This is a remake of a caption I made recently and grew to hate. Just like that caption, this is a shameless paraphrase of Red-Ochre1’s caption. [Found Here]

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Harold Williams looked with trepidation as he observed the thermos that had been brought to him by his men. It was one of many, which sat in a heavy crate by his desk. For ten long years, he had searched for the source of the thermos’ contents. As a younger man, Harold had explored the deepest darkest reaches of Africa for signs of minerals or wealth for his employers to plunder. While in southern-central Africa, he had heard whispers of a spring that would provide the drinker with eternal youth when its waters were drunk. At first, he didn’t believe them, but after hearing hundreds of similar stories, he wondered if they could be true.

Now in his seventies, Harold didn’t have the strength to explore himself. But he did have the resources to pay others to explore for him, while his wisdom and experience allowed him to put the pieces of rumor together and find that hidden spring—the Fountain of Youth of legend. Now its location is securely marked, and many samples of its water lay in his hands.

“Did anyone try its contents?” Harold asked his men.

“No! We wouldn’t dare, not after what we heard from the locals,” replied one of their number.

Harold laughed as he heard this. “Just stories told to protect the spring!” He gestured to his men to leave, which they did.

Now alone, he carefully opened the thermos and smelt its contents. It smelt of nothing. Could he have been tricked? Should he reconsider? He glanced at the mirrored wall, observing the old wrinkled face staring back at him. Did he have any other option? He tipped the thermos back and drank the water.

The water felt like ice as it slid down his throat and into his body, chilling him to his core as it went deep into him. The icy sensation only got worse as he stood there, waiting for the effects of the water to take hold. It spread across his body, saturating every inch of him with a wet, cold feeling.

CRUNCH

Suddenly, Harold’s whole body shuddered as every bone in his body creaked and cracked, and every inch of fat and muscle boiled and bubbled. His eyes were forced shut as every inch of his body seemed to remold itself. His skin lost its wrinkles and became softer and smoother. Bones compressed as his legs and torso shortened and expanded elsewhere as his hips expanded. Muscle melted away as much of his body lost definition while pooled into areas where before it had been slight, his ass, his thighs, his chest. Around his crotch came a strange inversion as every inch of his skin

“Was this really what youth felt like?” Thought Harold: “Had he really forgotten so much?”

As the changes slowed, Harold could finally see himself in the mirror again, and his plump lips opened wide in shock as he did. Youth had come to him once more, but what else? Dark skin, curves, hairless frame… breasts? The spring had made him young again but also changed his sex and race. It had even changed his clothes. The Fountain of Youth… no, he could feel its proper name: the Spring of Ubusha had brought him the spirit of Africa and merged it into his American self. He was now an African American woman.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, she felt a name come from deep within her. She was now Nicole, receiver of the gifts of the Spring of Ubusha. And, now, as she looks at the crate of thermoses next to her desk, she thinks: “Bringer of its gifts too.”