air. You weren’t expecting anybody to come up behind you, and you certainly weren’t ready for the woman that has been occupying your thoughts to be there.

“Oh my…” you take a deep breath as you look at her. She looks… wow. Your cheeks instantly heat up. “Hey, Melissa.”

“Hey, hun,” she chuckles. “You forget lunch today too?”

You don’t really want to admit this, but you aren’t about to lie. “I usually take a walk down here everyday for lunch.”

“Everyday?”

“Like clock work,” you tell her, as you still mull over what to get for lunch. “It’s so bad most of the employees here know me by name.”

As if on cue, one of the workers there looks up and gives you a grin. “Hey, Y/N! The usual today?”

“Usual?” Melissa smirks.

“Aw, yeah!” the employee grins. “Homegirl comes in everyday!”

“Damn, you weren’t kidding’,” the redhead mutters, smirk still written on her face. She hip checks you lightly, effectively making you move over. She hits a few buttons, and then looks at you expectantly. You just stand there, not quite sure what you’re supposed to do.

“Oi,” the woman rolls her eyes. “Put in your order before I order for you.”

“Oh, no,” you stumble out. “I- I couldn’t ask you to pay for my-”

“You didn’t ask, I’m just doin’ it. And I ain’t gonna hear any arguments,” she tells you sternly.

“Melissa, I-”

“Hey, kid!” the teacher calls to the employee that greeted you. “What’s her order?”

He rattles it off as Melissa taps through the different screens, and you give him a look of betrayal. She prints off the ticket, wanders over to the drinks and grabs a raspberry tea before heading for the register.

“Melissa, you really don’t have to,” you try again.

She’s already handing the ticket over to the man behind the counter and pulling her card out of her wallet though.

“At least let me give you cash… or Venmo?”

“Absolutely not,” she rolls her eyes. The two of you stand and wait for them to make your meals, and when she hands in the printed paper and gets your food, she hands it to you with a smile. “Enchanted.”

With a hair toss, she makes her way out. The entire walk back to your office, you grin. She bought you lunch. She said, ‘enchanted’ again. Then, you mentally kick yourself because you didn’t ask her out, you didn’t ask for her number, you didn’t tell her you would get the next meal, you didn’t even reply with that one word that seems to be your thing now.

You eat your usual order from Wawa, and there’s something about it… it just tastes so much better.

As Melissa struts back into the school, she has that confident smile on her face.

“Damn, what happened to you in that Wawa, girl?” Ava laughs as she watches the redhead settle back into her seat and take a bite of her hoagie.

“Oh, nothin’,” the redhead shrugs. “Just saw a friend there.”

The next day, Melissa doesn’t come into school with a container full of her own cooking like she usually does. She doesn’t even enter the staff room when lunchtime rolls around. Instead, she grabs her bag and heads down the street to hopefully run into you again at the Wawa.

You’re standing there again, ordering your meal, although you look a little frustrated today. She doesn’t know that your frustration is because you had been standing there for ten minutes, hoping she would come in. You had just admitted defeat and decided to order when she waltzed in.

“Rough day?” the redhead saunters over and asks you.

Your eyes go wide, and the mental fog is lifted when you hear her voice and smell her perfume. “Hey.”

“Rough day?” she repeats.

You shake your head. “Just a little tired,” you tell her as you move to the side so she can put in her order. “I can’t focus on anything at work.”

She taps away on the screen, ordering hers and then also yours.

You swallow hard. “You remember my order?”

“Course I do,” she shrugs. She hits the button to print the ticket, but as she goes to grab it, you take it first. You make your way over to the drink stations, grab a diet coke, and gesture for her to get her own drink. She grabs a raspberry tea again and then follows you to the register. As you go to hand your card over, a gentle hand slaps your card out of your hand and to the ground. She’s standing there with a smirk as she goes to hand her own card over.

“Aye, Schemmenti,” you playfully growl as you bend over to pick your card up. “It’s my turn to buy.”

“Nah, I got this one,” she chuckles. She also goes to hand her card over, but you smack it out of her hand and throw your card at the employee- a man who is used to seeing you come in and actually checked the two of you out yesterday.

“It’s her turn,” the man shrugs with a cheeky smile as he takes your card, although he does slightly cower at Melissa’s glare. Then the redhead turns to you and immediately turns softer.

“Thank you,” she places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “But I got next one.”

“Alright, alright,” you laugh as the two of you head over to the counter to wait for your meals.

“So, you forgot your lunch again?” you ask her.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Had it out on the counter and left it.” It’s a complete and total lie. She knew she had to test fate to see you again.

The two of you chat while they get your order together, and once again, she’s bidding you a goodbye with a gentle, ‘enchanted’. This time, you get to say it back, and your smiles and blushes are quite similar to each other.

This continues for the next few weeks, until one day she doesn’t show up at the Wawa like she usually does. Your day sucks. And you’re supposed to meet with Ava after the school day to go get your nails done. You know she’s going to be onto you when you show up in a bad mood.

“Damn girl,” she rolls her eyes and raises a brow. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Nothin’,” you roll your eyes back. “Let’s just get our nails done and gossip.”

“You know I’m always down for that shit,” she laughs.

The two of you talk for a while as the ladies do your nails before it the conversation turns to your love life.

“Well, who is it this week?” your best friend asks you.

“No one,” you sigh.

“Well no wonder you’re in a bitch mood- you need to get some!”

“Girl, you make me sound like I’m with someone new every weekend, and you know for a fact that I am very much not like that,” you roll your eyes.

“You have to have your eye on someone,” the principal says. “Otherwise you would be out at the bar looking for someone!”

You mull over telling her, and before you know it, the words are spilling out of your mouth, “Well, I do have my eye on one person, but it’ll never happen, so…”

“Ooh, girl! You got tea! Spill it!”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you tell her, hoping she doesn’t pry. Of course she does, it’s Ava, so you have to go about describing Melissa without Ava being able to catch on.

“She’s a little older than us, she’s tough on the outside but has a soft spot for me,” you tell her. “Easy on the eyes, smart as a whip.”

“Girl, why didn’t you tell me you were practically dating someone?! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re describing Schemmenti."

“I’m not,” you roll your eyes. “I really just see M- this woman when we run into each other at Wawa.”

“What’s her name?” the principal wiggles her eyebrows, all too interested in your love life.

“Enough about my love life,” you shut her down. “Anything interesting happen at school today?”

“I had to cover Schemmenti’s classes today,” Ava tells you. “Woman sounded awful today when she was calling out.”

It clicks in your head that that’s why she wasn’t there to meet you at the Wawa like she usually did, and it isn’t like she has your number to let you know she wasn’t going to meet you. You instantly feel a bit of relief that she didn’t just decide not to come- but you feel bad that she isn’t feeling well.

“Oh?” you try to hide how you actually feel about it. “Is she alright?”

“Nasty cough,” your best friend tells you. “But she assured me she’d be back tomorrow… Red never calls out, so I knew she was feeling pretty shitty.”

“That sucks,” you sigh softly. “Hopefully she’s back tomorrow.”

“So you can ‘run into her at Wawa’?” your best friend blind sides you with her casual remark.

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say quickly, hoping to cover yourself.

“Oh, please,” she waves the hand that isn’t being painted right now. “I saw the eyes the two of you were giving each other at the fundraiser, and Melissa has been going to Wawa everyday since the one day her lunch went bad. I know she’s going to the same Wawa you go to everyday, and she always comes back in a better mood. I put it together about a week in. And you just confirmed it.”

“I did not.”

“Girl, remember, I’ve known you since we were five. I know when you’re lying. Listen, she’s your type, your hers. I say go for it.”

“Maybe I will… if she’s feeling better and at school tomorrow.”

“If I know Schemmenti, she will be,” Ava rolls her eyes. “She might be half asleep, and an absolute bitch tomorrow, but she’ll be there.”

Melissa looks like hell as she drags herself into the Wawa, but to you she still looks gorgeous as ever. When she spots you, her eyes light up.

“The usual?” she asks you as the two of you head to the ordering stations. Her voice is barely there.

“Mel, you should be home resting,” you tell her pointedly.

“I’m fine,” she grumbles. “Besides, I can’t miss. The kids have important tests coming up, and-” she interrupts herself to cough. It sounds awful.

You lay a gentle hand on her shoulder and rub it soothingly. Once she’s finished coughing, she sighs.

“Soup instead of your usual hoagie?” you ask her, already pressing buttons to order her a chicken noodle soup.

She looks defeated but nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

You insist on paying, telling her to let herself be taken care of. She begrudgingly listens, mumbling about how she’s a Philly girl and she can handle herself. You roll your eyes, but you assure her that she’s still a tough Philly girl- that it’s okay to lean on someone else. As the two of you are standing there, she coughs a few times. Again, you lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. When she’s finally done coughing, she quite literally leans into your body just slightly.

“Sorry I ditched ya yesterday,” she wheezes out. “I couldn’t drag myself out of bed.”

“No need to apologize,” you assure her. “I’m glad you were home getting some rest.”

“I just kept wishing I had a way to tell you,” she mutters.

“Well, why don’t I just give you my number, so if that happens again… or you want to get something besides Wawa with me, we can text?” you shoot your shot with the woman.

“That sounds… enchanting,” she smiles softly. “When I’m feeling better, I’ll make us dinner? I’m one hell of a cook.”

“I’d be enchanted,” you tell her warmly.

As the two of you separate, you get a text from her. Enchanted.

By the time the end of the work day is over, Ava has texted you too. Bitchhh! I’m assuming you shot your shot. Red came back into the school practically dancing.

Yeah. You’re just starting this chapter of life- that one night was truly enchanting, and it really was the very first page.

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary

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treason-and-plot · 2 months

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“There you are!” exclaims Kaleb to Mia as she rejoins him next to the dancefloor. His voice is loud and raucous, booming over the music. “Where did you go?’

Mia clutches her Bellini tightly in her perspiring palm and gives a shrug. “Nowhere.”

“Anyway, guess what!” Kaleb continues shouting at her. “The guy I was talking to before? Nathan? He owns a couple of prestige car dealerships and he’s doing really well. Except his website sucks. The layout’s totally unresponsive, the branding and the colours are all off, and the navigation’s horrible. So I talked him into letting me custom-build a completely new site for him! He’s coming to see me on Monday at 11 am. That’s an easy two grand, baby!”

“Congratulations,” says Mia. "Wow. Two grand. I could only dream about making that sort of money."

“Don't worry babe, I’ll buy you something nice next week to celebrate. What about a new handbag? Or some shoes?”

“I don’t want anything,” says Mia.

“You’re saying no to shoes? Are you okay? Actually, you look a bit pale. Maybe you should lay off those drinks. How many have you had now? Four? Five? I think we’d better go before you start getting messy. I don’t want you vomiting all over my car seats on the way home.”

"That's really rude and uncalled for, Kaleb. You know what? We're finished," says Mia. "Fuck you."

"Woah, those drinks have made you really feisty," says Kaleb. "I like it. Can you bring some of that energy into the bedroom when we get back to my place? Roawarrrr!"

#mia #kaleb #5 years later #return to isla paradiso

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sparklypinkflightsuit · 5 months

Text

Stars Align: Part 2

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Mentions of Abuse, Violence, Angry Bradley, Alcohol Misuse.

-- Part 1 Here --

_______________________

18+ Only

_______________________

Present:

Bradley stood looking at you in awe and shock. He couldn't believe his eyes. In front of him stood a gorgeous woman, breathtakingly beautiful, and surprisingly confident having just nearly fallen. The woman in front of him was a stark contrast to the shy girl he'd known years ago, yet she was exactly the same somehow.

"Birdy is that really you?" He blinked as his strong beefy hands held you in place.

You chuckled, your mouth curling into a grin as you looked into the familiar brown eyes that kept you sane throughout high school.

"It sure is, but I'm having a hard time believing it's you, Brad." You took in his enormous stature, tanned muscles bulging under his tight shirt sleeves, sweat glistening off of his exposed chest under the colourful lights. He now had a strong moustache, a chiselled jawline replaced his chubby cheeks, and his mop of dark hair now neat blond-chestnut curls, complimenting his sun kissed skin.

You and Bradley stared at one another for what felt like forever, before he huffed a laugh of disbelief, shook his head, and pulled you in for a hug, the familiar feeling catching you off guard and you sucked in a deep breath. He still smelled the same, like tobacco and cedar wood, just without the sweaty teen boy odour.

You gingerly wrapped your arms around him and squeezed, you forgot how much you'd missed him.

You must have been holding one another for a long time, because Gabby suddenly cleared her throat and pulled you from your bubble. You pulled away and looked at her awkwardly as she raised an eyebrow at you.

"Been here literally 2 minutes and you've already pulled." She scoffed jokingly.

You laughed, "Uhm, Gabs this is Bradley, my old best friend I was telling you about."

"Hi." Bradley smiled and stuck out a hand. She shook his hand and mouthed a not so secret 'wow' at you. You rolled your eyes and turned to Bradley.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, it's my friends bachelor party tonight, he's around here somewhere." Bradley scanned the room but came up short. "What about you...two?"

"I just moved here, Gabby's showing me around, I guess you could say." You chuckled awkwardly.

"I'll... let you two catch up. I need the bathroom anyway." She winked at you as she handed you her drink to watch.

"So, you're not in New York for long then I'd imagine?" You asked.

"Nah, just until after the wedding. I'm out of here Monday." He explained as you walked a little way out of the crowd to a quiet corner. You nodded.

"That's a pity, would be nice to catch up. Look Brad, I'm sorry I stopped responding to your texts, I-"

"Hey, say no more. Life gets busy, I get it." He gave you a reassuring smile. Bradley had no idea just how busy and crazy life had gotten after you moved. "While you're here, do you wanna go for a drink?"

"What you mean, like, now?" You asked. "Aren't you here with your friends? Plus I'm with Gabby, I shouldn't..."

"Okay, how about after?"

You thought for a moment, and nodded. "Yeah, okay. I'll have a few drinks with Gabs, and you can come grab me when you're finished?"

Bradley nodded and bit his lip to stop a grin, "Good. We've got a lot of catching up to do, Birdy. I've missed you." and like the old days, Bradley ruffled your hair and left. You huffed and fixed your hair just as Gabby came back from the bathroom, and you struggled to keep your focus on her for the rest of the evening.

_____________________

Past:

You'd just finished getting ready, your baby pink prom dress looked super cute and your mom had loosely French Braided your unruly waves. She'd skilfully applied makeup so that your skin looked flawless and your eyes popped. You'd never felt more beautiful, and suddenly you felt less nervous. Maybe Bradley would see you and forget all about Michelle.

The doorbell rang and your dad went to answer it, you could hear him and Bradley talking about the latest football game.

"You ready?" Your mom grinned, "You look beautiful, pumpkin."

You nodded with a grin and you walked to the front door. Bradley turned as he saw you and his jaw dropped.

"Jeez, Birdy, you look pretty." He breathed.

"Oh shut up." You blushed, "You look nice too. But what's with the red tie, you look like a rooster." You teased. Bradley scoffed with mock offense.

"Right, Birdy and Rooster, get out of my house." Your dad laughed. "Have a good time, but make sure she's home by 11, son."

"Yes sir, have a good night!" Bradley waved goodbye to your parents and you shot them awkward looks, telling them to close the door and go inside.

You mom pulled your dad inside and shut the door.

Bradley helped you into his truck, carefully lifting your dress so it wouldn't rub against the dirty sides, and even went so far as to buckle you in. Your faces were inches apart, and you scanned the face you'd gotten so used to for the millionth time, only he seemed different now.

As he climbed into the front seat, he stopped to look at you for a while.

"What?" You asked, feeling self conscious suddenly.

"Nothing, you just really do look pretty. Didn't realise you could clean up so good." He grinned as he started the truck and pulled away.

You scoffed, "Speak for yourself, Bradshaw. Other than the tie you look like a real man."

"I am a real man, thank you. If only you could see what's under these pants, you'd be-"

"Ew, shut up." You smacked him playfully on the arm and Bradley laughed.

You pulled up to Michelle's house and you waited in the car as Bradley walked up the long drive to her front door. He knocked and Michelle walked out, looking stunning in a figure hugging red dress, her boobs almost spilling over the top.

You sighed as you watched Bradleys eyes light up as they walked down to the car. Michelle stopped in front of your door, looking at you expectantly. Bradley moved around her to open the back door for her to get in, but she didn't budge.

You looked at her and rolled down the window.

"Hi Michelle."

"Hello, aren't you gonna... you know?" Her voice was steely and bored.

"You want me to move?" You asked in disbelief.

"Well yeah, I am his date. What are people gonna think when they see me climbing out of the back of this thing?" she scoffed.

"Okay." You mumbled, unbuckling your seat belt.

"No, Birdy. Michelle, she's already sitting there, it's not a big deal, can't you just climb in the back? It's less than 2 minutes to the hall." Bradley argued, and you stopped in your tracks.

Michelle raised her eyebrows at him, and immediately you sensed the energy shift.

"No, it's fine." You opened the door and hopped out, Michelle immediately taking your place.

"What are you doing? That's always your spot." Bradley whispered to you as you climbed into the back.

"Keeping the peace." you whispered back.

Bradley huffed out a sigh and shook his head, crossing over to the front and climbing in.

The drive to the school hall was silent and awkward, and you noticed Bradleys eyes flitting to you in the back seat through the rear view mirror every so often.

When the car stopped, you hopped out, and Michelle waited for Bradley to cross to her end and help her out of the truck.

The three of you walked towards the school, and as more people came into view, Michelle's energy shifted again. She was all smiles as she hung on to Bradleys arm, you awkwardly falling behind.

"Smile for the camera Brad." She forced through her grin, and planted a kiss on his cheek as the school reported snapped a picture.

This would be a long evening and you knew it.

_________________________

Present:

The night moved quickly, and the drinks were flowing as you and Gabby took to the dance floor. You lost yourself in the music until you were out of breath and beckoned for Gabby to join you outside, but she gestured to the guy she was dancing with. You nodded and went out to the balcony.

The night air was beginning to cool and you welcomed the goosebumps that covered your too hot skin. Your feet were killing you, so you leaned against the balcony railing to take some of the weight off of them.

As you watched the people on the street below, you gradually regained your breath. You stood up to go back inside, but you felt a body bump up against you.

"Oh sorry." you apologised for them, as you stepped away, giving the drunk man a polite nod.

"Wait, baby, where are you going? I was hoping to get to know you, been watching you all night. You dance real good." The man slurred, grabbing your wrist.

You pulled out of his grip, "Sorry I have to get back to my friend." You turned to walk inside, but he suddenly wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled his hand against your stomach until you were pressed up against him.

You writhed against him, but his grip was too strong.

"Let go." You demanded, "Get off of me." You tried to pry his hands away, but even in his drunken state he was too strong for you.

"Come on, lady, I just wanna buy you a drink, stop being such a fuckin' prude." He struggled against you, his hot breath gliding across your cheek.

"I said get OFF!" You elbowed the man in the chest and he loosened his grip as he gasped, and you went flying away from him.

For the second time that evening, you collided into someone else, and looked up to see concerned, familiar eyes. Bradley scanned your face for a second, and once he was sure you were ok, he turned his attention to the man.

An angry scowl you had only seen once before appeared on his face as she crossed the balcony and lifted the man by his shirt.

As the man dangled a couple feet off of the ground, he whimpered. Your jaw dropped at the sheer strength Bradley possessed. You guessed those muscles weren't just for show.

"If I don't see you leave in the next 2 minutes, I swear to god I'm gonna ruin that pretty boy face of yours. You touch my girl again, or any other girl while I'm around, that's end game for you, buddy. Got it?" He growled.

The man nodded, "I'm sorry, I- I didn't know she was spoken for, honest." He whimpered, and Bradley threw him to the ground.

"Get out."

The man hurried to his feet and passed you. Sure enough after a couple minutes he exited the building quickly and you watched as he ran down the street below, before turning your attention back to Bradley.

"That was incredible." You mumbled.

"Are you okay?" Bradley asked, crossing the balcony to inspect you fully. His hands smoother over your bare arms and then his hands cupped your face.

"I'm ok, Brad, he literally just grabbed me, I'm fine." You pushed his hands away.

Bradley nodded, and let out a breath of relief as his big hands ran through his curls.

"You ready to go get that drink?"

_____________________________________

Past:

"Oh my god, Y/N! You look so pretty!" Sophie from your English class commented.

"Thanks Soph, so do you!" You turned and made pleasant conversation with Sophie and another girl, while Bradley did his rounds with Michelle and her friends. It was all fake smiles and posing for pictures, and Bradley found himself growing bored quickly.

"Hey, I'm gonna go grab some soda, you want one?" Bradley offered, and Michelle nodded, turning back to her friends.

"You look hot, girl, and so does Mr Bradshaw over there, did he get... bigger, over the summer?" Jessica asked Michelle, their whole group giggling.

Michelle rolled her eyes, "Ugh, maybe, I don't know. I'm having the worst time. His little friend is tagging along as a pity invite. It's like having his little sister along for the ride."

"Who?" Jessica asked.

"Y/N Y/L/N." she pointed to you in the corner of the room. "I doubt I'm gonna get my V card swiped tonight, wanna ditch?"

Bradley hadn't noticed when Michelle and her friends slipped out. Jessica had a fake licence, and they'd decided to buy some drinks and hit a house party instead.

When he turned around, she was gone, and he scanned the room for her. When he saw you, he immediately crossed over to you and handed you your soda.

"Thanks, 'Rooster'." You said playfully, as you opened the can.

"Have you seen Michelle anywhere?" He asked, distracted.

You shook your head, "Last place I saw her was over by the DJ booth talking to her friends. Maybe ask the DJ?"

Bradley nodded and walked over as you stood against the wall and watched your school mates dancing and chatting away.

A few minutes later, Bradley stormed over to you.

"Did you find her?" You asked over the music, Bradleys eyes were dark and his eyebrows were creased, he was pissed.

"What did you say to her?" He demanded. You straigtened.

"What do you mean?"

"What did you say to Michelle? The DJ says she was talking about you and then wanted to leave." his face was red now, and his chest was heaving.

"I didn't say anything to her, I've literally just been standing here the-"

"You must have done something. God, that's just like you, Y/N. Just because you didn't get asked to Prom you thought it would be better to scare her away so I'd be all yours instead, didn't you? Didn't you?" He demanded, and you were too shocked to say anything. Bradley took this as confirmation.

He scoffed and his hands fell to his hips as he nodded.

"Yeah, of course you did. Thanks a lot, you ruined my fucking night."

You watched as Bradley stormed out of the hall, and hot tears rolled down your face, ruining your perfect makeup.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Sophie asked, having witnessed the whole thing, gently taking your arm and pulling you to a table to sit. You wiped your eyes and nodded, your eyes trained on the door, hoping Bradley would come back in for you.

After a few minutes, Sophie having done her best to console you, you excused yourself and walked outside. You looked around for Bradley, but he wasn't among the few students and teachers outside, so you crossed the lawn and made your way down the sidewalk to where Bradley had parked the truck.

Your lip quivered as you realised, dread suddenly washing over you. Bradley had left you behind.

________________________________

-- Part 3 Here --

#miles teller x reader #miles teller #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #top gun rooster #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x you #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fic #top gun maverick fanfiction

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 1 year

Text

#367

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say? Seriously? You call me in on my day off. I cancel my afternoon with my Marine buddies at the lake. Ok fine, I’ll catch up with them later. I drive twenty minutes to get here. There’s hardly anybody else around. I come over and you want to talk about landscaping this back region, something that could have waited until Monday? Really? I thought considering what happened yesterday that you would be asking to give me a blowjob or something….

“…Oh for fuck’s sake! Do not fucking pretend that you and I weren’t at Ruby’s bookstore yesterday at the same time. You and I were in the last two booths on opposite sides of a good sized glory hole. You sucked my dick for fifteen minutes, edging me a couple times. You whispered, ‘Let me lick your ass.’ You did just that when I turned and offered my crack for your tongue. Then I flooded your mouth with my usual massive load. Now do you remember?

“Good. You can knock this coy shit off. You called me to come in, brought me to the back part of the property where no one ever goes, in hopes of doing what? Did you think that we would play strip parchesi?

“I get it. You want me to do this, to take the initiative. You want me to ask for a blow job? You don’t have the balls to ask yourself.

“For fuck’s sake. There’s no need for me to ask you. You are a fucking cock hound. Yeah, you may have a wife, three kids in a ten-bedroom house on twenty-four acres, with a detached five-car garage with a two bedroom mother-in-law suite above it, a vacation home in the Virgin Islands, a mid-seven-figure job, and yet you drive half an hour to the nasty industrial part of town to suck rank blue collar dick at a glory hole at Ruby’s bookstore.

“The thing is that you clearly have been doing it for a long time. That wasn’t a casual blow job you gave me. You knew how to manage my fat sausage, like an expert. Your tongue never stopped hitting my sensitive spot. You throated me with a mild struggle, but you didn’t give up. And then, you knew how to read my cock to sense when I was getting close in order to edge me properly.

“So how long have you been sucking dick?... Junior high? Wow. Let me guess. It was some blue-collar factory worker. Probably some big and beefy guy like me. Was it?... Thought so.

“Henry, the guy working the front counter who I have known for years—fucked him a few times—told me that you are a regular, and you pay him a hundred bucks to direct the big guys your way. That’s kinda bold. Hell, that’s how I wound up at your hole.

“I’m surprised I didn’t pick up your sperm burping vibes until now. When I came out of the booth yesterday, you threw open your door to see whose dick you had been sucking. Once we made eye contact, your face went from curious, to excited, and finally to panicked all in one second. You bolted out of there so fast.

“So here we are…. …Faggot? What do you want to do? Your silence is not going to get you my dick in your mouth. You want my dick? Tell me….

“…No, no, no. I know if I were to whip my cock out that you would be on your knees throating me down in no time flat. No, I am asking do you want my dick in your life?… To rule your life?

“Good. What about my ass? Your tongue liked the sweaty musk. You must be an ass eater too. You want to worship my shithole too?...

“Cunt, I better start hearing some ‘Sir’s’ after the yes’s and no’s you give. You understand?...

“That’s better. I have been using men for my own thing for decades. You ain’t the first closeted faggot I have come across. I have worked this situation before.

“Look I work for you whenever anyone else is around, but when we are alone together, I own you. I’m Sir to you, and you will be Cunt or Faggot. I will be calling the shots here. We’ll work out more later.

“When was the last time you had a man use your cunt?... That long? You may not be a virgin, but you will offer the same tightness. Get naked….

“…You don’t do anal? I don’t care. You need to be cunted. You’re gonna be cunted. Naked. Now!... Cunt, I expect you to do what I say, without hesitation. That’s better.

“You need to realize that I fully know how to work with a closet case. Yeah, we are here on a Saturday, when none of my guys are here, we are in the back of your property where no one goes, and most importantly Sarah’s SUV is gone. Considering you are back here about to be cunted, it’s safe to say that she has the kids. How long is she gone?...

“All day? Well hot damn! Walk with me. No, leave your clothes there. You need to be exposed for a bit…. In the middle of the field here.

“On your knees. Your goal is to put as much throat slime as you can on my dick. That’s the only lube I’m going to use. Reach up, unzip me, and take it out. Balls too.

“This is the cock that is going to rule you. I don’t care how many other dicks you suck, my dick is the one at the center of your universe. Suck.

“Ahh,… That’s the tongue I remember. Mmmm. This is the kind of a blowjob I like at the end of a hard day. One that I can unwind with. That’s why I stopped at Ruby’s last night. But today, I’m in control. Hands behind you and keep them there. All the way down to the root. All… the… way… down!

“When I put my hand on your head, I’m in control of the blowjob. You dedicate that airway to me. Gag motherfucker. Gagging only puts more throat lube on my dick. I’m going to give you a minute to really lube me up.

“…Struggle with that fat cock. I would have expected a more experienced deeper throat. We’ll get that trained right. Blowjobs when the man is in control are a lot different, hunh?

“…Ok turn around. On your knees…. Don’t worry while we are out in the open, no one is here. Knees spread. Shoulders on the ground. Arms at your side. Palms by your knees and face up.

“This is how to present a cunt for a cunting. And what a pretty pussy it is. So pretty, that I think you earned an extra glob of spit. There.

“Scream fucker. I always go right to the root. No fucking countdown. No time to accommodate. Oh, fuck you are tight. Man. This cunt is mine now. I decide what to do with it. We are going to have some fun.

“You like blue collar men? Cunt, I am going to whore you out to some nasty big brutes. I know places where cunts are used and tossed aside. There are a few rest stops on the interstate, some truck stop with old school showers, there’s even a mechanic shop I know with a nasty bathroom around back. I can’t wait to transform this cunt a perpetual sloppy mess.

“Remember I told you I was going to the lake with my Marine buds? We are all hard-working men who enjoy using cunt fags. That’s why we go to the lake, to use them hard. If you think you can get away from the family for an overnight, we’ll go up there later today.

“Oh there you go. Now keep that cunt relaxed. Tightness is hot in the beginning, but ultimately, I like it sloppy. Oh man. I’m getting close. Fucking close. This cunt was made for my dick. Here it cums! Here it fucking cums! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!

“Goddamn. Cunt, you may give great blowjobs, but this cunt is gold.

“When I pull out, your mouth will move to clean me up. If you want to jack off while doing it, go for it.

“…Oh look, there’s a little blood mixed in with my load. A tiny skid mark. It all goes in your mouth…. Fuck! Does that feel good.

“Ok Cunt. This is what’s going to happen. I will rule your cunt, your dick, your mouth, basically you. I don’t care if you still go to Ruby’s to suck on more blue collar dick. I’m not that kind of possessive. But when I want your holes, I want them now. I understand there is the wife thing. I can work around that.

“I want to know all details of all the loads you take. If you spend an afternoon at the glory holes, I want to know how many cocks did you suck, and how many loads did you swallow. You’ll have a tracker on your phone so I know where you are at all times.

“Getting away to service me is going to require some changes from you. The one that pops into mind is get Sarah’s goddamned yoga studio out from over the garage. I’m going to move in there. It makes sense to have me on grounds in general, but now I will have a room nearby for my cock to enjoy some nearby cunt.

“I will also accept a raise. If I’m going to be fucking you, it will cost extra. Yeah that makes me a whore, but I’m fine with that.

“Now we get to the part of the conversation where you realize just how much you are owned by me. You know Ruby’s has hidden cameras throughout their booths? No? Not many are aware. Henry showed me a few very clear videos of you going to town on some rather big dicks. I have copies on my phone….

“No, no, keep cleaning the mess you left on my cock. I can show the videos to you later. My buds at the lake will definitely appreciate seeing them. You know, having it on my phone, I can show them to anyone.

“If you think that our relationship is going to be all fucking and sucking, I’ve only just begun. I keep telling you that I own you; I really do fucking own you.

“OMG are you cumming?... Fuck yeah!... You are a sick faggot!”

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sluttywonwoo · 11 months

Note

thoughts on flustered joshua!!!<33

flustered joshua is such a fav ok

joshua doesn’t get embarrassed easily. that’s what he tells everyone and that’s what seems to be true. that iconic mistake on stage in pretty u? it’s in the past. sucking at kickball? he can’t be good at everything! they want him to do the worm again in front of everyone? ok, well if they insist!

you’re convinced you’re dating the most self-assured, well-adjusted man in the world— at least, until you hear all of his friends laughing in your living room one night. you only notice something’s off because of the absence of your favorite laugh, his laugh, mixed in with everyone else’s. were they laughing at him? you venture out of the office to check.

it’s the first thing you see when you walk into the room: the harness for your strap, lying on the coffee table

you don’t know how they found it— it’s not like you just keep it out in the open… it had been tucked away in one of the drawers of the tv stand last you checked. maybe the living room wasn’t the best place to put it but you kept it there for… reasons.

joshua’s back is turned to you but you can see that the tips of his ears are bright red. you imagine his face is too.

“what’s going on?” you ask, immediately drawing everyone’s attention to you.

the boys look like they’ve seen a ghost. everyone’s smile drops except for yours and joshua sinks even further into his seat.

“i don’t get what’s so funny. do you guys not have sex with your girlfriends?”

mingyu chokes on seemingly nothing, sputtering defensively, “w-we do we just don’t—”

“don’t what? let them top you?”

“babe,” joshua tries, voice urgent.

you ignore him.

“wow, and i thought you guys were feminists,” you say disapprovingly.

“wha- we are!” jun insists.

“then why are you acting like you’ve never seen a strap before?”

no one answers you this time.

“c’mon, you’re telling me that if you came home to your girlfriend wearing this,” you pause and reach over joshua’s shoulder to snatch the thing off the table.

joshua tenses even more as you step through the legs and pull the harness up around your waist. “baby, what are you doing?”

again, you ignore him.

“you’re telling me that if you came home to your girlfriend wearing this, you wouldn’t get hard?”

“i don’t know how you want us to answer that,” mingyu admits, rubbing his hands on his jeans.

joshua clears his throat and yanks you by the harness to stand behind where he’s sitting on the couch so that his friends’ view of you in it is at least mostly obstructed.

“i think an apology to my boyfriend would suffice,” you suggest.

there’s a chorus of sheepish apologies before a long silence, everyone too scared to step out of line again.

“uh, should we go?” seokmin asks finally, trading looks with the others.

“that would probably be best,” joshua says. he’s surprisingly composed considering what’s just happened and how obviously turned on he is by it. his hands don’t leave his lap as he adds, “see you monday?”

“if your hole isn’t destroyed by then,” soonyoung jokes, easily dodging the pillow joshua throws at him as he winks and ducks out the door after the others.

#answered #seventeen smut #svt smut #joshua smut #joshua hong smut #hong jisoo smut

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emerald-writes · 5 months

Note

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Curtis, Steve, and Ari + they’re partners at a law firm, and after a huge win, they decide to celebrate with you, their sweet assistant whether you want to or not 😈

Ooo! This gave me so many ideas. Some dark, some not.

This is not a drabble at all- sorry not sorry.

Light-Dark!boss! Steve rogers/Ari levinson/Curtis Everette x Fem!Assistant!Reader

Word count: 1468

Warnings: dark, non-con, Sex pollen, non-con drugging, Smut, foursome, Bosses x assistant,

18+ Smut ahead- Read at your own risk

Note: This took so long to write cause I just had to do my men justice!

Ding

The sound accompanies the elevator doors sliding opening with a hand nudging you forward into the lift.

“That was a good one tonight boys” Your tall and brawny boss, Curtis announces as he steps in behind you, crowding you forward towards the mirror. The other two equally tall men follow suit on either side, practically caging you between their bodies.

“Hell yeah it was Curt” Ari smirks, peering down at you “big thanks to our pretty assistant over here”

You stammer and blush slightly “oh- please I didn’t do that much” you insist as Ari catches your gaze with his pretty blue eyes that suck you in like a vortex.

“Give yourself more credit Doll” Steve Rogers deep voice rumbles behind you as he sets a large hand on your shoulder “we would be a mess without you fixing our problems and organizing shit”

His voice seems to knock you out of whatever trance you were in with Ari. You blink and step back closer towards the wall of the elevator, suddenly feeling very hot and trapped.

“Yeah, How about you stay for a drink sweetheart” Ari’s charming smile disarms any doubt or anxiety that bubbled in your chest from the men’s gaze.

“Maybe just one, I have a busy day tomorrow” you murmur and twist your hands in front of you, still hesitant to accept their generous offer of their attention.

Ding

The elevator slides to a stop and opens onto the floor you usually find yourself on. The modern space has four offices, one for each of your bosses and your smaller office.

Curtis urges you off the lift and towards the common area, where they usually entertain guests and some clients. “What’s your poison?” He grumbles your name as he gestures to the large bar that takes up the whole wall.

“Oh- um just a white wine please, nothing much” you mutter, feeling overwhelmed by the choices along the wall “whichever you think is best”

As you turn to go sit down, you miss Curtis’s malicious smirk as he opens a locked drawer before he gets to the wine. “Of course sweetheart”

Steve gets your attention and hands you a few folders “can you put these in my office? They can be sorted on Monday”

You nod, happy to be of help and scurry off towards his large office. Leaving the men to whisper and mutter among themselves.

You return to see them already seated, with Steve holding his whiskey and your wine. “Come sit” he says, gesturing to his couch.

You walk towards him, aiming to sit beside him but are grabbed mid step and hauled onto Steve’s lap. You squeak out a noise of surprise and try to squirm off. “Steve- what are you-?”

Ari quickly shushes you, sitting on Steve’s right side “it’s okay darling, we just wanna celebrate okay? It’s easier this way. We can all sit on the same couch”

Steve hands you your drink, and you take a sip to avoid answering.

“Isn’t that thoughtful of us. Hmm sweetheart” Curtis rumbles from your left, watching you with dark eyes.

You hum softly, a warm feeling settling in your stomach. Unsure whether it’s from their gazes, the drink or Steve’s hand rubbing along your sides as he keeps you steady. “Oh- yeah of course” you murmur, keeping your head down and focused on the glass of wine.

Fuck- this is inappropriate you think to yourself how can I get out of this situation? It’s rude to leave now.

You busy yourself trying to ignore their gazes by continuing to sip your drink. As you drink, you notice your body start to feel off and suddenly the feeling of them pressing against you is all you can think of. Suddenly your body starts to get hot, like the hot air has turned up. Oh fuck you feel your panties form a wet spot beneath you.

“I gotta go- to the bathroom. Yeah” you try to squirm off Steve’s lap even if your brain is screaming at you to curl up closer to him and his warmth.

“Doll? Are you alright?” Steve says, his firm grip not letting you stand “you look awfully flushed, can we help?”

You mutter and slightly slur your words as you look between the men surrounding you “I’m fine- I should go. I’m suddenly not feeling well” you try to pry Steve’s arm off you.

You hear Ari tsk beside you, his hand raising to turn your head to look at him “aww look at you princess. Let us help you okay?” His light caresses cause you to unconsciously lean into his touch and hum softly. You don’t see the others satisfied smirks, and cocks twitch at your reaction.

Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back into Steve’s embrace and Ari’s touch. “Feels good” you murmur as Curtis places a hand on your thigh, rubbing softly. “Yeah? You like it sweetheart? You want us to help you feel better, go on say it”

Your body tingles as you nod quickly “please- I feel weird- what’s happening?” You practically start begging. If you weren’t so out of it you would be appalled at how quickly they make you beg and whine for their touch. Your bosses out of anyone.

Steve picks you up and turns you around to face him, and straddle his thick thighs. “I get a try first. This was my idea.” He chuckles and rips your underwear off with a firm tug, tossing it to Curtis who takes a deep sniff and groans.

As Steve turns his focus back to you, he reaches down to circle your delicate clit, softly rubbing and prodding around. “Fuck- Doll your soaked! You really need us huh?” His smirks grows as you whine and nod in response, hips moving back and forth desperately.

“Please- I need you! Steve please!” You gasp, gripping onto his broad shoulders like a lifeline to ground you in reality. “Fuck- I’m sorry Steve- I can’t help it”

Steve lines his thick cock up to your entrance, slowly lowering you down with hands firmly on your hips. “That’s it doll- it’s alright I know a pretty girl like you needs a firm hand. To fuck- your so tight! Such a good girl for me Doll” he groans as his grip tightens, and you moan looking down to see him stretching you out. He’s the biggest you’ve taken, definitely the longest too.

What about the other two you think to yourself.

Looking over at Ari then at Curtis you see them both stroking their thick cocks, Curtis is definitely the thickest, Steve the longest and Ari a perfect mix of the both.

You are thrown back into reality as Steve begins to pound up into your tight pussy. Hips moving fast and fingers rubbing circles on your clit as he mutters and groans praise into your ears. “Such a perfect slut for us- huh doll, you needed this. I’m gonna fill you up so well. Leave you aching for me Doll”

You desperately moan and whine, reaching down to stroke both Curtis and Ari as you roll your hips to meet Steve’s thrusts. “Yes! Please Steve- more! Fuck- don’t stop! Please feels so good! So big- so much Steve! Yess I’m so close Steve! I’m gonna cum” you whine and gasp.

“You gonna cum for us? Show us how pretty you are when you cum?” Ari growls into your ear, his hand over yours controlling your pace on his cock. “Do you like this that much, princess? Yeah? I bet so”

You desperately nod, moaning loudly between the men. “Please- don’t stop! I’m so close! I’m gonna cum”

Steve grins, leaning down to your ear “cum for us Doll. Cum at the same time as me, come on doll”

He groans loudly, his thrusts stuttering as he slows down and cums deep inside your pussy. Just as you finally orgasm as well, head whipping and back arching as you scream out Steve’s name.

Steve slows down, rubbing your back in slow circles. Letting you calm down from your high.

“You okay Sweetheart? You ready for more” Curtis voice rumbles beside you, his hand resting on your cheek. “Let’s move somewhere more comfortable for the rest of the night hmm?”

You feel yourself move as you are placed into Ari’s arms and start heading towards the elevator. “Hmm- wait what” you mutter, looking over his shoulders to see Curtis’s and Steve’s grins as they follow behind.

“Don’t worry Doll we are coming. This is gonna be a long and fun weekend for you.” Steve grins joyfully.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it sweetheart” Curtis winks at you as he grips his cock with one large hand.

You already know you will like whatever they have planned. You feel safe and secure in their arms, within their protection. You just needed a little push to really realize that.

I hope you enjoyed! thank you so much for reading!

Constructive criticism is welcome <3

#steve rogers x reader #ari levinson x reader #curtis everett x reader #dark steve rogers #dark ari levinson #dark curtis everett #curtis everett #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #ari levinson

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visceral-stories · 1 year

Text

Inheritance

I’m back! Thank you all for staying with me during my long hiatus! I truly appreciate it and I hope you enjoy the story!

Ko-fi |Twitter

6:30 PM seemed like a rather late time for a job interview, but it had been the only option to work with Garrett Carmichael’s hectic schedule. An ambitious high school senior, his weekday afternoons were usually fully booked. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he participated on his high school’s Quiz Bowl team and on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he attended meetings with his math league. Unfortunately, being a productive, ambitious scholar was not a lucrative venture, save for the college scholarships he was already applying for. Garrett’s nonexistent financials were what brought him to apply for the position of a waiter at his town’s local banquet hall.

He also needed something to balance out the drag that high school had become. He didn’t mind the schoolwork or classes as much, but none of his few close friends - or acquaintances even - shared his same classes. It felt like he was just going through the motions, forced to interact with people who he didn’t care for. The absolute worst was his fourth hour in World History where a gaggle of dim-witted football jocks made the class a living hell. They weren’t physical with him by any means, but they were the type to whisper under their breaths and mock the way he talked or his answers to questions. As a result, it made him far more apprehensive to raise his hand whenever he knew the answer in class. School sucked and on the weekends, he was free. Too free. Having abundant free time was nice, but it wasn’t like he had many hobbies outside of playing videogames with his fellow math league teammates or doing deep-dives on the internet about the multitude of scientific topics that interested him. Not only did he need money, but he just wanted to get out of the house for a few hours and not watch the Saturdays and Sundays glide past him every week.

The application process had been momentarily bewildering for Garrett who had no clue how the website worked and he had to ask his mom what the digits to his social security number were. Every other high schooler his age had gotten a job already and he felt dumb for getting daunted by the simple process, but ultimately he persevered. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he stepped out of his car and walked to the front door.

“Wow,” Garrett said with awe as he stepped into the nicest waiting room he’d ever seen. An immaculate tessellation of white and yellow rectangles adorned the ceilings accented by bold, curving polygons painted emerald green to resemble vines. The design appeared to extend far beyond the puny waiting room he was in and across the ceilings and walls of the main banquet hall, which he could see for a long distance.

“Can I help you, sir?” croaked a male voice.

Garrett looked back in front of him to see a man sitting inside a booth in the corner labeled “COAT CHECK” - the only other fixture in this small, open space. He had broad shoulders and was wearing a fancy tuxedo, nearly filling up the whole window with his width. “I-ummm,” Garrett coughed and cleared his throat, peeved at the inopportune phlegm that had formed. “I’m here for a job interview to be a waiter here.”

A warm feeling of dread filled Garrett’s body when the coat check guy just looked at him with a puzzled look on his face. Garrett remembered the man he’d been messaging in his emails. “I’m supposed to talk to a uhh…Mr. Clifford Atkinson.”

Thankfully, the man’s stoic face lit up with recognition. “Oh yes, he should be here within the next 15 minutes. His reservation starts at 6:45.”

“Oh, okay,” Garrett replied. He adjusted his glasses and wondered why the Clifford guy needed a reservation. Didn’t he work here?

“You can take a seat over there and wait for him if you’d like,” the man offered with a faint smile.

Garrett curtly nodded and quickly sat down in one of the few dark red office chairs outside the front door. He pulled out his phone and searched for that email he’d received from Mr. Atkinson. He could’ve sworn the email he’d received yesterday had told him to arrive at 6:30, but unfortunately it was nowhere to be found no matter how hard he searched for it. Crud. He must’ve deleted it or something. Emails were weird.

The next ten minutes ticked slowly by, leaving Garrett with minimal entertainment besides a few men and women who intermittently came and went through the front door. They were dressed up in tuxedos just like the coat check guy. It was intimidating the way they moved to and fro. Their solid black jackets with stark white shirts bounced up and down with their movements, taunting Garrett with their sophistication. A layer of sweat formed around him as he realized he might’ve come to this thing underdressed. His casual attire of a light blue short-sleeved shirt, a Mandalorian Star Wars tie, and brown cargo shorts clashed heavily with the fashion here. He’d just gotten here and he’d already made a mistake. It was too late to go back home and change clothes so he decided to drown his fears by scrolling through social media. As he was catching up on IGN’s most recent game review, the door flung open. Garrett glanced up, expecting to see Mr. Atkinson, but instead, the last person he wanted to see stumbled inside.

A tall, muscular jock stepped inside, dressed in a light gray short-sleeve t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, and of course - a signature backward cap. “Hey, what’s up man?” he announced as he swaggered up to the man in the coat check booth. “I’m here for the uh…waiter position.”

Garrett’s blood ran cold. It was Devon Kearney - one of the dumbest guys alive and unfortunately, the most prolific nuisance in his fourth-hour World History class. Every day, his deep, stupid voice filled the room as he tended to share every impulsive thought he had with the other football jocks in the class. He was a real menace, rude to everyone besides his little clique or, of course, girls in the class he found attractive.

Garrett watched the employee gesture for Devon to sit in the chair next to him and a wave of fear filled his body as the jock’s face lit up.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” he boomed as he sidled over to Garrett, causing heads to turn. “You’re that kid from history class!” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Carmichael, Carmichael, Carmichael. Shit, what’s the first name?” he asked aloud as if Garrett wasn’t even there.

Garrett clenched his fists. “My name is Garrett, you big-”

“Ah! That’s right, that’s right! I knew that!” Devon roared as he sat down two chairs away from his far skinnier comrade. “You look like a Garrett too,” he snickered with a cocky sneer that made Garrett want to strangle him. Devon was so fake, trying to act all cool and friendly with him as if he hadn’t spent the last three months mocking Garrett in class. Most of the time when Garrett raised his hand to answer a question, he could hear Devon or one of his stupid friends whisper to each other and giggle. Those jerks. Garrett couldn’t wait till he graduated in May and never had to interact with those bozos ever again.

“So what the hell are you doing here, man? Are you applying for a job too?” Devon asked.

Garrett sighed. He wanted to tell Devon to screw off, but that sure as hell wouldn’t go over well at school tomorrow. It wasn’t like the jocks had ever been physical, but he didn’t want to find out. “I’m applying for a job,” he said, not even bothering to continue eye contact.

“No way! What position? Dishwasher?”

Garrett held his ground as he felt the spit in the back of his throat dry up. “Waiter.”

“You? A waiter? No way, that’s the role I’m training for too!” Devon let out a boisterous laugh that made Garrett’s skin crawl. “Hey, I support it man, but no offense, I…uh….I don’t see you being super social. Being a waiter means like…talking to people a bunch and making ‘em your friends to get stacks of tip money! And at a real fancy place like this, they’re gonna have fat bank accounts! No cap!”

“Whatever,” Garrett huffed quietly, cringing at the “no cap” comment the most. He turned his phone back on and released an embittered breath.

“It is what it is, man,” Devon snarkily added. He began talking, mostly to himself, again as he pulled out his phone. “Oh man, wait till I tell the boys about who I found at the banquet hall!”

An awkward silence filled the hall once more, save for Devon’s subtly obnoxious open-mouthed breathing, but moments later, the door swung open and a middle-aged man waddled inside. Garrett caught a faint glimpse of his massive torso out of the corner of his eye. His silver-haired head looked like a snow-covered peak nestled in between the two mountains that were his massive shoulders. Even more shocking was the fact that his pecs were even larger than his bodybuilder-level deltoids. They had entered the room before he did and only drew more attention as they were thinly veiled beneath the strained white dress shirt he was wearing. The top three buttons were undone, revealing a scandalous amount of male cleavage complemented by a light dusting of silver chest hair.

Garrett noticed that even Devon was also gawking at this colossal guy as he trudged over to the coat check. He leaned over on the desk as he talked with the attendant and Garrett’s cheeks turned pink as he gazed at the man’s massive, imperious figure. Especially his round butt. The dude was absolutely caked up! The buttons of the back pockets of his blue dress pants looked ready to snap. He’d never even considered the idea that men could have butts that big.

All of a sudden, the hefty stranger spun around on his heels and made direct eye contact with the two teenagers who were obviously gawking at his size. His jaw was the size of a lantern and his eyes had a piercing sapphire coloration to them. He looked like he was plucked straight from Hollywood or something. “Ah, Gentlemen, welcome! It’s nice to see you!” he boomed, the volume of his bassy voice sending a shockwave through Garrett and Devon.

“Nice to see you too, man!” Devon replied, clearly in awe of the massive male specimen in front of him

“Sorry about the outfit, boys. These tits of mine have been fighting me to get dressed today,” Cliff said with a playful jiggle of his partially-exposed pecs. “Getting dressed up is quite the hassle isn’t it?”

“Yeah for sure!” Devon said, intentionally lowering his voice to match the other man’s volume. What a kiss-ass. Garrett didn’t even know how to react. He just watched as the other young man hopped to his feet and extended his arm out for a handshake to which the man obliged. “I’m Devon.”

“Cliff Atkinson,” the man boomed as he shook Devon’s hand. Garrett promptly hopped to his feet as the man turned to him. “And who might you be?” he asked. “Just kidding, Garrett. I know who you are. Bring it in. I’m so proud of you.”

Before Garrett could even process what was happening, the man had pulled him in for a bear hug. It was unbelievably awkward, considering he had to hunch over to get down to Garrett’s 5’6” height. As Cliff gave him a firm, tender beat hug as tight as a vice, Garrett swore he could feel his lungs compressing from the immense pressure. It wasn’t like he knew what to say anyway. He had never seen this man before and now he was talking to him so intimately. It was so weird. When Cliff released him and gave him a tender pat on the back, he was nothing short of disoriented.

Garrett was gasping for breath. Before he could voice his confusion, the mountainous man stood straight up again and clapped his dumbbell-sized hands together with a smile. “I am quite glad to see you both, but I must say both of your outfits are quite unbecoming. The guests should be showing within a half hour. Maybe even earlier.” He turned to Devon. “I’m sure you are new here so all is forgiven, but this is a high-class banquet hall and we take attire very seriously here. Not to worry though, we have some proper clothes for you! Do you know where the dressing rooms are?”

“No sir,” Devon replied. Garrett peered over and locked eyes with a very sour-faced Devon, whose eyes were still boggling wide with disbelief.

Cliff smiled. “Not a problem, I’m happy to show you.” He turned to Garrett. “Garrett can go with you too. We must get you out of those dreadful street clothes. It’s your very special day after all.”

Garrett’s throat was dry from how shocked he was, but Cliff had already started leading the way before he could ask him a question - and he certainly had many options! Like “why the hell did you say you’re proud of me?” Or “what do you mean by special day?” But just the thought of questioning this hulking beast of man seemed way too daunting, no matter how tame he seemed.

Cliff turned and led the two boys into the banquet hall, which was far more capacious than Garrett had expected. The place must’ve been at least three-thousand square feet, with every inch of it decorated with Italian Renaissance artwork similar to what was in the lobby. Intricate geometric patterns lined the walls and surrounded the various paintings around the hall, which were also complemented by beige accents around the perimeters. There also had to be around fifty or so round tables all spread out in the open area. Some of the chairs were so close together that Cliff had to walk sideways just to get his broad figure past.

“So how the hell does a guy like you know a guy like that?” Devon whispered as the two traveled through the array of round tables, his voice rife with envy.

“I have no clue,” Garrett replied - the exact same question was on his mind.

“Whatever,” Devon snarled, his tone rich with vicious envy. “I’m a better fit for the job than you anyway. You don’t even know how to talk to girls.”

Garrett coiled his fists. He wanted to retaliate, but he knew that wouldn’t end well. Imagining the five other football players targeting him would be a living hell. He decided to voice a general comment anyway. “Well Devon, it appears that we may have both gotten the job. I mean he never said otherwise.”

“Bullshit, sir,” Devon hissed before his eyes widened with confusion after a few moments. “Wait, why did I just call you, sir? I-”

Before Garrett could respond, Cliff’s roaring bass silenced the boys’ tiff. “Downstairs is the staff apparel room,” he boomed as they reached a locked door on the opposite end of the hall and twisted a key in the lock. “Devon, was it? We have freshly laundered uniforms listed by size and you can find what best correlates with your size. We will meet you back here when you are dressed.”

“Okay. Yes sir! Sounds good, sir!” Devon replied, raising his voice to feign confidence. Garrett grunted in frustration. He wanted to wipe that stupid smug grin off that suck-up’s face.

Garrett winced as he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’d best follow him too,” Cliff added. “You know better than to dress like that. I’d expect that out of Devon because he’s just showing up to work, but your apparel is usually not this…pedestrian.”

Garrett’s heart leapt into his throat. Why on earth was this man commenting on his apparel of all things? He just got here! And why was he talking to him like he’d already gotten the job? Yet at the same time, Cliff was talking to him like he’d known him for years. “Oh, I uh…okay,” Garrett meekly apologized, acquiescing to the man’s strange claims. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to ask the man about his inappropriate hug earlier. “Say, when you said you were proud of me earlier, what did you-”

A marimba ringtone suddenly blared from Cliff’s pocket. He held up his index finger and produced an iPhone from his pocket although his meaty hands made it look like a toy.

“Sorry Garrett, it’s the caterers,” Cliff barked. “I’ll meetcha back here in 15, alright?”

“Oh um..I just-”

Cliff had already answered the phone and started walking away, revealing another glimpse at his broad backside. Garrett readjusted his big glasses and sulked. As he watched the burly stranger depart, he couldn’t help but feel some kind of attachment to him: a benevolence of sorts. It was almost eerie how overly-nice he was being, but it seemed earnest. Perhaps he could tell that Garrett was internally sweating bullets just to be here and was being accommodating. At least it appeared that he’d gotten the job without question? Both he and Devon. God, he didn’t wanna work with that doofus, but it appeared he had no choice. He also didn’t want to let Cliff down after all. The man had been generous enough to hire him on the spot.

Descending down the old, stone staircase, Garrett entered a far less decorated area of the banquet hall. It smelled ancient down here. The air had a decadent, musty odor of men’s colognes mixed with a faint hint of mildew. As he rounded the corner, he noticed Devon was already sifting through a cabinet full of what appeared to be black uniforms. This room looked quite old and was rather charmless, save for a few photos of past galas and smiling well-dressed people on the walls. Something about this place was giving Garrett the creeps, but he couldn’t quite place it.

There was something different about Devon too. Even though his back was to Garrett, his entire outfit seemed a lot more…faded somehow? Maybe the light was playing tricks on him because the jock’s light denim jeans looked much silkier…and greyer in this light for some reason. Unfortunately, the poor basement lighting could not explain the shirt collar that had materialized around the jock’s neck.

“How do they not have my size?” Devon griped, his back still to Garrett.

As Garrett walked closer to his acquaintance, a hazy feeling filled his head, as if he’d inhaled way too much of the dust down here. The ground started to feel farther away for some reason. “Wait, why are you shorter…than me?” he asked aloud.

“Shorter?” Devon snorted, now spinning around to face Garrett. “I’m not-”

The two boys stared at each other with unspoken shock as Devon’s tall figure began to squash down. He looked down in horror as the tall, muscular legs he used to score touchdowns were quickly reduced to two chubbier-looking nubs. The dramatic truncation left him at a condensed height of 5’8”, six inches shorter than before. His athletic torso appeared virtually unchanged, but his height - one of his most defining attributes - had been cruelly taken from him in an instant. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?” Devon roared, his composure gone in a flash.

“I-I-I didn’t do this!” Garrett squeaked. If he wasn’t so terrified from Devon’s uproar, he would’ve giggled at his puny height. The jock’s muscular stature looked a lot cuter with his height condensed down - like he was a junior version of himself. “I…promise I didn’t. I don’t even-WHOA!”

Garrett’s plea was cut short as he promptly shot up like a weed. At one point he’d been eye-level with Devon, but his legs and lower torso just kept stretching taller and taller until stopping at an imposing height. He flailed his arms out for a moment as his new 6’6” body nearly toppled over. It felt like he was walking on stilts! “Whoa! What the heck is happening?” he asked as he placed a hand on his forehead. Glancing upward, the newly-minted lanky sapling of a boy realized he was now only a few inches from touching the low, old ceiling. “No, no, I c-can’t be tall,” he stuttered. From the flabbergasted look on Devon’s face, he could tell he was shocked and quite jealous. Mostly jealous.

Devon craned his neck up at Garrett and scowled with disgust. “This doesn’t even make any-DUDE, your clothes!”

“My clothes?” Garrett asked. He glimpsed down and watched as his clothes suddenly started to cascade down his body. The first thing he saw were his t-shirt sleeves gliding down from his upper arms to his elbows until they stopped at his wrists. A pair of French cuffs formed on the ends of his new flowy sleeves, accompanied by a pair of distinct “POPS!” as two golden cufflinks materialized. They were nothing short of glossy, refracting the shoddy basement lighting beautifully. Simultaneously, Garrett’s cargo shorts started shuddering all on their own. They too began to distend further and further to the floor until they rested just above his sneakers. Darkness intruded upon the brown coloration of his shorts, turning them into a maroon and then a vibrant sable. A silky fabric also enveloped the khaki of the cargo shorts, stealing away their bagginess and eradicating the oversized front pockets.

“What the hell is happening to us?” For once, Devon’s confident voice wavered, giving way to audible apprehension.

“I…I don't KNOW!” Garrett squealed as his new pair of pants was suddenly hoisted up by an invisible force. Or it wasn’t invisible, it appeared to be a pair of brown, leathery suspenders with metal clips that glistened in the light…which had magically materialized over him somehow? They locked in place and pulled Garrett’s pants up around his stomach. The movement scrunched up his t-shirt for a moment before the fabric magically levitated and gingerly tucked itself in, leaving zero wrinkles behind. “Y-you’re s-seeing this too, right?” he stuttered.

“Of course I fucking am!” Devon snarled, his face red with anger and embarrassment. Garrett’s eyes goggled incredulously as Devon’s new outfit looked even more elaborate than his. Gone forever was his grey t-shirt and blue jeans and instead he now sported a long-sleeved dress shirt fit with an array of vibrant mother-of-pearl buttons complemented by a pair of black suit pants. Devon’s new dapper attire accentuated every ripple of his body from his larger-than-average arms and legs. Most interestingly, his belly had a faint bump to it now, like he was bloated or something.

Garrett was mesmerized as he watched the jock struggle in his new, expertly-tailored clothes. Simultaneously, he couldn’t resist the urge to steal glances at himself and watch as his shirt dyed itself blue and his new dress pants dyed themselves a relaxing shade of light grey. In unison, both of their respective waterfalls of new clothing entered their final cascade. To mark its near terminus, a brand new pair of black suspenders sprung up from Devon’s dress pants. They yanked his pants up high up past his belly button. “GUH!” Devon cried in anguish as the suspenders attached around his shoulders and locked his pants in a painful-looking position. Garrett didn’t dare look for long, but he noticed that the jock’s genitals were bulged up in the pants’ fly as a result.

“This fucking hurts!” Devon cried, unable to hold in his rage “I can’t even feel my co-o--ock!”

Unlike Garrett, Devon’s clothes had a few more tricks up their sleeves. Firstly, an ocean of black stitching materialized over his pristine white dress shirt. It started at his shirt collar and promptly swallowed up his back and his pecs, until finally stopping just above his waist. Devon’s attempts to undo his tight suspenders were cruelly cut short as a brand new black suit jacket concealed his entire torso. Garrett gawked in disbelief, no longer concealing his curious glances. Devon pulled and picked at his new blazer with much ire. Three buttons appeared in the center of the boxy item of clothing and promptly fastened themselves. Devon’s abdomen and self-proclaimed “rock-hard abs” were concealed by the jacket while the top half of the blazer allowed for a triangle of view of his dress shirt. To complete his new expensive outfit, two black ribbons appeared on either side of his neck. Gracefully, they pirouetted around each other and promptly fastened a tight knot, leaving a spiffy black bowtie just under Devon’s Adam’s Apple. As a final touch, a purple strand of satin formed around the young man’s waist of all things. It wrapped around his obliques and banded over his lower back, creating a brand new indigo cumberbund and finalizing Devon’s extravagant uniform.

To finalize Garrett’s much less-invasive changes, a suit jacket of his own materialized and gently wrapped itself around his upper body. A checkerboard of green and white squares covered the illustrious, new fabric. He moved his arms around in it and was surprised to find that it felt light and breathable. Garrett’s eyes fell back onto Devon, who looked like a deer in headlights. Neither knew what to say. The strangest part was the fact that Devon’s pants were so tight - tight enough that Garrett could even see his balls all bunched up in the front. What was that called again? A camel toe? A moose-knuckle? Devon Kearney, one of the douchiest jocks in school, had an actual moose-knuckle. Before Garrett could stop himself, a small chuckle escaped his lips.

“You think this is fucking funny?” Devon snarled before immediately placing a hand on Garrett’s chest and forcefully shoving him into the wall. For a body three-quarters as tall as it once was, he still retained quite a lot of strength.

Garrett was petrified. “No, no, Devon, I-”

“This is all your fault somehow!” Devon roared, now inches from Garrett’s face. “Of course, being paired with Garrett Carmicheal of all people would result in some fucking weird nerdy black magic shit!” He tugged at his dapper uniform in disgust. The only remnant of his street clothes was the baseball cap still on his head. “I look like such a fucking dork!”

Devon was speechless. It was disturbing to see the jock’s unflappable, cocky exterior completely shattered, replaced by flagrant rage. “Devon, I-”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't pound the shit out of you!”

“Devon, no…stop!” Garrett stuttered, overcome with fear.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Instantly, Devon obeyed the command. He released his tight grip on Garrett’s sternum and stepped back in an almost robotic fashion. “Huh?”

“My sincerest apologies, sir,” Devon replied, placing his muscular arms to his side and standing up as straight as possible. He shook his head. “Wuh, why did I…do that?”

Garrett wasn’t sure how to react. Instead, he just focused on catching his breath and peering down at his disoriented comrade. It was wild to think that Devon, the 6’4” tall linebacker who towered over Garrett in history class, had been reduced to a meager 5’8” height. Even crazier was the fact that he actually obeyed a command.

POP! POP!

It took a moment for Garrett to realize that the two sharp pings had actually been his top two shirt buttons flying loose. “My shirt…” was all he could say as he wordlessly glanced down at his now, partially-exposed chest. Instead of seeing a flat chest and distinct collar bone, he was surprised to see that his pecs were actually protruding out? And they were still inflating!

“Goodness gracious!” Devon exclaimed before putting a hand over his mouth.

The two boys could only watch helplessly while Garrett’s chest continued inflating. His pecs were a statement now - two growing muscular slabs, as sturdy as bricks, that tempted with their masculinity. Short, spindly dark chest hairs sprouted up in the center, which had now formed a small chasm. Although Garrett was enticed, he was unbelievably confused. A scrawny geek like him wasn’t supposed to have tits like this! He’d never even set foot in a gym. Or maybe he had? After all, it must’ve taken a decade’s worth of vigorous exercise to get pecs this round and supple. They were so huge that even his nipples had been pushed to the side and had puffed out, now each closely resembling the tip of a baby’s bottle. They were so sensitive too. He could imagine them tensing up every time his French cuffs grazed them or whenever he would give them loving squeezes in private. In fact, he could recall they gave him some kind of unorthodox pride - seeing them perked up in every formal picture he’d ever taken. His bros would even joke and call him Kate Upton because of it.

Garrett’s cock ascended, and noticeably tented his wool dress pants. Absent-mindedly, he ran a hand through his thick, long hair and parted it to one side - something he’d never done before. Of course, the hair didn’t stick due to the lack of product and instead, it just hung there as a gnarled mess with most of it flattened down and the other half sticking straight up like a porcupine’s quills. “God, what is happening to me,” Garrett huffed as he impulsively grabbed at his bulge.

“It appears you’re changing, sir,” Devon aptly replied, his voice sounding a lot more monotone.

“I…I really am,” Garrett replied, his voice nearly crescendoing into a moan as he gave his bulge a shake. “I look different, don’t I? More cleaned up, eh? More prim and proper. More mature, even.”

“T-that you do,” Devon confirmed, stuttering his words as he was forced to swallow a snarky rebuttal. He was losing his will to be a contrarian. Instead, his disposition was becoming far more accommodating and congenial, accompanied by an enhancing vocabulary. “Me too!” he pouted, his monotone voice once again possessing his familiar churlishness. “I hate this tux thing I’m dressed in. I don’t want to look mature! Although spectacular, my regalia is quite oleaginous, isn’t it? GAHH! What am I saying?!”

Garrett gazed back up at Devon, or rather peered down at him - the fear and frustration was evident on the other teen’s distraught face. He also appeared to have put on a few more pounds somehow. His growing arms and pec muscles took on a far more squishy shape and his tight stomach crafted by years of high school football had a much pudgier contour to it.

“GUHH!” Garrett roared, at a low register, similar to Devon’s voice, realizing the changes were far from over. Two shockwaves of blood surged through his arms, immediately filling them with volatility. A pair of massive, bodybuilder-sized biceps gradually inflated within the confines of the bespoke twill shirt. Garrett could only watch transfixed as his skinny, noodle arms - the things he’d hated the most about himself - became nothing of the sort. The muscles in his forearms followed suit as they pulled apart and tightened up with protein-laden muscle, becoming permanent, cylindrical-shaped obtrusions in every shirt he would ever wear. Around fifteen seconds later, Garrett’s barrel-sized arms were now tastefully concealed beneath the tight, stretchy fabric of his dress shirt. Mercifully, his golden cufflinks remained intact and undisturbed, their dazzling opulence a necessary accentuation of his rigid wrists. Garrett was in awe. Even his hands looked manlier - they looked more plump and more formidable somehow. His nails were perfectly manicured and his digits must’ve doubled in size, dropping their nimble slimness in favor of a more boxing glove-like shape.

A wave of growth undulated through his abdomen as it began to slowly extend forward to a similar breadth of his mighty pecs. With it came two distinct pops, but this time it came from deep within his abs. It felt like he was flexing abdominal muscles that had never made themselves known before. To confirm his suspicion, the two pops multiplied into four and then six until concluding on eight square-shaped indentations etched into his abdomen. Bespoke twill felt incredible against his brand new eight-pack. “God, I’m really filling out, huh?” Garrett smirked as an impulsive affirmation to himself.

“Yes, I am too,” Devon answered nervously.

Garrett glanced down and the first thing he noticed about Devon was the bulbous sphere that his belly had become. It wasn’t like he was obese or anything, but to call Devon a jock would be laughably inaccurate. This stomach of his had to be at least fifty pounds and it jutted straight out like a boulder. It didn’t sag low like a belly normally would, it hung high and tall, suspended by hidden, rigid muscle. Something told Garrett it would only get bigger.

“AGH!” Garrett yelped as he felt two muscles viciously tingle each of his shoulders before they began to stretch upward. A pair of glorious trapezius muscles flared out, giving him a menacing hood of muscle around his neck similar to a king cobra. Quickly, their immensity made his small, boyish head and mop of brown, unkempt bowl cut look extremely out of place. As Garrett’s trap muscles finished their transition into ones that a bodybuilder would envy, he attempted to turn his head 90 degrees, but found that to be quite a challenge. His neck too had also stretched wider to compete with the overgrown atoll of his trap muscles. Eliminating the soreness in his new muscular neck, Garrett rocked it back and forth and felt his bones and veins snap into place. The process sent a giant tear through the back of his Star Wars tie, whose lopsided Windsor knot had also fared no match for Garrett’s expanding, meaty neck and shoulder. It now hung loosely, dangling precariously over his massive tits about to plop to the ground.

“Pardon me sir, your tie is askew,” Devon piped up.

Before Garrett could react, his portly acquaintance gingerly removed the tie from his figure and was running it through his hands. He blinked and all of a sudden, Devon’s hands were concealed beneath a pair of satin white gloves. Paired with that, his hands looked larger too - like two baseball mitts.

“What is with this tie?” Devon added, staring at the Star Wars Mandalorian emblems on the tie. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Yeah, it’s my good luck tie,” Garrett replied. “I wore it for…the interview…” He trailed off for a moment as his memories of an interview grew a little hazier. They were both here for some reason, but this seemed like a strange situation for an interview. “Have you always been wearing gloves?” It was a straightforward thing for him to ask, but he genuinely was curious.

“Yeah, it’s a part of the uniform,” Devon nodded although his brow furrowed with confusion over his own comment. It was as if he didn’t know what he was going to say next.

“Okay,” Garrett replied intently, giving Devon a snide smirk. His cock bobbed in his trousers as he thought of the idea of a football player bending to his whim and being involuntarily supportive.

Devon’s face didn’t show much more emotion. Instead, he was putting his new man-hands to work some magic on the tattered tie. As he rolled up the tie, the array of Mandalorian emblems began to fade. First, the helmet’s outline faded before diffusing in all directions and melting into the navy blue coloration of the tie. In some miraculous animation, Garrett watched as the colors danced into each other before brightening until they reached a divine, subdued seafoam green. With a firm shake from Devon’s hands, the tie fattened up and lost any trace of its former self.

“What did you do?” Garrett asked, his heart sunk as his favorite tie from one of his favorite movies was gone forever.

“Hermés,” Devon said, answering a question never asked. “Mint is quite the nice touch for the outfit too.” He handed it to Garrett who just looked at it dumbly. “You know how to tie a tie don’t you?” Devon asked smugly, his voice sounding much more…posh and preppy. “We don’t want that Cliff fellow to be mad.”

“Yeah for sure,” Garrett replied as he unconsciously wrapped the tie around his collar. In only a few seconds and a few deft maneuvers, his hands nimbly created a Windsor knot.

“I taught you well,” Devon applauded, his eyebrow crooked as he dissected his statement. Still, his mouth continued its whimsical dialogue. “You can tie a tie as fast as I can tie my shoes. Or at least as fast as I used to be able to tie them.” He gestured at his bass drum of a belly and chuckled at himself.

Garrett couldn’t help but snicker too. Devon’s bubbly nature was somewhat infectious. It was kind of hot - imagining the portly ex-jock catering to his needs, but also being a genuinely nice person. That would be a nice change.

“Isn’t that better?” Devon asked. A faint panic still permeated his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure why he was asking these questions and indulging Garrett like this.

“Yeah,” Garrett smiled with a conceited grin as he ran a hand through his floppy, greasy mop of crumpled hair. The movement caused more strands to flop down successfully, causing them to be quaffed straight back as if they were drenched in gel. Garrett didn’t pay it any mind. He just enjoyed how perfectly his mint tie complemented the checkered pattern of his blazer. This nearly-gaudy attire - he wanted to hate it - but he couldn’t. It accentuated his muscles perfectly! Oh yeah. His muscles. “I feel like a million bucks!” Garrett said with an honorary flex.

“Good, good,” Devon jovially replied. In accordance with his jolliness, a new layer of fat formed around his stomach and stretched out his resplendent tuxedo even further. A wave of compassion and maturity overcame him, replacing his adolescent panic. Looking at a burgeoning young stud like Garrett made him feel…proud in a way? It made him feel oddly paternal, as if their ages were different or something? “You have to look your best for your special day,” Devon added, before grimacing at how cringe he sounded. Still, it felt eerily correct to assist Garrett with his newfound sartorial knowledge.

“My special day?” Garrett asked before smirking once more. “That’s right. It…is my special day. I just can’t remember why.”

“Me neither,” Devon admitted. His adolescent rage towards Garrett had faded completely. It was impossible to get mad a young, promising stud like him. Instead, he glared down at his new rotund body ruefully. “I look like a fucking gumdrop,” he pouted as he poked and prodded at his round belly and pecs. He craned his stubby neck to see that even his broad, hulking thighs made his dress pants look vacuum-sealed. It reminded him of wearing padded football pants. His chest was ridiculously huge too - his pecs were like two airbags resting atop a giant, protrusive boulder. Thankfully, his pecs didn’t sag like other older men’s man-boobs often did. They just hung there, taunting Devon with their undeniable stoutness. It was enthralling in a way - the idea of his cannonball-shaped stomach on display in every shirt he ever wore. That made him feel so…mature, like a father figure of sorts. His corpulence, unapologetically masculine, equally disgusted and excited him. At least his plump body looked well-dressed and concealed perfectly by this uniform. Devon could picture so many men his age, or…his father’s age, who didn’t know how to dress themselves - the type to have the undersides of their bellies exposed in public and who wore thin, ill-fitting t-shirts with visible, nasty sweat stains. Devon felt some strange pleasure in the fact that his clothes were tailored just for him. It made him feel much more…powerful that way. This well-dressed, paunchy body of his was an extension of his own masculinity.

Garrett was lost in his own self-indulgent thoughts as he inspected his own chest. He gave his nipples a tweak and winced at how sensitive they were. Rubbing the back of his meaty hand against the expensive fabric, he could feel a God, he loved being a man. A huge, hunky, muscular, young, confident man. One whose body jutted out in every direction in his formal clothes - kinda like Devon’s did, only Garrett’s were far more perky and traditionally attractive. He’d never clamored over his body like that before. It was quite the rush - a premonition of his constantly evolving virility and an extension of his own masculinity.

“Wait, do you hear that?” Garrett asked abruptly, causing Devon to return back to reality. The two of them froze and sure enough, they realized that there was now an abundance of noise emanating above them. A faint bassline and drums could be heard accompanied by a moderately-loud chatter of people conversing. “There’s people upstairs.”

Devon turned white as a ghost. “Oh no, oh shit dude, people can’t see me like…like this!” he cried, holding up his pudgy, balloon-shaped belly in rife disgust.

“Yeah, you look like a blimp,” Garrett chuckled. For a moment, he almost regretted saying it, but his fear of Devon was dissipating. They were equals now - no longer bound by archaic notions of a teenage hierarchy.

“Manners please,” Devon retorted, primping his suit. He didn’t appear to be that offended by the comment though, considering he didn't give Garrett any vicious retaliation. In fact, he seemed to be captivated by his tuxedo jacket. “My coattails. They nearly stretch to the floor!” he said with dopey astonishment, stretching his neck to inspect the way the coat draped over his pot-bellied frame. “They kinda look like a superhero’s cape. It’s quite…marvelous, isn’t it?”

“Whoa, your voice! It sounds British!” Garrett laughed. “Would you like some tea and crumpets, governor?”

Devon was not amused. “Sir, please,” he huffed, far more displeased than angry. “I don’t think it’s quite appropriate to make fun of my accent. I surely don't mock you for your deep voice.”

A twinge of guilt pulsed through Garrett. If a jerk like Devon could learn politeness, surely he could too. “Right, right, I’m sorry,” he said, completely oblivious while his voice lost its teenage squeak in favor of a commanding, baritone register. “I guess I never expected a football player to act so formal.” The voice that Garrett now had sounded like it belonged to a male country singer rather than a raspy 18 year old.

“Football?” Devon gasped. He could recall playing it for a brief moment, but the memories of it all came crashing down instantly. Like a piece of paper being incinerated to ash. A man of his rotund stature certainly wouldn’t be the greatest at the sport unless he was an offensive lineman. “I have…never played football before,” Devon said, almost in a state of shock as the words left his lips. “I wouldn’t be too fast on the field. Not with a belly like…OOOFF…like this.” Without warning, fifty more pounds were piled onto Devon’s stomach, causing him to look like even more of a portly freak. This monster gut looked ready to rip free from his uniform at any moment, but thankfully it had swiftly stretched with his beastly proportions to prevent that.

“Oh yeah, that’s right, it’s not called soccer where you’re from.”

“Huh? I…oh yes, that’s quite correct.” Devon’s head was spinning. His definition of the sport was changing. Football was nothing like it was here in the States. It was a far less violent and barbaric sport in the U.K. but most importantly, it was an excuse to get a pint with the lads and watch his favorite team whenever he went back home. Or wait, wasn’t this home? Everything was getting fuzzy.

Garrett was feeling the same way as he zoned out for a moment, gazing down at his sophisticated clothes. Or rather hunky, sophisticated body - the clothes were just an extension of himself. “Well, I think we should head upstairs and talk to that Cliff guy and maybe he can help us.”

“Ah Cliff, what a fine gentleman!” Devon perked up, like a robot coming to life. His deep, Welsh accent teeming with merriment. “Yes, let’s!”

Garrett tried his hardest not to snicker as Devon led the way. His bouncy, blubbery figure certainly didn’t move the way it once did. At first, he clearly was trying to move at the speed of a highschool quarterback, but his gait was reduced to a sluggish waddle. Something else had also changed about Devon. It was his back - which looked quite broader for some reason. Paired with his angular shoulders, his upper body was turning into quite an imposing-shaped rectangle. For a man of smaller stature, his figure was still quite imposing.

“I’m sure everyone is waiting to see you.” Devon said merrily as he reached the wooden stairs.

“Ah that’s right,” Garrett replied and a burst of dopamine suddenly hit his brain, promptly inhibiting any more questioning of their predicament. It was his special day. Being the center of attention was something he craved - people all gathered around him, listening to him talk in length - it was like adrenaline to him : a formative adrenaline. He cherished all the accolades his hulking muscles would receive. From friends, from family members, from romantic partners. After all, he’d put in years of hard work!

Garrett was aghast as he walked up the steps behind his paunchy companion. Devon already had the tight, muscle butt of a high school quarterback, but the ascent up the staircase immediately began shaping it into an enormous cushion that was impossible to ignore. With each step upward, his glutes flared outward in all directions, stretching his wool dress pants like lycra. Inflating like balloons, Devon’s mountainous asscheeks lost some of their muscled firmness. They rhymically bobbed up and down over and over, indicative of their increased fat concentration. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, two mounds the size of basketballs and as wide as pillows had replaced Devon’s former ass. He appeared to be none the wiser as he turned sideways for a moment and readjusted his cummerbund.

Garrett froze. His cock had risen to full mast and he hated it. Illuminated by a single overhead light, Devon’s mammoth figure cast a marvelous silhouette. The equal breadth of his glorious, distended stomach and protruding suited buttocks were so oddly compelling. And stupidly erotic. Then again, Garrett had been hard since the changes started…or for the past hour while he’d been getting ready. Yeah. That was right. Dressing up always got his hormones firing.

“It seems like only yesterday you had gotten into college,” Devon reminisced as he turned his stubby neck up to Garrett who climbed to the top step.

“College?” Garrett asked. He hadn’t even graduated high school. “I don’t think-”

“Look at yourself, Garrett, ” Devon boomed. The newfound sagacity in his voice sent a shiver up Garrett’s spine. “You’ve really changed from the small, precocious lad you once were. You heed advice and apply it into your own life. In university and in bodybuilding. Why, I remember when I used to be larger than you. Hah hah hah! That’s not quite the case anymore, is it?”

“Bodybuilding? College?” Garrett was dumbfounded. Two retrospections ran parallel in his brain. In one, he was a teenage misanthrope who would much rather keep to himself and his hobbies while another, more forceful side of him savored the attention of being a heartthrob, junior bodybuilder. He craved it, actually. He wanted to loathe the feeling, but he couldn’t. Everything around him was spinning out of control so beautifully, but something told him that this was a very good thing.

“Why yes,” Devon replied, “We’re all so proud of you. You have that ambition that’s going to get you very far in life.” His voice cracked a bit. “I wish I had more of that when I was a lad.”

Before Garrett could stop himself, he’d already wrapped his arms around the portly man. Given their height difference, he’d had to lean down slightly, but he didn’t even realize he’d done that. Devon quickly reciprocated and a mutual wave of growth radiated through the two of them. It was a weird burst of unbridled sympathy the two had never felt for each other once. But it was real.

Firstly, Devon’s belly gained a final thirty more pounds, swelling larger than a yoga ball and tight as a bass drum. At one point, he’d competed in bodybuilding competitions just like Garrett was…or was going to. But now, a stout aging man like Devon much preferred to possess a distended, glorious muscle gut formed from decades of hard work and newfound relaxation. His body type was truly one of a kind - he had to make his own custom clothes for it too - and nothing made him more enthusiastic that Garrett appeared to be following the same fate of growing gigantic. Finishing its inflation, Devon’s belly pressed tightly against Garrett’s abdomen, which was starting to shrink in exchange. Any remaining pudge Garrett had was trimmed away and repurposed into a lean, X-shaped of a competition-ready bodybuilder. His nonexistent butt also began to change, promptly losing its shapelessness as it inflated into two boulders. His rear was only around three-quarters the size of Devon’s, but it had equal strength. Garrett had an enormous, perky muscle butt formed by nearly a decade of strenuous squatting and consistent training. In tandem, Garrett’s slender thighs beefed up, becoming a set of poles that could effortlessly support his hulking frame. Subconsciously, he rocked back and forth on them and the new muscles tightened into pillars as thick as stone.

“Thank you,” Devon replied as the two pulled apart. His eyes were glassy and his face had a myriad of more pronounced lines on it now. He was so happy now, happier than he had ever been from his life as a football player. Being a British butler, a man of superlative etiquette, and passing eclectic style and machismo onto a man like Garrett - that was his new purpose. “You’ve become the man deep down that I knew you always could be.”

“Of course,” Garrett smiled. He felt like his heart was going to explode. While studying Devon’s new venerable face and more mature sunken eyes, he blinked and all of a sudden, his baseball cap disappeared! Not only that, Devon’s head of vibrant blonde hair had vanished too, leaving behind a faint horseshoe of hair. He pictured Devon as having a younger, boyish face in his head, but those memories were crinkling away as he looked into this new, mature man.“Your…your hat,” was all Garrett could say.

Faint wrinkles texturized themselves around Devon’s face as he smiled. “Yes, the bowler hat felt a little unfitting on a very formal occasion like this.”

“No, you were wearing a…” Garrett trailed off, immediately forgetting that a bald, astute gentleman like Devon would ever wear a baseball cap. That seemed too…juvenile for him. Whenever he did wear a hat, it was usually a top hat or something. Even more paralyzing to Garrett was the fact that this man in front of him didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He felt like a family member. Like a mentor of sorts. It made sense. After all, he’d known Devon his entire life. A hazy memory traveled through Garrett’s brain. He could remember being young, back when Devon had a full head of hair and he’d wanted so badly to impress him. Now he had and the family butler couldn’t be more proud. Wait, family butler? That seemed correct for some reason, but it make any-

“Have a fun night, kid,” Devon smiled, uniquely giving the words a staccato affectation with his charming British accent, as he opened up the wooden door to the banquet hall.

Bright lights inundated Garrett’s corneas, like he’d stepped into heaven. When his eyes adjusted, he could make out around what appeared to be one hundred or so people occupying the previously vacant hall. Their attire was ritzy - like nothing Garrett had ever seen. Women adorned with beautiful, stylish dresses paired next to men dressed up in bespoke three-piece suits of various colors. A multitude of tuxedoed waitstaff were maneuvering in between the crowd of affluent guests. All parties involved seemed to be engrossed in pleasant, light-hearted conversation.

Seeing them all sent a tidal wave of fear through Garrett and the same teenage nerves he thought he’d banished inundated his brain. “Devon, there are so many-”

He turned, but Devon had already begun conversing with a crowd of five male waiters nearby who were dressed in identical tuxedos. He wanted to chuckle at how Devon’s cartoonishly massive butt eclipsed his view of the men he was talking to, but he couldn’t. In his peripheral vision, he could see people start noticing him. All the confidence he’d once had vanished instantly replaced by his familiar teenage nerves. He hated crowds - hated them so much. And now here he was trapped in the middle of one of the largest ones he’d ever seen.

Just as Garrett took his first step forward to try and slink towards the wall, he nearly collided with the silhouette of a huge, imposing man who nearly knocked him to his feet. Luckily, his reflexes were quick and he jumped back on his heels.

“Vince, there you are!” thundered the familiar, lofty stranger. It was Cliff - his interviewer of all people? He also looked more put together than before. His massive pecs were thinly concealed by a tight dress shirt preventing any chest hair from peeking through. At his side was a breathtaking entourage of beautiful guests, a group of men wearing flashy, velvety suits and a group of women wearing extravagant, ruched dresses. “We were wondering what was taking you so long!”

“Huh? My name’s not-” Garrett stopped. His deep voice, almost as low as Cliff’s, startled him and reminded him how manly he sounded. Before he could analyze it, two new heels abruptly shot out of Garrett’s sneakers, launching him a half-inch higher into the air - allowing him to become eye level with Cliff - the man who’d previously towered over him. He wanted to tremble, but there was something so comforting about the older man’s face. It made him feel seen. There was a broad, beaming smile on Cliff’s brick-shaped jaw, emanating the same sage-like reverence as Devon had.

“There’s the man of the hour!” another well-dressed man around three-quarters the size of Garrett exclaimed. By this point, the group of guests had swarmed all around him, rendering any chance of escape impossible. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of chest, from stress and a weird, weird sense of familiarity with these people, especially one of the men in front of him. His face was devoid of wrinkles and his forehead devoid of furrows. Must’ve been a lot of Botox. Even his hairline mirrored Garrett’s, which was impressive given he looked to be in his sixties or so. “Put ‘err there, Vince!” the dapper stranger exclaimed, extending out his hand.

Garrett acquiesced, not wanting to be rude. He didn’t realize how clammy his hands were until they were against this man’s dry ones. “Thanks, Uncle James. It’s so good to see you,” he replied before flinching at his weird, automatic response.

The man didn’t seem to care about being Garrett’s uncle. It did seem to make sense though. He looked like Cliff, only a few years older. “Look at that! He already got himself a Rolex! Lookin’ sharp, son!”

“A…what?” Garrett looked down at his right wrist and sure enough, there was a watch with a rich, emerald hue that looked nothing short of expensive. Upon further inspection, he realized it was the same green shade as his preppy checkered blazer and it had the same eye-catching shimmer of his cufflinks. Fuck. That turned him on for some reason. Luxury. Power. Being all dressed up. “Yeah, doesn’t it have a marvelous sparkle to it?” Garrett added, unable to contain his excitement. His voice sounded different now - a little more pompous. He was really holding the vowels of words in his mouth for longer now. It reminded him of the rich kids from his high school. Wait, where did he go to school again?

A lady in a lavender velvet dress holding a bubbling glass of champagne spoke next. She used big gestures to the group, as if she was showing Garrett off like a trophy. “Our son - the Yale graduate,” she declared, her voice sounding as proud as Cliff’s and as proud as Devon’s. “I can’t believe he finally did it.”

“Top of his class too!” Cliff added, sipping on a glass of scotch. “Don’t forget about that, Pauline.”

“Of course,” the woman smiled. “We never doubted our son for a second.”

“Graduated? From Yale? No, I’m…” Garrett sputtered as the final realization hit him. This was a party. All for him. And Cliff and Pauline. They were…his parents? That didn’t seem right, but Garrett had trouble recalling any other alternative. He could recall glimpses of his upbringing in opulent rooms, going to high-class events and developing a sartorial affinity. He now truly felt like an adult just like them. His parents’ positive words echoed in his head, filling him up with joy. For the first time in a long time, Garrett felt proud of himself. His memories of a recluse were fading while recollections of being a valedictorian and relaxed, sociable young athlete took their place.

“Looks like he’s been hitting the gym at the same time!” Uncle James piped in. “What’s your current weight?”

“280,” Garrett replied and instinctively performed a front lat spread to the group who all laughed pompously.

“Don’t get him started,” Pauline replied with a playful tap on Garrett’s shoulder.

Another man spoke up who looked muscular too, although not as muscular as Garrett. “Even during football, you were never half this size. You really took to bodybuilding during college! I can’t believe I’m looking at the same kid!”

Garrett beamed with pride and his posh accent swallowed up his old one completely. “Once I knew football wasn’t in the cards for me, I decided to take weightlifting more seriously and it really helped me.”

“Isn’t that great,” one of the ladies in the crowd smiled.

“He sure takes after his old man!” Cliff smiled, wrapping his arm around his equally-strapping son.

Garrett froze as he fully took in the breadth of his alleged father. For lack of a better word, he was just so manly. Even being a man in his fifties, he still had some incredible size to him. He must’ve been sixty pounds heavier than Garrett, which was nothing short of impressive. Cliff’s cerulean three-piece suit looked ready to rip off. Garrett could recall some strong feelings about that: the idea of getting to a massive size where all of his suits had to be custom-made to contain his sheer width. He could faintly recall a short, plump man measuring him with yellow tape as he crafted measurements for him.

Holy shit. That man was his family butler. The one he’d just seen earlier. What was his name again? Acrid guilt pulsed through Garrett’s head. This butler had been with his family his entire life and he couldn’t even remember his name. Even Garrett’s own name was growing harder to remember, but he knew one thing for sure. His name certainly wasn’t Vincent.

“Any refills on champagne?” chirped a familiar ebullient voice.

“Yes please, thank you Reginald,” one of the ladies chirped back as the butler filled up her tall glass.

Garrett turned and sure enough, his family butler was right there: Reginald Chapman - a 400 pound intimidating colossus who was actually a kind-hearted giant.

Garrett tried not to laugh. This whole situation was so far-fetched. It reminded him of that one Rick & Morty episode where the family in the show had gained memories of a butler who they thought had always been part of their family. But this situation was different from a silly cartoon like that. It wasn’t like Reginald lived with them although he was over at the house working full-time. Hell, he’d even gone on family vacations with the Atkinsons. He’d even brought his husband along. It had been a strange sight - seeing the family butler and his equally-large middle-aged husband on the beach, but it had been illuminating. But still, Reginald had his own life. He was simply the Atkinsons’ staff member. A lifelong, steadfast one at that. Happy to cater to Garrett’s needs whenever necessary and give him advice on life and bodybuilding. It seemed weird to have a private butler, but not for a family like the Atkinsons who were filthy rich.

For a moment, Garrett found that somewhat exciting - the idea of a massive man catering to his needs, but it wasn’t weird like that. Even with his portly figure, Reginald had been quite an inspiration for Garrett to take bodybuilding seriously. He’d wanted to grow - to get as big as one of his idols - a kind-hearted Englishman who was like his second father. In fact, it had been a conversation on a Bahamian beach with Reginald and his burly partner Oliver that had made Garrett realize he was bisexual - a whole separate epiphany.

“I assume the college grad over here needs a fresh glass too!” Reginald piped up, producing a clean wine glass for Garrett. He poured the perfect amount of the liquid into it and smiled. “He’s truly one of a kind isn’t he?”

The group smiled and laughed in agreement. Garrett took notice of the other patrons in the background who were also turning his way. Reginald had the volume of a foghorn after all. In the crowd, Garrett could make out a few guys and girls his age - some of the friends from college. Some of them were really attractive. This really was quite the celebration. And it was all for him.

“Dom perignon, sir,” Reginald smiled, handing Garrett the glass, his fifty-six year old face glowing with adulation.

Garrett took a sip and smiled - the expensive liquor tasted incredible. He swore he could feel the bubbles fizzing in his mouth after he swallowed.

“Raise your glasses, please!” Reginald boomed. The guests immediately obeyed, all with smiles on their faces as they stared warmly at Garrett. “To Vincent Atkinson!” Reginald thundered as the background chatter quieted down. “A young man who has changed my life as much as I hope I’ve changed his!”

There was that name again. Garrett wanted to reply, but instead a warm, compassionate feeling overcame him. He was touched by the sweetness of the family butler - a man who inspired him every day.

A cheer from all of the guests echoed through the banquet hall. They all took a sip except for Reginald who just warmly smiled. “Have a glorious night you all,” he said with a bow of his head before swiftly walking away to tend to other patrons. That’s right. Reginald was on the clock. That enthusiastic, diligent butler. Garrett watched as his plump body bounced within the confines of his long, dangling coattails as as he sidled over to another crowd.

“Vince has grown up so fast!” chimed in a male patron as the chatter started back up. “He’s sure got that Atkinson family chin!”

“Wait until he gets those Atkinson family veneers!” chimed in another who received a chastising shove from his wife.

“Family…chin?” Garrett mumbled as he felt a bubbling sensation emanating from the bottom of his face. It was the weirdest feeling, like someone was popping bubble wrap under his chin. The final piece of him was changing - his face. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to see it happen in real time. He just had to. “Excuse me, please,” Garrett said before promptly darting away before any patron could stop him. With each distinct footstep, his dress shoes grew more and more glossy, echoing throughout the opulent hall. Luckily, he located a bathroom nearby and promptly slunk inside, but not before feeling his broad shoulders scrape against the sides of the old, wooden doorframe. Garrett skulked to the mirror a panicked, breathy mess and promptly froze with disbelief at his strapping reflection.

Everything about him was huge. Unbelievably huge.

He turned to his side and ogled over his humongous chest and back jutting out in either direction. Even his biceps looked prime to rip right out of his checkered suit jacket. Lower on his body, his bulge and tight, muscle ass also jutted out from his midsection, quivering with his movements, both exuding undoubtable manliness. Now in complete privacy, Garrett’s cock rose back up to full mast. His body - it reminded him of Cliff’s - his new father - unyieldingly masculine and provocative. He was burning up under this sexy yet stifling outfit his butler had picked out.

“I’m an Atkninson,” he said to himself, eager to look like just his father - his idol.

With a distinct set of cracks, his stubby chin erupted forward, immediately doubling its width and acquiring a brand new shovel-shape. Any awkward half-grown teenage facial hair vanished with it, endowing Garrett with a clean-shaven, spotless chin accompanied by the subtle aroma of expensive aftershave. Next his lips inflated like two balloons, puffing out to an extremely kissable level. His teeth straightened and became a pure shade of white. Transfixed by his reflection, Garrett watched in wonder as his unsightly pimples and zits were eradicated from his face. In one swift blink, his eyes changed from hazel to a bright blue accompanied by a slightly thicker yet attractive nose. Propelled down by an invisible wave, Garrett’s unkempt bowl cut was finally subdued and all of the long, strands shortened to a preppy, professional length. An expertly-placed layer of gel coated the young man’s greasy brown hair, slicking it back in an instant, taking off a few inches with it.

“Mmm fuck,” Garrett huffed as he swore he felt a gust of air rush over his head. A glorious tidal wave of bright blond hair came next, swallowing up his old bushy brunette forever. He wanted to be mad at how preppy he looked, but it didn’t make sense why. This was how he’d dressed his whole life.

“I’m an Atkinson,” Garrett repeated, hard as a rock while he watched his boyish features mature ever so slightly, eradicating anyone ever mistaking him for a teenager ever again and aging him up in a man in his early 20s. That wasn’t who he was after all. Everyone was here tonight for his college graduation.

Garrett was treated to a final, illustrious animation of his altering face in the mirror as any remaining “Garrett-hood” he had was eliminated. His hairline pulled down slightly making his forehead less prominent, his eyes grew a little closer together, and his ears shrunk ever so slightly. And then as if Garrett had been staring at some magic-eye poster, it all clicked into place. His handsome face looked just like a younger version of his father. “Fuck yeah, I’m…Vincent Atkinson,” he trembled, his voice rife with anticipation.

That utterance - it sent a shockwave through Vincent. In an instant, an invisible sonic boom erupted through the room. It forced down his eyes and locked all of his handsome new attributes in place - never to be taken from him. Simultaneously, his rock-hard cock became flaccid. When Vincent reopened his eyes, he was left staring at his reflection in the mirror and there was a watery sheen over his aquamarine-shaded eyes. He was on the verge of crying for some reason? He blinked a few times and the tears only welled up further in his eyes. The lifetime of Garrett Carmicheal disappeared, replaced by a brand new handsome stud. Forever.

The instant Vincent’s mind transformed, the bathroom door flung open and in stepped a familiar, enormous man.

He flinched. His eyes were still watering. Why wouldn’t they stop? Why did he feel so sentimental all of a sudden?

Vincent’s father’s stern face immediately softened as he sidled up to his son. “Hey, hey, it’s alright to cry at these things, Vince,” he soothed his father as he wrapped his tree trunk of an arm around his son’s shoulders.

Vincent sighed and a single tear rolled down his cheek before he could stop it. The emotions were so much. He couldn’t believe what he’d been through. All of the schooling and now this - a graduation: which felt like the destruction of his youth. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” he admitted, his voice hardly trembling. “It’s just so much. I can’t believe I’m like…like a real adult now.”

“It’s alright. Sometimes the emotions can be too much to endure. Come on, bring it in,” Vincent’s dad said, pulling his son in close for a mighty bear hug, which was immediately reciprocated. Immense strength radiated between the Atkinson men as they squeezed each other tenderly as hard as they could. The immeasurable comfort of his father - the man who had helped shape him into the confident, buff specimen he was meant to be - was so much to bear. An involuntary whimper escaped Vincent’s lips as he rested his head on top of one of his father’s strong shoulders. “I love you, kid. I’m so proud of you. We all are!” Vincent’s father added as the two released each other. He wiped a tear of his own from his own face and exhaled.

“Thanks dad,” Vincent replied before coughing and standing up straight again. He sighed and re-flattened one of his French cuffs - obsessed with the idea that his clothes were just an extension of his masculinity. Formalwear was always such a confidence-booster. Reginald had helped inspire that in him. “I think I’m alright now,” Vincent smiled. “I really needed that.”

“Anytime,” Vincent’s dad replied and the two of them headed back to the bathroom door, their two muscular butts both wider than the doorway. “How’s it feel to be a graduate?”

“Incredible,” Vincent smiled. “Like the world is at my fingertips.”

#male tf story #age progression #mental change #reality change #age progression tf #male transformation #muscle growth tf #businessman #male transformtaion #sartorial #weight gain tf #weight gain #wealthy #jock #preppy #socialite #butler

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