The Photo Booth: Two Exercises in Christmas Cheer (ap musc mc)
by Aardvark
I wish you all a Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays and hope the season is full of nothing but joy!
On his way out of Express, the young man checked himself out in the store windows. �Nice,� he thought to himself with a devilish smirk.
In truth, Victor wasn�t going to be a model. He was nice-looking but not gorgeous, but any flaws were overlooked by his extreme vanity. Victor loved his striped shirt, buttoned halfway up to show off the black tank top underneath. He was fit but not buff; at 18, he didn�t need to go to the gym much, his metabolism took care of that. His jeans sat around his ass, held by a thick leather belt. Diamond studs were in his ears, his eyebrows were groomed � it was Victor�s little secret that he plucked and then penciled them in - and he had used a nice amount of fake tanner. Victor didn�t care if it was December, he was still going to be tan, because he knew his haters would make fun of him if he wasn�t. On his feet were premium Foams that he�d paid $300 for.
With a cocky strut, Victor walked through the mall. His shopping bags contained no gifts whatsoever, they were all items for him. Cologne, two shirts, a silver chain, and a new knit cap from American Eagle. Since he wasn�t bothering with college, he had plenty of cash, although he�d bought a lot today�might have to hold off on buying presents for other people.
Then he spotted it. One of those old photo booths, it must have been brought over from another mall or something, because this mall was all modern architecture. Nothing matched the old wooden style of the booth. Victor walked over and set his bags down.
Well, it looked more up-to-date on the inside, it had two screens � was that a handprint scanner? �Huh, tight,� Victor said. �Always wanted to see if that shit worked.� Maybe it took his pictures and read his palm too, like a fortunetelling thing.
The quarter slipped into the slot and Victor took his seat, providing his hand willingly. He cocked his head to the side and smirked, pursing out his lips.
Nothing happened. Victor tried to hold his pose, but the time took so long that he broke and hit the side of the booth. �C�mon, ya piece of-� FLASH.
The flash was so quick that Victor barely realized it had happened. �Damn,� he cursed, smacking his leg in frustration. But the movement of his arm felt very restrained, and he quickly realized that for some reason, his shirt was buttoned all the way up to the neck. He reached up to at least loosen his collar, but the button wouldn�t come undone. He tried and tried, but it was like the shirt had suddenly sewn itself together. And not only that, his fingers felt strangely thick � it was hard for Victor to even wedge his fingernail under the button.
The first picture looked terrible � it was of him smacking the booth. Probably just because the picture was a little blurry, but his face looked off, a little � undefined, maybe, was that word? Victor normally had the very tight features of a young man, but they looked so rounded here. His eyes were kinda puffy and he couldn�t really make out his cheekbones or jawline.
After another surprising flash and another wait, Victor was staring at picture #2. Had his shirt always been the color of a firetruck? It seemed bigger, too, but then again so did he�he could see a round, high belly pushing out his shirt slightly. Maybe it was time to finally go to the gym. He placed his hands on it and shook it, but it didn�t jiggle a bit, it was completely firm. Weird. Victor made the same motion with his chest, which stuck out like a high pair of tits, but they too did not shake. He was relieved that they weren�t manboobs. Nice shoulders, very broad and wide, not defined, just big like a linebacker. Neck was pretty thick too, made his face look wider, or maybe that was just the black ringlets on top of his head. Victor thought he had a short fade, but he obviously didn�t. Hadn�t he had earrings too? What happened to those? Must�ve taken them out.
His jeans were still very baggy, but they looked different, even kind of fuzzy in spots. And they were tucked into his foams, which looked really dorky. Victor started to lean down to pull them out when the third flash went.
�Oh, rats,� he said, instantly rearing back but moving slower than he anticipated. Like he was underwater or something. Vic scooted forward on the booth�s seat; sitting with his back completely straight left no room for his rather ponderous ass. The movement made his belly rub against his thighs, and Vic thought it looked even bigger than before. �Should really go to the gym,� he thought, but with that crept in a knowledge that he went to the gym all the time. In fact, he was really strong. World�s Strongest Man strong. That�s why his belly didn�t shake much.
Vic�s belly hung far over his belt, so he undid the belt and re-buckled it around his midsection, on top of his bright red fuzzy shirt. The black belt was almost three inches wide, with a tall rectangular gold buckle. Vic really liked it, it looked good.
He assumed he looked good in the photo too, but it was hard to tell. All he saw was a smeary blur, thanks to his vision. He squinted and leaned forward, making out a white pattern around his head that he assumed was the flash�s reflection. The back of his neck tickled and Vic brushed some hair off it. It was really time to go to the barbershop. The ringlets had grown so long that they draped over his shoulders and down onto his back. And since he couldn�t see the picture well enough, there was no way for Vic to know about the black fuzzy beard on his young cheeks.
Except after Flash #4, the black fuzzy beard grew 20 inches in length, resting atop his beefy chest. By then, it was hard for Vick to miss. The whiskers were so long that they had assumed the same beautiful ringlet curls as his hair. Vick remembered shampooing his beard and conditioning it to make it soft and luxurious. He reached up and twirled the tips of his handlebar mustache into circular curls that extended past the edge of his jaw.
His shoulders were even brawnier now, because of how far his enormous chest puffed out. His pectorals weren�t square or flat like a gym bunny�s, in fact, they were so big and round that it looked like a watermelon had been sliced in half and transplanted into his chest. Vick widened his legs and let his gut stick out between them, but the gut was so hard and firm it was like thumping a rock. �Strong,� he said proudly to himself.
Due to the monstrous size of his upper body, Vick couldn�t see the black boots that had replaced his...whatever they were called, trainers, shoes, whatevers�or the crushed red velvet pants tucked into the plush white fur atop the boots. He scratched his chest � he was hairy, after all � and felt the same velvet material on his shirt, but it didn�t alarm him in the least.
What was alarming was not being able to see a darn thing. Vick wanted to see the picture, so he pulled out his trusty wire bifocals, hooked them around his ears and rested them on the bridge of his nose. Well, thank goodness that stupid tan faded, he thought. The natural lilywhite shade of his skin looked better. And his eyebrows were so much heavier, too, not groomed at all.
What looked best, though, was his snow-white beard and hair, the magnificent rings mixing together so perfectly that one couldn�t tell where the hair ended and the beard began. Just beautiful. Breathtaking, really.
His arm curled into a cannonball � actually, two cannonballs, it was so unbelievably huge � as he stroked the opulent hair. Vick cleared his throat, it felt like there was something blocking his speech there. �How now brown cow,� he intoned, adoring the rich texture of his voice. A bottomless baritone flooded out of his mouth and over everyone he talked to, like a hypnotic intoxicant.
Vick placed a hand on his chest to feel where the voice emanated from. No wonder he had such a deep voice, it was like an echo in a cave because his chest was gargantuan and solid, not fat like a lot of men his age.
FLASH.
Fur sprouted out of his clothes. His shirt � well, coat � had a thick strip of white emerging from under his beard, continuing under the belt and then splitting into the a white fur trim on the crushed red velvet jacket. His cuffs were huge snowy white puffs, and his collar looked like a neck pillow made of plush white fur. White gloves covered his huge hands, which was good since kids didn�t like the rough texture of his calluses.
A different kind of fur came in underneath the outfit he was wearing. A thick white pelt on his chest, down his beach-ball belly and into his pubes and balls. It ran up his shoulders, down his arms, even growing in on his ass a little. He couldn�t help but moan at the caress of his body hair. Felt so great�
Nick continued to stroke his beard with a white-gloved hand as he saw the fifth picture. His cheeks were so big and red, they looked like delicious apples. He moved the bifocals further up on his nose because they couldn�t sit as far down as he�d had them, his nose was too big. His eyes sparkled with grandfatherly mischief as he watched gravity pull down on his aged features.
His hair and beard doubled in thickness as the sixth flash blew, going from looking relatively normal to looking like hairpieces, even though they were his real, attached follicles. Hair so soft and lush you wanted to roll around in it. Children always tugged on it to see if it was real, and they would squeal with joy when they found it was. That always made him smile � he loved the kids. Tinsel and glitter were interwoven into the white curls, giving Nicholas an utterly magical appearance. Gold accents had appeared on his outfit, just flecks here and there that made him sparkle as he moved. The malls all loved having him because he had his own tailor-made suit, with real fur lining, expensive velvet and genuine leather boots. He looked like the real deal.
Nicholas stood up on strong legs. No one had to know that what looked like huge layers of fat under his perfect outfit was actually huge layers of dense beef. He was an award-winning Santa, but that was only two months out of the year. The rest of the time, being a muscle daddy really helped line his coffers. Gave him time to really perfect the beard, too.
Too bad this suit isn�t leather, he thought with a hearty chuckle to himself, never considering that he�d used to be straight.
He reached out both hands as he walked out of the booth, but laughed at himself. Why had he expected to find more than one bag? That was the magic, the one bag having everything. After finding his hat and adjusting the puff to rest on his left side, the mall�s Santa Claus slung his magical red velvet bag over his shoulders and began to saunter toward his throne for the daily routine.
�Ho ho ho,� he boomed like a megaphone to all the shoppers, �Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Ho ho ho��
COLEMAN
�You don�t want anything for Christmas?� Coleman shuffled through the mall, one hand on his cell phone, the other shoved deep into the pocket of his ill-fitting cords. �Well, I�m already coming home for it, Mom, I need to get you something.�
She said it every year since he�d gone to college. �Having you home for Christmas is a good enough gift for me.� Ten years later and she was still saying it. Then she would say that a grandchild would be a nice gift too, and he�d always reply that a girlfriend would be a necessary part of that equation. Except as the years marched on, that joke was getting less and less funny.
Coleman had never been terribly confident. As an only child growing up � he�d been conceived as a marriage-saving baby, but didn�t live up to his intent � he�d been chubby and soft-spoken, and often dreadfully lonely.
Things were different now, thankfully. College had helped a lot, and being a husky adult was a lot easier than being a husky kid. Didn�t help the singles life, though, and the wardrobe � which today was a brown short-sleeved button-up shirt and tan cords � was always drab. He was short, doughy and still pretty quiet, but he had a nice group of friends, a decent-paying job and was looking forward to going home for Christmas with his mom.
�No, Mom, I�m not going to buy you a Swiffer Wetjet. Because I�m not buying you cleaning supplies for Christmas! You need to have something fun, something you�d never buy for yourself. Well, okay, fine, I�ll come up with an idea on my own then.� He walked to the mall escalator and was greeted by an out-of-order sign on it. Damn, he thought. �I love you too. Can�t wait to see you.�
He put his iPhone in his pocket and started up the stairs. Halfway up, he�d broken a sweat. By the top, his legs were wobbly. Am I seriously this out of shape?
Coleman made a vow right then. He�d start running and lose some of the excess baggage on his own, then he�d somehow get over his paralyzing fear of the gym and hire a trainer. And by next Christmas, he�d be 50 pounds lighter, sexier and ready to bag himself a girl, and sometime after that maybe he�d give his mom the grandchild she wanted so badly.
In fact, Coleman was so determined that he decided to take some �Before� pictures immediately. There were no excuses this time � this was starting NOW. He headed to the photo booth across the walkway to chronicle the start of his makeover. Maybe he�d even give a couple of the shots to Mom, so that she could hold him accountable and be all the more impressed in a year.
The flash was going to take some getting used to � maybe he�d have to use two quarters to get enough decent pictures. Coleman rubbed his eyes, then shivered. It was kind of cold in the booth, kind of like the sensation of sitting on a chilled toilet seat.
No, no, that wasn�t it � his shirt was open. In fact, it was unbuttoned all the way past his bellybutton. Coleman crinkled his face in disgust as he looked at his pasty, pudgy form, with the slight manboobs and soft belly. Seriously, though, why was the shirt doing that? He moved to button it back up � but the buttons were gone? In fact, there weren�t buttonholes, either.
Coleman pulled the shirt shut with his hand and just held it. This was really embarrassing. He�d have to maybe run to another store or-
The first picture interrupted his thoughts. Coleman didn�t remember his hairline being quite so good. Hadn�t it receded during college? But no, this hairline was a straight, perfect line above his forehead, and his brown hair even looked thicker and silkier. And he�d never seen his blue eyes sparkle the way they were in the picture. Actually, wow, those eyes � gorgeous. Why-am-I-still-single-with-eyes-like-this gorgeous.
Eyes that couldn�t help but blink as a bright white light seared them.
Cole curled up in a ball, shivering. Now his arms were bare, too, but the bottom of his shirt had grown all the way to his feet, like some kind of�cape, or something. Or a very, very long coat. A coat that clasped at the waist and nowhere else, leaving his bare chest fully on view, along with the legs of his pants. What kind of coat doesn�t have sleeves?
Because he was too confused to process the situation, Cole didn�t quite realize that his rather revealing coat wasn�t the only thing chilling him. His protective layer of blubber was gone, leaving single-digit body fat on a much leaner frame. It took the second picture�s display for Cole to gasp at his new, svelte frame. A tight waist, thin arms, flat chest � he looked like he wanted to look.
He stood � fitting easily, since he was only five-six � and ran his hands over his body, feeling his ribs, his protruding hipbones.
�I did it,� was all he thought before another flash blew and he cracked his head on the ceiling. Cole plopped back down on the bench and briefly saw stars. He was six feet tall, why had he tried to stand up? �Stupid,� he mumbled.
The continuing modification of his clothing should have been more alarming to Cole than it actually was. Coleman had not worn black lace-up boots, made of leather so shiny that it could be used as a mirror, but those were what were on Cole�s feet. He also hadn�t worn silk pants or a silk-lined coat, but the material felt so good on his bare skin that Cole didn�t worry about it.
Mom was going to be so impressed with how far along he�d come. The picture showed all of it. He wasn't buff, but the outline of his pecs was unmistakable, along with the faint ridges of his abdominals. It was strange, Cole didn�t think he�d ever had such beautiful blond hair, but it played so well off of his deep golden tan. He spiked it up in front and mussed it like he always did. The blond shade of his shapely eyebrows really made his baby-blues stand out.
With the fourth flash, he was suddenly quite the opposite of cold. Glorious warmth radiated through him; it felt so great that he nearly came inside his red velvet pants, tucked into the shiny black boots. Blood rushed through him and filled his muscles to near-bursting, pulling his skin as taut as gift-wrapping on a present. Veins shot out all over, bulging out of his huge biceps and decorating forearms that were the size of Christmas hams. The shape of his body changed drastically, going from slightly pear-shaped to an upside-down triangle. His shoulders squared off and broadened several inches, goaded on by a suddenly flared back. He could feel his new muscles unfurling across his body, like a big warm hug under his skin. �Ooohhh.� In a few dramatic breaths, the man had become a stud�kind of.
Coel was so excited about the pictures he was looking at. He couldn�t wait to show his Mom what he�d built his body into � well, what the booth had done for him, maybe, but Coel was quickly thinking back to the hours in the gym while he got his Athletic Training degree. Yeah, Mom would be thrilled. Sure, she had the issue of Muscle & Fitness that he�d done, but it wasn�t like he was on the cover or anything. But the large, square pecs looked so awesome above his intercostal muscles, just two big solid plates of muscle hovering above a shredded torso. Coel loved the symmetry of his thick abs, eight rocks that looked like a colonial cobblestone road, leading into his now-tight red pants. He flexed a bicep just to see his incredible mountainous peak, probably thanks to the genetics of the father he�d barely ever talked to.
The burgeoning beefcake let himself feel pride. He thought back to the playground where he�d been picked on and bullied for being chubby. Coel had gone to high school with a lot of the same people, and they�d seen him transform. His bones stretched out, his face shifted into tight angles, his muscles ballooned under his skin until that fat kid was no more, and only a smoking-hot muscle model remained.
His coat was more fitted now, tight around his waist, the opening exposing the perfect pectoral cleavage he had. It was the same bright red color as his pants, and the same fabric � velvet, with silk on the inside.
�Unnnh,� the hunk moaned at the fifth flash, as pre-cum leaked out of a very large dick. Why was he so damn horny?
His 17� neck, corded with muscle, was now nestled in plush white fur. It was like a stole had appeared on his shoulders, so thick that it stretched up from his shoulders to reach his sharp jaw. The opulent trimming ran the length of his coat, all the way down both sides of his powerful, cut chest until it ended in between his boots. Coel made sure that the fur rested in between his legs � that was how the coat was designed, with two splits up the side so that the fur trim draped in front, Coel�s legs stuck through the sides, and then he had a train to sit on. Coel pulled the coat open wider to show off more of his beautiful pecs. He even had great nipples, the perfect size, like a 25-cent piece.
He smiled a big, lustrous, dimpled grin at his picture. What a stud he was. So All-American. Blond and blue-eyed, with a straight nose, and a chiseled square jaw that ended in a cleft chin. His masculine mouth had a lower lip that was only slightly bigger than the upper, giving him a nicely natural pout. What had been pudgy chipmunk cheeks were now sharp, pointy triangles. And he had that sexy voice that girls and guys went crazy over, thanks to the high school theater he�d done. People told him he sounded like Gregory Peck.
The super-stud that had been Coleman was so horny, his muscles were starting to tense up, like they did before he blew a big load. Made him look so jacked. His voice caught in his throat as he moaned and rocked his hips in perfect rhythm, being the sexual expert he now was. �Gonna�gonna cum�uffff...� He rubbed a hand on his stomach and hooked his fingers under the outline of his flaring obliques, which ran into the Apollo�s belt that got him so many modeling assignments. His nipples were so hard, pointing straight down from the underside of his pecs, oh God�
Coel had to look down from his picture before he came at the sight of himself. He bit his lip as sweat soaked his spectacular body.
The sixth flash finally came, and with it, a multitude of changes. Detailing, gold braiding and lines of red sequins shot up and down the coat, making it increasingly ornate and flamboyant. The man in the booth completely hunked out, as his thighs took up more space in his tight red pants, which just made him hornier, because it was his adductors and abductors starting to plump outward � his sex muscles. And he added on five more pounds of pure muscle to his frame, putting him at a solid 195. His arms were the showcase of his athletic dedication, as big as pythons and just as lively, the veins quivering with power that ran all the way into his large hands.
Oh, wait, that wasn�t sweat on his body. Why had he thought otherwise? No, not sweat, he was covered in a layer of shimmering body glitter that made him look frostily sexy, like his pores had sparkly snow in them. Just like I�d look coming from the North Pole, he thought with a chortle.
Noel brushed the ball of his Santa hat out of his eyes as he leaned forward to look at the pictures. His beatific face radiated joy as he looked at himself. These were perfect for Mom. She had his magazine covers � nine of them, including his favorite, the Muscle & Fitness one that had just come out � all framed in the living room, but there was something about seeing her fitness model son in a sexy Santa suit that he knew she, in a weird way, would love. Obviously not the sexy part, but just the fact that she loved Christmas so much, because it was when they were together as a family. He was her little Christmas boy � his name was Noel, after all � and it would mean a lot to her to see what a magnificent man he had grown into. So much better than his father.
Noel tucked the filmstrip into his boot and pulled out his phone to power it down. Didn�t want it ringing during the shenanigans. Sometimes Noel couldn�t believe that he was getting paid to have his picture taken with drooling women and gay guys sitting on his knee, but hey, that was the life of a fitness model. From one gig to the next.
The mall�s �Sexy Santa� � Santa for grownups, Santa After Dark, whatever you wanted to call him � stepped from the booth quietly, so as to attract minimal attention. He bounded up the stairs easily, reaching the top of the mall so that they could put him on his wire. That was his entrance: descending from the rafters. Noel thought it was corny, but the crowd always flipped their shit.
Noel preened in a hallway mirror, making sure his big white teeth were clean, that his suit looked great. He tried to not check himself out too much, but it was hard not to, he was so damn handsome. Such beautifully sculpted features. Flawless genetics that he couldn�t wait to pass on to his lucky children � the grandchildren Mom was waiting for. Noel thought back to his ladies-man days and decided they were over. It was time to settle down. He wasn�t worried about finding a mate. Noel had never been rejected as an adult, only when he was a fat kid. Now women found him irresistible � he was cocky enough to be a stud, but humble enough to avoid being an asshole. If anything, he was doing the rejecting.
�Let�s do this,� he said to himself in the mirror with a deep breath. After a final caress of his abs, he walked to the railing and looked down at the two levels below, packed full of eager spectators. Noel pushed his nerves out of the way and psyched himself up for another night of granting some grown-up Christmas wishes.