Sometimes I Look Into The Mirror And Hate How Short And Chubby I Am. Is There Something You Can Do To

Sometimes I look into the mirror and hate how short and chubby I am. Is there something you can do to change that?

snap

Hey little buddy, I'm sorry you're so down on yourself. Let's see what I can do to help you out, shall I?

Your legs are getting thicker and more muscular. I'll thin out your stomach and harden it with some abs. Go ahead and flex them, run your fingers across your flat stomach. All that chub is gone. You like?

But look at your chest! It's expanding, growing and pushing out, right in front of your eyes. Massive man-tits. But don't worry, it's all muscle. That muscle will continue into your arms and shoulders. You've got a massive top shelf now.

Can I alter your face? Wait, why am I asking for permission. Let's add some facial hair: a tight and tidy moustache and a goatee? Short, curly hair on top. Dark hair, yeahhh that's it! Oh baby, we're gonna have to go all out now. Your skin is getting darker. A dark caramel-like brown.

And done! You're still short, but at least you're not short and chubby — you're short and muscular!

I love firefighter TFs.

Fire Captain Benedict

(Content: Age Progression, Muscle Growth, Body Hair, Beard Growth, Firefighter TF, Musk TF, Clothes TF, Uniform TF, Forced TF)

The intense summer heat of the day slowly gave place to the warm air of the summer night at the fire station. The firefighters, after an exhausting day of draining missions, were finally returning from their daily battles, their faces showing the fatigue and their big bodies fully drenched in sweat. The air was thick with the strong scent of smoke and the musk of their hard labor. Not that they cared about it, it was just a souvenir of their bravery.

As they entered, they passed by a van of a company of electrical services, that was pulled up in front of the station. “They still didn’t fix that shit?” Rick, one of the firemen, mumbled in annoyance.

Outside the van, three electricians were preparing their equipment for another night of attempts to fix the issues of the station. Accompanying the electricians, there was also a slender, scrawny young man, barely 20 years old, called Ben. This was his first major job as an intern, and he didn’t know what to expect of such an overwhelming place. Since he was hired, all he did was stay locked in a boring office all day, so he was happy to finally go out in a mission. Ben even got to wear a hi-vis suit for the first time, and he was particularly excited about this part.

Ben had always been a curious guy, and he wanted to explore the fire station. As the electrician team began unloading their tools, one of them handed Ben a checklist.

"Stay close. This place is a maze and we don't want to lose you."

Ben nodded in agreement, but his curiosity was winning against his desire to obey the orders and cause a good impression on his first mission. The huge fire station, with its huge trucks and handsome men, caught his attention too quickly. As the electricians were busy checking the station’s electrical systems, Ben found himself wandering through the corridors, sneaking into rooms to look at all the cool equipment.

As he passed by the firemen, he couldn’t help but notice how burly and manly they were. They might train a lot. At the same time, he started to feel too small and out of place among all of them. His hi-vis gear was giving a few more confidence, but not enough to even compete against the firemen around him in their imposing uniforms.

b‘Are beards a requirement to be a firefighter now?’ he asked himself as he realised that many of the men were proudly showing their dense facial hair. He felt like he could taste all of the testosterone in that place, and it was suffocating.

As he walked, taking looks at every corner and details of the building, Ben eventually stumbled into the dressing room. The smell hit him first, a potent mix of sweat, smoke, musk and rubber. The room was filled with firefighters stripping off their gear after their long shift, with their faces marked by exhaustion and frustration. They looked up as Ben entered, not expect to see the skinny intruder.

"Hey, look who’s here," called out one of the firefighters, the burly man named Rick. "A little lost, right?"

Ben felt a bit of embarrassment but tried to keep his composure. "Hey, sir. I’m just, uh, checking things out," he said, showing his checklist and forcing a deep voice.

Rick’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he sized up the skinny intern. Shirtless, he was almost touching Ben’s face with his big chest. The smell of sweat was intoxicating. Rick took the checklist out of his hand to take a look, and then put it away. Then, he laid his eyes on Ben’s uniform, the loose hi-vis suit.

“Checking things out, huh? Are you sure you’re not here to take a look at how an actual work gear is supposed to look like?"

The room got filled with menacing looks, too harsh and mocking. Ben's face turned red as he tried to think of a response, but his mind went blank.

Another firefighter, a tall man named Dave, stepped forward.

"Hey, Rick, maybe we should give the kid a real taste of the action. You know, to make him feel welcome."

Rick’s mean smile widened.

“That’s a great idea, Dave." He pointed to a pile of dirty, sweat-soaked firefighting suits in the corner. "How about you put one of these on, young man?"

“No, Rick. Get him our special one.” Dave said as he went to a separate locker and took out a full firefighter gear. It looked heavy, big and dirty. Not only dirty, but its smell quickly consumed the already musky room. The gear had the smell of strong body odour, men’s body spray and salty sweat, sweat that seemed to be stuck in the suit for weeks if not months.

Ben hesitated, sensing the mockery but feeling too intimidated to refuse. "I don't think that's a good idea. I'm just an intern…”

"An intern, huh?" interrupted Rick. "Well, if you want to learn, you gotta put yourself in the shoes of actual labor. Put it on and let’s see.”

The firefighters crowded around Ben, their laughter consumed his ears as they threw that dirty suit near his feet. The gear was grimy, reeking of smoke and sweat, the fabric stiff with the residues and fluids of all the men that had ben inside it.

"Go on, dude," Rick urged, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Show us what you’re made of."

With trembling hands, Ben began to put it on. As soon as he took a closer look, se noticed that those men weren’t using that gear for work, but rather something else. He paralysed as he noticed the cum stains inside the pants and inside the boots. Stains that had been building up for several days.

“Don’t waste out time, boy.” Rick said and the other men got around him. No way that he could leave that place without doing what they asked.

He slowly started to dress up. The boots were too big, the pants were too heavy and loose for his thin legs. They were also too heavy for him to even move.

“Let me help you out, bro.” Another firefighter got behind him and took off Ben’s bright hi-vis vest and jacket. “Get a taste of what a real hard working man should wear.”

Ben wasn’t expecting that the man behind him would also grab his t-shirt to take it off, exposing his slender frame to all those muscular men.

“Hey, you gotta put this on first.” Dave took off his own uniform t-shirt, and used it to wipe off the sweat on his forehead before giving it to Ben. “You gotta pay respect to the uniform.”

The shirt was wet and warm. Way too loose. Rick put the suspenders on his shoulders and helped him to wear the heavy firefighter jacket. As soon as he saw it, his faced turned into disgust as there was also cum stains inside the jacket. Rick closed it up on Ben’s body. The gear was too heavy for him to even move and the jacket hung off him like a sack. He could feel the dampness of the sweat and cum that had been sealed into the suit, sticking to his skin. The firefighters’ laughter grew louder as he struggled with the gear.

"Look at him!" shouted Dave. "He can’t even stay standing. Maybe we should call his mommy to give a help."

"I-I can do it," Ben muttered, trying to ignore their bullying, feeling an urge to prove himself to those guys.

"Oh, he's got some spirit," said another firefighter, a bald man named Sam. "Maybe he could be our new mascot. Or a new place for us to put our cum since this gear is too over-worn already. What do you think, Rick?"

Rick chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, he wouldn’t last a day here. He’s just a weak dude playing dress up. But he can be our new cum sock once he builds up a little.

"I bet he can't even lift a hose," Dave said with a smirk. "Probably doesn't even know the difference between a nozzle and a hydrant."

Ben couldn’t stand the rancid air, the despair, humiliation and discomfort.

“Let’s see how much weight you can handle.” Sam got closer carrying a bunch of firefighting equipment. A belt was wrapped around us body and so was a heavy backpack with a tank for oxygen. Finally, Sam took a helmet on the floor and put Ben’s small head.

As soon as the helmet touched his hair, his scalp started to itch. Then, a sudden and inexplicable energy spread throughout his body. His heart skipped a beat, and a strange warmth grew from his chest outward. He got nauseous from the weight of the gear as his body began to change. The laughter around him faded as the firefighters started to witness an unexpected scene.

“What's happening to him?" Dave whispered.

Rick stared with wide eyes. "What the fuck."

Each step of those changes were followed by intense pain and pressure. I’m front of the firemen’s eyes, Ben’s body stretched and shifted, and the oversized gear gradually started to fit him perfectly. His bones ached as they grew, his muscles burned as they swelled with newfound strength, exploding in size. He gritted his teeth as the pain intensified, and his body trembled as his height towered all the men in that room.

Suddenly, Ben felt a strange tingling on his scalp. He reached up and took off the helmet, running his fingers through his hair as it began to thin and recede. He could feel the strands slipping away, leaving his scalp exposed. The sensation was both weird and oddly freeing, like shedding an old skin. His hairline crept back more and more.

"Look at his hair!" Sam said, in awe and horror. "It’s falling!"

Ben’s face contorted with the pressure as more changes were happening. His skin toughened, becoming rough and tanned, as if it was refined by years of exposure to hard labour and elegant maturity. Lines of age and wisdom carved themselves deeper around his eyes and mouth. He felt his jawline grow more pronounced, his cheekbones sharper. Within moments, he was completely bald, the gleaming scalp reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights of the room. A thick, dense beard sprouted across his face in a contrast to his smooth scalp.

His face wasn’t the only place to be covered by a forest of thick hair. Underneath his t-shirt, that was perfectly fitting to his body now, chest hair was sprouting wildly all around his new massive muscles. The hair spread to his arms, shoulders, back, legs and his newly grown bulge. It was itchy and felt like burning.

"Wh-what are you?" Rick stepped back, shocked by what he be just seen.

Ben's thoughts raced as he tried to comprehend the miraculous transformation he just went through. The pain had been intense, but the result was astonishing. He felt powerful, confident, and fuelled by a sense of purpose he had never known before. The sudden and violent loss of his youth (and hair) was disorienting and disturbing. He was hit by a momentary panic about the permanent disappearance of his old and familiar self. But he also felt free. Free from his weakness and lack of confidence. Free from his small young frame that could never make anyone take him seriously. Free from his self imposed limited and finally ready to become the man that has always been hidden inside his youthful body. His mind welcomed those new strength and wisdom, a sense of authority and leadership that overshadowed his initial shock and fear of what had happened.

"I'm Captain Benedict now," he declared in a deep and commanding voice. He didn’t know where it was coming from or how did he even get this new posture. Now, all those firemen looked younger, smaller and shorter than him, and they all lifted their heads to look to him in the eye.

The room fell silent, the laughter and mockery were replaced by awe and disbelief. Rick and the others nodded quickly, their eyes wide with astonishment. Benedict was confused. What new prank was that? Were they all pretend to obey him just to pull another joke?

Dave, swallowing hard, finally found his voice. "Captain Benedict... what do you want us to do?"

Captain Benedict stepped forward with his imposing presence. Part of him was still suspicious of what was happening but the other accepted his role as a fire captain.

“First, you can start by cleaning this mess. And start acting like the adult men you are. There's no place for this behaviour in this station."

Sam nodded in shame. "Yes, Captain. We're sorry."

Rick, still stunned by the transformation he had just watched, lowered his head. "It won't happen again, Captain. We promise."

"Promises aren't enough. You'll all be on thin ice from now on. Any mistakes and you're out. Do I make myself clear?" The captain’s eyes hardened.

"Yes, Captain!" the firefighters said together with fear and respect and stepped aside, humbled and respectful, to make way for their new captain, who proudly wore that gear he was forced to wear.

On the outside, the electricians had finished their inspection and were starting to pack their stuff to go back.

"Where's the kid?" one of them asked the other as they noticed Benedict’s absence.

Before anyone could answer, they heard the door behind them being opened. Captain Benedict walked out, completely different from less than an hour before, but the resemblance was still there. He approached the electricians, his old coworkers, who stared at him in disbelief.

"Ben? Is that you?" Tom finally managed to ask, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe.

"It'’s Benedict, now. Captain Benedict.” the captain replied with a slight smile on his lips. "Thank you for your work. Our issues on the station are finally fixed."

The electricians stood in shock, as their memories started to twist to accommodate this new event in their lives. They finished packing their tools and left, still processing the event they had witnessed. The captain, who was nothing more than a useless intern, was right. The issue was fixed, they just needed a captain to put things in place.

I love cop TFs.

Cop Out

Nick, a young, headstrong journalist, had been investigating strange goings-on at the police department for months. Odd reports of trainees at the police academy disappearing while the number of senior cops seemed to increase, and without any known source of extra funding. But his only informant, a trainee at the academy himself, soon mysteriously vanished as well. Convinced the police were covering something up, Nick felt compelled to investigate.

Before they fell off the grid, Nick’s informants mentioned a company that seemed to be tied up with the disappearances - New You Industries. But despite his best efforts, the intrepid investigator couldn’t find any reference to such a business ever having existed. The last he heard from his mole was that a shipment was due to arrive at the police training academy in a week.

And so, seven days later, Nick found himself staking out the storage garage of the academy in the dead of night. From a long distance in the safety of his car, he snapped pictures of a man getting out of an unmarked car and handing three small boxes to someone Nick recognized the city’s police chief, Chief Barrow. But this evidence was meaningless without knowing what the shipment contained.

He waited patiently for all parties to depart and snuck up on the garage, snapping the lock with bolt cutters and using his camera’s flash to illuminate the pitch-black room. Nick was dismayed to find two police badges sitting on the shelf, along with three boxes, now empty.

“Did I just stake out a shipment of police badges?” Nick muttered to himself. He jumped back in fright as the lights were suddenly switched on.

“C-Chief Barrow?” Nick stammered as he turned to see the police chief standing next to the light switch.

“You think we didn’t know you’d been following us?” he growled as he stepped toward Nick.

“What happened to the students?! Did you kill them?!” Nick yelled as if to try and bolster himself against the fear he was currently experiencing.

The police chief stopped in his tracks and made a sly expression, “They’re not dead. They’re in the station, working.”

“W-what?” Nick replied with the same look of bewilderment, “I-I was told students were vanishing from the academy?”

“They got - how should I say this - fast-tracked through the program,” Barrow responded with a smirk, “You’re about to find how. Catch!”

Nick flinched as the chief tossed a small metallic object at him. Reacting instinctively, Nick caught it in his hands. It was a badge, just like the two behind him. He shuddered and his hand tensed around the badge. Incredible energy surged up his arm and spread through him. He desperately wanted to let go of the enchanted badge, but he couldn’t.

“Sorry, but we can’t have you reporting on this,” Barrow chuckled as he exited and slammed the garage closed behind him. As the door crashed down Nick’s legs gave out and he fell to his knees, his fingers still firmly grasping the badge. The young journalist was terrified, but at the same time engrossed in the power bubbling through his body. Finally, his fingers unclenched and dropped the badge to the floor, but the damage had been done. Nick pushed onto all fours and let out a long moan as his body began to change.

His legs stretched out from his slacks, exposing more and more of his shins. Likewise, his arms extended from his sleeves while his entire torso was pulled longer and longer. “What’s ah… happening to me?!” Nick groaned as his cock hardened to full mast.

Muscles fluttered and twitched all over his body. They grew across his arms, bulging from his biceps and triceps as his shoulders grew wider, tearing at his shirt. Pecs slowly protruded from his bony chest, growing large and dense. Abs rippled out along his stomach, leading down to a sharper, V-shaped set of cum gutters. His legs surged with strength, copious amounts of muscle growing and forming in his thighs and calves, stretching his fly apart and revealing the wet, hard, bulging underwear underneath. Behind him, his flat butt began to press outward, bigger and rounder, matching his thick, muscular thighs.

He couldn’t help himself, clasping at the exposed muscle as hairs darted across the surface. Soon he found himself grabbing fabric, much to his surprise. He opened his eyes to see his tattered clothes repairing and reshaping into the uniform of the local precinct. His bulging arms still strained the new shirt. A bulky, heavy vest replete with a radio and utilities formed over the top.

“Ngh! Fuck!” he grunted, bucking his hips involuntarily as his feet stretched and pressed against his tight leather brogues just as they too morphed to accommodate his changing body. The pressure lowered as his size nine dress shoes rapidly bloated outward into heavy, size fourteen boots. Long toes shredded through his socks, clutching at the insole as they stretched along with his extending soles.

Nick clambered to his feet, clutching his head, only to feel his hair pulling inward, short and tidy. Not only that, but he could feel some hair vanishing completely from his temples, leaving him with the slightly receded hairline of a man maybe five or more years older than he was. His fingers cracked as they began to slide longer across his scalp, pushing through the neat, handsome cut of hair. He held the stretching, trembling hands in front of him, gasping as he watched them swell huge and powerful.

He slammed his massive fists into the wall with a deepening roar, feeling his head creak and reshape. His features broadened and enlarged. A strong chin and jaw pressed out of his face and light stubble sprouted from the skin. “Must be… some way to s-stop this…” Nick groaned, his eyes widening at the sound of his new and completely unfamiliar voice. Nick frantically reached for the police badge on the floor that had started all of this, hoping, praying for some way to revert his changes. His eyes scanned the metallic chest piece, but there was no sign of any method to stall or revert what was happening. Rather, he caught a glimmer of his new reflection in the shiny metal. Nick’s wide, handsome jaw fell open at the sight. Not only did he look easily seven or more years older, but he looked completely different; he couldn’t help but think he looked much manlier and sexier.

Meanwhile, downstairs, his hard cock ached for touch as it stretched down the leg of his pants. “Oh, god!” Nick gasped. His balls swelled larger while his python thickened and lengthened against his muscular leg. He couldn’t contain himself anymore, pulling the fly on his new pants down and fishing his swelling cock out, allowing it to stretch into the open. He couldn’t believe how big it had already gotten, easily inches larger than what he was used to. Reluctant but unable to resist, he gripped it in his hand and pumped, growling loudly with every stroke. Nick was too busy relishing his increased size and virility to realize his mind was filling with policing skills and years of experience. Before he knew it he had an eight-inch weapon in his hand. He couldn’t take it anymore; his height, his muscles, his size. He felt so virile, so masculine, so powerful. Screaming in ecstasy, Nick blew load after load against the concrete wall.

Once the post-orgasmic fog lifted, Nick quickly tidied himself and brushed a large hand through his shorter hair, dazed and confused. His memory was intact, but they competed for attention with new skills, desires, and traits. The muscular sergeant lifted the garage door with ease, spotting Chief Barrow waiting for him in the car park just in the distance.

“Ready, Sergeant?” Barrow asked.

“I… I…”, Nick stuttered as he looked down at his muscular frame, suddenly noticing how much taller he was now. His huge cock twitched in response, causing Nick to moan just a little. “Y-Yes, sir!” he parroted as he proceeded toward the car, eagerly accepting his new life as Officer Nick Collins.

Papi's Gear

Here's an older story that I have recently edited and cleaned up.

A hockey fan hopes to see his favourite player, Auston Matthews, but ends up getting closer than he could have imagined.

-

A crowd had already formed in the players tunnel underneath the Scotiabank Arena in downtown Toronto. The crowd buzzed excitedly, waiting for the arrival of the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey team. I was anxiousing hopping from one foot to another, hoping to see my favourite player, Auston Matthews, walk by. Maybe I'd get to give him a fist bump before he jumped on the ice with the rest of the team. I tried to angle my way closer to the front of the crowd, to get a better view of the guys as they walked past. With some polite pushes, I was able to squeeze beside a wall next to the cordoned off section. 

A surge of energy swept through the gathered crowd as we caught a glimpse of blue and white coming down the tunnel. The team was on their way to the ice! One by one the players walked by. They looked so handsome and masculine in their royal blue jerseys. I held out my fist for the players to pound with their gloves, hoping to make a connection with someone. Frustratingly, I was too close to a wall, and not easily seen as they walked by, so nobody noticed my fist. I was able to get a good look at each player as they walked by. Their hockey equipment was bulky and broad, making their already impressive bodies seem even bigger. As the players walked by, I caught quick whiffs of their equipment and bodies, and swallowed their scent greedily. I looked for Auston, number 34, but didn’t see him anywhere. 

“Oh man. That sucks.” I said to myself. 

Auston Matthews was my favourite player and one of the best players in the NHL, so it was weird not seeing him come down the tunnel with the rest of the team. I hadn’t heard anything about him being injured… It was very unusual that he wasn’t in the team line-up tonight. His skill and speed was unmatched by any player in the NHL. I’d give anything to play like him. 

I was about to leave the tunnel and head to my seat when another surge of energy fired the crowd. 

“Auston!” Someone yelled. 

I turned, and sure enough, there he was: number 34. Auston Matthews. He was walking casually towards us but he wasn’t dressed in the Maple Leafs’ uniform. He was wearing a blue Leafs hoodie and black work-out shorts. A Maple Leafs cap was on his head, allowing his long greasy hair to be slicked back. Why wasn’t he dressed to play? 

I stretched out my fist for him to bump. He looked massive up close. His thigh and leg muscles were like tree trunks. His shoulders were built and angular with strong muscle. He looked robust, tough and incredible. 

“Auston!” I yelled, but deep down I knew he wasn’t going to fist bump me. I tried to get his attention my flashing the number 34 on my jersey. 

“Auston!” I yelled again. But he was already walking by me. Ignored. 

“Auston! Why aren’t you playing tonight? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Something I said must have clicked with him. He stopped and began to walk back towards me. I saw him scan the crowd, looking for the person that had yelled at him. The look on my face must have betrayed me because he walked towards me as soon as our eyes met. My fist was still stretched out, but instead of bumping it with his own fist, he gripped my entire hand with his own so that the palm of his hand was on my fist and knuckles. It felt warm and slightly sweaty. 

“I can’t find my equipment! Can you help me look for it? He said. 

I nodded. Anything for Auston Matthews! I turned and left the crowd. I didn’t know where to start looking, but I knew I had to start somewhere. 

As I left the tunnel and the crowd behind, I felt a sudden sharp pain in my stomach and a warm, itchy sensation all over my skin. I tried to ignore it, but was quickly overcome by discomfort and ducked into the nearest bathroom. The room was empty, with clean white floors and large mirrors on the wall. My entire body was hot and uncomfortable. I was wearing an old and stained Maple Leafs jersey, and tore it, tossing it to the ground. My other clothes followed almost; my skin was so hot and uncomfortable that I needed to remove anything that was touching it. 

I stood in the bathroom, naked, and breathing heavily. The heat and pain was dying down, and instead my skin was tingling. A wave of calm and euphoria went through my legs and arms.

Small blue dots began forming on my shoulders. They were small at first, but deepened into dimples evenly spaced on my skin. They quickly spread across, replacing my own natural pores and hair follicles and stopped just before my biceps. The skin on top of my shoulders and neck turned completely blue, and a white collar appeared from of my neck. A silver and black NHL shield popped into existence just above the white lace under my collar bone. The blue colour continued down my arms, and my skin stretched and reformed into a blue mesh-like material. A pair of white numbers formed at both of my biceps: 34. My skin seemed to shift and separate from my torso, it made me look bigger. Was I growing a jersey? 

The blue mesh continued down my arms, stopping at my wrist. Two white stripes formed just above and below my elbows, and wrapped around my arms. Another white stripe formed at my waist, wrapping all around my stomach and back. I saw my nipples stretch, flatten and disappear into blue fabric. All of my chest hair fell out. The skin on my chest also stretched and wove into blue meshy fabric: a lightweight Areolite fabric made by adidas. A length of white lace snaked its way in the middle of my chest. I felt an itch along the top of my back and twisted my body to see my behind in the mirror. Letters began forming along the top half of my back on my shoulders: MATTHEWS. Two huge numbers etched their way into my skin: 34. From this angle, I could see how my back had sort of billowed out from the rest of my body with some of the jersey material hanging below my butt.

A final detail appeared in the form of a large white Toronto Maple Leafs logo forming on my front. It looked like I was wearing a jersey; a jersey that was a little too big for me, but I knew I was the jersey. 

“Instead of helping Auston to look for his equipment, maybe I can be his equipment.” I thought to myself. 

Whatever had started this changed seemed to agree, as more changes continued. 

I felt my insides begin to twist and turn. My shoulder blades and collar bone melted and began reforming into shoulder pads. My shoulder caps grew bigger, enough to be able to protect Auston from body checks on the ice. I felt my rip cage crack and disappear, and my abdominal muscles and fat transitioned into velcro straps, protective foams and plastic. More bones cracked and transformed into other materials. It felt amazing to change from an organic being into plastic and artificial materials. The entire top half of my body ballooned and grew bigger; my previous frame was too slender and tight for Auston Matthews, he would need more comprehensive protection. The part of me that was a jersey began to fill out as the rest of my insides grew and shifted in order to fit better.

My elbows popped and disconnected from my arms. My bones fused into elbow pads: a two-piece system to protect Auston’s forearm and bicep. A soft cuff formed from my bicep muscle and arm bone and a hard cap solidified at my elbow and forearm. I used my hand to squish my new elbow: it was hollow but sturdy and protective. Elastic Velco straps formed from the muscle around my bicep and forearm. As my upper body changed fully into Auston’s equipment, I started to feel distinctly separate and different. I knew part of me was now a blue Maple Leafs sweater, another part of me were shoulder pads, and another part of me were elbow pads. I was rapidly becoming hockey equipment, and it felt good.

Glancing in the mirror, it looked like I was wearing Auston’s gear. My hands dangled from the wrists of the jersey. My bare, naked legs were holding up the top part of Auston’s gear, with my fully erect penis poking out from the bottom. 

“No,” I said to myself. I didn’t want to wear Auston’s gear: I wanted to be Auston’s gear. 

My hands began to enlarge; they were smaller than Auston’s hands and wouldn’t work at their current size if they were going to be his hockey gloves. Bones and muscle shifted and melted into more protective foams and plastic. My hands hollowed into hockey gloves. The tips of my fingers bubbled outwards and became more square-like. My joints became longer, enough to provide good dexterity for Auston’s own fingers. My skin turned blue and white. A large white cuff popped out of my wrist, ready to protect Auston’s wrist from slashes and pucks. The letters CCM appeared and wove out of my skin. The palm of my hands turned a pale white with a slight grippy texture in the middle. The material thinned out and stretched across the gloves. My hands were now hollow, empty hockey gloves.

At this point, I somehow ended up on the ground. I collapsed and fell backwards with a soft thud against the bathroom floor. I must have looked a slight: a human head buried in a Leafs jersey, shoulder pads and gloves. I loved it; it felt like I was returning home.  

My erect penis, glistening with pre-cum, suddenly deflated and flattened. It turned grey and hard and shaped into a bulbous domed cup. It completely detached from my crotch and became Auston’s athletic cup. I chuckled as I thought about Auston positioning what used to be my penis over top of his own penis and testicles. 

The bottom half changes happened almost simultaneously. My hips and thighs pushed outwards and became bigger and roomier. Everything inside deflated and disappeared, becoming yet more protective padding. I felt my pelvic bones shrink and twist as they turned into protective plastic caps. My butt cheeks dissolved and melted into nylon and foam. I couldn’t wait for Auston’s big hockey butt to slide around mine in his new hockey pants. My skin toughened and turned blue, the same shade as my torso. A single white stripe appeared on the sides of my legs as my pelvic region truly became Auston’s hockey pants. A second lace and adjustment strap popped out of my waist and crotch. Auston would use it to tighten the fit around his own waist. As my waist and pelvic area hollowed and emptied, Auston’s new athletic cup shifted and tumbled out of the pants, lying next to them on the ground.

The skin on my knees and shins turned the same blue as the rest of my body, and two more white stripes wrapped around my calves. My leg skin were hockey socks now. Under the socks, both of my knee caps disconnected from my legs and shifted into hard plastic domes. The rest of my muscle and sinew became high-density foam. Meanwhile, my shin bones cracked and groaned as they formed into rigid and ribbed plastic. My legs were now properly hockey shin guards and hockey pants. 

It was clear that I was no longer a man: I was hockey equipment. Lifting my head from the ground ever so slightly, I could still see but I couldn’t move my old body freely. Obviously hockey gear wasn’t supposed to move. I knew my changes weren’t complete, however. And even though I had stopped breathing when my chest turned into Auston's shoulder pads, my sense of smell was still working. I could weirdly feel the scent of sweat and Auston's body odour in the air; it was coming from me! I stunk to high heaven, and it was all Auston's sweat.

Another hardening sensation began on my ankle bone. Despite not being connected to my feet with blood and nerves, I was still able to feel the full transformation take place. The ankle bones flattened into the rest of my foot and smoothed away into black carbon fibre. My entire foot ballooned and thickened. Lace holes appeared on the top of my foot and travelled up to my ankle and filled with a white lace. My toes fused into a strong plastic cap. A V-shaped point dropped out of the bottom of my foot and formed into white plastic. Then a narrow steel blade transitioned out of the plastic holder. My skin turned black with a few silver and red graphics etched around. The letters CCM formed on the sides of both feet. I felt the rest of my bones melt and disappear as my foot hollowed into empty hockey skates. 

Almost done. I was so excited.

My scalp burned for a second as all of my hair dissolved and fell out. The skin on my head stretched and hardened into smooth blue plastic. Small holes and slits for ventilation dotted around the side of my skull and forehead. The insides melted and transitioned into more hard, high density foams. My chin separated and became a strap. My eyes and nose squished together and became curved and translucent. They relocated together to the top half of where my head used to be and became a visor attached to Auston’s new helmet. Inside my mouth, my bottom row of teeth and tongue liquified and disappeared. My top row of teeth turned soft and translucent, they flattened and hollowed out into a mouth guard. As the inside of my head was now empty and void, ready for Auston's own head to slip into, the mouth guard just flopped down to the inside of the helmet, ready for Auston to chew on between periods.

Finally, I was hockey equipment. I was Auston Matthews’ hockey equipment. I couldn’t think, feel or move anymore. It felt like a return to normal; like my old life was leading up to this moment, to be part of Auston’s body and to protect him while he played hockey in the NHL for the Toronto Maple Leafs. I was nothing but a pile of hockey equipment.

A door squeaked open and footsteps entered the room. 

“There it is!” Auston yelled. “Hey guys! I found my gear.”

He gathered up the gear from the floor and hurried out of the room. Go Leafs, go!

Inspired from your profile picture I wonder if it's possible to become a professional icehockey player too. I know they are quite dumb but they are famous, rich and have a lot of time enjoying their life. maybe they have a secret crush on a team mate but hiding it when dating cheerleaders, models and so on. Is there a way to exchange my life for one of them?

snap

So you want to be a hockey player, huh? First of all, you're way too small. You need to be BIGGER, much bigger. Like, 230 pounds of pure, tough fucking muscle. Yeah, that's better. What do you think of that? Look at yourself! Feel the raw power in your arms, your thighs, your core. Man, you're a big boy now. Go ahead and look at that ass I've made for you! From now on you'll be getting pants tailored for that ass — no more off the rack pants for you!

But I do have to take away some intelligence. You'll be saying "um" and "er" a lot, especially in those post-game interviews.

Take a look at yourself now. Built for strength, speed and shooting pucks. Get out on the ice and show them who's boss.

I am sorry for my lack of updates. I want to write more... I have 12 drafts in my drafts queue, but there is some mental block preventing me from getting those stories out. I can't describe it.

There will be more from me, at some point. I am sorry I am unable to deliver consistent material to you.

I hope everyone has a pleasant and safe August.