At home

Wendell walked in the fading sunlight along the sidewalk back towards home. Home was a dirty United University dorm room occupied by himself. He wasn't assigned a roomate and hadn't joined a fraternity. He played with the toy raygun in hand as he walked, taking a couple of mock shots. Before he knew it, he was walking up the short steps to enter Lincoln Hall, go to his dorm and get changed for the party. He got almost all the way into the door before a loud, harsh voice bellowed, "WENDY!"

Shit.

Full. Tank. Hank. His real name was Henry Grey, but his propensity for drinking a great deal of alcohol earned the nickname "Full Tank Hank". Hank actually was a complete prick. He stepped into view of Wendell. Large, hairy forearms, 5 o'clock shadow, a mop of unkempt hair and his general hulking bulk made it clear why he was a defensive lineman on the football team. "Hey, WEND-EEE!! How you doing, bud-EEE?"

"Uh... hey Hank."

Hank threw up a fist and Wendell flinched. Sigh.

"Awwww, WEND-EEE. That's two for flinchin', Bud." With that, Hank reared back a heavy, hairy fist and slammed Wendell twice in the arm as hard as he could.

"Fuck." Wendell rubbed the arm and a cackling, lumbering Hank turned away to go up the stairs to his own room. Wendell saw the gun still in his hand. He pointed it at Hank's back and took a mock shot at the jerk.

With a whirr, and a bit of a buzz a faint light hit Hank, and he collapsed. Completely. A hollow, empty shell in clothing was all that was left. Wendell couldn't believe what just happened. Oh god. Had he just killed Hank?

With a quick look at the dorm's entrance. Wendell saw no other living soul. He raced over, scooped up the mess that used to be Hank and his clothes and tore up the stairs. On the way up he darted right past some other guy that lived two doors down, with only a curt nod and desperate hope that Hank, and his clothes, just looked like laundry.

Once he made it to his dorm room, he flung open the door, tossed in Hank, and flung the door shut to hear....nothing. It was totally quiet. Nobody had heard or seen anything. No panic, no alarms, sirens or screams. Wendell became acutely aware of his own heavy breathing. He slowed down, wiped a bit of sweat off his face. What to do?

He looked down at his hand, saw that he still had the gun. He walked over to his desk and flicked on the lamp. He poured over the hefty toy all around until he found faded, etched text on the bottom of the grip:

1st shot makes a costume.

2nd shot restores.

Have Fun!

Wendell felt the text with a thumb and then looked over at the pile of Hank. He aimed and fired another shot. With a hiss and a hot puff, Hand began to reinflate. He puffed up all the way to his original standing position. His shoes had fallen off somewhere in transit, but the rest of his clothes still clung on and soon he let out a soft grunt.

"Uhh...what?" Hank turned around and saw Wendell. "What just happened? How'd I get here?"

With an arched eyebrow and burning curiosity, Wendell responded. "You passed out."

"Wha-"

Wendell then shot Hank again. Hank deflated just like last time in a crumpled pile on the floor. Makes a costume.... Wendell went over and picked up Hank's hollow, empty shell. It had a large neat split along the back of his head, down his neck and presumably, the rest of his back. Wendell pulled of Hank's shirt, and there indeed was a split all the way down.

The inside of Hank's...skin for lack of a better term was pink and smooth, not bloody or anything at all like the inside of a person. Wendell lifted Hank's right arm by the thumb and let it fall. It made a wet slap against its own torso. It was like a mix of leather, rubber, and latex. Wendell pushed his right arm deep down in the back of Hank and fit Hank's hand like a glove over his own. After a brief moment the skin tightened and sprang to life over Wendell's, and he could feel every sensation from Hank's large hairy hand. "Really? Heh...cool."

Hank now posed in front of Wendell's mirror, or rather Wendell in Hank's shirtless body. Wendell was now taller, hairier and stronger than he ever thought he'd be in his life. The skin went on easy, pulling the face on felt a bit weird, and it hurt when it sealed up, but he was now Hank, and just had to tug at the back of his neck to pull Hank off. After flexing his biceps for the 10th time, he looked down at his jeans, Hank's jeans. He shrugged and began to unzip. He stripped off everything down to bare skin and...Hank wasn't much bigger than himself. A cock like this, and Stacey Jones sleeps with him.

Stacey Jones. Stacey. Jones. She sleeps with Hank, and I'm Hank....I can go fuck Stacy Jones!

Stacy was a blonde, 21 year old student in a brown, low-cut dress that was stretched tight over her chest to emphasise her B-cup breasts on her thin frame. She wore her hair in braids and had a feathered headdress on. Her skirt was a bit too short given the given the cooling October air. Heavy eye shadow and defined cheekbones gave her a mature look. She was standing about in the sunset outside her sorority waiting for her boyfriend Hank to arrive.

Hank, or rather, Wendell pulled up in his pickup truck wearing a domino mask a black t-shirt with jeans. "Hey baby, hop in."

"Hank...you goon. You're late," Stacey moaned getting in. "Where's your hat and your badge? You're supposed to be the Lone Ranger? Dork."

"Uh...sorry babe. I got...distracted." The truth is that Wendell found only the mask in Hank's room and wasn't even sure that was part of his costume for tonight. Wendell put the truck in gear and pulled away from the sorority towards the opposite side of the campus where the party was to be held.

"So, what do you think about my outfit?"

Wendell glanced over and eyeballed Stacy's skimpy Indian outfit. Specifically her small, tight bust and her high, revealing skirt. "It's...tight babe." He was almost drooling over her and had to quickly remind himself to watch the road. He reached over and slapped a hand on her knee pushed up her thigh.

"Hey! Wait 'till later. You'll mess up my hair and my makeup."

"Sorry babe. Just...really worked up." Wendell was a virgin, and he really, really didn't want to wait, but he pulled his hand back and focused on the road. His jeans now felt a little too tight. Uncomfortably, painfull tight.

"Damn, you are worked up." Wendell looked over into Stacy's surprised face looking right at his strained jeans.

"Well, pull over to the park there. I can help you out." She winked and flew her left hand over and grabbed Wendell's cock giving it a firm squeeze through the denim.

FUCK.

In the park, Stacy carefully exited the care and kept looking around seeing who, if anyone was about. She sauntered over to the driver side door, and guided Wendell out.

Behind a thicket and obscured from prying eyes, she put her hands up against a tree and pushed out her backside arching her back. Wendell came up behind her and she began to grind into his dick. Wendell started undoing his belt and jeans and pulled out Hank's strained, throbbing cock. He hiked up Stacey's skirt, pulled aside her thin, white panties, started rubbing his cock onto Stacy's pussy.

"Hey...no...ugh...foreplay?" She said between grunts. "Well, fuck babe, I feel wet enough just...go ahead." She sounded disappointed, but Wendell couldn't hold it any longer. He rammed his cock in Stacy, hard and deep as he could. "Agh," She cried, and he began to thrust as fast as he could. Deeper, faster harder, and...he was cumming...already. After a few heavy, hard pulses, he was empty.

"Uh..wow...that was faster than usuall. You ok Hank?"

"No. I mean- yeah I'm cool it's just been a...long day." Wendell didn't know what else to do. He just started pulling out of Stacy, and a faint, last weak throb forced it's way out of him.

"What the-fuck-damnit Hank! You just got cum on my fucking skirt. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? I can't go to a party with fucking cum on me all night! Asshole."

"Sorry Stacy. I didn't mean to-" Stacy was turning around. Glaring.

"You're gonna lick it off!"

"I...what?"

"Hank, you're gonna lick this cum off me. Like I made you last time." She smiled. Does she always treat him like this? Damn.

"Stacy...I uh.."

"What? Come on? You did it last time. It was hot. Just do it." She reached up and grabbed at Wendell's hair tryin to force his head down to her crotch. She had a tight grip.

"Stacy, don't...don't do that." Wendell felt the back of his head stretching.

"What? Oh. Don't be such a...OH MY FUCKING GOD! WHAT THE FUCK!?" Stacy had freed Hank's head from Wendell's and it now hung loosely from Wendell's neck. "Who the fuck are yo-"

She didn't finish her sentence. Wendell did the only thing he could think and shot her with the ray. He stood, his real head poking out of big Hank's body and held the raygun in his fully outstretched arm. He looked all around. There was only a tree trunk and a circle of bushes, and it was nearly dark. He realized he was holding the ray gun like a quick draw gunfighter, and chuckled. Like Wild Bill. Wait I'm not a virgin anymore.

Wendell was beaming for a brief moment, but reality slapped him the face: what would he do with Stacy now? He could just reinflate her after fixing his costume, but she might remember. He picked up Stacy's skin, her headress falling off as he did. Wendell took note of the cum leaking out of Stacy's pussy and look down at himself, his flacid cock slick with her fluid. Stacy. Hmm...