The Manor

Stewart Black was in his final year of college when he finally did it. It took him almost all of his free time at the cost of any semblance of a social life, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

At the age of 23, Stewart had stumbled onto some blueprints on the internet; blueprints of a powerful machine. This machine, supposedly, had the ability to alter reality. It could change people's minds and bodies, to varying degrees of subtlety. At first, Stewart had dismissed the blueprints as just some internet scam, and he knew it was clickbait. Unfortunately, he accidentally clicked it, and $5 000 was taken out of his bank account. For a college student, this was a big deal.

3 months later, near the beginning of his last year as a physics student at USFCA (look it up), Stewart was shocked to receive blueprints in the mail. At this point, he had forgotten about the incident, and was very surprised to find out that not only was it a real advertisement, but he could very well build the damn thing. He thought to himself how interesting it was that someone had disguised a commercial product as clickbait, perhaps so that only the dedicated few would get their hands on the machine.

At the end of the year, Stewart had finally completed the machine. It had cost him a hefty sum of money, countless hours of labor, and due to the extra effort needed to complete the contraption, he would have to repeat his final year of college, but it could very well all have been worth it. He was now in possession of a literally life-changing device.

He had built it in the attic of a holiday house that his grandparents were letting him use as a permanent home while he completed his education in San Francisco. It was a very big house, more of a manor, really. It had two floors, not including the attic, 6 bedrooms (1 master bedroom), a terrace, a pool in the backyard, and a rooftop patio. In his early college years, this was the perfect party destination; big enough to house all of his invitees and even the occasional walk-in, but not so big that you would be finding passed out guests the week after.

Looking at the completed machine, Stewart couldn't help but think about how big the fucking thing was. He could have guessed by looking at the blueprints, but this exceeded his expectations. He was glad he assembled it in the attic, as this would have been impossible to hide on any other floor of the house. The machine itself was really just a monitor and a keyboard, but it was all the external machinery that made it a hefty son-of-a-bitch. Which only made sense; after all, reality-altering software isn't going to fit on a standard harddrive.

Stewart started by making the obvious changes to himself. (If you're wondering why I haven't described Stewart's appearance by now, it doesn't matter, because it's his altered form that will be the focus of our story) He made himself 6' 2'' tall, with short black hair and a defining jaw-line. He gave himself muscles, too; not body-builder level, but he certainly wouldn't have any trouble taking lids off of jars anymore.

Of course, he made some more perverted changes, too. He gave himself a 9'' dick, including complete mental control over it. He could will it to become rock hard, or even will away the odd awkward boner. If he wanted to, he could produce gallons of jizz on command, and could stay hard after doing so. Suffice it to say, Little Stewart wouldn't be letting him down anymore.

He considered giving himself the mental powers of the machine, but decided against it for now. There was something so intoxicating about typing in a command, pulling the lever, and watching the machine work its magic. He soon realised that the range of the device was limited. Coincidentally, or perhaps not, the range was the exact size of the house, including front and back yards.

So, if he wanted to change someone else, they would have to be in the house. However, he didn't want to make it so obviously about the house that people would begin to get suspicious. Stewart would have to carefully consider how to proceed.