Induced transformation: a brief history

by BRK   

A father explains to his son that back in his day, they didn’t have any of these fancy-schmancy apps with built-in retcon. Back then, if you changed someone, they changed, and everyone had to just suck it up and deal with it.

“Hey, son! What’s got you so invested in your phone today? Like today’s any different.”

“Hey, dad. I just downloaded this new next-gen transform and retcon app. Someone in my technoanatomy class told me about it.”

“Is that right? I hope you used your credit card and not mine. Those things cost, like, the GDP of a small country.”

“Medium country, but I had a coupon. Work okay?”

“Sure, sure. Win a billion, lose a billion. Sitting here on the couch with you shooting the shit is a lot more fun. So what are you looking to do with the app?”

“Ehh, I’m trying to figure out whether to give cousin Jerry an attractiveness boost. He’s really worried about getting a date for homecoming, but he’s also been kind of a dick lately. I might give him the boost but shrink his willie. He’ll never know he was anything different.”

“Pfft. You kids and your apps.”

“‘In my day…’”

“That’s right, in my day. In my day we didn’t have any of these apps where you can just change people and rewrite history so they were always that way.”

“Okay, grandpa.”

“Just ‘dad’ is fine, at least until your sister and her husband get the hang of that reproduction thing they’ve been working on.”

“Hey, I might give you a grandkid someday.”

“Hmph. You’re more likely to use that thing to clone yourself so you can snuggle with someone who’s just as socially apathetic as you are and likes the same pizza toppings.”

“Ooo, good idea. So what did you have instead of transformation apps? Mail in forms? Punch cards?”

“Very funny. I’ll have you know—okay, for the hundredth time, will you tell your clones to put some clothes on, at least?”

“…Why?”

“Because when they’re down there on the rug making out like that and they’re all…”

“Aroused?”

“Yes, aroused. Don’t tease your father. We should have tested for that weird self-cloning-remerging gene you have when we conceived you. Anyway, it’s distracting.”

“Is it now?”

“Anyone would find it distracting.”

“Hmm. Would you like to find it more distracting?”

“What? No. Less distracting. Less.”

“You said ‘more’, right? Let me just key that in.”

“You’d better not be—oh, fuck. Please make them put some clothes on. I don’t need to be getting all, you know, about my own son’s hunky naked clones making out and being all sensual. I mean, seriously, it’s all the time.”

“I’ll mention it later. So how did you do the transform thing back in the day?”

“It was a lot tougher then, let me tell you. You have it easy. Back in my day we didn’t have apps, we had to use—get this—automated voice menus.”

“What?! You mean, like, ‘Press 1 for billing, press 2 to go fuck yourself’? That kind of thing?”

“Exactly. And there was none of this ‘they were always like this’ retroactive mindwarp folderol, either. You change someone, they just change. If you gave someone a ten-foot dick, everyone knew he hadn’t been dragging that thing around the day before. And that meant you had some ‘splainin’ to do.”

“Holy shit! How did that even work?”

“Well—you know your uncle Dave?”

“Sure. I’ve got his poster hanging over my bed.”

“Well—wait, really?”

“No, dad. But he is pretty exceptionally hot. Those shoulders, and that ass. And those eyes, they just… brrr, make your balls churn. And that’s not mentioning certain other attributes.”

“Yeah, well, he definitely got all the looks in the family, even before I decided to spend a few million on Dial-A-Change. He got all the ogles and I got bupkis.”

“Come on, dad. You know you’re sexier than uncle Dave.”

“You’re… not using that app on me, are you?”

“Geez, dad, paranoid much? You know you’ve always been super good-looking—”

“Yeah, well. I get by.”

“—for someone your age.”

“Hah, I knew there’d be something. Anyway, Dave was my kid brother and I was worried about him. He was, like, this total beanpole, and he really—”

“Dave? Uncle Dave was a beanpole?”

“This is what I’m saying. Six foot four and 150 pounds. There’s lean, and then there’s what Dave looked like back then. You could knock him over with a poke in the chest and a strong exhale. And that’s the guy who really wanted to get into the air force academy, god knows why.”

“He does look good in uniform.”

“That’s probably not the main reason. Anyway, I didn’t know what the entry criteria were, but I figured he didn’t stand a chance of joining the military unless he was beefed up at least a little. So I bit the bullet, sucked out some serious coin from my trust fund, and secretly called up Dial-A-Change.”

“That’s really what it was called?”

“I shit you not. You call up, and first you have to enter in your offshore bank account number. And then you have to enter in the effective date. And then you have to enter the target’s social security number.”

“Seriously?”

“Swear to god. And I didn’t even have that, so I had to go into your grandfather’s study and dig in that hidden locked drawer where he kept his income taxes. Which, if he ever asks, I never saw.”

“Don’t worry, I got your back. So, were you naked at the time? ‘Cause you’re always naked now.”

“Yeah, but—what does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, just curious how far back it went. Don’t worry, I like the no-clothes thing.”

“Clearly, seeing as you and your clones never bother. Hey, were there three down there before?”

“I have trouble keeping track most of the time. C’mon, tell your story.”

“Uh, well, anyway, by the time I rushed back up to the phone in my room with all the info I needed, it had been too long and the call had timed out. I had to hang up and start all over again from the beginning.”

“Wait, why didn’t you bring the phone with you?”

“It was a land line, son. A corded land line. It didn’t go anywhere.”

“Whoa. I remember seeing pictures of those in my history textbooks!”

“Very funny. So I call again, and after I was done beep-booping in all of that info it got to the choices menu, right? And they were like ‘press 1 for wealth, press 2 for virility,’ yadda yadda. I was like, ‘Well, I guess I want virility.’ So I pressed 2.”

“Only…?”

“I’m getting to that. So the next menu was quantity. ‘Press 1 for minimal increase, press 2 for low-moderate increase’, and so on. 6 was maximum. I was going to press 3, but my finger slipped on the keypad and I pressed 6 instead.”

“Tsk. You’re so lucky you’re good-looking.”

“Yeah, that’s what your mom used to say before she ran off with that fashion model.”

“Hey, Lily’s great to mom, don’t knock her.”

“Uh huh. So I figure the next menu after that will be more choices, like, the various ways a man can be manly, right? You know, muscles, hairiness, libido, inability to put the seat down…”

“Wait—it goes down?”

“Exactly. So I’m waiting to hear what my next round of choices will be. Instead I get this automated message thanking me for my patronage and saying that I would need to wait two to four days for implementation—and then it said goodbye and hung up!”

“Wow. That… explains so much about uncle Dave.”

“But wait, it gets better. Remember there’s no reality shift like you wusses have to have today. We didn’t have retcons or memory alterations to make it all easy. Nope, one day Dave was a beanpole, and the next morning he woke up and he was—”

“A tall, gorgeous sex god with piercing blue eyes and a body that won’t quit.”

“Basically. I’m in the bedroom next to his and I hear this shriek, so I rush in—bed hair, naked of course, big morning wood, the whole nine yards—and your uncle Dave is lying there, all… I dunno, remolded, with, like, Marky Mark’s body and a huge, hard dick out to here, and—”

“Uncle Dave’s a lot more built than Marky Mark.”

“I’m just—that was my frame of reference, that underwear ad, but, yeah. So, even more so than if he was just Marky Mark. Like, Arnold’s body, back then, but the muscles were, I dunno, prettier, like Marky Mark.”

“So, not like your muscles, which are just Marky Mark pretty.”

“I’m ignoring you. So I run into Dave’s bedroom, and he’s lying there like that, so hot he would make anyone hard, and I was already big and hard when I ran in ‘cause, you know, I wake up that way. And that’s not even mentioning his dick. His dick is sticking up like a flagpole, all rigid and arm-thick and enormous and red with need and calling to me like a beacon, and he’s like, ‘Help me out, bro, I gotta cum so bad!’”

“No way. You are, like, seriously turning me on right now. So what did you do?”

“I, well, helped him out. It kinda got to be a thing.”

“No. I mean, what did you do about him suddenly changing? I thought—wait, wasn’t there something about him getting kidnapped by some weird cult that injected him with freaky drugs combos and everything?”

“Yeah, we made that up. It was either that, or toxic waste.”

“No way! People actually bought that shit?”

“Hey, it was your grandfather that came up with that shit, and that that was after tanning my hide and taking away all my cars and airplanes for a whole month.”

“Wow, doghouse city. Still though…”

“And yes, people bought it, especially when he told it. It was on local news, CNN, everything. City even threw him a welcome home parade after the family ‘rescued’ him. Then he went on Oprah and charmed the pants off her. Not literally, though from what I hear it was a close call.”

“Fuck. And he got into the air force academy, obviously.”

“They wanted him so bad, they practically abducted him. Whereupon, I am reliably informed, because he sends videos, there began a long tradition of his follow officers helping him out whenever his nonstop libido and equally indomitable equipment starts to, you know, get in the way of things.”

“Literally. So, what, like, twice a day?”

“More like three or four these days, from what I understand. The first couple months after the change it was crazy, like, eight to twelve every day easy. I ended up moving into his room with him until he went away to the academy, and we slept together with him holding me close and with my mouth around the head of his hard dick in case he came during the night, which he usually did. I was practically on an all-cum diet.”

“Wow, that’s… a lot of jizz.”

“It was… a bit of a shock for everyone. Everything changed for him, though he didn’t seem too put out. I tried apologizing to him a few times, but every time I tried to say I was sorry he just kissed me for a long time and then came all over me.”

“So hot. It must have been contagious, too, you know. I think he infected you with all that potent spunk of his.”

“No, I’m sure—wait, what do you mean? What are you typing?”

“Just… I mean, you’re even more hung than he is now, and you’re rock-hard and ready to blast a load all the time, even more than uncle Dave, right? Like, the infection planted itself in you for good back then and started slowly changing you all the time, making you hotter and younger and hunkier and huger bit by bit every day, and it never quite stopped…”

“Um, unnnhhh, well, I guess you would know, since you’re the one who has to see it all the time. Uhhh, I actually need to get off soon, now that you mention it. Like, very soon. Do you think your clones down there might put their quadruple make-out session on hold and help me out a little? I can’t quite reach these days, and they’re so good at it…”

“Sure, dad, we’ll all help. Although, looking at us I’m starting to suspect that your spunk is contagious, too…”

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