Field Testing The Remote of Transformation chapter 13 by ThePanswapticon

Marcus stood in front of Ethan’s mirror like he’d just been handed a winning lottery ticket. He turned one way, then the other, his black hair swinging, his new curves defying the laws of physics with every twist.

“Okay,” Marcus said, cupping his boobs and lifting them with both hands. “First impressions: these things are ridiculous. Like, I move an inch and they’re all over the place. How do you even function like this?”

Ethan, leaning against the desk with the Morphisizer remote clutched like a detonator, muttered, “I don’t function, alright? That’s the point.”

"Not you. You've had tits for a few hours. I mean girls," Marcus grinned. “These have, like, actual weight, man. I could crush a soda can between them if I tried. Wanna see?”

“Marcus, don’t—”

Too late. He grabbed an empty can off Ethan’s nightstand, wedged it between his chest, and pressed his new assets together. The can... did not bend. After a few long seconds of squeezing the can in his cleavage, he eased up pressure and dropped the can. “Really thought that would work."

"They're just fat sacs."

"You’re missing out, bro.”

Ethan’s face was on fire. “Can you not treat my machine like a frat party game?”

“Hey, I’m just providing valuable data!” Marcus said, leaning forward and bouncing experimentally. “Damn, these things have momentum. Like, if I jog in place…” He did a few hops, which instantly turned into a slow-motion, physics-defying spectacle. “Whoa. Okay, I get it now. Sports bras aren’t a suggestion—they’re a survival tool.”

Ethan tried very, very hard not to stare but found his gaze lingering anyway. He looked down at the Morphisizer’s settings to distract himself. “Data. Right. Sure. Totally just science here.”

Marcus caught him looking and smirked. “Ohhh, you’re into this.”

Ethan’s head snapped up. “What? No! I’m… I’m supervising! Like a responsible inventor.”

“Uh-huh,” Marcus said, leaning over the desk, deliberately pressing his cleavage together with his arms. “Supervising my ass. Or should I say—” He twisted around and smacked his own butt with a loud whap. “—supervising this?”

Ethan swallowed hard. “Marcus…”

“What? I’m just saying, I get why you’re acting so twitchy now. This ass is a weapon. I’m two seconds away from dropping it like it’s hot.”

Ethan pointed at him with the remote. “Don’t you dare twerk in my room.”

Marcus grinned wider. “Oh, you’re scared. That means I have to.”

And then he did. Slowly. Testing the way his hips moved, laughing at the sheer absurdity of it. “Bro, I feel like I unlocked a cheat code. This body is insane. It’s like my ass moves before my brain does.”

Ethan bit his lip, torn between mortification and, well… curiosity. “Alright, alright, that’s enough. We’ve collected plenty of data, Dr. Booty. Time to turn you back.”

Marcus pouted, crossing his arms—his cleavage squishing up in the process. “Just a little longer. I didn’t even get to see how fast I can run in these leggings.”

“You’re not running anywhere!” Ethan snapped, though his voice cracked with nervous energy.

Marcus leaned back on the bed, legs crossed, and shot Ethan a sly look. “Bet you didn’t think you’d enjoy seeing me like this, huh?”

Ethan’s throat went dry. “Shut up.”

Marcus plopped down on Ethan’s bed, sprawling like a cat, long black hair spilling everywhere. He stretched his arms over his head, the crop top he’d morphed into riding up to flash a toned stomach.

“Alright, so we’ve tested boob-bounce and butt-smack. What’s next on the list of groundbreaking science?” Marcus asked, smirking.

“There is no list,” Ethan said, scrolling furiously through the Morphisizer’s settings, trying to avoid looking. “You’ve been a girl for 15 minutes, and you’re already acting like you’re auditioning for OnlyFans.”

Marcus tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Bro. If I looked like this all the time? I’d be raking in cash. Look at me.” He stood and twirled, the curve of his hips hypnotic in a way that made Ethan’s stomach knot.

“Stop… doing that,” Ethan muttered, voice strained.

Marcus smirked. “Ohhh, you’re loving this. Admit it.”

“I am collecting data,” Ethan said, grabbing a notebook from the desk to look busy. “Like, ergonomics. Physical… mechanics.”

“Sure. So you don’t mind if I, uh… test flexibility?” Marcus dropped onto the floor in front of the mirror and casually stretched a leg straight over his head, like a gymnast.

Ethan dropped his pen. “Jesus, Marcus—”

“What? These hips are built for it.” He rotated in a slow circle, doing a full split. “Dude, I can do the splits. I couldn’t touch my toes yesterday.”

“Do you have any idea how disturbing this is for me?” Ethan muttered, trying desperately not to notice how his best friend’s new body bent in ways that should be illegal.

Marcus grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “You think this is bad? What if I try on some of your stuff?”

“My stuff?” Ethan’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, come on. We gotta test outfit adaptability.” Marcus yanked open Ethan’s closet before he could protest, pulling out one of Ethan’s hoodies and laughing. “Wow. Dude, this would look like a minidress on me now.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Too late. Marcus slipped it on, tugging the hoodie over his head. It clung in all the wrong places, especially across his chest. He checked the mirror, striking a pose. “Damn. I look like a college girl doing the whole ‘boyfriend’s hoodie’ thing. Hot, right?”

Ethan’s mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Marcus spun around, laughing. “Oh, you’re totally blushing. Bro, this is like therapy for you—getting used to hot girls by hanging out with me.”

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helping my mental state right now.”

Marcus flopped back onto the bed, grinning. “Tell you what. Let me keep this for another half hour. I’ll even let you, you know… measure for your notes. Strictly scientific.”

Ethan froze. “Measure?”

Marcus grinned devilishly. “You are dying to know how big these are compared to yours, huh?”

Ethan’s ears burned red.