Instagram Baddie Marcus The Remote of Transformation chapter 12 by ThePanswapticon

Marcus shoved his phone in Ethan’s face, grinning like a maniac. The screen showed a girl in spray-on leggings, a crop top that could barely be called clothing, and a look that screamed yeah, I know I’m hot, now like my post.

“Her,” Marcus said. “Make me her.”

Ethan squinted at the screen. “That’s not even a real person. She looks like she’s 90% Photoshop.”

“Exactly. Peak humanity,” Marcus said, tapping the screen like it was sacred. “Long black hair, waist so tiny it’s almost medically impossible, and, uh, these—” He motioned like he was holding melons. “Don’t act like you don’t see the vision, bro.”

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.”

“Do it,” Marcus said, holding out his arms like he was offering himself for sacrifice. “Science demands it. Plus, you owe me after all that boob talk you wouldn’t let me follow up on.”

“I don’t owe you anything.” Ethan grabbed the Morphisizer and started calibrating the settings, muttering to himself.

Marcus was already stripping off his hoodie and as many layers of clothing as possible. “Should I stand like, superhero pose? Or sexy pose? Wait, maybe—”

“Shut up and stand still,” Ethan snapped. “You’re like a kid on Christmas morning.”

“Dude, I’m about to be Christmas morning,” Marcus grinned.

Ethan lined up the device, aiming at Marcus’s broad-shouldered frame. The Morphisizer whined as it charged.

“You ready for this?” Ethan asked.

“Oh, I was born ready. Hit me, Daddy,” Marcus said with a smirk.

Ethan groaned. “You’re the worst.” He pressed the button.

The room lit up with a flash of blue-white energy. Marcus let out a yelp—part shock, part exhilaration—as his body warped. His shoulders caved inward, chest swelling outward with rapid, jiggly force. His hips flared, his legs smoothing and slimming. Hair spilled down his shoulders like a glossy black curtain. The last thing to change was his face—jawline softening, lips plumping, eyes widening with long lashes.

“Holy—” Ethan staggered back, staring.

Marcus—or whatever this new bombshell version was—looked down, letting out a high, throaty laugh. “Oh my god, Ethan. I have tits!” He grabbed his chest with both hands, shaking them. “Dude, they’re like, warm and heavy. This is… holy crap, this is awesome.”

“Marcus, you’re—” Ethan stammered, eyes wide.

Marcus turned to the mirror, twisting around to admire his own new curves. “I have an ass, dude. Like, an actual ass. Look at this thing!” He gave himself a firm smack and let out a bark of laughter. “No wonder you’ve been blushing non-stop all day. This is power.”

“Stop touching yourself!” Ethan yelled, his voice cracking.

“Bro, how do you not touch yourself like this?” Marcus cupped his chest again, making them bounce. “This is the best day of my life. I’m never going back.”

“Yes, you are!” Ethan grabbed the Morphisizer, fumbling with the controls. “You’re turning back right now.”

Marcus pouted in his reflection, still adjusting the waistband of his leggings. “Aww, come on. Five minutes. Just five minutes. I wanna see if this ass can break the chair if I bounce hard enough.”

“Marcus!” Ethan barked, clutching his temples.

Marcus grinned wickedly. “Alright, alright. But… not gonna lie, bro. You should try this sometime.”

Ethan glared. “I already am. That’s the whole problem.”