Thanks for 100 watchers!

 

 

    It’s 4 in the morning and you still haven’t slept a wink. You‘re far too excited over what’s sure to happen within mere minutes — the serum you created and will soon take effect on your body. If all goes well, you’ll end up a real-life Mr Fantastic of sorts, able to bend and flatten yourself like you had a silly putty body.

    You swing your legs off the side of your bed, planting your feet to the floor and standing among the darkness. With the remote on your nightstand you power on the lights on your ceiling fan, dimming them to a calm shade while you practice your usual morning stretches. You throw your right arm across your chest and pull it tight with your left, holding the position for a few seconds and then executing the same procedure with opposite arms.

    After these stretches and a few others to target the various muscles within you, you figure you should get yourself going for the day with a few push-ups. Stepping to a more open area in the room you place your palms and toes to the carpeted floor you start, banging out five nearly instantly. Then came ten. Thirteen... fifteen... sixteen... God why can’t I hit twenty?? you question yourself internally, beginning to feel sleepy.

    Aggressively sleepy, as a matter of fact. Within seconds after your sixteenth push-up you feel as though you’ve been deprived of sleep for days on end and that this room holds the most comfortable bed in the universe. Clamoring to your feet and stumbling under the weighted comforter, the only energy you had left proved sufficient to turn off the lights.

    Your eyelids zipper apart an unknown period of time later. “Uuuggh...” you grumble. “How long was I out...”

    That answer is delivered to you with a check of your phone; reading the lock screen you’re greeted by the numbers twenty... twenty forty...

    “EIGHT-FORTY?!” you exclaim as you shoot your back upright. “I-I was asleep for... for sixteen hours! What the hell happened?!”

    Kicking off the blanket you fling your legs to the side to step out of bed like you did this morning. Suddenly your head goes light as the usual feeling of stepping onto the carpet is off, in some uncategorizable sense. Maybe too heavy, but somehow too light of a sensation at the same time.

    Memory rushes back to you. The only viable cause of such oddities had to have stemmed from the serum you drank! Hoping to bring years of yearning and dreaming into reality, you regain your stability and bend down as if to touch your toes. Absolutely zero challenge, unlike before, but you want to go further. You grab your ankles with your elbows positioned between your knees, forearms abrading against your calves. Then, as a test of truth, you attempt to grab again at a 180 degree angle. If this works, your forearms will twist like taffy around your Achilles.

    And they do.

    “AH! AH-HA! HAHAHAAAHHH YES! OH MY GOD YEEESSS!” you yell out, overjoyed with your work. You keep pushing your limits, as if they still exist. Maybe they do, but for now you wallow in the absolute elation of your newfound elastic powers. More and more twists of stretchy arm slither around your lower legs until your calves are totally invisible.

    “GaAaAgh...” You tighten quickly and firmly, then release. As you envision your arms retracting, that’s exactly what they do, compressing back up to their normal length and hanging off your shoulders without the loss of a natural fashion. But now your calves are not only elongated, they’ve been molded into spirals like drill bits or rotini pasta. With a rubbery finger you touch them carefully. They start to soften at your contact but they seem to lack a very human feature: body hair. Sure, your legs have never been all that hairy but you’ve always felt some trace of hair when you touched them...

    Closing your eyes you imagine your clay legs ‘inflating’ back to their normal appearances. You can feel it starting too; a warm, airy feeling is rising within your calves. “Hah, ohhhah...” you whimper as you experience the stretching of your elastic body. With a sensation of tautness at the end, you can conclude your legs have properly reformed. You open your eyes and find yourself correct again, but you’re also reminded of the lack of body hair. But now you just shrug; maybe your new stretchy properties ate it away. And that’s okay with you.

    You stand up and look around yourself. Without even thinking about it, your arms elasticize around your body to touch places you couldn’t have before — “HOLY SHIT!” is what you exclaim when a softened fingertip slides along the middle of your spine. As amazing as this is to you you can’t help but feel a little worried as well all of a sudden; what if you subconsciously stretch in public?

    You pace around your room for some time trying to work out the problem, but eventually you just lay down on your carpeted floor and decide you’ll just take a few days off work and see how things play out in terms of your newfound physiological attributes. Smiling to yourself you draw your legs together and start adhering them, only by thought. “I really was born for this...” you whisper to yourself as they zip together. With a little more strength you merge them into one leg, assimilating your crotch into your shifting putty form. “Nnngah!” Soon enough you’d turned your legs into a simple clay tail.

    Breathing heavily you stick your arms to your sides. It feels like a workout to you as you again coerce your body into slurping up another set of your limbs. Then you roll your torso about the carpet like a log, trying all you can to hold your body straight. You slowly shape all but your head into the rounded, stick-like shape, some of the features and contours of your body still apparent, as well as imprinting from your carpet. “Ohhh god this feels good...”

    Now that the extra energy burn from absorbing your arms and shaping your torso has ceased, you slip into a relaxed state. A smile creeps onto your face as you close your eyes but just then, you open them wide at your body changing yet again.

    You feel sticky, and knowing your subconscious desires, you deduce that you somehow willed yourself to start melting. With minimal effort you pull the tapered end of your ‘tail’ up to your face, staring at it for a few seconds, then caving in to curiosity and licking its tip.

    You prove yourself correct in two hypotheses: you’re melting, and you’re like rubber. With a deep breath, you settle your form back to solidity, allowing the figurative heat to radiate off you as you find that comfortable place once again, even though the taste of your tail is not one you’ll forget anytime soon.

    “Downfall of being elastic, I guess,” you joke to yourself as you continue exploring the properties of your pliability. Calories are burned, or so it feels, as you crunch into a curve and start curling your tail. The rest of your body proceeds slowly, sweat beading from your hair, as you bend it in. “Hah, GrrrUgH...” you groan as you continue to work yourself around your own shape. About two minutes go by, and finally, your face sticks to your own rubbery form, which feels like it’s resumed its softening.

    More and more malleable you become, a high sensation sweeping over you. All you can do is close your eyes and embrace it. You know you want this and you love it... yes... in you go... smaller and smaller... just the perfect size...

    Thanks to sensual pleasure and newly induced viscosity, you move like a goo as you partially melt into yourself. All traces of your human features are wiped away along your untextured surface while you draw in further... and further... into a palm-sized drop of your elastic, ever-shapeable, renewed self.

    Perfect... you repeat inside your head as drowsiness overtakes you, slipping you into slumber with ease.