Charged 3 (musc tf)
by kdumd
“Man fuck dis shirt,” Evan said, and he began to grab the compression shirt at either side of the waist and pull it up.Then, for the second time in ten minutes, Evan couldn’t believe what he saw happening in the mirror.
In the blink of an eye, the bare skin around his torso faded from a deep brown to a pale white, the same pale white Evan had been born with.
Simultaneously, Evan watched his recently-acquired Adonis belt puffed out into the very same pudgy love handles he’d always had.
Okay, what the holy hell is going on here? Evan thought. He was too scared to speak, partially because he wasn’t sure what his mouth would say.
With a quickness, Evan pulled the waist of the black Under Armour compression shirt back down, and again, in seconds, his midsection flattened out, love handles replaced with chiseled obliques, and the bottom row of his cobblestone abs popped back into prominence.
I have no idea what is happening to me…but I’m pretty sure I like it.
Evan figured at least for the next little while, he’d stay black and…explore this new body. Because after all, as long as he didn’t wear the seemingly magical shirt all the time, it’s not like anyone would think the “real” Evan disappeared or anything.
Now, he was wondering what he would do if he DID want to go into the outside world like this. Evan searched through his clothes, and as his giant black arms rifled through piles of shirts, pants and undergarments, he remembered: he’d gone as a white rapper for Halloween a few years back.
After a few minutes, Evan located the plastic container containing the various pieces of Halloween costumes past, and pulled out the various items of clothing and accessories he’d worn that year: an oversized (well, oversized on Evan’s original body) white t-shirt, baggy jeans, Timberland boots, a black do-rag, and some assorted pieces of fake bling.
Evan pulled the shirt over his head, having a hard time negotiation his mammoth upper arms and bowling ball sized shoulders through the sleeves.
He walked back to the mirror, and a wry smile crossed his large lips.
But just seconds later, Evan could see more changes taking place. His body was still huge, but something was different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His face just somehow looked like it had been altered from a moment before. Was there more wiry black facial hair than there had been? Did his skin look somehow more…rugged?
Evan shook it off. His mind could very easily be playing tricks on him, after all. If ever there was such a thing as a “mindfuck”, he was living it right this second.
He walked back over to his bed—walked, or swaggered?—to finish putting on his outfit. He pulled down his mesh shorts and noticed an enormous bulge in his underpants. “Guess dey ain’t lyin’ about dem black dicks,” Evan accidentally said out loud. Part of the reason he was trying to avoid speaking in his new voice was the fact that it would almost definitely turn him on. Now, with only a thin layer of cotton separating him from his gigantic cock, Evan knew he was right about that. It was getting hard awfully fast, engorging with blood and pushing closer and closer to the waistband of his boxers.
Evan took hold of it with one hand, and that only made him hornier. Now the fist-sized purple mushroom head of his dick was poking out the top of his underwear, and Evan could hardly control himself. But he took a deep breath, removed his paw of a hand, and reached for the jeans. There would be plenty of time for more “exploration” later.
Facing away from the mirror, Evan pulled the jeans up over his huge thighs, zipped up and buttoned them. Despite the massive girth in his legs, Evan’s new waist was incredibly narrow, so the jeans sagged down, coming to rest scant inches above his dick. The dark blue jeans were tight through the upper legs, as would be expected, but loosened out below the knee and gathered up in a pile of denim at his dark-skinned feet.
Evan quickly got the rest of his stuff on. He found it curious that he tied up the do-rag like it was second nature, when it had taken him a painfully long time to do when he was just a white guy putting on a Halloween costume. The rest was easy. Faux-gold and cubic zirconia chain around his massive neck, clip on earrings on his lobes, knock-off Rolex around his wrist. He grabbed a pair of socks from his dresser and put them on before putting on the Timberlands, which seemed a little tight initially but relaxed and conformed to fit his new, much larger feet.
Once he was all dressed, Evan turned around and made his way back to the mirror. This time, he wasn’t just imagining it, he definitely walked with a pronounced lean, just like he’d seen rappers and street thugs do all his life. He did it without thinking. That might have given him pause, but what he saw in the mirror did that first.
Evan couldn’t believe it. The white t-shirt, which had been somewhat tight before, had gotten bigger and baggier, sleeves falling below his elbows but still not fully concealing his basketball-sized biceps. But below those sleeves, on both arms, were tattoos. A lot of them. Mostly words, but some images, none of which meant much to him upon first glance. The dark black ink, which provided little contrast to his deeply African skin, went all the way down his hands, almost to the fingertips. He pulled up the shirt sleeves and confirmed what he suspected. The ink went all the way up his arms.
But that was nothing compared to Evan’s new face. New being a relative term, of course, because just minutes before he had a “new” face, too. But that face, which looked like it belonged to a combination model-champion bodybuilder, was perfect in its masculinity. This face was much more aggressive. Its basic proportions were the same, but there was a lot more facial hair; a slightly-thicker-than-pencil-thin strip of hair stretched from sideburn to sideburn, making perfect angles at the chin and either side of the jawbone. That connected to a goatee of identical thickness, also perfectly groomed.
Evan’s nose looked like it had been broken several times, making it even thicker and wider than it had been before. When Evan opened his mouth, he saw several of his teeth were missing, replaced with a combination of gold and platinum implants. The ink that apparently covered the rest of his body came all the way to the top of his enormous neck, spreading behind his ears and stopping just below the boundaries of his hairline.
Speaking of hair, where he had previously seen a severely close-cropped cut, Evan now had thick, perfectly braided corn rows emerging from underneath the do-rag. They extended halfway down his neck, and combined with the rest of his altered body, made him look like a textbook thug. He could walk any of the toughest streets in America and not look out of place one bit.
“Dis mothafucka hard as fuck right now, chyeah,” Evan said in an even deeper, grittier, more hardened voice.
Even as his well-endowed genitals began to stir again, Evan tried to understand why this had happened. If the compression shirt changed his body and his race, what role did the other clothes and accessories play? They couldn’t have been affected by the lightning strike. So why did they re-program his body, mind and voice?
“Figger dat shit out later, mayne,” Evan said, exposing his metal-studded mouth with a mischievous grin.