Yoga Pants The Remote of Transformation chapter 15 by ThePanswapticon

Marcus raided Ethan’s closet while he scrambled through drawers. “Your jeans are useless. You’ll split the seams with that ass. What about these?”

Marcus held up a pair of black leggings.

“I’m not wearing leggings to school!” Ethan cried.

“Okay, genius, then walk in there naked. Maybe you’ll win ‘Most Likely to Distract Faculty’ instead of Best Project.”

Ethan groaned and snatched the leggings. Pulling them on was a fight. They stretched, but not without squeezing every curve, especially when the waistband popped over his new hips. He caught a side view in the mirror and cursed under his breath. “This is illegal. It’s like—like a second skin.”

Marcus chuckled. “Welcome to yoga-pants hell, dude. Or heaven from my perspective. Now grab a hoodie.”

Ethan pulled on a loose hoodie that managed to hide his ample chest under its oversized folds, though his hips still flared under the hem. He dug through his desk for the Morphisizer remote—tiny, silver, about the size of a TV clicker, with a cracked screen from last night’s fiasco.

“You are bringing that, right?” Marcus asked. “In case we need to, you know, unfuck this.”

“Yeah. Not risking getting stuck like this forever.” Ethan shoved it in his backpack. It barely zipped, stretched around all the supplies, spare wires, and Marcus’s “emergency” snacks.

Downstairs, Ethan’s mom was clattering in the kitchen. Marcus froze. “Uh, you’re not telling her, right?”

“No way. She’d ground me for eternity if she thought I was doing kinky science experiments in my room.” Ethan smoothed his hoodie and took a deep breath. “I’ll just… keep my head down. Maybe she won’t notice anything weird.”

Marcus snorted. “Yeah. Totally subtle. You’re not walking like you’re hiding an atomic bomb between your thighs or anything.”

“Shut up.”

Against all odds, they slipped out the front door without incident and headed straight for Marcus’s Civic. Ethan felt every bounce, every step—his body moved like it had its own agenda. When Marcus started the car, Ethan exhaled hard, leaning back against the seatbelt.

“Think anyone’s gonna recognize me?” Ethan asked.

Marcus smirked. “Bro, everyone’s gonna recognize you. Not as Ethan, though. More like, ‘Who’s that girl who looks like a hotter version of Lila Hart and why is she hanging with Marcus?’”

“Great. This is going to be hell.”

"My reputation's peaking today."

"Congratulations."

“Hey, silver lining—you’re about to dominate the science fair.”

Ethan glanced at the Morphisizer’s remote in his lap. The cracked screen blinked red:

NEURAL LOCK ENGAGED. ADMIN CODE REQUIRED.

He gritted his teeth. I’ll figure this out at lunch.