Ritual of Revenge

“Dude, no pics at the pool!” he shouted, his bulking physique towering over my average figure. “Fucking creep.”

I headed back to the lockers as I fanned the Polaroid picture I had taken. As soon as I found an empty booth, I got in and started the ritual: spread the mixture of salvia, ash, and Brad’s cum (cordially donated by my good friend Tony, another guy in the swimming team) over his picture, then burn it with a lighter and breathe in the smokes.

As soon as the scent hit my nostrils, my entire body spasmed violently. Then again. And again. With each spams, my muscles swelled larger and larger. I needed to lean on the wall to balance myself as my centre of gravity shifted. When my palm touched the tiled wall, I noticed that it was bigger, thicker, more solid. Solid enough to bully other guys through their college years, that’s for sure.

As the rest of my frame settled, I felt my cock and ass grow to match Brad’s. The sensation was too much for me to handle and I started jerking off viciously. As my changes reached completion, I reached climax. I moaned like nobody was listening, but then heard someone else moaning in the showers.

I slowly opened the door to see who it was…

———

“Dude, no pics at the pool!” I shouted at Billy, his beady eyes ogling my body as he lowered his Polaroid camera. “Fucking creep.”

He scuttled away into the lockers. I thought of going back into the water but that annoying faggot had completely took me out of the zone. Fuck it, he needs to know. I strode towards the lockers, ready to give him a good beating.

As I entered the lockers, I felt a sudden cold. Like all the heat in my body was slowly leaving me. It was disconcerting and almost painful. I headed to the showers to see if the hot water could help but the sensation only got worse and worse. All my muscles felt tense and stiff like a full-body cramp.

Then I saw it. My toes were grey. Stone grey. I tried to wiggle them but they wouldn’t budge. The change quickly rose up my calves and knees. When it reached my thighs I started to feel an insurmountable pressure in my ballsack, as if I had been jerking off and edging for hours. As the greyness enveloped my groin I felt this pressure travel through my cock and…

I came so hard, I couldn’t help but moan. The pleasure was unlike anything I’d felt. It was still going… and going… and going!

I looked down, still moaning uncontrollably, and saw my cock. My rock-hard cock, literally made of rock, with a jet of crystallised cum attached to the tip. Panic tried to take over me but the waves of pleasure just kept hitting me. As the changes reached my upper chest and shoulders, I gabbed my cock with both my hands to see if I could make it stop cumming, but the sensation on my rocky skin felt so good I started jerking. It didn’t last though, my hands freezing mid-motion.

Finally the changes reached my head. My moans stopped, my mouth froze in place, and my eyes clouded up. Just before I lost my hearing, I heard the door to one of the booths open…

———

…it was Brad. Or what was left of Brad: a beautiful statue, six foot two, sporting a mighty hard-on. He looked so gorgeous, even in his current state. I walked towards him when I noticed my reflection in one of the mirrors: Brad was looking back at me but, instead of his usual aggressive look, he now seemed friendly and approachable.

I stood beside the statue and placed my hand on his chiselled abs. (Chiselled. Ha.) I could feel it vibrating, alive and conscious. According to the spell, the victim would be trapped in an eternal orgasm. I touched Brad’s member and thought to myself: hmm, that doesn’t seem fitting. I know!

Prod.

Push.

Crash.

And I walked out of the showers, trying not to step on any bits of Brad.