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Aaron was no stranger to the local stadium, but there were plenty of things that struck him as odd about the invitation he’d received to the game, that evening.

For starters, the tickets didn’t look like any that he’d ever seen before, but they did list an all-access pass as part of his benefits; that would have been easy enough to overlook, but the lack of a return address on the envelope and the presence of a key in the letter were more than a little suspicious.

“Guess it’s just a matter of if they’re able to scan my ticket or not,” he murmured, as he stood in the line outside, eager to see a good hockey match whenever he had the chance. “Worst comes to, I can always just go to the box office and buy some nosebleeds…”

He wasn’t visibly nervous, but there was a moment of concern when the gate security took his ticket and scanned it: just as quickly as his fears bubbled up, they faded away when he was ushered through to keep the line moving.

Whatever he was supposed to do with the key and wherever he was supposed to go, he still had a lot to figure out, but for the time being, he was on the right side of the gate.

“’Scuse me, sir,” he stopped a security guard just inside the first ring on his way to the seats, “You know where this section is? I’ve never had seats here before.”

Familiar as he was with the stadium, this was only raising more questions for Aaron, but the guard that checked his ticket gestured over to a truly unexpected place.

“Through the locker room,” he explained. “Don’t worry about any dirty looks you get…just flash ‘em your ticket and they’ll get you where you need to go.”

“…Huh. Cool, thanks.”

There was nothing unusual about the security guard; Aaron wanted to believe that everything going on was just a series of strange coincidences, and that he was the benefactor of a generous stranger or a wealthy friend.

Things still weren’t adding up for him as he made his way toward the next guarded area, where the tunnel into the arena was to the right, and the locker rooms that supposedly lead to his seats were to the left.

The velvet rope that blocked off the tunnel was opened as he approached. “They let us know you were coming. Enjoy the game, sir.”

He felt like he was getting the VIP treatment: Aaron couldn’t recall the last time the security detail at the stadium was so polite to him, and hearing the rope click back into place behind him, there was a sense of pride in knowing that so few fans were ever given the opportunity to cross that line, even for a moment.

Turning to the left and seeing the painted patterns of the team mascot all over the wall, Aaron caught a single, momentary rush; a mere sample of what the players were able to feel every time they came rushing through the tunnel and into the sold-out stadium.

It was so thrilling that goosebumps held a home on his skin, even after he made his way into the comforting heat of the locker room.

“…Empty…?”

For everyone else in the building to be filing into their seats and the security detail to be in place, it made no sense for the team to be absent, but that was just one more oddity about an already strange evening.

It didn’t even have a chance to hold center stage as the weirdest thing, when his ticket started changing in his grasp.

“Is this thing running?” he asked, seeing the ink come loose from the cardstock and swirl around beneath his thumb. He adjusted his grip and readied himself to look for a napkin, but none of the ink came away on his thumb, despite it shifting and sliding all over the blank, white space below it. “No, it’s…changing? The fuck?”

He was far enough into the locker room to keep from alerting anyone with his words, but still close enough to the security guard that he could have turned around and asked for more help, if he were so inclined.

He likely would have, if not for the text that was taking shape on the ticket.

“Go to locker one…and open it.”

Reading the instructions out loud didn’t help him believe what he was seeing, but as soon as he said those words, he heard a distant click , as a lock popped at the other end of the locker room.

Further from the end of the tunnel and the prying eyes of eager fans and other players, there was a final row of lockers on the back wall: lined up horizontal and offered a little extra cover by the virtue of other lockers in front of them, these seemed to be reserved for players who had a sincere appreciation for their privacy, but there was only one that Aaron could open.

All of the other locks were still firmly in place on the lockers around it, but right in the center, the infamous “Locker One” was begging to be opened, with a lock that had dropped so freshly that it was still swaying, as though as breeze had somehow come through the locker room itself to entice him.

“…Did someone else come in here and open this?” he wondered aloud, as he looked over his shoulders.

There were no other exits from the locker room, and in such a place, it would have been nigh impossible for someone to sneak away without him having seen or heard them as they went past. The only explanation, unlikely as it seemed, was that the lock simply dropped out of place; whether it was coincidence, years of wear and tear, or something more that he couldn’t explain, Aaron had no clue what had happened.

Tugging the lock away from the latch and flicking the door open, the mystery continued to unfurl before him, but each clue that he was left piqued his growing curiosity: in the middle of an empty locker room with no other players, there was a full set of gear in the only open locker, and just opening the door, he could feel the warmth of a body still lingering within.

A single touch confirmed what he already suspected when his fingertips came away from the fabric of the jersey. “Still damp,” he whispered, but there were more instructions appearing on the enchanted ticket, keeping him on the straight and narrow path ahead.

Put on the gear, the ticket told him, with the letters shifting and growing bolder, as if it could sense his hesitance to the suggestion.

“Kinda fucking gross, isn’t it?” he asked, preferring not to think about his lack of sanity; if he stopped to consider that he was talking to a piece of paper, he thought it might break whatever fever dream he’d fallen into. “Seriously, it’s still moist…I don’t wanna put that on myself!”

You took the free, VIP tickets, the letters changed again, showing the ticket to have some form of sentience. But nothing in life is really free, is it? Put on the gear.

The text was bigger and bolder the second time around, showing Aaron that this was less of a suggestion and more of an order.

He wasn’t a fan of being pushed around, but he’d been guided into this place by an unseen force, urged on by a magical ticket and brought to a very specific place: at the very least, if he didn’t listen, there was the risk of being thrown out of the stadium, but that same gamble applied no matter what he decided to do.

Taking the gear of a player, after all, would take this from a simple expulsion from the stadium to petty theft, and spending the next few nights in jail was no more a part of the plan than anything else he’d done that evening.

“Better be a damn good reason for me to do this,” Aaron groaned, as he set the ticket on the bench in front of him. Tugging the jersey from the hooks within making a disgusted face at the spongy feeling of sweat-addled polyester on his palms, he noticed how much gear was actually hiding behind that, and the ticket wasn’t clear about the instructions, beyond Aaron putting it on in the first place.

If he didn’t empty the entire locker, there was no telling what might happen, but he was already thinning his lips and shuddering at the idea of stuffing his junk into a jockstrap that had already been worn by somebody else.

“…I’m not putting this on over my clean clothes.”

Setting the jersey over the bench for a moment, Aaron made the decision that he was going to take this all the way through: no one would have believed him if he said that he had an enchanted ticket telling him to put on a uniform, so if he was going to do it, it only made sense to go forward with a greater fervor for what he was doing.

He couldn’t deny that he’d always wanted to skate out onto the ice and experience the roar of the crowd as the announcer said his name over the loudspeaker, and for a moment, the distant rumbling of fans clamoring in their seats was enough to complete the illusion.

Without the proper padding underneath, however, the illusion would be broken in no time.

“He’s gotta have some shoulder pads in there somewhere, right?” he asked, remembering that he needed those just before he lifted the jersey from the bench again. “Been so long since I played organized sports…kinda forgot you actually had to suit up with all the rest of this stuff before you made it all look good.”

The jersey and the pants would actually be the last thing that he had to worry about, but as he stood before the locker and listened to the distant rumblings of fans, he could feel a sense of burden rising up within him, as if he was thinking about the performance that he was about to put on when finished preparing for the game.

With no actual game in his future, it was a whiplash of emotions, but there was no questioning their validity as he lowered the pads around his head and onto his shoulders and chest.

The cool, moist nature of the polyester against the interior of the pads didn’t bother him in the least as he laced the gear into place. Instead, there was an overwhelming sense of comfort and safety that came from adding the protective pieces to the rest of the uniform, and new fervor came alive within Aaron as the shoulder pads settled in as a perfect fit against his upper body.

“Forgot how wonderful it could feel to dress for a game,” he admitted to himself, clinging to those distant memories of his adolescent years and thinking of how wonderful it was to give a set of pads a whirl one more time, even if it was only a dress rehearsal. “Never feel as strong as I do when I’m wearing these…”

It was a natural sentiment, and one that plenty of other athletes shared: putting on the pads was adding a burden of weight to the body, but it created a sense of confidence, and in some, arrogance, as if a single layer of padding was enough to make them indestructible.

Even though it had been years for Aaron, that sensation came back to him in an instant, and his hesitance about putting on the sweaty, musky gear was waning fast.

“What’s next…probably the full girdle and jockstrap, hm?”

There were no further instructions from the ticket, as if it trusted Aaron to handle the rest of the situation himself. His own memories were strong enough to work from, but when he reached in to fetch the girdle and the host of rubbery pads that filled it, the strongest scent of all drifted toward his human nose and struck him…not with the intensity it carried, but the familiarity.

Somehow, he felt as though he was smelling his own musk on the girdle, even when he was absolutely certain that he’d never worn it before.

“Still, I’m sure they’ll slide on just as easy as the shoulder pads,” he assured him. Once more, he placed the garment to be worn on the bench, and this time, there was no hesitant pause, nor any time taken to look around and make sure that he still had his privacy.

Confidence was welling up within him at an alarming rate, prompting him to pop the buckle on his belt and shove his jeans to the floor, rather than taking his time with properly unzipping them and folding them up, like he normally would have.

Not really a problem if I leave a little bit of a mess behind, is it? He thought. I’m not gonna be hanging around to get caught like this…

The quicker he finished putting on the gear, the sooner he could make a break for the exit and, with a little luck, he’d have a collection of souvenirs that any hardcore enthusiast of the sport would kill to have.

Not that I’d be putting these up for sale. I’d probably just wear them all the time…

The pads around his shoulders felt as though they were snuggling up to his flesh, but Aaron didn’t think they were getting any tighter.

In reality, it was his body that was growing into the pads, rather than the pads themselves shrinking, but the process was a slow and soothing burn, taking enough time that the lucky human was too preoccupied with stepping into the girdle to notice what was going on.

“Wait…n-no. Wrong order,” he paused, letting the girdle drop to the floor as he tugged the jockstrap from the very back of the locker. “No point wearing all the rest of this junk if I don’t protect the most important part…”

There was a final moment of hesitance before Aaron pulled the strap back into the dry flesh of his exposed member: the discomfort that came with sliding something moist and cool, like a not quite dry pair of swim trunks, back over such a tender and sensitive area.

For that being the case, there was still a grunt of delight from the lucky human when he pulled the strap into place, and just as perfectly as the shoulder pads before it, the fit was simply perfect.

He wasn’t worried at all about the mystery of how something that was waiting in a seemingly random locker could fit so well on his body. His mind wasn’t normally simpler than that, but in the moment, with the thrill of doing something so forbidden lingering over his every move, he was focused purely on adding to the rush that he already felt…and the fit of the jockstrap was becoming a little uncomfortable as a result.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he mumbled. The dry tone in his voice graduated to a chuckle when he felt the sensitive flesh of his cock bulging up against the front of the jock strap, but he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to pull that extra bit of cover away from his shaft, just yet. “Not like this hasn’t happened to me a dozen times, before….”

When he was younger, still active in the sport, Aaron wasn’t a stranger to suiting up before a game, and he already knew this about himself…that he had such a fascination with the gear itself.

It had been such a long time that he’d quietly forgotten about just how strong of a reaction he would have when he dressed before a game, but there was more going on than a brief trip down memory lane; he couldn’t quite put his finger on just what was going on just yet, but one thing was becoming entirely clear, as the jockstrap nearly jumped from the head of his member.

“…I know the pads have always given me a little extra confidence,” he kept his voice low as he looked down between his legs, “But I’m pretty sure I wasn’t…a-always that big…”

Without reaching a full erection, his length was already growing to such an extent that the protective gear wouldn’t fit comfortable around his shaft anymore…but that wasn’t enough for him to try pulling it away from his flesh.

He quietly enjoyed the sight of the cup and strap as they strained around his cock, and his ears picked up on another soft, whining sound, coming from around the same area.

His thighs were growing just as quickly as his manhood, but he wasn’t aware of that until the once perfect fit was shooting past the feeling of being a little tight, straight to the point of discomfort.

“Or maybe, I was?” he thought aloud. “Maybe I just didn’t notice it before?”

For all of the changes quietly taking place on his body, and the obvious nature of the growing flesh and muscle mass that padded it out, Aaron felt like there was an air of familiarity to all of the differences that forced themselves upon his frame.

He couldn’t say for sure that he’d been in a different body before, but like a recurring dream, he was sure that he’d seen the details of rippling muscle mass against his legs before, and the wrists that gripped the edges of his jockstrap were becoming coated with thick, risen veins, lending a hint to the sheer amount of power that was flowing through him.

That same vein-addled pattern was spreading down through his groin and giving his cock a fascinating appearance, but the webs of blood vessels that spread over his shaft were causing such a noticeable and profound discoloration that it almost distracted Aaron from the extra hair that was curling and crawling over his knuckles.

“…Hmmph. Guess you were right, Mom…should have kept my paws to myself or something.”

The fact that the hair was curling around the edges of his palms and reaching the center of his hands should have been of greater concern, but once more, there was a voice in the back of his head, telling him that this change was all completely normal…even something that he should have expected.

He still couldn’t explain why he was able to trust those instincts so blindly, and he didn’t care: he was excited to wrap the growing digits around the shaft of his length, curious to know what it would feel like to pump his own member with a changed grip.

“Mnn…n-now that’s the good stuff…”

Just getting into the locker room in the first place was a riskier chance than Aaron would have normally taken; he was far and beyond that level of risk now, going from simple trespassing to lewd conduct in a single grasp of his transforming cock.

The discoloration continued shifting his normally pale, almost olive-toned skin to a warm, intense pink; the very tip of his member was still contained by the cup of the jockstrap, forcing him to connect the final dots on his own…but the fuzz that spread back over his wrists was already growing out in impressive volume around the shaft of his length.

Extra flesh encompassed the base and gave Aaron a blatant clue at just why his length had been the center of the changing display: the insides of his digits were growing thick, heavy pads, as well, forcing him to adjust his grip as he gave the transformed length another curious stroke.

“Feels like there’s a h-huge fucking lump down there, too…why isn’t that f-freaking me the fuck out…?”

Familiar enough with the basic anatomy of a canine to get the gist of that sensation, Aaron still felt as though he should have been more put off than he was by the fact that it felt like an orange had swollen into life at the base of his manhood, but he was too busy enjoying how sensitive everything between his legs had become to worry about the impossibility of it all.

He didn’t even notice that the streaks of fluff and fur were shooting up from his crotch and spreading over his stomach like the flashing, whipping flames of a wildfire, but where these streaks of white flickered and grew, they stayed , covering up the flesh beneath with a health and thick coat of fur that any canine would have been proud to sport.

There was an even greater wealth of memories flooding into the back of his mind, replacing the ones that he carried so close to his heart. For some reason, as each one took the place of an older thought, he didn’t feel like anything was being properly replaced, as much as there was a hidden part of himself that could only come to the surface under certain circumstances.

Humbling as it should have been to undergo such a profound transformation, the sheer hedonism of the act and the aesthetic changes were taking center stage and keeping a wide, devious grin on Aaron’s lips, even when they began stretching further across his face.

“Dunno how much longer I can…g-get away with this…”

Precum gushed against the inside of the pocket, but Aaron wasn’t sure that he could stop himself any longer: there was a point of no return that he was sure to pass, and his heightened pleasure meant that he’d get there sooner than later.

Restraint wasn’t the kind of issue that the man he was becoming was concerned with, but the human remnants of his mind weren’t in the mood to fight against such an alpha male spirit. Decidedly canine instincts were more fun to listen to, and as the body continued to change and reflect those instincts, the human element of self-control became a worthless, forgotten thing.

“Gonna have to watch out for those claws, though…wasn’t expecting that.”

He was fortunate that his nails were slower to extend: the tips were still dull when they grazed against the side of his shaft, but pulling back and looking over his transformed member, he could see that he hadn’t caused any serious damage.

If he had the chance to turn them on someone else, however, he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to keep himself from putting those claws to better work.

“After all…what better way is there to put a bitch in their place than marking them?”

The way he spoke made it clear that his mind had accepted the new reality unfolding around him, even if his body wasn’t quite there yet. Fur continued to spread over the rippling muscles that were emerging just under the surface of his skin, hiding them a second time…but the power was still evident in his growing, expanding frame.

He was a paragon of thick, athletic bulk, standing with hardly an ounce of body fat and a figure that was impressively aerodynamic, just like a professional skater would have wanted; that he couldn’t explain where such an incredible body had come from was odd, but as he came toward the end of his transformation, the concerns about how possible it was were a thing of the past.

There was only the ongoing appreciation for how well everything adjusted to the new bulk of his body, from the pads that curled around the thick bones of his knees, down to the slick, gripping pants that he pulled up over his own backside.

He could just imagine how much attention he’d be getting when he stepped out in those, but there wasn’t all the time in the world to stand there and think about how nice his ass looked, when he knew he had to hurry up and get it out to the court.

“…Wait…w-when did I join the team?”

It was a silly question for Aaron to be asking himself, but that name didn’t feel appropriate for him, any longer.

The fields of fur that filled in the gaps between his shoulder pads and the hockey pants were a brilliant contrast, thanks to the stark white of his underbelly. His gear complimented that so well that he was tempted to forego the jersey entirely, but he wasn’t in the mood to start the evening in the penalty box for having an infraction with his gear.

He'd put the jersey on, and he’d make a stink about it the entire way, but he couldn’t head out to the ice without taking care of the last, and easily most important part of his pre-game ritual.

“Not sure how something like this ever became associated with good luck, but…I’m not g-gonna complain about it,” Aaron murmured. “Feels better to be lucky than to be good, right?”

His interpretation of being good could have been taken in so many different ways at that moment that even he couldn’t keep from chuckling about it…and that was through the low, growing moans that passed over his lips and kept his length bouncing against the inside of the cup.

On the other side of his body, a final piece of the puzzle clicked into place as the last of his human skin allowed a strange growth to escape: the elongated bones of his spine, down to the tailbone, were stretching away from his body with the sensation of an internal tug, as if someone was trying to pull a plug out of his muscles from the small of his back.

The gap in the middle of the hockey pants, once seeming pointless, became sensible in an instant.

“…Slides right into place, e-every time,” he commented, as if the last of his new memories were taking hold in the depths of his mind. “Fits like a glove, too…g-guess I’d better lace up…”

A roaring crowd was calling the name of the star player.

Distant chants of “ Ace! Ace! Ace! ” rattled the ceiling above him and left the fur on the back of his neck standing on end. Ears that were no longer on the sides of his head, but instead sat up atop his skull were twitching and perking to the overt, heavenly chorus of his fans.

He'd been there so many times before, and yet, Ace never took it for granted when the roar of the crowd fired him up to get out on the ice and put the competition on notice; they never would have guessed that they were helping him through something else entirely with their ego-stroking cheers.

“Should probably finish this first, t-though…”

An empty water bottle with a wide, screw-off top was the only option that he had if he wasn’t going to paint the inside of his own jockstrap with a load of his seed: even if he hadn’t been exploring the sensitive flesh of his transformed cock, the sheer bliss of going through the powerful change was enough to leave Ace on the edge of a release.

Giving his new flesh a few curious strokes had only hurried the process along, providing a little extra time to milk the excitement out of the crowd before the game began.

“Gonna be a fucking great night tonight,” he murmured, his voice dripping with such heavy confidence that it was nothing short of an arrogant drawl. “Probably kinda silly to say that I’m gonna c-cream the competition, but…who’s gonna judge me for it?”

No one would dare say an unkind word to Ace: the star of the team with a reputation for being as brutal in the locker room as he was on the ice, it was nothing short of a death wish to fall from his good graces.

Knowing that about himself was what gave the Ace the confidence to strip naked and jack off between periods of a game in the first place, but as he grabbed the water bottle and placed the open mouth over the tapered head of his length, he was ready to take full advantage of his predatory nature.

Everyone else was already back out there, getting ready to start the third period of the game, as Ace winced his eyes shut and pumped his hips at the bottle. The hollow container gave a quick timp as the first lace of his cum sprayed across the bottom and started filling it, but the next sounds were muted as each splash of seed landed atop the growing volume.

Incredible as it would have been, Ace wondered if he was going to fill the bottle, that time, when he felt his yield oozing from the tip and trickling down the inside wall of the container. “Fuck…w-wish this was a little wider…gonna have to get something that I can f-fucking knot with one of these times,” the husky murmured, his curled tail swishing about behind him and spreading a bit of the musk that came along with the natural efforts of his climax.

He didn’t think there was anyone else lingering around to catch that scent, but even if there was…he wouldn’t have had the time to take advantage of their presence: he had a job to do.

“Pretty sure I don’t have…q-quite that much in me…but that sure was a lot, wasn’t it?” he asked himself, feeling breathless at the pleasure that came along with the unprompted climax. “All the way up to the f-first fucking line…would have loved to see one of those little bitches from the other team trying to swallow a-all of this up!”

Aaron was nowhere to be found, but within the shifted, altered reality, Ace was tossing aside a bottle full of his cum, having taken care of the last part of his mid-game ritual. The mess wasn’t his problem to clean up; the ice was the only thing that could demand his presence, and someone else was being paid to clean up the locker room.

Ace, on the other hand, was being paid to clean up the competition, and the husky had one period left to complete that task…but he still had to finish lacing up his pants, first.