https://www.tumblr.com/bodyhopper-files/775924408379375616/after-hours-at-the-stadium
Mitchell stood in the dim glow of the stadium lights, his phone raised, his proud fatherly face beaming as he snapped photos. Jackson stood before him, his singlet stretched tight over thick, powerful muscles, flexing under his father’s proud gaze. His broad shoulders gleamed under the artificial lighting, the tight fabric emphasizing every inch of his defined frame.
The big college championship wrestling meet had ended hours ago. The crowd had cheered, the mats had been rolled up, and the other wrestlers had long since left. But to all outside appearances, Jackson, a 19-year-old stud jock at the peak of his athletic prime, was still here, basking in his father’s admiration.
Jackson grinned, sweat still glistening from the meet. "Gee, Dad, I don't know if I can flex any harder! My muscles are already SO big in this LITTLE singlet!"
Mitchell chuckled. "That's because you're my big, strong GROWING boy!"
Jackson swelled his chest with pride, striking pose after pose. The empty arena was theirs alone now, the crowds long gone, and Mitchell was drinking in every moment with a glimmer in his eyes, snapping shot after shot.
"Gosh, son, I am so PROUD of you."
Jackson laughed, feeding off the energy, his flexes becoming more exaggerated. "Oh, Dad, you know JUST what to say!"
And then... the illusion cracked.
Mitchell lowered the phone slightly, exchanging a look with Jackson. A knowing look. A dark look.
They weren’t Mitchell and Jackson at all.
Their names were actually Gary and Lou, two lowly stadium crew members who had been lurking in the shadows long enough to develop a deep, gnawing jealousy. The real Mitchell and Jackson had been their chosen targets this time. A father-son pair they had studied, watched, envied. And now, they were them—at least for the night.
Gary, now appearing as Mitchell, grinned as he admired his supposed “son.” Lou, now Jackson, flexed his borrowed muscles with a smug, indulgent glee. The fabric of the singlet hugged his body like a second skin, a perfect replication of the physique he had admired from afar only hours ago that same evening. It felt real—because for now, it was real.
It had all started when Gary found the device. An ancient, alien relic buried beneath the stadium grounds during routine maintenance. A simple, unremarkable stone… until he touched it. The symbols carved into its surface pulsed, their meaning seeping into his mind, a whisper from the cosmos beyond:
"Only within the boundary of its finding does the change hold. Only those who have walked its grounds may claim another’s shape. Beyond this place, the truth will reclaim its own. The transformation cannot follow where the power does not reach."
Gary had understood immediately. The transformation would only work within the stadium’s radius. They could only take the form of those who had set foot inside. And once they stepped beyond its unseen boundary, their true selves would be restored.
That last rule was their only limitation, but within these walls, they were gods.
And they had gotten good at it.
"Well, son," Gary said, the smirk of a man who knew he was getting away with something spreading across his face. "Why don't we go get some photos of you in the locker room?"
Lou—Jackson—grinned back, his borrowed, handsome jock face flushed with excitement. "I LOVE that idea, 'Dad.' I'll show you what else of mine has been growing..."
The two chuckled darkly as they made their way through the vacant hallways, reveling in the power they held. The stadium was their playground. The stolen lives their entertainment. And when the night ended, they’d slip back into their ordinary, unremarkable bodies, waiting for the next event… and their next victims.
Because jealousy wasn't enough. They wanted to be them, if only for a little while. And from the shadows and dark corners of the stadium, they always found their next prey.
No comments:
Post a Comment