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Tales of the Sculptor: Origins
If you passed me on the street, you'd probably not remember who I was. Not because I would make you forget, but because I look so average. I'm not attractive or ugly. I'm not skinny, buff, or fat. I'm some where in between. I wasn't gifted with insane intellectual, creative, or athletic abilities. I was just another face in the crowd.
Don't get me wrong, I didn't want to be special and I knew I could have it much worse. But, everything change once I developed my abilities. You see, I can change another person's body, but never my own. Bodies becomes clay in my hands and I transform them. I've always tried to use these powers for good. I have help people gain or regain control over their lives. But, every time there is a consequence. The person I transformed gets a part of their personality changed. This has lead to some interesting situations, but also some terrible problems.
In my travels, I have meet others like me. People who have been gifted with transformation and shifting abilities. Whether they be mad scientist, magic users, cursed, or genetically gifted, these individuals all had a unique way of using their powers. Although there has been many people who also used their powers for good, I have witnessed many evil acts done by some with these abilities. And, Now I think I have committed one these horrible acts. I think I have made a mistake.
In these last days, I can only reflect on my journey and how I ended up here. I can only hope who ever reads this collection can find some understanding to what I did and why I did it. So, I guess now it's time to start from the beginning. How I discovered my power and the first person I changed, my origin story.
I discovered these abilities, when I was 18. I had just graduated high school, and decided not to immediately go to college. I had no plans for my life, so wasting money going to college without having a goal seemed like a bad idea. Instead, I went to work and looked for inspiration in the real world. I was free to explore who I was ... well almost. As fate would have it, someone else decided to not seek the college route. My bully, Bruce Mathews, throughout my whole educational life.
In high school, Bruce was the quarterback of the high school football team. He was insanely attractive. His dark hair was perfectly styled. His jawline was chiseled perfectly. His blue eyes stared right into your soul. You could say, I was attracted to him. I mean who wasn't. But he made everyday a living hell. And those feelings of love turn to fear, sadness, and confusion.
To the outside world, he was mister perfect. The whole school was on his side. His body was ripped from his sports workouts. His arms popped with muscle. His legs where made of pure power. His chest looked good, as his pecs strained against his shirt. He was the only person at the school with an 8 pack. He had the body of a god. The girls loved him. The guys wanted to be him. And, the staff/teachers made sure he was taken care of.
He had the power to make or break your social life. If he hated you, you would become an outcast. Name calling and verbal put downs where very common to these poor victims. But, I had it the worst. I was his number one target. As a result, I got the honor of also getting my ass kicked, regularly, by him and the rest of the football team. This ugly side of him ended up getting the better of him, when he decided to drink and drive. He got into a car accident by swerving into a store, in the middle of the night. As a result, he lost his scholarship, got rejected from his college, spent some time in jail, and was indebted into paying for the damages. So ... yeah karma got him. But, it didn't help me. Because now he was still around and even angrier.
I was walking back home, through some old railroad tracks. When I saw Bruce sitting on a log and drinking from a bottle. I quickly looked away from him and start walking past him. But, he got up and walked to me. He was wearing a muscle shirt and his muscular arms were on full display. His chest was rock hard. And, the tight muscle shirt outlined his abs. He grabbed me and pulled me up to his face. His breath smelled like alcohol.
"What the fuck you looking at fag!" He yelled as he pushed me to the floor. He then got on top of me and used his whole weight to pin me down. With the weight of the muscled jock on me it was becoming harder to breathe. With the flexing of his arms, he began punching me. The first few hit my chest and arms. Immediately, I felt an intense pain. And, I didn't know how much more I could have took. Then out of nowhere one hit my face and my eye sight went black for a second. I was completely left dazed. (He is going to kill) I thought to myself.
With a surge of adrenaline, I was able to free my arms. As, he aimed to punch me again, I grabbed his arm. I tried to talk to him, but only disoriented mumbling noises come out of my mouth. Meanwhile he kept drunkenly cursing at me. I felt myself losing the tug of war with his arm, as one of my hands braced his forearm and my other hand cupped his bicep. Suddenly, I felt less force being used to pull away from me. And his rock hard arms start to feel soft and squishy. Suddenly his whole arm slipped out of my grasp.
We both look at his arm, now it was stick thin. The mountain-like bicep was gone. The sturdy forearm was weak a fragile. Even his hand became smaller. It looked deformed on the rest of his big muscular body. "What the fuck did you do ... to me?" He yelled and then he decided to punch me with his other arm. Again, I grabbed it. And another tug of war occurred, with the same results and sensations.
He got off me and stumbled to the ground. I used that as my chance to flee. But, I looked back to see his eye turning red, with tears, as he examined his new arms. Still in a drunken haze of confusion. He saw me running away. He struggled to lift up his heavy body with his weak arms, so he yelled. "Come back you gotta fix this." But, I kept running. Reaching my house, I was extremely tired and instantly fell asleep.
I woke up the next day, confused if yesterdays events even occurred. But, I saw the bruises on my face on body. (Maybe I had some weird concussion induced dream) I thought to myself. My parents already left for work. I got dressed and made my way downstairs. When I heard a knock at the door. I was shocked to see Bruce standing in front of me. His muscular body still towering over me. However, this time he didn't have a form fitting shirt on. Instead, he was wearing an over sized sweater.
He weakly grabbed me by the collar. "Nobody is here right." He whispered. I just nodded yes. Then he tried to push me inside, but he failed to even move me an inch. Instead, I just walked back into the house, allowing him to follow me. He sighed and closed the door, as he followed me inside. I was just speechless and confused. Then he looked me straight in the eye and said "You gotta help me." He started taking off his sweater. Underneath he was shirtless. His massive pecs and 8 pack were the first things to come out. Then. I realized the truth once I saw his tiny arms. (It wasn't a dream).
"You gotta change me ... you gotta help me." He begged. I stood their in disbelief. "I don't even know what I did." I replied. "Look you little shit. I might not have my arms. But, I still have my legs, chest, and abs. If you don't help me, I'm going kick your ass." He yelled. With his small arms he grabbed my hands and weakly pressed them against his body. Scared my instincts took over. Not wanting him to kick my ass and wanting to fix what I did to him, I slid my hands to his arms. Again they felt soft, but with each heart beat they pumped up with muscle. Suddenly, he pushed me away.
"What the fuck are you doing." He yelled. "I want you to drain me from my muscles, not give them back." "What!?" I gasped in absolute shock. "Why?" "I realized something after, I sobered up and calmed down, yesterday. I hate my body. I always have. I hate being a big strong muscle jock." He said with complete honesty, while I stood there with my mouth open in shock. "I'm gay by the way. No one knows. Everyone excepts me to be this tough guy. But, I want to be small. I want a big strong man to take care of me. The truth is I had a crush on you in school. But, I hated that fact. So, I took it out by kicking your ass. By making you the monster." His voice now pained with guilt and regret. "Truth is ... I wanna be a twink" he shook his head and laughed "And now you can help ... you can change me. I already ruined this life. Turn me into a completely different person, so I can start again."
I looked at him. My bully confessing everything to me. All the things he did to me, why would I help him? But, my moral compass took the best of me. And , I placed my hands on his rock hard body. Instantly muscle evaporated off his body. His thick arms became sticks again. His chest flattened out, as I rubbed my hands on them. His abs were washed away with one brush of my hands. I continued rubbing different parts of his body. As these parts became clay in my hands, they started to shrink and become less defined. Less muscular. Smaller. Suddenly he started shrinking, until he was smaller then me. I made some changes to his face, but for the most part kept it the same. My hands slipped as I accidentally touched his crotch, shrinking his dick and balls as a result. He only moaned out in pleasure. His transformation was done as he cummed, all over the floor. His eyes glazed over.
"I'm sooo ... sorry for everything I put you through." He said to me. His voice was softer and lost any ounce of toughness. "I hope you can forgive me" he continued. Any presence of power left him. Now in front of me was a timid little twink. I understood what happened. I changed him and now his personality shifted. "Um ... now that your the big one. I mean you don't have to. But, since I have had a crush on you. And, I'd like to repay you. Can you ... um please... um fuck me." He shyly said, his checks becoming red.
I just nodded. As we embraced each other. Slowly making out. My body wrapped around his smaller frame. He adjust to suck my dick. And, I chuckled in disbelief, as my ex bully is now the little weak one who just wants to please me. I lift him up on the bed. With erotic thoughts of his transformation in my head, I shoved my hard on into his tight little ass. We both climaxed and laid next to each other, catching our breath.
He leaned over and kissed me. "Thank You." He said. He took my clothes and walked out of my home. They were still to big for him, but they fit better than his old ones. I never heard from him again. But, I heard he made his way to California to live the best off his twink life.
That was my first time having sex and the first use of my power. It is also, only, the first part of my story.
NAPOLEON DYNAMITE (2004) Dir. Jared Hess
Ink in ink~
My head hurts.
To lower my anxiety in inking this, I drank chai tea and played autumn jazz cafe music in the background (call me basic or whatever, this is what helped me not stress over every tiny detail that I demolish with a the heavy handed strokes in the teeth and such. I WANTED TO SCRAP THIS CUZ I WAS SOO IRKED WITH MYSELF FOR ACCIDENTALLY GIVING INK A GAPING TOOTH--but then the jazzy piano notes and light strumming of the guitar calmed me the eff down so all was OK. Sort of...)
Anyway...hi~
Here's Ink in ink. I'll clean him up later cuz its 2 am and I got work again. But at least ink got his ink. He is welcomed. (I am this close in drawing him naked cuz really man? Do you NEED that many layers???)