Zayn Changed The Remote of Transformation chapter 7 by deleted_user

Zayn Rivera, the neighborhood's resident Adonis, was washing his car. Again. He was shirtless, as usual, the evening air doing nothing to deter him from his ritualistic display of vanity. He had a body sculpted from pure, unadulterated hubris: a six-pack that looked like a stack of bricks, biceps that strained the sleeves of his tank top, and a jawline so sharp it could cut glass. He was a human statue, and he knew it. He'd dated every girl within a five-mile radius, and he'd broken every heart he could get his hands on. And he had a nasty habit of calling people "fatties." It was time for a lesson in empathy, Ethan decided.

Ethan crouched behind the hedge. His heart thumped against his ribs. Zayn was humming, polishing the car's hood. The water shimmered down the windshield. It was a perfect shot. A clean shot.

Ethan aimed the Morphisizer at Zayn's back. “Let's see how you like being a fatty, you asshole,” he muttered. He pressed the button. The Morphisizer hummed to life. A beam of emerald light shot from the device, invisible, and hit Zayn's back.

Zayn stiffened. The towel fell into the soapy bucket. He looked down at his chest. His pecs were softening. The hard lines smoothed out, the skin growing taut and soft. His shoulders rounded out, the muscles melting away. His waist nipped in, his abs softening into a soft, supple curve.

He gasped, a strangled sound. He touched his stomach, finding a soft mound of flesh instead of his washboard abs. And then, his chest. The slight swell of his pecs became a violent expansion. It was like watching a pair of beach balls inflate. They swelled until they settled into a magnificent E-cup, two heavy globes that bounced with a life of their own.

Zayn's head snapped up. His eyes, wide with panic, stared down at his body. The rest of the transformation was a blur. His hips flared out, stretching his shorts over newly plump curves. His legs, once lean and muscular, became soft and shapely. His feet shrunk. His hair grew, cascading over his shoulders. His face, once all hard lines, became a series of soft curves. His lips plumped into a rosy pout.

He looked down at himself, his eyes wide with horror. He ran his hands over his new body, his fingers trembling as they traced his hips and breasts. He let out a high-pitched whimper.

The Morphisizer clicked off. Ethan leaned back from the hedge, his heart pounding. He did it. He turned Zayn into the very thing he mocked. And unlike Mr. Kim, he was completely aware. The look of utter devastation on his face was pure poetry.

Zayn staggered back, his body swaying with the new weight of his breasts. He stumbled into the water bucket. He stared down at his new form. His hands hovered over his breasts. His face was a mask of horror.

“What… what’s happening?” he whispered, his voice a melodic, feminine lilt. He reached for his crotch, finding nothing. A fresh wave of panic washed over him. He felt an intense, aching phantom limb.

He looked around frantically, his eyes landing on Ethan behind the hedge. The look on Zayn's face was one of pure, raw betrayal. “You!” he hissed, his voice a low, feminine growl. “You did this to me!”

Ethan, for a moment, was taken aback. He hadn't expected Zayn to notice him. But the look in his eyes was pure hatred.

Zayn staggered forward, his new hips swaying with a confident, feminine grace. The water was dripping off his new skin, clinging to his new curves. His breasts jiggled with every step.

“Turn me back,” he said, his voice trembling with fury. “Turn me back, you little freak!”

Ethan grinned. “Why would I do that?” he said. “You look great.”

Zayn roared in fury. “I’ll kill you! I’ll break every bone in your body!” he shrieked. He lunged forward, his new body moving with surprising speed. His breasts bounced with the motion. Ethan was going to have to run. And he was going to love every second of it.