Costume Shop: The Warrior

 

Bodhan’s body was flooded with power the moment he slipped a helmet on. Whatever clothes he had been wearing before no longer mattered. His chest surged into melons, tearing through the small shirt. His pants split, thighs busting out as his legs grew longer. The simple white tennis he had on got filled before toes pushed their way out, connecting to the ground. Arms developed at an alarming rate to keep up with the new breadth of him. The shoulders expanded, dominating. Abs danced themselves into existence as if they’d always belonged there.

—

An old shopkeeper was humming a tune dusting off the counter as a boy stepped into the store, running. The door’s little bell and the old man looked up with a gentle smile upon seeing his current customer.

“Why hello, young one. Welcome to my costume shop.”

The boy fidgeted looking around, “Is Daniel here?” he was panting.

“Oh, you mean my protege!" The old man tapped the table, connecting dots. “You must be little Bodhan. Daniel was so confused as to why we were still tethered here. Then spotted you, scoping out the place, peering in.” The old man gave a soft chuckle. “But no, Daniel’s not here. Even people as important as him need a day off.” The man raised a finger as if sharing an interesting fact.

“It’s just,” Bodhan started to walk away from the counter further to the back of the store. “Daniel usually lets me hang around.”

“You’re free to stay as long as you’d like.” The shopkeeper smiled. 
Bodhan nodded. He typically snuck here after school because his bullies would have chased him home otherwise. Daniel never tried to kick him out. He just talked to Bodhan like he was a regular customer. The boy of course had no money, ergo, one of the reasons he was being bullied.

His bullies were almost exclusively the senior footballers, big beefy boys. The completely opposite of him. Probably what made him such amusing prey. Their private school’s mascot was the ‘The Warriors’ paired with a very Greco-Roman looking helmet. Very important for branding that people knew it wasn’t a spartan soldier, just a nondescript ancient fighter. Whenever Bodhan saw that red and white letterman jacket. He knew to run. 

The worst of the offenders was Tanner McDermont. A brunette nightmare with the face of a church boy. The captain of ‘The Warriors’ football team, these days the representation of the mascot in general.

Perhaps it sounded stupid or odd. In the mornings Bodhan would walk his usual route to school. He’d often look down at the shop since it was out of the way. The lights would be off. As if it wasn’t there. But when the school bell rang and he rushed to beat his bullies. The shop always had its lights on, Daniel, visible through the windows. 

“Maybe it only comes when you need it.” Daniel once joked cataloging items. 

Never once had Bodhan really reflected on that until today.  Daniel actually thought he had been scoping out the store? That wasn't exactly true. Bodhan had just been wondering if he could hide in the store, or if Daniel could scare the bullied off. He was built pretty solidly. One day Bodhan ran inside and Daniel welcomed him. That was that. 

Now the old guy was here. Daniel mentioned him once or twice. The shopkeeper was the big boss, but he didn't seem all that special, looked like anyone's grandpa. Bodhan perused the items. Never once did he actually think of getting something. He was sure Daniel could tell from the quality of his clothes, no money was getting spent in the store. Today though, he had overheard the football players talking about Tanner’s Halloween party. No way Bodhan would ever be invited but it was a passing thought.

Bodhan looked at the costumes, actually looked. Not the fake lift, pretend to glance, thing. A mixture of real, high quality and super cheap crap. A mystery as to how Daniel was always cataloging stuff when Bodhan never recalled seeing that many customers. Then again, Halloween was approaching fast, preparation wasn't a bad thing.

He didn't get far as a plastic helmet came crashing down beside him. Jolting back he turned and said, “I didn't do it!” The old man gave a dismissive wave, continuing to clean, nor even looking up. Bodhan bent down, studying the costume piece. Spartan mimicry. He’d seen the design enough at school to know the head piece by heart. Looking up, he didn’t see the rest of the out fit to go with it. 

“You made a remarkable choice. Congratulations.” The shopkeeper yelled over.

“No, it's just. I wasn’t gonna—

Bodhan’s memory clipped into flashes of images. One minute he was explaining himself the next, he was walking out the store helmet under his arm. He recalled walking up to the counter asking for it and the shopkeeper nodding. But the words said…were all blank. Only impressions of what Bodhan had done. He walked home not focusing on it, after all having the helmet was interesting enough.  

He thought of The Warriors. Especially Tanner. Before the team made his life a living hell, Bodhan had a huge crush on the quarterback. Hearing “The Warriors” always made him have hot flashes of Tanner. The dude had the worst (or best) case of jock butt. Bodhan had ever seen. Their private school uniform slack’s conformed to Tanner’s perfected roundness. Whenever the dude sat, it was like his cock was too big. No doubt, minus the personality, Tanner was the epitome of ‘a Spartan’ to Bodhan. 

Holding up the helmet, Bodhan imagined Tanner in the helmet, wearing those skimpy clothes too small for his—Bodhan shook his head. That daydream was wandering way too far.

At home, alone, parents not due back for hours, Bodhan placed the helmet on. The surge was immediate. His fantasies of Tanner replayed in his head and then expanded outwards. Bodhan genuinely felt the Tanner in his brain congeal into one, become real and claw his way out of fiction into fact. From Bodhan’s brain to his body. Tanner’s thick arms shoving its way through Bodhan's brain. Shoulders, back, ass, thighs, calves and feet shifting and bruising Bodhan in the most erotic way possible. Tanner’s fat cock and ass, brushing up against Bodhan’s innermost self.  No words to describe the sensation of feeling a fantasy take life inside you.

However, fantasy Tanner didn’t stick around for long, he was fuel for Bodhan’s body. His being merged into Bodhan as he crawled his way out. Bodhan’s back slammed against his front door. He’d barely stepped into the house. Then he slid down to the floor as new visions of Tanner overwhelmed his senses. Not some simple fantasies as a jock. Factual memories of a body in action. Tanner’s skills on the field, socializing with his friends. Bodhan’s brain ate it up.

That’s when the growth started, Bodhan, unable to contain any of it, had his body reshaped. Ass plumping, pecs popping, jaw cracking. His body, however, didn't simply conform to Tanner’s, their forms merged. When the fantasy boy worked himself into Bodhan, Bodhan expanded. Larger, stronger, better muscles than Tanner. Bodhan’s body got older as memories fused into the stolen ones from Tanner. He surged up. Beyond high school, beyond college. His body, continuously growing, never satisfied.

Bodhan transitioned into a squat, feeling the years of college dump a party boy mindset on him. He was flexing as he would have done before he headed out those collegiate doors. His body on display all for himself. His uniform clothing, lost and converted into an outfit that properly showed him off. A ‘Warrior’ through and through. A gay version of Tanner if he had lived Bodhan’s life, a version of Bodhan, if he had been blessed with Tanner’s body. 

When Bodhan’s balls expanded it was like trying to hold back a bomb. His cock lengthened on his thigh. More of a detonator timer, than a sole sign of arousal as his cock was growing beyond its usual limits. He came with a bass in his voice that had punted to depths far deeper than the ocean. His seed launched across the house, christening it as the plumes on his head exploded out in unison a beautiful red.

He was going to kill at the Halloween Party when people saw him. Tanner and the Warriors on his old team were going to have to acknowledge the perfection of their mascot made manifest.