Resolution Change Initiative

Asher kicked his legs impatiently as he stared at his book. This was the fourth time he'd read the same sentence over, not even taking it in. This was so boring, how much more did he even have to read? He flipped to the end of the book. 217 pages. He flipped back to where he was. Page 14. He groaned and tossed the book aside. He could finish it later. And if not, there was always the film adaptation. Or he could even ask ChatGPT for a concise summary. Instead, he turned on his computer, opening Steam in the process.

"That doesn't sound like reading to me." As if by magic, his dad entered the room clutching a bundle of dirty laundry. "Come on, you said you were going to get a kickstart on your homework without leaving it to the last minute as usual."

"No, you said that," Asher grumbled. "And I basically read a whole chapter. They're not expecting us to do it all at once."

"What about your new year resolution? Abandoning your work for tomfoolery isn't exactly responsible."

Asher rolled his eyes. Big words coming from a man who's been divorced twice... But he wasn't wrong. There was a new year's resolution website that was trending in the weeks leading up to the new year, New You Resolution, and he wanted to join in. But he didn't want to do the usual lose weight, learn a language, daily assertions crap that all the adults did. In fact, he didn't want to commit to anything, he just wanted the clout from participating. So he chose a very simple goal - to be more responsible. It was an empty gesture, really. Something that sounded meaningful while also being easy to fulfil. He led such a slothful life that by cleaning his room every other week or washing the dishes every now and then, he'd already be on the road to success. If only he hadn't told his dad about the site...

"The year's barely started," Asher whined. "Cut me some slack! Or should I chastise you for not constantly following your resolution. What was it again, to be more chill and laid-back?"

"It was to relax. Stop and smell the roses, thank you very much. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a load of your dirty washing to put in the machine." He turned on his heel and left, muttering to himself.

With another roll of the eyes, Asher tapped on his favourite platform fighter in his game library, then turned his attention to his phone while the game loaded in. Just as he was about to put it down to choose a fighter, a push notification flashed across the top of the screen. An email from, speak of the Devil, New You Resolution. Urgent - Important Changes To Your Accou... Normally, Asher would have ignored the spam, but there was a tingling down his spine, and a feeling in his stomach. Almost like dread. With a heavy sigh, he tapped the notification to read the mail.

"Dear Asher," the email began. "We hope you've begun your New Year with a bang, as you work on making meaningful changes. Your New Year's Resolution was to "be more responsible." However, a formal data check has determined your livelihood to be such that any negligible difference in habit would result in accomplishment. We find this to be antithical to the high standards we hold in resolution-making." Asher gulped, data check? Can they even do that? Who were they to judge his lifestyle, anyhow?

The email continued, "Thus, your account has been enrolled in our Resolution Change Initiative, a pool of volunteers whom our premium members can use to further their Resolution Journey." Premium members? Who was paying ten bucks a month for this crock of shit? "Shortly, we will connect you to a Premolution Buddy in your area who has asked for assistance in their resolution whom we believe could also provide you with the livelihood best befitting your New Year Goals. No action will be required on your part, as the transfer process will activate automatically. We wish you the very best in becoming the very best you!"

Asher read the email over a few times, yet it seemed to make less sense the more he did. Maybe the company had been hacked, and it was some elaborate hoax to get his bank details? "Good luck with that," Asher scoffed to himself. He was too young to access any of that, and he wasn't about to ask his dad. It would be irresponsible to get him involved, anyway. He chuckled to himself, and threw his phone to the side, picking up his bluetooth controller before finally entering his game.

After a few minutes of mashing buttons, Asher frowned as his usually trustworthy killer combo broke at the last moment, allowing his opponent to get the upperhand and unleash their own combo, KOing him instantly. The next few rounds were the same. His fingers fumbled over the controller, muscle memory affording him some hits, but most were misses. His controller was bugging out, that had to be it. Although the once familiar curves in his hands felt wrong, like they were too small within his grasp. But that didn't make sense, controllers don't just shrink. Maybe it was a sign that he should stop playing and get back to that boring, boring book. It would be the responsible choice, after all. The thought alone made him shudder.

With one last round of getting his ass owned, Asher sighed, and looked down to his controller. He froze. That was his controller, but those weren't his hands. They were a poor facsimile, too big to be his own. They were broad, and little hairs poked out across the skin, even on the tough looking knuckles. They were man's hands, not the hands of a teenager. And it wasn't just his hands that weren't right. They were attached to a pair of long, veiny, similarly hairy forearms that jutted out from the cramped confines of his shirt, the sleeves now far too short to accommodate them

There was a loud rip, and his sleeves spooled apart, freeing his arms as they transitioned from weedy to bulky, smooth to hirsute, his skin changing texture in rapid succession. Asher panicked and jumped from his chair, only to stumble over thin air. In the brief seconds of consciousness he had before slamming his head against the ground, he couldn't help but notice his jeans were tattered much the same way as his shirt, revealing thick, hairy legs. His feet were similarly huge, and presumably their increased size is what tripped him up in the first place. And as he lay on the floor, he briefly wondered why his sneakers looked so shiny.

Asher groaned as flipped to his back. How long was he out for? Seconds? Minutes? He reached up to his head, feeling a peculiar tug across his bicep. "What the fuck?" He asked wearily as he pulled his heavy body up to rest on his eblows. His body spooled out across the floor, taking up almost twice the space as usual. But that wasn't all. His previously torn clothing appeared to have mended itself, only wrong... He tugged on his black button shirt in disbelief. He never wore shirts with buttons, he didn't think he even owned any. It was accompanied by a black suit jacket and pants combo that appeared to be unfurling before his eyes. Even now, he watched as a patterened tie snaked down from his neck, and his shirt tucked itself into his tailored pants.

"This isn't happening..." Asher gasped as he swung himself to his feet, then stumbled over to the mirror hanging next to the door. He gaped as his young head sat atop the body of a broad-shouldered man in a strapping suit. It was like one of those photoboards you saw in amusement parks. But that didn't last, as the final throes of transformation spun into motion. A dark shadow spread across his jaw and cheeks, rapidly thickening into dense stubble that stopped short of a full beard. His shaggy hair shortened considerably into a more manageable, conservative hairstyle. He watched as the colour shifted from a golden blond, darkening into a mature brown shade with a few sparsely scattered gray hairs. His skin grew more rugged and hardened as bags hung beneath his eyes, and minute cracks formed at the corners. He was so drawn into the changes, he hadn't even noticed that his skull had grown bigger, just enough to match his newfound size. His once rounded face had also morphed into a strong jawed, rectangular shape.

"Ho-ly shit," Asher enunciated as he stared at the man ahead of him. "Holy fuck... Is that really me? Fuck! I'm an adult... My body is so... My voice is..." He couldn't form a complete sentence, taken aback by how gravelly his voice had become. It was nothing like the whiny voice he had before, yet it perfectly matched the broad, handsome man he was faced with. "I don't understand... Is this that email's fault? And why am I wearing a suit!?" Asher growled as he tossed his jacket aside, his gruff voice getting harsher, the tone sending shivers down his spine. "I mean, a tie? On a weekend? Ugh, it's like I'm my-" He didn't finish his sentence. He didn't have to. The thought alone made him feel queasy. 

With all the dexterity of a drunk man, he fumbled with every button on his shirt. "Nope. Nope. Nope. I am not doing this. You can't for me to be some boring office man, email!" He threw open his shirt, and tugged it off his body. "That is it! I am not... Woah..." He paused as he caught sight of his bare torso. His pecs were round and fairly furry, with a faint line of hair down his chisled torso. He placed a hand on his stomach, feeling the toned muscle beneath his broad palms with a smirk. "Okay, now I'm definitely not wearing shirts. Why would I hide this!?"

Asher tugged his shirt off, grunting as his hands got caught in the sleeves. He posed in the mirror, really taking in the nooks and crannies of his unadulturated beef. He flexed one of his bare arms, a goofy grin spread broad across his cheeks at the sight of the boulder-sized biceps. All his fears about having forcibly been aged into a thirty-something slipped away.  Now that he'd gotten used to it, he had to admit that he was a hunk.

Next he unbuckled his taut pants, yanking them down so he could get a better look at his ham-like thighs, and stone-carved calves. He did not skip leg day, that was for certain. Although could do without the bright white boxer shorts. They were just like the ones his dad wore, not the thought he wanted right now. Luckily, it appeared they were generously filled, a hefty bulge weighing down the front with ease. He reached down to cop a feel, breath shortening as he brushed a hand across the fabric, then gave a light squeeze. Enough teasing, Asher thought to himself, as he stuck his thumbs underneath the waistband, and tugged down...

When a shrill scream rung through the house. "What the HELL am I wearing!?" Asher snapped his hands back with frustration. He wasn't home alone. He'd almost forgotten about his dad... Although, while the tone was familiar, the cracking, shrill quality of the scream was not. Come to think of it, that email had mentioned some other person he'd be trading with. He hadn't considered it at the time, but considering there was nobody else in the neighborhood who'd use that website,  there could only be one option...

Asher panicked as he heard stomps coming towards the office. He briefly thought about pulling his pants back up, but there wasn't enough time. The door swung open, and he was face-to-face with the man of the house. But instead of the cross father he'd expected, he now looked down upon a mop-haired teen wearing the grungiest clothes he'd ever seen. In turn, the teen gazed up at him with a baffled expression, and uttered, "What the-?"

"Dad!?" The teen nodded, almost ashamed. "What the heck happened to you? You look like the nineties."

"Me?" his dad growled. "As if you don't know what happened. Look at you, already in your fricking underwear, getting a good look at yourself." He pinched the brige of his nose, and sighed. "I knew it... I knew this would be your doing! What is it, comeuppance for making you do homework?"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Asher cried, raising his hands up in defense. "This has nothing to do with me! It's that stupid New Year site's fault. Didn't you read the email?"

"Email? What email?"

"I got an email saying saying my resolution was shit, and I was gonna be some guinea pig to help some other person with their resolution instead. Apparently it's a premium membership perk? You actually pay for that site?"

His dad got sheepish. "I thought they'd help me achieve my goals better. Provide me with some meditation lessons, tips to unwind, that sort of thing... Wait, what do you mean a membership perk?"

"What I mean is that this is your own fault, old man." Asher crossed his arms, and cracked a grin. "Well, former old man."

 

"What? No, I didn't agree to any Freaky Friday shenanigans! In what world would I A - believe that kind of scenario even existed, and B - want to swap bodies with my teenaged son?"

"I dunno what to tell ya," Asher grumbled. He leaned against the desk as he watched his dad dig out his phone from his baggy pants, then read through the email, occassionally muttering to himself. It was a little unnerving seeing his dad's mannerisms transposed onto this immature teen body. He kind of felt sorry for him, it was clear that Asher had gotten the better deal out of this scenario. The abs of steel, those round, furry pecs, the jawline of a movie star. He bit his lip to stop himself from moaning, shifting his hips slightly. Maybe his dad won't notice his rock-hard boner...

 "Dear Derryl... Recently enquired... Premulotion perk... Change initiative... Opted in... Opted in!? No, I just wanted..." He looked up his grown son with a dire expression. "So it appears that by asking for help, I was duped into some automatic opt in system made available to premium members... Oh, Asher, I am so sorry. I should have read these things more thoroughly..."

"Don't sweat it," Ashed replied with a shrug. "They put my name into some participant pool without even asking me first, no opt outs or anything. I can't complain though."

"Because you look like the love interest in a romance novel?"

"There's that," he grinned. "But I meant literally complain. I bet it's in the T&Cs. You try and sue, and they'll point to some clause that lets them off scot-free."

"Well, you might not want to complain," Derryl growled. "But I'm not letting those charletons get away with it!" With a few taps of his phone, he had customer service on the line. An effort that lasted all a minute. "Damn it all, the line's dead! What kind of operation are they running here!?"

"The scammy kind, it seems." Asher stroked his rugged jaw in thought, trying not to let the orgasmic feeling of his prickly scruff go to his head. "If I'd known about this before signing up..." He reached over to comfort his dad, only for the teen to bat his hand away. He sighed. "So what now then?"

"I guess until I can get in touch with the bastards, we'll have to play their game. They swapped us because these new bodies, these new lives, can help us with our resolutions, right? So it appears we have to play the part. You as my dad, and me your son..."

"Aww," Asher whined. "I don't wanna be a dad, or do your work, it's boring!" He slumped his shoulders, and pouted. "All you do is sit around at home all day, making phone calls and sending emails. Or you're in your office doing, presumably, the same."

"I manage a whole team of people, and pretty damned well if I say so myself." Derryl ruffled a hand through his hair with a smug grin. "Besides, it's not like I want to go back to school." He shuddered at the thought. "Ugh, I can't believe there are people who actually want to relive their school days..."

"But you have it easier than me! Your resolution was to be more laidback and worry less. You don't even have to do good at school to be chill."

"I think you have a wildly different idea to what that entails." Derryl sighed and patted his son on the arm. "Well first things first, you have to get rid of that face fuzz. It's not professional, people will think you're sloppy."

"What!?" Asher stepped back, reaching up to his face possessively. "It's not sloppy... It's like the only good thing about being grown up. That, and the muscles..." As he stroked his sandpaper-like cheeks, he pondered aloud, "We both changed into our new lives, right? My clothes became stuffy work stuff, and your boring clothes got all grungy. So wouldn't that mean I already have a beard in this new life? It's all trimmed and shaped, and not messy at all... Say, maybe I don't even work in your office! I bet I have a cooler, better job. Like a fitness influencer, or a male model."

"He's delusional..." Derryl grumbled under his breath. "Look, if we're going to get through this, we're going to have to work together... I'll teach you how to be responsible, and all about my work. In return, you can show me how to properly zone out and, uhm, chillax?"

Asher scrunched his face. "No-one says that anymore, Dad..."

"Noted. And it's Derryl," he said. "Get used to saying it, who knows how long we'll stay like this..." Derryl shoved his phone into his pocket, and turned for the door. "For now, I'm going to hunt down an email address or a chat bot I can send a strongly worded letter to, and then get dinner started." He headed for the door, then spun on his heel. "Wait, no. You can get dinner started, Dad."

"What? No! I can't-" Asher protested, but Derryl had already fled the scene. He sighed. Sure, it was pretty fucking awesome to be a grown man, and a beefcake to boot. All of the muscle with none of the effort. But he didn't want to play the part, too. How was he going to run a whole company when he was getting straight C's at school?

Although, with his teen dad out of the way. Sorry, with Derryl out of his hair, Asher turned his attention once more to his reflection. He couldn't help but marvel at his buff body. He grabbed one of his juicy pecs, fingers lightly tugging on his chest hair. He followed the trail down his abs, then traced a finger over the dark ink on his hip. "I have Tattoos, huh? That's not very responsible of me." He stretched out the word "responsible," shivering at how it sounded. Derryl wanted him to make dinner, but it was the weekend, and they'd had such an impactful day. Surely he'd be happy with take-out. Besides, he was so busy composing that email, why not have a little fun?

Asher grinned as he finally dropped his underwear, his hard cock bobbing from the motion. It was just as he'd hoped, far longer and girthier than what he was packing as a teen. He jumped up onto the desk, and wrapped a hand around the meaty rod, instinctively moaning under his breath. "I have a whole year to learn to be responsible," he uttered to himself as he shuffled back around to his chair. He closed his game and opened up the incognito page on his web browser. "I can put it off another day..."