There were a lot of good options on this one, but the oversized/biker/construction combo won out by a bit. There might be a bonus version of this part using some other options for Patrons only later this week!
The clothes inside the lost and found box looked to be less lost, and more abandoned. None of them were washed, many had various holes, ripped seams, and mysterious stains on them, and while the Theodore would have never even considered touching something like this before the virus infected him, now it just seemed like the most…reasonable course of action. The fact that touching the stiff denim and grungy cotton was giving him a hard-on didn’t seem worth thinking about.
In the end, he cobbled together an outfit of a sort from some of the more intact pieces in the box. He found a cleanish set of briefs, though they did have sizable skid mark down the back, and a hole that the head of his cock wanted to slide through when he put them on. They were too large for him by a bit, or perhaps it was just that the elastic band had lost some of its tightness. In any case, they wound work, and they still fit better than the rest of the clothes he could find in there.
The normal sized stuff was mostly ripped and shredded beyond repair. What remained was all much too large for him, but he figured it would work well enough to get him back to his car. He pulled on a pair of muddy jeans, one knee ripped out, with a waist several inches too large, and an inseam that had the legs pooling around his feet. There was a belt, luckily, a leather one with a Harley Davidson buckle on it, that worked to keep them cinched up. After that came a hi-viz shirt, with stained armpits. It was a 4xl-tall, and hung off Theodore’s body comically, but at least he wasn’t naked. There were some boots in the box, and some grungy, holy socks. He pulled them on, but they were as large on him as everything else. Lastly, though he didn’t know why, he pulled out a leather biker vest and slung that over his shoulders, but that too, was too large, and lastly, a slightly dented hard hat came out and he set it on his head.
Theodore could feel that…strange sensation coming over him again, the same one he’d been feeling all day, the same one that had happened a moment before, when he’d grown out of his khakis and polo shirt, except this time, it was somehow more intense. It started in his bones, a deep, aching heat, followed by a few disturbing cracks as his legs started to grow and extend, the bones growing thicker, sturdier. He stumbled against the wall and slumped over, trying to keep a hold of himself, as the heat spread outward from his bones, into his joints, into his muscles, all the way up to his skin. The belt that he had cinched tight a moment before was now cutting into his stomach suddenly, and he fumbled with the clasp, opening up, feeling his body fill out the jeans, the shirt seeming to shrink as his body grew not only taller, but also thicker. His muscles were growing, certainly, but the fat cells inside his body had begun to multiply at an alarming rate, a sizable, yet firm, gut pushing out the front of the shirt.
He knelt there, shaking and shuddering in pain for a few minutes, until he could finally feel the changes subside. He expected to feel exhausted after that, but if anything, he felt…more energized than he had in years, up to that point. He got back up on both of his feet, and was struck by a sudden sense of vertigo–he was now more than a foot taller than he’d been before, going from a meager five foot six inches, all the way to a few inches shy of seven. The jeans that had been comically long before this now barely made it to the tops of the boots, and wiggling his toes, he could tell that his feet had grown as well. He stumbled back into the bathroom proper, and looking at him in the mirror now–he barely recognized the face staring back at him.
The stubble he had forgotten to shave was now a full fledged beard, and the hair he usually kept so neatly trimmed was no longer there–it had either fallen out or pulled back into his skull, leaving him with a shiny cueball instead. His arms were quite hairy, and underneath the hair, he could see that tattoos had appeared in full sleeves, all of them…ones that he’d gotten when he was younger, riding across the country on his bike with his gang, and…and that wasn’t right, was it?
His head felt all mixed up all of a sudden. Shouldn’t he be terrified at this, at what had happened to his body? But he wasn’t terrified–instead, the main things he was feeling was, first, that he was desperate for a cigar, and second, that he was hornier than he could ever recall being…except he was always this horny, wasn’t he? He groped his cock, feeling the nine inch shaft already half hard in his dirty briefs, the head sliding out the hole in his underwear, and then through the matching hole in the jeans, and he grinned, showing a mouthful of crooked, yellowed teeth. There…was something that he needed to do, wasn’t there? But what? It had been important, but it seemed to have slipped his mind.
What happens next? Don’t forget the bonus poll for patrons if you support me too!
Bracken's Corner 