Call Me By My Name: Timothe

Call Me By My Name: Timothée

You were sick and tired of always being pushed around. Your last relationship ended because they told you would never amount to anything. They had moved out of your apartment leaving you alone for the first time in many years. As much as you tried not to stew in your own sadness, you couldn't help but find yourself isolating in your empty home, trying to distract yourself with the reliable social media rabbit hole. You sat on your bed, scrolling through Facebook, until you saw an interesting ad.

"Become A Star"

The words in bold font permeated your mind. You had just ended a three year relationship. Your minimum-wage job in the office had good benefits, but it didn't seem like a permanent position. The idea of being a celebrity always did appeal to you: never having to try. You could sit around and maybe sing a song, film a movie, or take a picture every now and again. Seemed easy enough. You wished you had that easy life. No worries about money. People throwing themselves at you. You wanted that. Badly.

You clicked on the strange ad and your browser exited Facebook and opened a new tab. Suddenly, all your other windows and tabs were shut, leaving only the new tab. "Hey!" You yelled as you had some work documents unsaved. You tried to click away from the tab, which was still loading, only to find that your mouse would not move. Heading to the power button on your laptop, you reached to press it until the page loaded with just a text bar.

Annoyed that you had lost progress on your work, but still intrigued by this strange website you looked at this text bar. There was no context surrounding it. It was a black page with a white text bar. You remembered the ad: "Become A Star"

You took a deep breath and typed in the star that you most wanted to become.

Timothée Chalamet

Hesitating for a moment, you pressed enter. Nothing happened. Your computer shut off. Now you were angrier that the tab had closed, rather than the fact that it had opened in the first place. Slowly, you allowed yourself to rise from your bed, but as you stoop up, you became extremely light-headed. Stumbling about, you tried to place yourself back onto your bed, but missed and landed directly onto the floor, smashing your tailbone in the process. As you winced from the pain, a new feeling began to arise: pleasure.

You felt an orgasmic writhing from your toes. They began to stretch and elongate, each crack and pop sending waves off pleasure through your body. Curly black hairs began to carve their way across the top of your foot and onto the tops of your toes, as the pleasure became overwhelming. You laid down on the floor, your erection throbbing in your pants. As you continued to squirm from the pleasure, you lifted your head between gasps, to see that your new feet were donning grey Nikes. and some tube socks. You squished your new feet in the shoes, the socks were sweaty, feeling damp and moist. But you liked the feeling.

Your legs began to sprout, thin, yet dark curly hairs. Your calves toned, while your thighs thinned, leaving both halves with similar masses. The hairs began to weave their way up, encircling your crotch. Your shorts began to lighten and grew longer, becoming a pair of pink pants, almost reaching your smelly socks and shoes.

Your arms, too, lengthened, with your fingers becoming thin and almost dainty. Your biceps flexed with a new, strange power, as you felt the hair work its way into your armpits. Slowly, but surely, your armpits became a forest of curly, wet, dark hair. Your chest narrowed, and your stomach flattened, leaving your torso a sort of plank-like shape.

The pleasure grew as you felt your jaw clench. Your chin narrowed and your jawline grew defined. Thin, wispy hairs sprouted above your lip as your nose thinned. Your eyebrows darkened and thickened, weighing on your eyes, which were forced to close, only to reopen an intense green color. A tickling feeling began at the back of your neck as your hair began to darken and grow out into intense curls, framing your new face. You reached for a shirt, hoping that whatever was happening was over.

Just as you pulled a grey t-shirt over your thinned body, the orgasmic waves grew stronger and began to originate from your erection. You keeled over from the pleasure. You looked down at your pinked pants and saw your bulge growing and growing with each pulse. Each wave felt like it was pushing your penis further and further away from your body. Underneath, your pubic hair began to sprout thicker and thicker, weaving its way back into your crack. After what seemed like an eternity, one final wave pushed you over the edge, and you came into your pants, leaving a dark, sticky, wet mark. The pleasure was intense. You had never experienced anything like this before.

Still reeling, and still light-headed, now from the pleasure, you sat up.

The website had worked. You were now Timothée Chalamet. Now you were a celebrity. Now you didn't have to try for anything. The world would be handed to you because you were talented, attractive, and charming as hell. Overjoyed, you went to take a shower in your new body. As you undressed, you enjoyed the feeling of your thin body against the fabric. You slowly pulled your sticky pants down, with new waves of pleasure erupting as you felt it rub against your perky ass. You needed a moment to breathe; as amazing as that orgasm was, you need to focus now. Slowly, you resumed pulling off your now sweat-filled shirt. Fully nude, you walked towards the shower, ready to clean off.

As you showered, you ran your hands through your curled hair. You traced your jawline; felt the sharpness. You began to lather up with soap, and as you rubbed your butt, you began to feel a little curious. Slowly, you reached towards the hole, but as you crept closer, the pleasure began to hit you, and your new, bigger penis began to engorge itself once again. "God, he's always horny. I need to be careful of this." You thought to yourself. But that was a later issue. The shower was private time. You continued to play around with your new hole with one hand as the other fondled your penis. God, it felt amazing. This is the life of a celebrity; nothing but pleasure. Your strokes began to speed up as you felt yourself nearing another orgasm. As you finished, you couldn't believe that this was your new life.

Stepping out of the shower, you threw on the first things you could find in your closet that would fit. Ready, and impatient to start your new life, you stepped outside of your home. After walking on the street for only a few minutes, you heard the first scream from behind you: "Oh my god! It's Timothée Chalamet!" As you turned around to look at your fan, you began to crack a smile, knowing that this was going to be such a good life.

Wacked Out

It was late August, and you were finally on campus for your freshman year at Vanderbilt University. You had studied super hard all throughout high school, ending up with a 3.9 GPA and a 1580 SAT (almost perfect). However, since you had spent all of your time studying and doing class work and homework, you never had the opportunity to live a normal, teenage life. Now that you were already at this prestigious school, you were going to let yourself take a break and work on yourself, not just focus on school.

Your first stop was the gym. Growing up, you were always smaller than everyone else. Rather than playing sports and running around the playground, you stayed off to the side, reading and learning. That habit stuck throughout high school, but now you were ready to change that.

Shoving whatever loose gym shorts and t-shirt you had into your backpack, you left your dorm room and began the short walk across campus to the gym. The weather was still summery, and you began to break into a sweat almost immediately as you stepped into the hot sun. Luckily it was not a long walk, and you soon approached the athletic center. As you were about to key into the building, you noticed something in the corner of your eye. Turning, you saw a dark green Under Armour compression shirt. Maybe it fell out of someone's bag? Picking it up, and holding it away from your body, you thought it was around your size. Bringing it to your nose, it smelled vaguely of body odor around the arms, but it wasn't something that a simple run in the washing machine wouldn't fix. Shrugging, you decided to put the shirt in your bag and keep it as your workout shirt. Anything beat your regular t-shirt.

Stepping into the locker room, you found an open locker and placed your backpack into it. Unzipping the large pocket, you pulled out the shirt. Sniffing it one more time, it definitely smelled of body odor. You wanted to pull away, but something about it was so entrancing. Without thinking you ripped your t-shirt over your head and chucked it to the ground beside you. Holding up the smelly shirt to your nose, you felt your dick stir in your pants. Grinning, you shoved your scrawny arms into the shirt and lifted it over your head. The smell of sweat and musk filled your nose as you pulled your head into the neck hole, leaving you intoxicated with the scent. With the shirt firmly over your slim chest, you felt a pumping in your chest as your pectorals filled the compression shirt, stretching it in the front. Still reeling from the smell, you rubbed your hands lazily over your stomach, feeling washboard abs appear out of thin air. As you rubbed, you lifted your hand back to your pecs, tweaking your new sensitive nipples. A moan escaped your lips as your fingers and hands thickened, squeezing each nipple harder. Your arms and forearms thickened, leaving the sleeves of your new shirt stretched to the limits. Your thighs expanded, stretching your gym shorts. Your calves thickened as well, with light curly hair etching its way up your legs and towards your crotch, which swelled with power and masculinity. Dark spots appeared under your arms, as thick smelly hairs poked their way out of the follicles. Now you were producing more of that intoxicating smell. You lifted your arm and inhaled as you shot ropes of cum into your shorts.

Taking a breath, you left the locker room and went into the gym, heading straight for the mirror. Pulling out your phone, you snapped a photo.

You looked like Ethan Wacker, that kid from that kid show or whatever... the one who dated that girl who sang about her driver's license. He was hot?

Surprised at your new look, you ran back to the locker room. Lifting your bag out of the locker, you got another whiff of your arms. Your dick rose again. "Shit!" Why were you so horny? Breathing and attempting to will your boner down, you began to speedwalk out of the athletic center and back toward your dorm. Trying to hide your face, you threw a mask on. You had to be having a nightmare. There was no way this was real. This was impossible. As you sped across campus, you pulled out your phone again, flipping the camera to selfie mode, only to be treated with your new face.

Seeing your muscled chest and thick arms on the phone screen only caused you to panic further. Breaking into a full sprint, you finally reached the dorm. You swiped into the building and ran up the stairs, and down the hall. Reaching your room, you fumbled around your backpack, hyperventilating trying to find your keys. Grabbing the keys, and pulling them out, you placed them in the lock, but the keys kept slipping out of your hands. Shit, your fingers were so much bigger than before. Finally, you felt the key push into the lock, and you twisted every which way until the door finally fell open and you tumbled inside and onto your face.

Pulling yourself up, you ran to the full-length mirror, only to have your fears confirmed. In the mirror was a hot former Disney star. But that wasn't you. You were skinny and nerdy and good at school, not an actor with big muscles. You did have big muscles. They look kind of good. But this wasn't you. These weren't your strong man's hands. You didn't have these sexy abs and thick pecs. Your biceps weren't that big. Your armpits reeked. You pulled off your shirt, just to make sure that those pecs on your chest weren't yours. You spent your days in the studio filming, not on the playground. You didn't have time to go to regular school. Damn, your chest looked good. Why wouldn't it? You started going to the gym after being so small for so long. Lifting your arms to flex your massive biceps, the smell of your pits engulfed you. You were Ethan Wacker.

Making a Boyfriend

It was your first semester in college. You were so excited to have a little bit of freedom. As soon as you stepped into your dorm room and saw your roommate, Peter, and the pride flag hanging above his bed, you knew this was going to be awkward. You had nothing against gay people. They were fine most of the time. But having one as your roommate? That was too much.

He was quiet, which was fine, but you always felt that he was checking you out. Whenever you were sitting at your desk, you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head. When you turned, he averted his gaze, but you knew. He was into you. You were not gay.

God, it was so awkward.

After taking your daily shower, you walked through the hallway and back to your room with your towel around your waist. Opening your door, you stepped in. Seemingly out of nowhere, Peter rushed behind you and held his hand on your chest. Stunned, but unable to move, Peter whispered in your ear:

"I need a boyfriend."

Suddenly, you didn't mind Peter's hand on your chest. You were gay, and you loved a cute boy to have his hands all over you.

"You're so strong, have you been working out?"

Peter's words echoed in your ears. You felt your biceps thicken your lats expand, giving you a wide back. Your thighs expanded and new, rock-hard abs pushed their way out of your torso. You were jacked. You loved going to the gym just as much as you loved Peter.

"I'm so glad that you're taller than me so I can nuzzle up to you when we're in bed together."

You felt your legs lengthen and your spine crack as your point of view rose. You were now a tall 6'4. Your hair lightened to a blond and curled. You felt your towel drop from around your waist. You rushed to cover your newly exposed ripped body.

"I love how carefree you are too. You've got the himbo vibe perfected."

Your mind felt foggy. The classes you were taking, everything you had learned so far in college, disappeared. All you could remember was meeting your hot boyfriend Peter when you moved into the dorm, the gym, and football. You slowly lowered your hand, exposing your dick, which had swelled to a monstrous 11 inches.

"Since you're already naked, let's go cuddle in bed together."

Making your way to the bed, you laid yourself on it, ready for Peter to crawl into your big, muscular arms, just as he had done since the first night you spent together in your room.

An Olympic Diver

The local community center had recently set up a high diving board at the pool, and you were super stoked to give it a try. Diving through the air, and landing into the water after doing some flips and other moves, it all looked so graceful and awesome. If you were able to really pull those dives off, you would be the talk of the town. Maybe one day you could even win a gold medal at the Olympics! All you had to do was learn.

Since it was just diving, you decided that there was no need to take any lessons or classes or anything. You had seen plenty of videos of people on the high dive before, and you were confident that you could easily replicate them. Mounting to the top of the board, you had absolutely no hesitations or second thoughts as you approached the edge of the board.

Looking down and past your feet, you could tell just how high up the board was. But you were confident that you could effortlessly land a dive after a couple of front flips. You knew how to dive, and you knew how to flip into a pool. How difficult could it be? Plus, even if you messed up and somehow landed incorrectly, you would be landing in water, so it couldn't possibly hurt. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

With a final deep breath, you jumped off the board towards the surface of the pool. Attempting to flip, you curled yourself into a tight ball, only to open up for a dive at the last moment. However, you had accidentally released too early and lost your momentum. Unable to shift your trajectory, your arrogance shifted to intense fear as your body rapidly descended through the air. You futilely tried to thrash your body in order to shift back towards the dive, but it was far too late. With a large splat, you belly-flopped directly into the pool.

Your body was on fire, and everything stung. Your ears were ringing and you were dazed. You could feel your heart pumping in your head. In your disorientation, somehow you managed to swim to the side of the pool and pull yourself out of the water. Everything was blurry, and you were stumbling toward your towel, which you had left on the bleachers.

Fumbling blindly, you finally grabbed a hold of your towel and began to attempt to dry yourself off. When your towel made contact with your body, it began to bulge outwards. You felt a pumping in your chest as your pecs expanded, with your nipples erect from the cold breeze on your wet chest. You rubbed the towel over your stomach, as new washboard abs emerged out of thin air. You lifted your arms above your head to dry your armpits. Thick, wet patches of hair pushed their way out from under your arms, which ballooned at the contact with the towel. Your forearms thickened and your biceps grew massive with a tattoo etching its way across. Wrapping the towel around your waist, your swimsuit transformed into a tight speedo, allowing your swelling thighs to rub against each other. Your calves thickened as well, with hair etching its way up your legs and towards your crotch, which began to push further and further into your new speedo, sending immense waves of pleasure throughout your body.

The pleasure erupting from your dick was so indescribably intense that it sent you into a euphoric haze on top of your disorientation. Looking down at your swelling dick, you paid no mind to your new muscular body. All you needed was to pleasure yourself. Reaching underneath your towel, you began to rub your dick through your speedo. Almost immediately, you began to orgasm, sending ropes of thick cum into your already wet speedo. Moaning in delight, your body spasmed as the pleasure overtook you. You threw your head back in pure ecstasy. As you continued to shoot out your seed into the speedo, slowly but surely the haze and disorientation dissipated.

Finally, the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced finished. You opened your eyes to look down at yourself, only to finally notice your massive muscular chest and abs. In disbelief, you raised an arm and flexed it, in awe of the mountains of muscle you now had on your body. Ripping the towel off of your waist, you saw your massive cock in the speedo, which had white fluid dripping from it onto your feet and the floor.

"Bloody hell!" You exclaimed.

You jolted, taken aback at what just came out of your mouth. You sounded British! Suddenly, against your will, your hands raised the towel to your head and began to dry off your hair. All of your previous memories began to disappear. You were born in the U.K. You were an Olympic diver for Team U.K. You were here at this pool practicing for the games next year. Another gold medal would be nice for your collection.

As all these thoughts and memories rushed into your head, you heard your phone ring on one of the bleachers. Answering the call and holding to your ear, you heard that it was your husband, Lance. "Thomas, are you finished with practice yet? You know I can't keep my hands off of you when you're all worked up and sweaty like that." You grinned at his desperation for your sexy diver body. You had this man in the palm of your hand. Who wouldn't want a piece of you? It was good to be Tom Daley.

Secret Reward

Jake was your everyday college student who stood at a petite 5'4" and as thin as a plank of wood. He was often bullied for being nerd due to his intense love for academics and passion for learning. Despite his small size, he was a force to be reckoned with when it comes to academics. He was taking a chemistry class which was required as a science credit in order to graduate, but the subject matter is proving to be a challenge for him.

However, in class, the professor announced that there would be a secret reward for the student with the highest grade on their final assignment. This news motivated Jake to work even harder and study even more intensely. He poured all of his effort into his studies, determined to earn that secret coveted prize. When the final grades were released, Jake was elated to see that he had received an A+. He had never been more proud of himself, and he couldn't wait to find out what the reward was.

As he walked up to his professor, A+ in hand, he asked what his prize would be. The teacher handed Jake a potion, telling him that it was a special mixture that would grant him one wish. Without hesitation, Jake wished to become an incredibly muscular football player. He had always dreamed of being on the football field, making amazing plays and thrilling the crowds.

As Jake drank the potion, he felt an intense energy coursing through his body. His muscles began to grow and bulge, starting with his biceps. They expanded and became defined, rippling with strength. Next, his chest began to transform, expanding and becoming wider, with well-defined pecs. His abs became chiseled and tight, creating a six-pack that was the envy of all who saw it. His abs tapered off towards his crotch which swelled with manliness as a deep odor emenated from his throbbing member.

Jake's legs became stronger and more muscular, with quads that bulged with power, squeezing his crotch, and sending waves of orgasmic pleasure through his body . He could feel the strength in his legs, and he knew that he would be able to run and jump like never before. His back became wider and more defined, with lats that tapered into a V-shape. He could feel the power in his back, and he knew that he would be able to make amazing plays and tackle with ease. Finally, his shoulders broadened, becoming wider and more defined. They were powerful and could deliver crushing hits on the field.

As the transformation completed, Jake had become an incredibly muscular football player, with a body that was strong, agile, and full of power. He was amazed by what had happened and couldn't wait to hit the field and show off his newfound abilities.

The chemistry professor smiled as he watched Jake. Not only was he the smartest kid in the school, but he was also the star quarterback. He is unstoppable.

The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse... you were all alone for the holidays. While your friends managed to get home and were with their families or decided to spend the night partying until sunrise, you were stuck alone at home. This wasn't your plan for this year. Your stupid boss wouldn't let you take off the day before, so you had to work on Christmas Eve. You had planned on flying back home to your family after work had finished, but a surprise snowstorm canceled your flight back home, and you had no way of getting there. While your parents were obviously upset that you wouldn’t be joining them, they couldn’t be angry at you, because it wasn’t your fault. You couldn't control the weather. 

Trying to find something to keep you occupied, you had spent the evening baking cookies for Santa Claus. Obviously, you were old enough to understand that Santa didn’t exist, but you had baked cookies for him every year with your mother since you were a kid, and Christmas Eve would feel incomplete without the smell of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. However, once the baking was done and the kitchen was cleaned, the silence that filled your house was deafening.

Placing the tray of cookies and a cold glass of milk by the fireplace, you poured yourself a large glass of eggnog and headed into your bedroom to put on a Christmas movie on your laptop. Maybe watching other people in the festive spirit will bring you some joy. Scrolling through all of the streaming services you had, you were unsatisfied with the array of films. You had seemingly seen everything. Finally, you stumbled upon that old 90s movie with Tim Allen, The Santa Clause. The idea of this toy salesman turning into Santa and learning the true meaning of Christmas was so insane! But nonetheless, you remember liking the movie when you watched it many years ago, so you decided to press play. As the movie played, you continued to drink your eggnog. Eventually, you finished your first glass and went back to get a second. With every sip of the eggnog, you found yourself becoming more and more relaxed. The movie was funny enough, but you found your eyes gradually getting heavier. Slowly, everything faded to black.

Cough cough 

You awoke suddenly to the sound of coughing. You jolted upwards. Your laptop was still warm on your legs, and the movie was still playing; it was only halfway finished. Throwing your computer off to the side, you hurriedly stumbled out of bed to see what was happening. As you turned the corner, you saw it. There, standing in your living room, was some fat old guy dressed as Santa Claus. In one hand was one of the cookies you had baked earlier, and the other was clawing at his throat. His cough had stopped, but he was still gasping for air. He was choking. Before you had time to react, his knees gave out and he stumbled backward, landing on the floor. His massive body shook the house, and then, everything was still. It was silent. He wasn’t moving. Stepping forward and raising your foot, you tried to nudge him, to see if he was still alive. Instead of meeting his leg, your foot seemed to move right through him, instead catching the fabric of his red suit. Before your very eyes, this dead man who had broken into your house seemingly dissolved into thin air. All that was left of him was the half-eaten cookie and his outfit.

You had to call the police. A man had just broken into your house. Running to your counter and grabbing your cell phone, you raced to the front door to see that it was locked. Running to the side windows, you saw that they were… locked. Walking to the back door, sure enough, it was locked too. Looking at your alarm system, you saw that it was armed. How did this guy get into your house? You put your phone down. Walking back into your living room, you stepped over the red suit and stuck your hand up the chimney. Sure enough, the flue was open. Oh my god. Did the real Santa Claus just choke on your cookies?

Now what? You definitely can’t call the police. They wouldn’t believe you that Santa just died in your room and his body vanished. Sure, you were a little tipsy from the eggnog, but knew what you saw. No one would believe you, still. Hell, you wouldn’t have believed yourself! It sounded like something directly out of a Christmas movie.

You paused. Like something out of a Christmas movie. Looking down at the outfit the fat old man had just been wearing, you thought back to the movie you were watching. It could have been the eggnog talking, but why couldn’t you just try his clothes on? I mean what was there to lose? It’s not like there was actually a dead person in your living room; only his clothes.

Looking at his hat, that had once been on his head, you picked it up and placed it onto your coffee table. You sat on your couch to deliberate what your next course of action should be: call the police or try on Santa’s clothes. Staring at this hat and looking beyond at the full outfit which lay strewn on the floor, you made up your mind. If nothing else, maybe this will put you in a festive mood.

Standing up and placing the hat on your head, you instantly were overcome by an intense gurgling in your stomach. You felt so incredibly bloated. You rubbed your hands on your stomach, only to feel it rapidly expanding outwards in front of you. Bringing your hands to your chest, you felt it sag as your pecs grew into mounds of fat drooping from your torso.

Your ass grew enormous, stretching the fabric of your pants and tearing the seams. Falling backward onto your couch, you heard as the legs buckled under your growing weight. Your thighs splayed further and further outward, ripping your pants and pushing your legs farther and farther apart. Your fingers swelled into large sausages and your feet grew massive. 

The hair across your body lightened to a gray, before becoming as white as snow. Your upper lip itched as white hairs pushed their way out, growing long and meeting up with the hairs forcing their way from your chin. Soon, you sported a large, white, bushy beard. Wrinkles began etching their way across your face and body as you aged rapidly. Standing up from the couch, you stumbled as your center of gravity changed with your massive weight gain. Slowly, you managed to bring your body to the clothes of the former Santa Claus. Reaching down and grabbing the fabric, you pulled your blubberous legs through the velvet pants, shoving your giant feet into the brown leather boots. You lifted the heavy suit jacket over your shoulders and massive beach-ball stomach, before adorning it with a buckled belt. You brought your massive fingers into the white gloves and lifted his glasses onto your face.

You looked exactly like him. You were the spitting image of Santa Claus. Looking at the tray of cookies that you had baked earlier and the big guy had just choked on, you decided it’d be best to pass on the cookies tonight. Instead, you turned towards the chimney, ready to get back to your sleigh and deliver the rest of the presents before sunrise. Bringing festive cheer and joy to the world was enough to make an old man like you laugh gaily with glee:

Ho, Ho, Ho!