Best Costume

This was it. This was the year Andrew was finally going to win the costume competition.

It was a stupid game he and his friends had been doing since they were fifteen. Well, to them it was stupid. But they were all insanely handsome guys with insane amounts of time on their hands to make insanely cool outfits every Halloween. Andrew, on the other hand, had neither time, nor money, nor a particularly good body. So he always lost. To him, the contest was always a huge disappointment. 

Not this year.

This year, Andrew hit the gym. HARD. He worked out in every second of his spare time, and picked a costume that would rely more on his looks than any intricate prosthetics or outfits. All he needed was some body paint and a trident. Man, he thought, my pals are going to freak when they see how much I look like Aquaman.

Little did Andrew know, his friends would never get to see him in costume…

He was just preparing to leave the house when he first started to feel strange. At first, Andrew thought there was something in the body paint he had used to draw on all of Aquaman’s tattoos. His skin felt oddly rough, and though he looked fine when he checked himself in the mirror (very, very fine, if he said so himself), he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was living in someone else’s skin. Literally.

Andrew locked up the house and walked to his car. He wasn’t used to walking around shirtless. He wasn’t used to having a body he was comfortable showing off in the first place, but now that he did, he felt a new sense of confidence that made him keep walking even though he continued to feel weird as hell.

Something was very wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it; it was like his entire body was rejecting… him. He was caught somewhere between his normal, timid, over-worked self, and the mind and body of someone like a superhero. Someone who didn’t need to stress about something as menial as a costume contest.

But it wasn’t just mental; Andrew could feel his body getting ever so slightly bigger. He wasn’t even puffing his chest, and he could barely see his feet under his pecs. He’s gotten shredded, but not that shredded.

He got in the driver’s seat and reached to turn on the ignition. And that’s when he got a glimpse of his skin in the light of the porch. Only… it wasn’t his skin. It couldn’t be, his hand was a darker olive color, not his usual cream, and the body paint was impeded in the flesh like an actual tattoo. It couldn’t be…

Andrew rushed back inside, panting. He sprinted to the bathroom, turned on the lights, and stumbled back. The person standing in front of the mirror was NOT him. Andrew wasn’t this tan. Andrew wasn’t this jacked. And most importantly, Andrew’s hair wasn’t black!

And yet it was. In fact, Andrew’s ever changing body was making him look more and more like the real Aquaman every second. There was a part of him that just considered driving to the party anyway. If anything, this would give him a better shot at winning that stupid competition.

But the more Andrew thought, the less he could remember about the competition. About his friends. What was I doing? he asked himself, struggling to get a handle on who “he” even was as his body continued to transform before his very eyes. Muscles getting bigger, skin getting darker, hair getting coarser.

He could smell the sea wafting off of his thick, sweaty skin, pulled taut across his gigantic muscles. He longed for water. He needed to feel it run between his fingers, across his natural body.

He drew a bath, tearing off his pants, socks, and underwear with astonishing force and speed. He’d never been so relieved to be naked. He couldn’t get in the water with all these peaky clothes in the way. Besides, he got to admire himself a bit in the mirror as the bath filled up. He looked incredible; a body even Poseidon would envy.

If only Bruce could see me now. He thought. Wait a second… who’s Bruce?

Water touched his toes. The bath was overflowing. Andrew stepped into the tub and submerged himself completely, allowing the warm liquid to seep into every crevice. He was hard within seconds. It was like he was a beast in its natural habitat, a beast ready to fuck.

He dunked his head bellow the surface, feeling as the reality around him shifted and warped. The water went from warm to frigid. The tub went from tiny to endless. And his dick went from hard to rock solid.

He tensed. White hot cum rocketed from his cock into the water around him as his head breached the icy surface of the ocean.

“Having fun Arthur?” he heard Bruce say from the shore. This was Bruce Wayne, of course. The two were taking a Halloween “vacation,” which amounted to a lot of drinking, and a lot of fucking.

Arthur Curry  laughed, the tip of his still iron-rod dick just bobbing under the water. “A lot, actually,” he said with a wink. “Care to join me?”