Not the slow ones. Not the intense ones. Not even the tragic ones people pretend to admire.
What I believed in was rhythm.
A clean, controlled sequence of moments that never overlapped, never lingered longer than necessary.
Morning started the same way every day.
The gym.
Weights. Precision. Repetition.
I liked the mirrors there. Not out of vanity—at least that’s what I told myself—but because they confirmed something simple: I was in control.
Of my body.
Of my image.
Of how I was seen.
“Man, you’re gonna scare people off at this rate.”
Lucas leaned against the rack, watching me finish a set.
I smirked, wiping sweat from my forehead. “That’s kind of the point.”
He laughed. “No, seriously. Do you ever keep anyone?”
I racked the bar, grabbed my towel, and shrugged.
“Why would I?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Because that’s… normal?”
I shook my head, already turning away. “Normal’s overrated.”
And honestly, I meant it.
Keeping people meant dealing with expectations. Messages. Attachments.
I preferred clean exits.
That carried into the rest of my day.
Work was just something to get through—efficient, detached. I did what I had to do, nothing more.
Evenings, though—that was where things started.
Bars. Clubs. Low lighting and loud music.
A glance across a room.
A shared smile.
A drink.
Sometimes I didn’t even need the apps.
But most nights, I still used them.
Back home, my apartment reflected that same philosophy.
Minimalist.
Neutral tones. Clean lines.
A couch no one ever really sat on. A kitchen barely used.
And the bedroom—
That was the only space that mattered.
Large bed. Soft lighting. Nothing personal.
No photos. No traces.
No history.
Just a place where people arrived… and disappeared.
I dropped my keys on the counter, loosened my shirt collar, and grabbed my phone.
Notifications. Messages. Profiles. The usual. Swipe. Swipe. Pause. Swipe.
It was almost mechanical at this point. Faces blurred into each other. Same angles. Same bios. Same attempts at standing out.
“Gym rat.”
“Adventurous.”
“No drama.”
I almost laughed.
Then— I stopped.
His profile appeared without warning, like it had been waiting.
No flashy pose. No exaggerated lighting. Just him. Looking straight at the camera. Calm. Grounded. Perfect.
Not in the obvious, sculpted way I saw every day—but in something quieter.
Something… complete.
I leaned back slightly, studying the photo longer than I intended.
“Okay…” I muttered under my breath.
I tapped into his profile. Minimal text. No clichés. And a single line:
“I prefer real connections.”
I huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, sure you do.”
Still—
I didn’t swipe right immediately. That alone should have told me something was different. But curiosity won. I swiped.
Match.
Instant. I blinked.
“That was fast.”
A message popped up almost immediately.
Him: “I was hoping you’d show up.”
I frowned slightly, typing back.
Me: “You say that to everyone?”
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then—
Him: “No. Just the ones who think they’re in control.”
I paused. Something about that… lingered. I smirked anyway.
Me: “Sounds like you’ve already figured me out.”
Him: “Not yet. But I’d like to.”
I leaned against the counter, reading that again. There was no hesitation in his tone. No need to impress. Just certainty. And that— That was new.
Me: “Drink tonight?”
A few seconds.
Then:
Him: “No.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“No?”
Another message followed immediately.
Him: “Your place.”
I let out a short laugh.
“Confident.”
I typed:
Me: “You always this direct?”
Him: “Only when I know what I want.”
I stared at the screen for a moment longer.Then— Without overthinking it— I sent my address.
I knew something was different the moment I opened the door. He didn’t hesitate when I stepped aside. Didn’t scan the room like most people did. Didn’t ask questions. He just walked in. Like he belonged there. I closed the door behind him, watching carefully.
“You’re quiet,” I said.
He turned slightly, his gaze settling on me.
“I listen first.”
There was no tension in his posture. No nervous energy. Just stillness. Measured. I stepped closer, testing the space between us.
“See anything you like?”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“I see exactly what I expected.”
I tilted my head. “And what’s that?”
His eyes didn’t leave mine.
“Someone who never gets chosen first.”
That hit harder than it should have.
I scoffed lightly. “That’s a bold assumption.”
“Is it?”
A beat.
Silence stretched—but it didn’t feel empty.
It felt… deliberate. Then he stepped closer. And just like that— The rhythm I knew so well… shifted.
There’s always a moment. A precise, almost invisible threshold where a night becomes predictable. I know it by heart.
The distance closes.
The tone softens.
The bodies align.
Routine.
But this time— Something was off. Not wrong. Just… different. I stepped even closer, expecting him to meet me halfway. He didn’t move. Not back. Not forward.Just… waited.
That faint smile still there. Observing. Me. It unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.
“Careful,” I said lightly, trying to regain control of the rhythm. “You’re starting to sound like you’ve got me figured out.”
“Not figured out,” he replied calmly. “Positioned.”
I frowned. “Positioned?”
His gaze didn’t break.
“You always stand here.”
He gestured subtly—barely a movement—between us.
“Close enough to invite. Far enough to stay in control.”
A pause.
“You don’t step in until they do.”
That—
That was true.
And I hated that he saw it.
I let out a small chuckle, masking the tension. “You’ve done your homework.”
“No,” he said softly. “You’re just consistent.”
Silence stretched again.
But now it pressed.
I didn’t like that.
So I broke it.
My hand reached his arm—firm, confident, practiced. Warm. Solid. Real.
“Then maybe it’s time I break the pattern.”
That, at least, felt right. Familiar.I leaned in. This time, he let me. His hand slid to my waist—not grabbing, not pulling. Guiding. Subtle. Measured. Too measured. Our bodies aligned. Breath mixed.
Close enough now that I could feel the steadiness of him. No hesitation.No anticipation. Just… certainty.
“You’re tense,” he murmured.
I scoffed quietly. “I’m not.”
His fingers pressed lightly against my side. Not enough to restrain. Just enough to notice.
“Yes,” he said. “You are.”
I exhaled through my nose.
“Maybe I just don’t like being analyzed.”
“Everyone likes being seen.”
“Not like that.”
A beat. His hand moved—slowly—up along my side, deliberate. Not searching. Mapping. I should have pulled away. I didn’t. Because underneath the discomfort— There was something else. Curiosity. And something dangerously close to… wanting to know where this went.
“You don’t have to think so much,” he said quietly.
“I’m not thinking.”
“That’s new.”
I smirked despite myself. “You talk a lot.”
“And yet,” he leaned in slightly, voice lower now, “you’re still here.”
That was the problem. He was right.Again. I closed the remaining distance. This time fully. Our foreheads almost touching. My hand moved to his jaw. Rougher than his had been. Reclaiming something.
“Let’s stop talking.”
He held my gaze for one more second. Then—
“Alright.”
Simple. Too simple. But I didn’t question it. Not yet. The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hesitant either. It was— Heavy. Grounded. Like everything else about him. No urgency. No need to prove anything. And somehow— That made me lean in more. My hands moved, pulling him closer now.Reasserting control. At least— That’s what I told myself.
Because beneath that— There was a growing awareness.Something was slipping.Not dramatically. Not obviously. But enough. Enough that I noticed. Enough that I ignored it. His hand left my side. I barely registered it. Too focused on the moment. On regaining the rhythm. On not losing ground.
Then— A shift. Subtle. His body angled slightly away. Just enough to create space. I frowned, pulling back a fraction.
“What?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hand disappeared briefly behind him. Out of sight. Out of frame. A small movement. Insignificant. I almost didn’t question it. Almost.
“Hey—”
A prick. Sharp. Quick. Barely there. I blinked.
“What was—”
The words didn’t land. My vision flickered. The room tilted—just slightly. My grip loosened.
“What did you—”
He was still there. Right in front of me. Perfectly steady. Watching. Always watching.
“Relax,” he said.
My legs felt… wrong. Too heavy. Too distant. My body didn’t respond the way it should.
“You’re—”
I tried to step back.Failed. His hand caught me. Effortless. Like I weighed nothing.
“That’s it,” he murmured.
The edges of the room blurred. Sound dulled.My thoughts slowed. No— Not slowed.Thickened. Like moving through something dense.
“You’ll understand later.”
His voice felt far away now. Even though he was right there.
“I—”
Nothing. My knees gave in.Darkness rushed up—Or I fell into it. I’m not sure which.The last thing I saw—Was his expression.Unchanged.Calm.Certain. Like everything had gone exactly as expected.
Then— Nothing.
I woke up gasping.
Air slammed back into my lungs like I’d been underwater too long.
For a second— I didn’t move. Didn’t think.Didn’t exist, really. Just… breath.In.Out. In—
Too fast. Too sharp. Something was wrong. I knew it before I even opened my eyes. There was a weight in my body that hadn’t been there before. Not external. Not like pressure.
Internal. Anchored. Deep. I forced my eyes open. My apartment. My ceiling. My bed. Everything looked exactly the same. Too normal. That’s what made it worse.
I pushed myself up— And pain exploded through my abdomen. I sucked in a breath, clutching my stomach instantly.
“What the—”
My voice cracked. Dry. Unfamiliar. My hand pressed against something thick. Fabric. Bandages. My heart started pounding. No.
No, no—
I tore the blanket off. My shirt was gone. Replaced with gauze wrapped tightly around my midsection. Clean. Precise. Deliberate. My hands started shaking as I pulled at it.
“Okay… okay…”
Like saying it would make it make sense. The tape came loose. The fabric peeled away—And underneath—A line. A fresh, clean incision.Running just below my ribs. Still slightly swollen. Still… real. My stomach dropped.
“Someone—”
No. Not someone. Him. I stumbled out of bed, legs unsteady. The room tilted slightly, like my balance hadn’t caught up yet.
Bathroom. Mirror.
I braced myself against the sink and looked. Same face.Same body. At least— At first glance. But I couldn’t stop looking at the cut. At the way the skin around it felt… tight. Wrong. Like something inside didn’t belong.
“Hospital,” I muttered.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
That made sense. Doctors. Answers. Reality. I grabbed the first clothes I could find and left. The waiting room felt unreal. Too bright. Too slow. Too disconnected from what was happening inside me. I kept pressing my hand against my stomach. Feeling. Testing. There was something there.
I couldn’t explain it. But I could feel it.Not pain. Not exactly.Presence.
“Sir?”
I looked up. A nurse.
“Come with me.”
Tests. Questions. More tests. I told them everything. Or tried to.
The app.
The meeting.
The apartment.
The blackout.
I watched their expressions shift. From concern— To confusion— To something else. Something quieter.
“Let’s get imaging done,” one of them said.
The scan room was cold. Mechanical. I lay still as the machine hummed around me. Counting my breaths. Trying not to think. Trying not to feel that… thing inside me. When it was over, they told me to wait again. So I did. Sitting there. Alone. Time stretching too thin. When the doctor came back, he wasn’t alone. That was the first bad sign.
The second— Was the way he looked at me. Not scared. Not alarmed. But… fascinated.
“Can you sit up for me?” he asked.
I did. Slowly.Carefully. He held a tablet in his hand. Turned it toward me.
“Do you see this?”
I looked. My body. Rendered in shades of grey and white. Bones. Organs. Familiar shapes. Except—
There.
Something new. Something that didn’t match anything else. A structure. Dense. Compact. Nestled deep inside my abdomen. Connected. Integrated. Wrong.
“What is that?” I asked.
My voice sounded distant. He hesitated. That was worse than anything.
“We’re not entirely sure.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Not sure?”
He didn’t react.
“It’s… not a transplant.”
“What?”
“There are no signs of removal. No damage to surrounding tissue consistent with extraction.”
I stared at him.
“Then what are you saying?”
He met my gaze.
“It appears to have been… added.”
Silence. Heavy. Impossible.
“That’s not—”
“It’s fully integrated into your system,” he continued. “Blood supply, neural connections… it’s functioning.”
“Functioning how?”
Another pause. Then—
“That’s what we don’t understand.”
My stomach twisted. Or maybe— It moved. I froze.
“You feel that?” I whispered.
The doctor frowned. “Feel what?”
I pressed my hand harder against my abdomen.
“There’s something—”
And then it hit. Sharp. Sudden. A pull. Deep inside. Not pain. Hunger. Raw. Immediate. Violent. I sucked in a breath.
“What is that?”
The doctor stepped closer. “What are you experiencing?” I looked at him. Then at the scan. Then back at my own body.
“I’m hungry.”
A beat.
“That’s normal after—”
“No.”
I shook my head. Too fast. Too hard.
“You don’t understand.”
Because this wasn’t normal. This wasn’t “I skipped a meal” hunger.
This was— Demanding. Expanding. Consuming. Like something inside me had just— woken up. And it wanted more. A lot more.
At first, I told myself it was manageable. That word—manageable—became a shield. A lie I repeated often enough to almost believe it. The hunger didn’t fade. It didn’t stabilize. It grew. Not in waves. Not in cycles. Constant. Present. Like a second pulse inside me. I started eating more.
At first, it felt almost… justified. My body needed energy, right? Recovery. Healing. That’s what they said.That’s what I told myself. But it didn’t feel like recovery. It felt like feeding something else.
I went back to the gym. Of course I did. That was the first thing I tried to hold onto. Control. Routine. Identity. I stood in front of the mirror again.
Same place. Same lights. Same movements. But it wasn’t the same. The weights felt heavier. Not dramatically. Just enough. Enough that I noticed. Enough that I couldn’t ignore it.
And my body— My body didn’t respond the same way. The pump wasn’t clean anymore. There was… resistance. A softness creeping in where there used to be precision.
I pressed my fingers against my abdomen in the locker room. Testing. It gave. Just slightly. I froze.
“No,” I muttered.
I adjusted my posture, straightened up, flexed harder. There it was again— The version I recognized. Almost. The hunger followed me everywhere. Work. Gym. Bed. It didn’t matter.
It was always there. A low, insistent pressure. Then louder. Then unavoidable. I started carrying food with me. Protein bars. Sandwiches. Anything. It helped— For minutes. Maybe an hour. Then it came back. Stronger. More demanding.And slowly—I stopped waiting. I just ate. Whenever it came. Wherever I was.
The changes accelerated. Not dramatically. Not in a way anyone else would immediately notice. But I did. Every morning. Every mirror. Every reflection in a dark window.
I tried to stop. That’s the part that matters. I tried. Diet. Strict. Precise. Measured. Back to discipline. Back to control.For a day— Maybe two.
Then— It hit. Harder than before The hunger wasn’t just physical anymore. It was… intrusive. It occupied my thoughts. My focus. My patience. I snapped at people. I lost track of conversations.
Everything blurred into one thing: Eat. I remember sitting at my desk, staring at my screen— And realizing I hadn’t heard a single word my colleague had said. Because all I could think about— Was food.
The gym became harder. Then frustrating. Then pointless. I was lifting less. Looking worse. Feeling heavier. Each movement slower than the last. And the mirrors— I started avoiding them. Because when I looked— I didn’t see progress anymore. I saw drift.
My clothes changed before I admitted it. Tighter across the waist. Pulling at the seams. Shirts clinging differently. Pants pressing when I sat down. I told myself it was temporary. Water weight. Recovery. Anything. But then— One night—
I caught my reflection without expecting it. No posture correction. No flexing. No control. Just— Me. And I didn’t recognize it immediately.
I stood there. Frozen. My hand moved— Almost without thinking. To my stomach. I pressed. Firmer this time. It didn’t resist. It shifted. Heavy. Real.
“Stop,” I whispered.
But I didn’t move my hand. I pressed again. Slower. Testing the limits. Feeling the weight. The presence. That same presence from before— But now it wasn’t hidden. It was visible. Growing. Becoming me.
I stumbled back slightly. My breath uneven. My reflection staring right back at me. Not panicked. Not shocked.Just— Watching. Adapting. Accepting faster than I was. And underneath the fear— Something worse began to form.
Not acceptance. But— Recognition. Because the hunger… wasn’t fighting me anymore. It was winning.
There’s a point where denial stops being possible. Not because you accept. But because your body refuses to let you ignore it anymore. I crossed that point without realizing when. Or maybe—
I realized it, and just didn’t want to name it. The hunger didn’t just stay. It evolved.It sharpened. It became… specific. Not just eat.
But more. Always more. I stopped planning meals. I reacted. Constantly. Kitchen. Delivery. Snacks. Anything within reach. And still— It wasn’t enough.
The mirror became unavoidable. Because now— It wasn’t subtle anymore.
I noticed the beard first. Not because it appeared. But because it wouldn’t stop. I shaved. Clean. Sharp. Controlled. The next morning— Stubble. Thick. By evening— It was already back. Dense. Darker. Stronger than before.
“What the hell…”
I ran my hand over my jaw.
It felt… wrong. Not unfamiliar. But accelerated. Like my body had stopped following normal rules. Then the hair. Chest. Arms. Shoulders. Even my back. It spread. Filled in. Darkened.
What used to be light, barely there— Now stood out. Thick. Coarse. Present. Everywhere.
And my body— There was no hiding it anymore. My shirts stretched. Pulled tight across my stomach. Clung to my chest in ways they never had before. I tried going up a size. Then another. Still— The shape underneath didn’t change. Just… expanded.
The first tear happened at home. I bent down to pick something up— And—
rrrip
I froze. Slowly straightened. Looked down. The seam of my pants had split. Clean. Irreversible. I stared at it. Then at myself in the mirror. And for a moment— I didn’t feel panic. I felt something else. A hollow, quiet realization.
“This isn’t stopping.”
I stopped going out. It wasn’t a decision. It just… happened. Clothes didn’t fit. Nothing felt right. Nothing looked right. And people— People looked. Even when they tried not to. I saw it. Every time. I opened the apps again. Out of habit. Out of… hope. I didn’t upload new pictures.
Of course I didn’t. I used the old ones. The ones that still looked like me. Matches came. Messages too. Same as before. Same rhythm. For a second— It almost felt normal. Then came the meeting. And the look. That split second when they saw me— And something shifted. Politeness. Excuse. Exit. Every time.
Back home— I sat on the edge of my bed. Breathing heavier than I should have been. My stomach resting against my thighs. Solid. Present. Unavoidable. I placed both hands on it. Held it. Not testing. Not denying. Just… holding.
My hair started falling a week later. At first— Just strands. On the pillow. In the shower. On my hands. Then more. Noticeable. The front thinned. The crown showed. I stared at it in the mirror.
Beard thicker than ever. Body bigger than ever. Hair— Leaving. The contrast was almost cruel.
The hunger was still there. Always. But it didn’t feel like an attack anymore. It felt like… baseline. Like breathing. Like something I had stopped questioning. I stood in front of the mirror again. Longer this time. No adjusting. No correcting posture. No trying to find angles. Just— Looking.
My hand rose. Slow. Heavy. Rested on my stomach. It filled my palm. Warm. Alive. Mine. And for the first time— I didn’t immediately pull away. Not because I accepted it. Not yet.
But because— I didn’t know what I was supposed to fight anymore.
I couldn’t keep wearing the same clothes. That became obvious the moment I tried to leave the apartment again. Nothing fit. Not really. Everything either clung too tight… or gave up entirely. So I did something I hadn’t done in weeks. I went shopping.
The store felt too bright. Too open. Too… exposed. I stayed near the back at first. Larger sizes. Clothes I used to ignore completely. I picked up a shirt. Held it in front of me. Hesitated. Then another. And another. A pile formed in my arms. I didn’t look at anyone. Didn’t want to see if they were looking at me.
The fitting room mirror was worse. Always is. I tried the first shirt It fit. Not “almost.” Not “if I adjusted it.” It actually fit. Loose where it needed to be. Wide enough across my stomach. Long enough to fall over it. I stood there for a long time. Looking. Not judging. Not correcting. Just… seeing.
“This is it now,” I muttered.
No anger. No panic. Just a quiet statement. I bought everything. Didn’t think about it. Didn’t hesitate. I needed clothes for this body. So I got them. That night— I went out. Not to hunt. Not to impress. Just to… be somewhere else.
The bar was familiar. Same lights. Same noise. Same rhythm. But I wasn’t part of it anymore. Not in the same way. I felt it immediately. The space I took. The way I moved. The way people looked— Then looked away. Or didn’t look at all.
I went to the counter. Ordered a drink. Sat. Alone.
“You adapted faster than most.”
The voice hit before the recognition. Calm. Measured. Controlled. I turned. And there he was. Exactly the same. Perfect. Untouched. Unchanged. For a second— I didn’t recognize him. Then it clicked.
My stomach tightened. Not from hunger. From something else.
“You,” I said.
My voice was lower now. He smiled.
“Me.”
He looked me over. Slowly. Deliberately. Taking everything in. My size. My posture. My beard. My hairline. That same faint smile returned.
“Stable,” he said.
I frowned. “What?”
“You’re stable now.”
He stepped closer. Like nothing about this was strange.
“Your body’s done adjusting.”
I stared at him.
“You did this.”
It wasn’t a question. He tilted his head slightly.
“Technically… yes.”
Something inside me snapped— But it didn’t come out as anger. Just a heavy, tired breath.
“Why?”
He studied me for a moment.
“For the same reason you did what you did.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Before,” he said. “Your routine.”
A small gesture.
“Meet. Use. Leave.”
I didn’t respond. Didn’t need to. He already knew.
“I used to be like you,” he continued.
I almost laughed.
“You?”
He nodded.
“Not like this.”
A pause.
“Like you are now.”
Silence. I searched his face. Looking for something— A crack. A lie. But there was nothing. Just calm. Just certainty.
“No one wanted me,” he said simply.
“Not like that.”
His eyes didn’t leave mine.
“I was ignored. Rejected. Dismissed.”
A faint tension in his jaw.
“Over and over.”
Then— It disappeared. Replaced by that same control.
“So I changed it.”
I swallowed. “How?”
He smiled slightly.
“I developed something.”
A small tap of his own abdomen.
“An organ. Or… something close enough.”
“It regulates fat. Converts it. Enhances muscle growth.”
I stared.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
He stepped closer again. Lowered his voice.
“I perfected it.”
A beat.
“On myself.”
My chest felt tight.
“And me?”
His smile sharpened.
“You got a beta version.”
I let out a hollow breath.
“A beta version?”
“Yes.”
“Unstable. Incomplete.”
He glanced down at my body. Then back up.
“And very… expressive.”
I clenched my jaw.
“This is a joke to you?”
“No,” he said calmly.
“This is balance.”
Silence stretched.
Heavy.
“You picked men like me,” he continued.
“Men you thought were… beneath you.”
His gaze hardened slightly.
“So I gave you perspective.”
My hands curled into fists.
“And all the others?”
“Same.”
“Some handled it better.”
A small shrug.
“Most didn’t.”
I shook my head.
“This is insane.”
“And yet,” he said softly, “here you are.”
He reached out— Not touching. Just gesturing toward me.
“You feel it, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer. Because I did. That constant presence. That weight. That… change.
His eyes moved again. This time slower. More deliberate. They lingered. On my beard. Thick. Unavoidable. Then my chest. My stomach. Lower. My hips. My ass.
I shifted slightly. Instinct. He noticed. Of course he did. A quiet chuckle escaped him.
“Honestly…”
He leaned in just enough for me to hear clearly—
“…the beard suits you.”
My jaw tightened.
“And the hair,” he added, glancing briefly at my thinning scalp, “or what’s left of it.”
I didn’t react. Didn’t give him that. But he kept going. Unbothered.
“Though I have to say…”
His eyes dropped again. Lingering longer this time.
“…you’ve really filled out.”
A pause. Then, almost amused:
“Especially back there.”
My stomach twisted. Different this time. Not hunger. Something heavier.
“You’re enjoying this,” I muttered.
“I’m observing,” he corrected.
“Big difference.”
I looked at him. Really looked. Perfect posture. Perfect control. Everything I used to be. Everything I wasn’t anymore.
“Can it be reversed?” I asked.
He hesitated.Just slightly.
“No.”
Simple. Clean. Final. Silence settled between us.
The noise of the bar faded into the background. People moved. Laughed. Lived. Like nothing had changed. Except everything had. He straightened slightly.
“Well,” he said, almost casually, “you’re stable now.”
Another look. One last assessment.
“You’ll adjust.”
Then— A faint smile.
“You don’t really have a choice.”
And just like that— He stepped back. Blended into the crowd. And disappeared. I stayed there. Sitting. Heavy. Still. My drink untouched.
My reflection faint in the mirror behind the bar. Distorted. Wider. Different. My hand moved slowly. Rested on my stomach. Pressed. Firm. Grounded. Real. And for the first time— I didn’t ask why anymore.
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Evan had been hired to play a construction worker for a deliberately provocative fashion campaign: hard hat, reflective vest, tiny white briefs, and an oversized cigar clenched between his teeth.
“Give me tougher,” the photographer called.
Evan drew deeply on the cigar and stared through the glass wall as the camera flashed. The smoke tasted strangely sweet. Heavy.
His face changed first. Soft youth hardened into middle age within seconds—stubble spreading across his cheeks, lines pressing into his brow. Then his stomach lurched.
A huge weight burst outward beneath his tight shirt.
Evan gasped around the cigar as his abdomen inflated into a massive, hanging belly. His chest sagged, his waist vanished, and thick flesh packed itself around his hips, arms, neck, and thighs. The white briefs strained against his swelling body while the reflective vest was pushed helplessly aside.
The photographer never stopped shooting.
By the final flash, the handsome young model was gone. A heavy, middle-aged man stood in his place, breathing hard, cigar smoke curling around his bewildered face. His enormous belly protruded beneath the shirt, permanently reshaping his body.
Evan tried to pull the cigar from his mouth.
His hand refused.
Instead, he took another slow drag—and heard the photographer whisper:
Daniel had been told not to touch anything in Uncle Martin’s study.
That warning made the room irresistible.
Martin was not really his uncle, merely his father’s oldest friend: a broad, ageing man with a taste for whisky, heavy cigars and antique furniture. While Martin spent three months travelling abroad, Daniel had been asked to check the house twice a week.
On the third visit, he poured himself a glass from Martin’s best bottle, removed his shirt and stood before the great mirror in the study. Then he opened the humidor.
“One cigar,” he said to his reflection. “He’ll never notice.”
The first draw filled his lungs with dense, sweet smoke. Daniel coughed, laughed and admired himself in the mirror with the cigar between his teeth. For a moment he imagined how Martin would look standing there.
Then his stomach cramped.
He staggered into the bathroom and gripped the basin. Something moved beneath his skin—not inside his belly, but across his entire body. His smooth chest prickled. Dark hair pushed through it in a thickening mat. His shoulders softened, his abdomen lost its definition and began to swell.
Daniel stared as a heavy beard spilled across his jaw in seconds.
“No. No, stop.”
The beard vanished just as suddenly.
For one hopeful moment, his face was his own again. Then it returned thicker, rougher and streaked with grey. His stomach expanded farther, rounding over the waistband of his jeans. His arms grew softer and heavier. Years carved themselves into his face, first ten, then twenty, then more.
His hairline retreated while he watched.
Daniel clutched at it, but every touch pulled away another handful. The crown opened into a widening bald patch. Grey curls remained only around the sides and back, framing a scalp that looked decades older than the terrified man beneath it.
His beard turned almost entirely silver.
By the time the transformation stopped, a stout, balding man nearing sixty stared back from the mirror. His chest and stomach were thickly furred. A pendulous belly strained his jeans. The only thing unchanged was the horror in his eyes.
Daniel tried to call his father.
His phone no longer recognised his face. His voice, when he attempted the passcode, emerged deep, gravelly and disturbingly similar to Martin’s.
The doctors found nothing wrong. His fingerprints no longer matched his identification. His blood suggested a man three decades older. Every photograph Daniel showed them looked like someone else.
After weeks of failed examinations, he visited a barber and asked for anything that might make him look younger.
The barber studied the sparse horseshoe of hair.
“There’s not much worth saving.”
Daniel sat in silence as the remaining grey curls were shaved away. Then the beard followed, leaving only a heavy silver moustache. It did not help. Without the hair, the age in his face looked even more complete.
Months passed.
Martin never returned.
His emails stopped. His telephone number was disconnected. When Daniel finally searched the study properly, he discovered that every photograph of Martin had changed. The man beside Daniel’s father now had Daniel’s old face: young, handsome and smiling beneath a full head of dark hair.
The cigar had not simply aged Daniel.
It had traded their places.
Daniel began sitting alone in the park each afternoon, dressed in Martin’s old undershirts and loose jeans because none of his former clothes fitted. He had tried giving up the cigars, but the cravings grew painful enough to make his hands shake.
Eventually, he lit another.
The first draw calmed him immediately.
Across the ocean, somewhere under a borrowed young face, Martin was enjoying the life he had stolen. And on the park bench, Daniel slowly exhaled, his permanent new belly rising beneath his shirt as smoke curled past the moustache that now felt as though it had always belonged there.
Adrian and Luca had spent the afternoon doing what they did best: buying things they did not need.
Designer trainers, fitted trousers, watches, sunglasses, another Polo bag Luca insisted was “an investment.” By sunset, they were seated on the terrace of an expensive hotel, admiring the skyline and each other.
The waiter offered them two Cuban cigars from a lacquered wooden box.
“Properly aged,” he said. “Very rare.”
Neither man smoked, but that only made the idea more appealing. It felt decadent. Photogenic. Something wealthy men did after an afternoon of shopping.
Adrian raised his cigar. “To bad decisions.”
Luca grinned. “The expensive kind.”
They lit them.
The smoke tasted unnaturally rich—leather, pepper, dark coffee and something animal beneath it all. Heat spread through Adrian’s chest after the first draw. Luca inhaled beside him, then froze.
Neither man could remove the cigar from his mouth.
Adrian’s fitted black shirt tightened across his torso. His flat stomach softened, rounding into a heavy curve that pushed the fabric upward. At the same moment Luca’s face collapsed into age: grooves cut across his forehead, his cheeks hollowed, and silver flooded through his hair.
Their eyes widened.
The cigars burned steadily.
Adrian grabbed his swelling belly as it surged farther over his waistband. His compact athletic build thickened into something broad, heavy and mature. Luca’s arms began to twitch beneath his blue shirt. Veins rose across his skin. His biceps expanded, forcing the sleeves against new slabs of muscle.
Then their transformations crossed.
Adrian’s shoulders widened. His neck thickened. Power gathered beneath the new weight, turning his rounded body into the massive frame of a leather bear. Luca’s lean legs swelled with dense muscle while every remaining trace of youth drained from his face.
Their clothes changed with them.
Soft cotton darkened and tightened into glossy black leather. Adrian’s trousers sealed around his thick legs and heavy stomach. Luca’s shirt dissolved into a sleeveless leather vest while his trousers shortened, exposing enormous, vascular thighs.
Both men felt their hair loosen.
Luca’s vanished first, retreating in seconds until his scalp was smooth and shining. Adrian’s followed more slowly, leaving a receding shadow before the final strands slipped onto his shoulders.
The terror lasted less than a minute.
That frightened Adrian most.
The cigar smoke did not merely change their bodies. It reached deeper, warming old desires that had never belonged to them. His swollen belly no longer felt grotesque. It felt substantial. Powerful. Desirable beneath the tight leather stretched over it.
Across from him, Luca examined one enormous arm.
A smile spread over his weathered face.
“Bloody hell,” he murmured, his voice now decades deeper. “Look at that.”
Adrian tried to say they needed help. Instead, he laughed.
It was a booming, confident sound he had never made before.
The cigars finally released them.
They stared at one another—two bald men in their late fifties, one massively muscular, the other broad and heavy, both wrapped in black leather that creaked whenever they moved.
The shopping bags remained beside them, filled with clothing several sizes too small and suited to men who no longer existed.
Adrian reached for his phone.
Facial recognition failed.
His banking application opened under another name: Anthony Mercer, 58. The account showed decades of purchases from leather shops, cigar clubs and private gyms. His photographs had changed. Every holiday picture now showed the two older men smiling in harnesses, leather trousers and heavy boots.
Luca checked his own phone.
Their apartment had changed too. White designer furniture became dark wood and steel. Wardrobes filled with leather uniforms. A glass cabinet displayed cigars identical to the ones still smouldering between their fingers.
Their friends remembered them this way.
Their families remembered them this way.
Even the waiter addressed them differently when he returned.
“Another pair, gentlemen? Your usual?”
Adrian wanted to refuse.
Instead, his hand closed around a fresh cigar.
Luca leaned closer, his huge shoulder pressing against Adrian’s.
“Go on, big man,” he said with an affectionate grin. “One more.”
The second cigar erased the last resistance.
By the time the sun disappeared, Adrian could no longer remember why he had ever feared the weight of his stomach or the age in his face. Luca flexed casually while lighting both cigars, delighted by the startled looks from the younger men at nearby tables.
They left the untouched shopping bags behind.
The following morning, a store employee opened one and found nothing but two faded photographs.
They showed a handsome young couple outside the shopping centre.
Graham was everything Evan feared becoming: bald, broad, heavily bearded, and burdened with a belly so large it strained every shirt he owned. Most evenings, he sat on his porch in tight navy shorts, smoking thick cigars and laughing loudly enough for half the neighbourhood to hear.
Yet Evan watched him constantly.
He watched Graham’s big hand rest possessively beneath his stomach. He watched smoke curl around his bald head. He watched the older man move without shame, utterly comfortable in a body Evan should have found embarrassing.
Secretly, Evan admired him.
One warm evening, while staring across the fence, Evan felt a sudden pressure beneath his ribs. His modest stomach pushed outward against his palm, swelling smoothly and rapidly as though years of heavy meals were being packed into him at once.
“What the—?”
His beard erupted before he finished speaking. Dark stubble thickened across his jaw, spreading into a coarse full beard. His shoulders broadened, his chest softened, and his belly surged farther forward until he had to cradle it with both hands.
Then age struck.
Lines carved themselves around his eyes. Grey threaded through his beard. His hairline raced backward, leaving a smooth, shining crown surrounded only briefly by thinning remnants. Within minutes, those vanished too.
Evan staggered into the bathroom.
Graham’s body stared back at him.
Not merely similar—almost identical. The same heavy stomach. The same thick neck and powerful arms. The same bald scalp and dense greying beard. Even his shorts had tightened around larger thighs.
He should have screamed.
Instead, a deep laugh escaped him.
It sounded exactly like Graham’s.
Evan clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. The laughter continued between his fingers, rich and helpless, while unfamiliar memories settled inside him: evenings on the porch, the satisfying weight of a cigar between his teeth, the pleasure of smoke filling his lungs.
A wooden box waited on his kitchen table.
Inside lay twelve cigars.
The lid carried a simple inscription:
FOR THE MAN YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO BE.
Evan tried to throw them away. His hand refused to release the box.
By sunset, he was sitting in a wooden chair on his porch, his enormous belly exposed above his shorts. A cigar burned between his teeth. He hated the taste.
Then he inhaled again.
Across the fence, Graham raised his own cigar in greeting.
“Knew you’d come around,” he called.
Evan attempted to ask what had been done to him, but another booming laugh emerged instead. He rubbed his belly as though it had always belonged there and drew deeply on the cigar.
By morning, every photograph in his house had changed. Evan had always been bald. He had always been heavy. His family remembered decades of failed diets and constant cigar smoke.
Only Evan remembered the younger man he had been.
After several months, even that memory began to fade.
Every evening, two nearly identical men sat on neighbouring porches, laughing through clouds of smoke.
And sometimes Graham looked at Evan’s house, wondering why he could no longer remember ever having lived alone.
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Tyler found the silver flask while clearing furniture from an abandoned house. A muscular strongman was engraved on its side, bald and moustached, with an enormous chest and a heavy round belly.
During his break, Tyler took a swallow.
The whisky burned down his throat—and his entire body seized.
His youthful face tightened as deep lines carved themselves across his forehead. His jaw broadened, his skin roughened, and a thick blond moustache burst from his upper lip. Tyler staggered toward the truck window and watched himself age twenty years in seconds.
Then his stomach cramped.
His sharp abdominal muscles softened and pushed outward. His belly swelled rapidly over his belt, becoming round, heavy and solid. At the same time, his shoulders expanded, his chest thickened and his arms grew even more massive, turning him into an ageing, powerfully built strongman.
“No—stop!”
His voice came out deep and hoarse.
Hair slid from his scalp in clumps. Tyler grabbed at it desperately, but within moments his head was completely bald. Sweat ran over his unfamiliar face as the transformation finally stopped.
He stood beside the moving truck, still wearing the same denim clothes, but now trapped inside the body engraved on the flask: older, bald, moustached, hugely muscular and permanently burdened with an enormous belly.
Tyler hurled the flask into a rubbish container.
It reappeared instantly in his hand.
Engraved beneath the strongman was a new line of tiny lettering:
ONE DRINK CHANGES THE MAN.
A SECOND MAKES HIM CONTENT.
Tyler stared at it in horror.
Then, despite himself, he began unscrewing the cap.
Risk it all (Episode 2) - AI transformation sequence - various TF's
"Hello everyone and welcome to RISK IT ALL!" Harvey cheered as he announced the start of his game show as he walked out to clapping and hooting fans. "Today we have new contestant who is looking to get his new business off the ground and he is hoping to win big by risking it all. Let's welcome Patrick, everyone give him a round of applause!"
Patrick strolled onto the stage and smiled at the crowd, he gave a quick wave before putting his hands in his pocket and smiling at Harvey. "It's great to be here Harvey." Harvey grinned and rubbed his hands together before turning to the crowd "Let's hear it for Patrick everyone" The crowd cheered as Harvey walked towards the wheel.
Harvey folded his arms and smiled "So Patrick, I have been told you have a business that is going to revolutionise the world. Do you mind filling us all in"
Patrick almost seemed giddy as he answered "It's an AI project that will reinvent the way we invest our money, predicting markets, trends and crashes to make people millions. It's going to make a lot of people very rich" Patrick confidently told the audience.
"Although it hasn't made you rich has it?" Harvey then paused as the audience erupted in laughter. "Because if it had then you wouldn't be here and willing to..." Harvey turned to the audience who all screamed in unison "RISK IT ALL!"
Patrick coughed and was obviously a little insulted "Oh no it will make me rich. I just need the proper starting funds and then I'll have investors begging to be part of the new wave of AI economics. If you want, perhaps you could invest? By the looks of your suit you could use some more money!" Patrick laughed as the audience gave a mixture of half hearted chuckles and groans.
The insult was like water off a duck's back to Harvey as he professionally carried on, although his smile faltered just briefly. "Investors you say? Are you sure they might still be interested after this show, people tend to not be the same after." Harvey then gave a wink to the audience who all cheered.
"I am aware, but with my ideas, passion, brains and knowledge of the world of business it doesn't matter what I look like. People know a winner when they see one and I am a winner." Patrick smiled and looked at the audience who clapped, which only boosted his ego further.
Harvey's smile turned sinister "Oh you are certainly a winner Patrick and we are grateful for you taking part in RISK IT ALL!" Harvey then turned to the wheel and ran his hand down one side.
"Now I am sure you and lots of the people at home know how this works but for the few that don't let me quickly explain how the game works. Patrick here is going to risk every aspect of him in order to win money. He has already won 1000 just for showing up and for every spin of the wheel his money will double, meaning in 10 spins he could be taking home over 1 million!" Harvey shouted and the audience wooed. "However, it is not that easy, as you can see on my wheel beside me, there are 5 segments.
"Blue - is for identity. This means qualities like age, gender, race, sexuality.
Green - is for the physical body. This means height, weight, muscle mass.
Red - is for specific body parts. This means certain parts of the body could grow, shrink, double, disappear.
Purple - is for mental changes. This means personality traits, IQ, emotions and memories.
Lastly Yellow, my favourite - random. This could mean any change to any aspect of Patrick here. We always have some fun when the wheel lands on yellow!" Harvey chuckled before staring like a predator at Patrick "Well... Patrick are you ready to risk it all?"
Patrick didn't even hesitate as he stood up straight and looked Harvey dead in the eyes and said "Bring it on!" Patrick knew the risk of the show, he had seen what had happened to some contestants, but he didn't care. Once his business was successful he would be able to afford all the procedures to reverse whatever could be done to him, he already had several people lined up to invest once he had the money to get the business off the ground. Becoming shorter, having a silly voice or long fingers would mean nothing to them and soon he would be rich and it would all be reversed anyway. It was easy money.
"Great, then let's get you ready for your first spin!" Harvey then clicked his fingers and the platform below Patrick glowed and he was suddenly engulfed in a quick blast of white light. Patrick was blinded for a moment and when his vision returned he noticed everything was blurry and he felt colder. Looking down he saw his clothes had vanished, he was in good shape and had no problem being exposed so suddenly however it was not only his clothes that had disappeared, so had his glasses. Patrick now found it much harder to see, even the wheel wasn't as clear now and suddenly he felt vulnerable as he squinted to try and see Harvey more clearly.
"Errm could I have my glasses back I -"
Harvey instantly interrupted "Patrick let's get to your first spin and double that 1000!"
"Wait I can't se-" Patrick tried to voice again but was quickly drowned out as the audience roared with excitement and Harvey pulled at the wheel and sent it spinning. Patrick could see the colours blur but it was much harder to work out what it was landing on as it finally stopped on green.
"So for 2000 it's a physical change and let's see..." Harvey then reached behind the wheel and pulled from a box attached to the green segment. "Oh starting off with something good, it seems that no longer will you go unnoticed in any business meeting now when you are 6 '8 ! A giant among men!"
Patrick then felt the platform below him heat up and then a bright glowing light flashed and immediately his body felt strange. Patrick felt his body ache, his arms, legs, back, neck all seemed to tingle as they all suddenly started to grow and lengthen. Patrick felt his world spin as he found his point of view changing as his body grew in size. As he grew taller his legs lengthened as did his arms to match, his torso grew as he started to tower over Harvey and most of the set, the platform giving him even added height to everyone around him. As Patrick grew the final few inches his body redistributed itself, keeping him balanced but he no longer looked as muscular and slightly more underweight as his previous muscle mass and body fat tried to spread over his longer and gangly form. When the aching of his bones and the tingling of his body stopped Patrick was left at an enormous 6 foot 8 inches in height, his arms and legs looked weaker but only because there were so much more of them now that his muscles and fat struggled to compensate. Patrick looked down and then at his reflection and while it was odd, he was actually quite thrilled. Height was something everyone craved, height got attention and now he would command a lot of it.
"How's the weather up there Patrick?"
Patrick smiled as he looked down at Harvey "Pretty fucking good Harvey!" Patrick looked down, although his hands and feet now looked a little too small for his body he was overjoyed by his new height. Height demands respect, this would only make getting his investors on board even easier now that he could look down upon them.
"Right Patrick that's 2000 in the bank, do you want to make it 4000 and RISK IT ALL!"
"Hell yes Harvey! Spin that wheel!" Patrick cheered much to the audience's delight and Harvey chagrin. Harvey turned to the wheel and gave it a spin, while Patrick squinted as it stopped on a purple segment.
"Oooo a mental change so early on, let's see what you have risked!" Harvey then lent behind the wheel and pulled out a card from the purple section "Interesting. It seems your ego will grow just like your height as you become more vain, more arrogant and more self confident. Regardless of what you look like, you will believe you look perfect."
The platform below Patrick once again began to glow and with a flash of white light Patrick's head started to hurt. Patrick had always been confident and he was pleased with how he looked, he worked out, ate right and had a decent skincare routine but just like any human there were things he would change. However, the more he looked at himself now the more he thought he had never looked better. Those thoughts he had moments ago about his hands and feet being too small for his height evaporated as they now looked perfect to him. His right ear that was slightly higher than his left ear that always used to bother him, now it no longer did and instead he found himself proud of it, it made him distinguished and unique. His new height only made him feel more confident, he would tower over lesser men, how would women be able to resist him now? Patrick ran his hand through his hair, his beautiful golden hair and couldn't help but pout slightly at his reflection, his own dick getting a little hard as he thought about any woman that was lucky to be with him. Now previously when Patrick had some self-doubt he would have been worried about his now total obsession with himself and how amazing he looked and how this might distract from his business aspirations, how it might be difficult to charm and schmooze investors when constantly looking at himself. However, Patrick now believes he was the perfect human being, never had those worries because maintaining how he looked now took priority.
"How are you feeling Patrick? Happy with your 4000?"
"Thrilled Harvey! I think I wanna make that 4000...8000!" Patrick turned to the crowd and they cheered, their applause only inflating his ego further as he blew them a kiss.
Harvey managed to roll his eyes without anyone noticing before turning back to Patrick "You are well on your way to getting the money you need for your investors, so let's spin that wheel!" Harvey spun the wheel and the audience clapped as it landed on a red segment.
"Excellent our first body part segment!" Harvey then quickly grabbed at the box of cards in the red section and his grin widened as he started to read it aloud "Looks like you are going to be gaining some girth to go with that height as you get wide child bearing hips and a big fat ass to match it!"
Patrick's smile quickly faded "Wait what did you just sa-" However before Patrick could finish his sentence the platform below him had already begun to glow and with a flash of white light Patrick found his hips beginning to ache as the bones started to shift.
Immediately Patrick found his stance changing as his wings started to widen drastically. What had once been narrow, masculine lines steadily flared outward in a smooth, relentless expansion, widening into broad, fertile arcs that screamed child-bearing potential. Inch by inch the pelvis broadened dramatically changing his previously straight body shape into a massive fat pear shape. "Oh God what is happening!" Patrick cried as his ass cheeks suddenly started to tingle and then expand. Each cheek started to balloon outwards as the previously cute little peachy butt expanded, growing into massive fatty globes that wobbled and jiggled with even the slightest of movements. Patrick whimpered as his butt strained against his underwear, each buttock becoming thick and juicy until the blue briefs could not contain them any more and the lower half of each ass cheek slipped free and exposed themselves to the world. When the aching in his hips finally stopped, they were wide enough to fill most doorways. Each cheek now the size of an overinflated basket ball jiggled with each breath Patrick took. Staring at his reflection, terror filled him as he looked like a caricature of a Pixar mom, with an impossibly voluptuous lower half and cartoonishly fertile hips.
"Looking good Patrick!" Harvey yelled "But don't deprive the audience, turn around!"
Patrick was almost in a daze as he looked at his new hips and felt his massive cheek clapping booty protruding from his behind. The platform below him then started to rotate and Patrick craned his neck to look at his reflection and gasped at what he saw. The contrast between his upper body and face compared to his lower half was horrifying. His upper body was still lean and male, while below the waist he now possessed the exaggerated, maternal curves of an animated fertility goddess, the kind of exaggerated silhouette that only porn stars or animated sex bots achieved. Patrick knew he looked ridiculous and that he now had the ass of some fertile 30 something mom of 4 had and that he should be freaking out but something in his mind told him not to. That his ass looked good and fat, perfectly spankable and that he would be a fool not to show it off! Patrick tried to shake those thoughts from his head and instead tried to focus on the fact that having such pear shaped body and enormous jiggling ass cheeks was wrong and made him a joke and that he needed to find a way to hide his frame if he was even going to be taken seriously, especially in business where he would be ridiculed. Yet, those thoughts were hard to grasp and keep solid in his mind as the new arrogant, vain and impossibly self assured him told him that he looked good. That he should start wearing jockstraps and thongs to show it off more and that people would be lucky to get a glimpse of him in his underwear if that meant getting a peek at his cheeks.
Patrick was still staring at his massive ass when Harvey snapped him out of his daze.
"Enjoying your new curves Patrick?" Harvey smiled with glee.
"Yes, I mean no, I mean my ass does look hot. It's just, erm, err..." Patrick stuttered as he tried to get his thoughts straight he knew he looked stupid but anytime he thought about it for longer than a couple of seconds his mind would reinforce just how great he looked.
"Well that new butt earned you 8000!" Harvey turned to the audience who all wooed "Do you want to make it 16,000? Do you want to RISK IT ALL!" The audience screamed along with Harvey and cheered.
Part of Patrick knew he had made a mistake, with an ass this massive at his new height all people would talk about would be his hips and voluptuous feminine posterior. However, a larger part of him told him that it didn't matter what he looked like, even if he looked great, he would still command a boardroom and turn his ideas into millions. "Let's keep going Harvey, I'm a winner!"
Harvey’s smile grew as he spun the wheel again and it landed on his favourite segment, yellow.
The audience all cheered "You guys know this is my favourite segment, random! Anything is possible and we even have some audience suggestions floating around back here!" Harvey smiled as he fished around in the box behind the yellow segment and pulled out a card. Harvey let out a short laugh before reading the card aloud. "It might be hard for you to maintain your professional business look with your new neon green punk Mohawk. Rock on!"
Patrick barely had time to comprehend what Harvey had just shouted to the audience and the platform below him glowed and blinded him with the flash of white light once again. This time the changes came quickly as Patrick's scalp suddenly felt cold and he hurriedly grabbed at his hair. Patrick's hands made a small slapping sound as they hit the bald sides of his head and as they searched they only found a thin strip of hair running down the middle of his head. "No, not my hair! Not my beautiful golden hair!" Patrick yelled as he ran his hair over most of his bald head, it was then that his head started to tingle. Patrick continued to feel his scalp hoping it would mean more hair would start to grow but the bald areas remained shiny and smooth, it was the strip of hair in the centre that started to grow. The thin strip of hair started to grow rapidly, each strand was perfectly straight and rigid as it grew outwards in a uniform neat line. It was as if each hair was infused with hair gel and hairspray so that it would always permanently be in place, never moving and never drooping. Patrick whimpered as he felt the tower of hard hair grow from his head and soon the tips of his fingers could no longer reach the top as the hair continued to grow higher and harder. When the tingling stopped the hair was at least a foot long and now stood impossibly high and stiff. Patrick looked at his reflection and his eyes widened in shock as he watched the last hair on his head turn from blonde to a vibrant, impossible to ignore neon green. Finally completing his punk neon Mohawk that made Patrick look anything but businesslike.
Patrick's mind was in turmoil as once again he wanted to panic, he knew that no one who wanted to be taken seriously as a businessman had a haircut like this. Plus having most of luscious blond hair being shaved away down to his scalp made him feel sick, yet the new arrogant him told him not to worry. That his hair looked awesome, made him stand out from the crowd and that it would appeal to investors who didn't want just another establishment grey suit worker bee but an innovator, a maverick that was going to change the business world. Patrick might have even started to believe his own hype if it hadn't been for Harvey interrupting his arguing internal monologue.
"Now that's a feat of engineering that hairstyle! You risked your golden locks and you lost them but that's just what happens when you... RISK IT ALL!" Harvey turned to the audience who joined him in shouting. "But with that lovely hairstyle you now have 16,000 , do you want to continue and make it 32,000?"
Patrick paused for a while as he looked at Harvey, he knew now what a mistake it was to risk his body and mind, he knew that he should stop now and leave with what he had won even though it wasn't even close to what he needed.
Harvey's smile faded slightly as he sensed he was about to lose a contestant, one he did not want to lose yet and so he quickly jumped in. "Remember Patrick it's only hair! With your ideas, your business and your pioneering spirit, hair shouldn't matter. Don't let a mohawk stop you from getting the money you need to achieve your goals! What do you guys think? Should he keep going?"
Patrick heard the cheers from the audience and he looked at Harvey again. The asshole was right, it was only hair and while a cut and razor it could easily be fixed. Patrick then let out a small sigh and forced a smile and nodded to Harvey as the audience screamed with delight as the host spun the wheel once again, the crowd went wild and Harvey's smile turned sinister as once again the wheel landed on yellow.
"Another yellow! It's my lucky day! Let's see what you risked for 32,000!" Harvey giddily pulled out a card from the yellow segment and happily read it aloud. "You are going to be feeling a sharp prick... or ten as you get piercings from head to toe!"
Patrick's eyes widened in fear as the platform below him started to glow and with a flash Patrick was left panicked as he felt no tingling across his body. Patrick looked over to Harvey confused until suddenly a sharp pain raced through his tongue, Patrick rushed his hands to the pain and stuck out his tongue for them to feel something hard and metallic tasting speared through the centre of his tongue. Another sharp pain then stabbed in the eyebrow and as Patrick yelped he grabbed to find a ring dangling from his left eyebrow. "STOP IT HURTS!" Patrick yelled as his nipples stung with pain and two gold rings drooped from his nipples and pulled them down. Patrick yelped again as pain shot through his chin and belly button as more gold piercings appeared and adorned his body. Patrick had tears in his eyes as his ears then felt like they were being attacked by a porcupine as three god rings appeared on each of them and then a yawning painful stretching pulled at his ear lobes. Patrick cried "No not those!" As his hands rushed to feel hard plastic rings slowly expanding and growing inside his earlobes as thick, heavy ear gauges pushed the skin until there was a vast hole that at least three of his fingers could fit into. When not worn Patrick's ear lobes would be destroyed floppy loops of skin, so wearing the huge black gauges would now be preferable. Patrick didn't know if he could be in any more pain but then another excruciating burst of anguish rain from his nose to the rest of his body and a massive septum ring pulled painfully downwards, it was enormous something an bull in a field would have not a human businessman looking for investors. Patrick looked at his face and let a tear run down his cheek, his face and body pricked and pierced with garish gold rings and spikes. Patrick looked pleadingly at Harvey, who only smiled, his eyes met Patrick's and then they looked down at Patrick's crotch and Harvey's grin widened. It only took a second for Patrick to realise what Harvey might be alluding to before he screamed "NOOOOOO!" as the vast imaginable pain emanated from the tick of his dick and a fat thick prince Albert pierced his cock and pulled it down violently. After a few moments of clutching his much heavy cock that would be forever dragged downwards by the oversized piercing, Patrick eventually recovered and was able to look at himself, his image ruined and freakish as his face glistened in the studio lights thanks to the 12 piercings now poking out of his face.
"Ooof that looked painful Patrick! But on the bright side those piercings just bagged you 32,000!" Harvey yelled as the audience cheered while Patrick let out a little sob.
Patrick now knew what a mistake he had made, his face was ruined and even with all the piercings gone his ears were permanently ruined. His hair looked ridiculous and his ass was a joke. How would he be able to walk into a meeting and try to explain his business model about markets and making millions looking like this? Even as his mind fought him and told him how amazing he looked and that more piercings would make him look even more unique, he managed to wade through those thoughts and get some clarity. "Harvey we need to stop." Patrick finally said a little breathless.
The audience then fell silent, "Are you sure Patrick, you only need a little more to get what your investors need?"
"What investors? They are going to run a mile after they see me! Give me what I won and get me off this platform!"
There was a long pause before Harvey began to speak as he pulled his best concerned face "That is a shame, I am surprised you are losing your nerve already. I thought this was an opportunity for you, if you get the money you need you could change the world and make a lot of money, what happened to that drive huh? Real visionaries push through the discomfort, they embrace the change no matter how humiliating or irreversible. Are you telling me that you are not the businessman, the innovator, the winner you said you were? Because a winner wouldn't let something as simple as a haircut and some piercings get in the way of what they wanted to achieve. A winner wouldn't give up! But if you are so set on leaving now then you were never a winner and if you quit now you will never be a winner. Instead Patrick that would just make you a loser. Are you a loser Patrick?!"
Silence then lingered in the air as both men stared at each other. Patrick could feel the anger bubbling inside him, he was no loser but he was also no fool either. He knew that continuing would be a mistake but seeing Harvey's smug, condescending look stare back at him filled him with rage. Patrick knew he should stop, go home, get his hair fixed, buy some new suits to hide his ass and take out the metal in his face but an urge was growing inside him fuelled by hatred. He had the urge to prove Harvey wrong, to show him that no matter what he looked like he would get the money, he would win the show, attract the investors he needed and become a billionaire, that would acquire the show and Harvey would be the first contestant.
"So Patrick, do you want to quit or do you want to be a winner and... RISK IT ALL?"
Patrick wiped the tear from his eyes and clenched his fist, whether it was the new louder arrogant voice inside him that told him he could do it or the pure hate he felt towards Harvey, Patrick found himself saying "Let's risk it all."
The room erupted with cheers and shouts as Harvey didn't hesitate to spin the wheel. Harvey then took a moment to compose himself, he had never had a guest quite yet and he wasn't going to start now. Harvey then turned back to the audience and gave his winning smile as the wheel landed on the blue segment.
"Ah, our first identity segment of the game!" Harvey then pulled from the box of cards from behind the segment and tried hard to conceal his excitement. "It seems Harvey you are going to be much more relaxed from now on as you identify with the potheads and stoners of the world."
Patrick's rage quickly turned to fear as the platform below him glowed, he tried to move but for the first and last time he realised he could not escape from the platform as he was blinded with the white light and his brain started to hurt.
Patrick blinked slowly, his eyelids started feeling heavy and pleasantly weighted as a thick, smoky fog settled permanently over his mind. The panic, fear and anger he felt just moments ago seemed to be hard to grasp as his thoughts now drifted in a constant, hazy euphoria, as if he had taken the deepest, most perfect hit of the strongest weed imaginable and it simply never wore off. Every worry about his reputation, his business, his looks or his future felt distant and muffled, like trying to shout through layers of cotton. Patrick wanted to panic, to demand Harvey reverse whatever was happening, but the urge kept melting away into lazy contentment and instead the previous vain arrogant voice he had fought against now took full control. The worries about his hair now turned into him making sure every hair was in place and looking as tall and spiky as possible. The humiliation he felt about his ass and hips, tuned into angling his body so that his ass looked even rounder and more alluring. The piercings that clinked over his face were no longer distracting additions, but beautiful adornments that he only wanted to add to or increase the size. Patrick's mind became a smokey mess that the old him was quickly getting lost in as he screamed it seemed his voice was not heard and his body didn't react to his commands as instead a vain, dazed, giggly stoner took over.
As Patrick's mind settled into its new identity, so did his new look. A pair of ratty old boxers grew out from his designer briefs, always on show and showing off his fat ass. A loose pair of shorts and an old worn vest appeared short enough that his belly button piercings could still be shown off and both reeked of weed. While a pair of sandals materialised on his feet, Patrick gave his toes a wriggle and chuckled. His pierced face fell into a sleepy, dumb look of contentment. Yet buried deep beneath the pleasant, permanent stoned haze, a small, frantic voice screamed in the back of his mind, raw with terror. "This is so fucking wrong. Make it stop." it screamed but the voice was barely heard as the new Patrick laughed as his massive septum ring swung back and forth on his nose, clinking against his teeth.
"Wow that's certainly a different look from what we started with! How are you feeling Patrick?" Harvey grinned.
"Huh?" Patrick said before noticing that Harvey had asked him a question "I'm feeling pretty good... and call me Rick, it sounds way cooler. Like my man Pickle Rick!" Rick then let out another dumb chuckle as the audience joined in.
"Well Rick you just earned yourself 64,000! Now do you want to keep playing and earn 128,000? I know you had some doubts before?"
"Doubts? Naaa, I'm cool let's keep going I look fucking awesome dude!" Rick cried even as Patrick tried desperately to take control, to try and stop the new him from making it any worse but every time he thought he made it through the smoke he found himself once again at the very back of his mind watching in horror as the wheel spun once again and landed on red.
"I like your attitude Rick and it looks like another body part section." Harvey happily rooted around in the box of cards and pulled one out and read it aloud. "Looks like you are going to filling out that gangly frame of yours Rick, but just in one place as you get a nice round pot belly."
Rick barely looked down at the glowing platform before smiling and saying "Dope"
While Patrick screamed for body to move away as the light blinded him once again and his stomach started to gurgle. The once flat belly soon began to swell with a strange, insistent pressure, the skin stretching outward as his midsection ballooned and protruded prominently from his otherwise lean frame. Inch by inch it expanded, growing taut and smooth like an overfilled beach ball, the curve becoming so pronounced that it jutted out several inches in front of him, giving him an absurdly pregnant silhouette. Though that fat poured around his stomach and began flabby and soft, nowhere else in his body expanded making him look even more absurd. When the pressure did finally stop, Rick looked like he had swallowed a yoga ball. The growth leaving him with a comically exaggerated beer belly look on an otherwise tall trim physique. The heavy, rounded gut swayed and bounced with every movement, its smooth surface tight and shiny, the belly button piercing glinting in the studio lights. With his wider hips and massive ass Rick found it hard to stand and the new weight forced him to adjust his stance wider to accommodate the new hanging ball of blubber that dominated his torso.
"Wow now that is a belly! Are you sure you're not expecting Rick?" Harvey laughed as the audience chuckled.
"Expecting what?"Rick chuckled as he picked up his gut and let it drop and bounce in front of him, the stoner in him mesmerised by his new stomach's movements. Patrick was freaking out, his huge fat belly hung obscenely in front of him. It was so round and rotund that no item of clothing would ever be able to hide it and it would forever peek out, not that Rick was concerned his arrogance led him to believe that it look amazing and he already had plans to make all of his shirts crop tops so he could show off his beautiful pot belly.
Harvey grinned "Now you have a bulge in the front as well as the back, c'mon let's turn Rick so we can all admire his... unique shape!" Harvey cheered as the platform below Rick started to turn. Internally Patrick gasped in horror as he looked at his new freakish silhouette.
Patrick screamed in frustration as he tried frantically to take back control from the drugged up ego maniac that now controlled his even movement, but no matter how much he demanded that his body quit the game, not even a hint of his true emotions showed on his lazy eyed face.
"Now Rick you are on a roll, do you want to double your money and RISK IT ALL"
"Hell yeah, I am a Winner!"
"You sure are Rick, you sure are!" Harvey laughed as he spun the wheel again and it landed on red once again.
"Ooo two body part segments in a row!" Harvey quickly grabbed a card from behind the red section and read it to the audience. "It seems you are going to be getting some help balancing out your new belly and butt as your feet grow to a whopping size 19!"
Rick didn't even seem to care as the platform below him started to glow and flashed bright white, the tingling in his feet causing him to give a dumb chuckle. The sensation intensified rapidly as the bones in his feet lengthened and thickened with audible creaks and pops. Patrick's once ordinary size 10 feet expanded dramatically, the arches rising higher and broader, his heels rounding into massive, sturdy bases, until they reached a whopping size 19. Each one now absurdly long and wide, dominating his lower legs like two powerful, oversized paddles. Each of his toes grew longer and thicker as the nails hardened and turned slightly yellow. To Rick it was nothing but a tickle and some mighty feet to stride around on but for Patrick it was another freakish addition to his body, Patrick didn't think things could get any worse but then he was hit with the smell. A masculine stench began to rise from his enormous feet blending salty sweat with a sharp, vinegary tang that deepened into a heavy, musky odour that clung to his tongue. Beads of moisture formed naturally between the massive toes and along the broad soles, amplifying the ripe aroma until it filled the surrounding air with an intoxicating, inescapable cloud of foot musk. Patrick gagged internally as his new huge feet stunk out the studio as even some audience members pinched their noses, yet Rick just smiled in a world of his own just happy that he had now won even more money to start his business.
"Oh my... that is certainly an interesting smell Rick!" Harvey couldn't help but let out a little cough as he tried not to be bothered by the cheesy miasma that now overpowered the air around Rick. "Well Rick you now have 256,000! That is enough for you to start your business, but you said you are a winner. So are you going to keep going for the jackpot and RISK IT ALL!"
Patrick screamed NOOOOOOOO but Rick was far too high to care as he shouted to the crowd "Let's do it Harvey! Let's risk it all!"
"That's the spirit Rick!" Harvey shouted as he spun the wheel and it landed on green.
"A physical change, we haven't had one of those in a while." Harvey grabbed a card from the back of the green section of the wheel. "With such a big body you will need to stay warm, thankfully you will now have a thick fur coat covering your body as your body hair grows ten fold."
This time Rick waved and cheered as the platform glowed, his arrogance now focussed on winning as much money as possible as the platform started to glow and the light flashed.
The itching was almost instant as tiny prickles raced from the back of his neck all the way down to his enormous feet as thick dark hair started to sprout from every pore of his skin. Soon a matted forest of black curls had spread like an invasive weed across every inch of his skin, making it feel hot and trapped. The growth raced across his back, shoulders, belly and back forming a dense, prickly pelt that irritated and itched with every movement. While his arms and legs became overrun with long, wiry strands that sprouted unevenly, turning his once smooth limbs into something grotesquely primal and unkempt. Rick's entire body was buried under an excessive, oppressive forest of thick dark hair that felt heavy, scratchy, and alien, trapping sweat and intensifying the already pungent, musky odour rising from his oversized feet.
"Looking good Rick! Even better now that you have won 512,000!" Harvey cheered along with the audience. "I think I already know the answer but Rick, do you want to spin one more time to win the jackpot and RISK IT ALLLLLLLLL!"
Rick stood smiling, the cheers from the crowd only inflating his ego more as he screamed "LET'S RISK IT ALLL!"
However, Patrick was now sobbing at the back of his mind as no amount of money was worth what had happened to him. With his new body there was no way he could be an entrepreneur, a CEO, someone who was going to revolutionise the world of business! The mohawk and the piercings alone would have been enough to scare off 90% of investors but that now coupled with his enormous hips and womanly ass, along with his huge hanging belly which his body refused to hide would make him a laughing stock, a freak, a clown to be laughed at. That's what he had become, a clown with enormous smelly feet to match. The thoughts that now entered his head were put through a cloud of stoner smoke and no longer came out how he wanted, his overly relaxed, giddy and vain attitude made him totally unserious and completely ill equipped to run his own life let alone a business. He had risked it all and while he had the money, he had no future. Patrick wept as he tried to take control and try to avoid one last humiliating change, but it was too late. The confident businessman was no longer in control, instead Rick the arrogant stoner lay about who would spend the rest of his life getting high in some basement was in control and in his twisted mind thought he was some sort of winner, when Patrick knew he was the biggest loser and laughing stock of them all.
"Another random to finish off the game, let's see what has won you the jackpot!" Harvey grabbed the card and smiled with glee "It's an audience submission and it's a good one. Enjoy permanent pleasure with the feeling of a buzzing butt plug going 24/7"
As the platform glowed even Rick's eyes looked confused as he listened to Harvey speak, he couldn't have heard that right? But as the platform glowed and flashed, Rick felt a pressure growing his own hairy asshole. Rick's finger instantly reached behind to touch his hole but he felt nothing there yet he felt the unmistakable pressure and stretch of an enormous, thick butt plug lodged firmly up his ass. Its massive girth forced his hole wide open in a constant, burning fullness that made his cheeks clench involuntarily. The phantom toy then began to buzz powerfully at random intensities, sending deep, relentless vibrations rumbling through his prostate and inner walls. Rick grunted as the plug created waves of unwanted, twitching pleasure mixed causing the straight businessman to feel intense discomfort and shame. The invisible plug seemed to grow in size until it felt impossibly large, stretching him to his limits and making every shift of his weight feel uncomfortable. While the buzzing grew stronger whenever he tried to ignore it or whenever he tried to touch the invisible intrusion in his asshole. Sweat beaded across Rick's thickly furred body as the humiliating sensation refused to fade, turning his heavy, hairy ass into a constant source of distracting, degrading arousal that left him mortified and unable to focus on anything else.
"We have another jackpot winner here! Let's give it up for Rick! Now are you ready to get that business started and change the world?" Harvey grinned as he walked over to his latest winner the smell from his feet burning in his nostrils.
Rick moaned slightly before looking at Harvey stoned, dazed and distracted by the pressure and pleasure he felt from his asshole "Huh what business?" Rick said before going back to moaning as his asshole buzzed with painful orgasmic pleasure.
"Now that's all we have time for this evening. Rick here risked it all and won big! You could be next, so if you want to be a winner you have to be willing to RISK IT ALLLLLLLLL. Good night everybody!" Harvey shouted as the camera's shut down and Rick was whisked away by some men in black suits as Harvey waved him off.
After several days of living in a hazy pleasurable cloud Rick finally tried to use his money to start his business but the more he tried to think about it the more his asshole buzzed, the more his mind clouded and left him in dumb giggles. Rick tried to meet with an investor but when they met at a coffee shop to discuss his business plan he was just met with stares and laughter as people looked at the tall, fat ass, pot belly, hairy, giant smelly footed giant that couldn't stop touching his asshole. While Patrick screamed in embarrassment as all attempts at starting his business were thwarted by his new freakish body, hair and piercings. No longer would he be a success but instead a stoned freak spending his days at home, fingering his asshole and trying to remove a toy that wasn't even there.
Risk it all (Episode 2) - AI transformation sequence - various TF's
"Hello everyone and welcome to RISK IT ALL!" Harvey cheered as he announced the start of his game show as he walked out to clapping and hooting fans. "Today we have new contestant who is looking to get his new business off the ground and he is hoping to win big by risking it all. Let's welcome Patrick, everyone give him a round of applause!"
Patrick strolled onto the stage and smiled at the crowd, he gave a quick wave before putting his hands in his pocket and smiling at Harvey. "It's great to be here Harvey." Harvey grinned and rubbed his hands together before turning to the crowd "Let's hear it for Patrick everyone" The crowd cheered as Harvey walked towards the wheel.
Harvey folded his arms and smiled "So Patrick, I have been told you have a business that is going to revolutionise the world. Do you mind filling us all in"
Patrick almost seemed giddy as he answered "It's an AI project that will reinvent the way we invest our money, predicting markets, trends and crashes to make people millions. It's going to make a lot of people very rich" Patrick confidently told the audience.
"Although it hasn't made you rich has it?" Harvey then paused as the audience erupted in laughter. "Because if it had then you wouldn't be here and willing to..." Harvey turned to the audience who all screamed in unison "RISK IT ALL!"
Patrick coughed and was obviously a little insulted "Oh no it will make me rich. I just need the proper starting funds and then I'll have investors begging to be part of the new wave of AI economics. If you want, perhaps you could invest? By the looks of your suit you could use some more money!" Patrick laughed as the audience gave a mixture of half hearted chuckles and groans.
The insult was like water off a duck's back to Harvey as he professionally carried on, although his smile faltered just briefly. "Investors you say? Are you sure they might still be interested after this show, people tend to not be the same after." Harvey then gave a wink to the audience who all cheered.
"I am aware, but with my ideas, passion, brains and knowledge of the world of business it doesn't matter what I look like. People know a winner when they see one and I am a winner." Patrick smiled and looked at the audience who clapped, which only boosted his ego further.
Harvey's smile turned sinister "Oh you are certainly a winner Patrick and we are grateful for you taking part in RISK IT ALL!" Harvey then turned to the wheel and ran his hand down one side.
"Now I am sure you and lots of the people at home know how this works but for the few that don't let me quickly explain how the game works. Patrick here is going to risk every aspect of him in order to win money. He has already won 1000 just for showing up and for every spin of the wheel his money will double, meaning in 10 spins he could be taking home over 1 million!" Harvey shouted and the audience wooed. "However, it is not that easy, as you can see on my wheel beside me, there are 5 segments.
"Blue - is for identity. This means qualities like age, gender, race, sexuality.
Green - is for the physical body. This means height, weight, muscle mass.
Red - is for specific body parts. This means certain parts of the body could grow, shrink, double, disappear.
Purple - is for mental changes. This means personality traits, IQ, emotions and memories.
Lastly Yellow, my favourite - random. This could mean any change to any aspect of Patrick here. We always have some fun when the wheel lands on yellow!" Harvey chuckled before staring like a predator at Patrick "Well... Patrick are you ready to risk it all?"
Patrick didn't even hesitate as he stood up straight and looked Harvey dead in the eyes and said "Bring it on!" Patrick knew the risk of the show, he had seen what had happened to some contestants, but he didn't care. Once his business was successful he would be able to afford all the procedures to reverse whatever could be done to him, he already had several people lined up to invest once he had the money to get the business off the ground. Becoming shorter, having a silly voice or long fingers would mean nothing to them and soon he would be rich and it would all be reversed anyway. It was easy money.
"Great, then let's get you ready for your first spin!" Harvey then clicked his fingers and the platform below Patrick glowed and he was suddenly engulfed in a quick blast of white light. Patrick was blinded for a moment and when his vision returned he noticed everything was blurry and he felt colder. Looking down he saw his clothes had vanished, he was in good shape and had no problem being exposed so suddenly however it was not only his clothes that had disappeared, so had his glasses. Patrick now found it much harder to see, even the wheel wasn't as clear now and suddenly he felt vulnerable as he squinted to try and see Harvey more clearly.
"Errm could I have my glasses back I -"
Harvey instantly interrupted "Patrick let's get to your first spin and double that 1000!"
"Wait I can't se-" Patrick tried to voice again but was quickly drowned out as the audience roared with excitement and Harvey pulled at the wheel and sent it spinning. Patrick could see the colours blur but it was much harder to work out what it was landing on as it finally stopped on green.
"So for 2000 it's a physical change and let's see..." Harvey then reached behind the wheel and pulled from a box attached to the green segment. "Oh starting off with something good, it seems that no longer will you go unnoticed in any business meeting now when you are 6 '8 ! A giant among men!"
Patrick then felt the platform below him heat up and then a bright glowing light flashed and immediately his body felt strange. Patrick felt his body ache, his arms, legs, back, neck all seemed to tingle as they all suddenly started to grow and lengthen. Patrick felt his world spin as he found his point of view changing as his body grew in size. As he grew taller his legs lengthened as did his arms to match, his torso grew as he started to tower over Harvey and most of the set, the platform giving him even added height to everyone around him. As Patrick grew the final few inches his body redistributed itself, keeping him balanced but he no longer looked as muscular and slightly more underweight as his previous muscle mass and body fat tried to spread over his longer and gangly form. When the aching of his bones and the tingling of his body stopped Patrick was left at an enormous 6 foot 8 inches in height, his arms and legs looked weaker but only because there were so much more of them now that his muscles and fat struggled to compensate. Patrick looked down and then at his reflection and while it was odd, he was actually quite thrilled. Height was something everyone craved, height got attention and now he would command a lot of it.
"How's the weather up there Patrick?"
Patrick smiled as he looked down at Harvey "Pretty fucking good Harvey!" Patrick looked down, although his hands and feet now looked a little too small for his body he was overjoyed by his new height. Height demands respect, this would only make getting his investors on board even easier now that he could look down upon them.
"Right Patrick that's 2000 in the bank, do you want to make it 4000 and RISK IT ALL!"
"Hell yes Harvey! Spin that wheel!" Patrick cheered much to the audience's delight and Harvey chagrin. Harvey turned to the wheel and gave it a spin, while Patrick squinted as it stopped on a purple segment.
"Oooo a mental change so early on, let's see what you have risked!" Harvey then lent behind the wheel and pulled out a card from the purple section "Interesting. It seems your ego will grow just like your height as you become more vain, more arrogant and more self confident. Regardless of what you look like, you will believe you look perfect."
The platform below Patrick once again began to glow and with a flash of white light Patrick's head started to hurt. Patrick had always been confident and he was pleased with how he looked, he worked out, ate right and had a decent skincare routine but just like any human there were things he would change. However, the more he looked at himself now the more he thought he had never looked better. Those thoughts he had moments ago about his hands and feet being too small for his height evaporated as they now looked perfect to him. His right ear that was slightly higher than his left ear that always used to bother him, now it no longer did and instead he found himself proud of it, it made him distinguished and unique. His new height only made him feel more confident, he would tower over lesser men, how would women be able to resist him now? Patrick ran his hand through his hair, his beautiful golden hair and couldn't help but pout slightly at his reflection, his own dick getting a little hard as he thought about any woman that was lucky to be with him. Now previously when Patrick had some self-doubt he would have been worried about his now total obsession with himself and how amazing he looked and how this might distract from his business aspirations, how it might be difficult to charm and schmooze investors when constantly looking at himself. However, Patrick now believes he was the perfect human being, never had those worries because maintaining how he looked now took priority.
"How are you feeling Patrick? Happy with your 4000?"
"Thrilled Harvey! I think I wanna make that 4000...8000!" Patrick turned to the crowd and they cheered, their applause only inflating his ego further as he blew them a kiss.
Harvey managed to roll his eyes without anyone noticing before turning back to Patrick "You are well on your way to getting the money you need for your investors, so let's spin that wheel!" Harvey spun the wheel and the audience clapped as it landed on a red segment.
"Excellent our first body part segment!" Harvey then quickly grabbed at the box of cards in the red section and his grin widened as he started to read it aloud "Looks like you are going to be gaining some girth to go with that height as you get wide child bearing hips and a big fat ass to match it!"
Patrick's smile quickly faded "Wait what did you just sa-" However before Patrick could finish his sentence the platform below him had already begun to glow and with a flash of white light Patrick found his hips beginning to ache as the bones started to shift.
Immediately Patrick found his stance changing as his wings started to widen drastically. What had once been narrow, masculine lines steadily flared outward in a smooth, relentless expansion, widening into broad, fertile arcs that screamed child-bearing potential. Inch by inch the pelvis broadened dramatically changing his previously straight body shape into a massive fat pear shape. "Oh God what is happening!" Patrick cried as his ass cheeks suddenly started to tingle and then expand. Each cheek started to balloon outwards as the previously cute little peachy butt expanded, growing into massive fatty globes that wobbled and jiggled with even the slightest of movements. Patrick whimpered as his butt strained against his underwear, each buttock becoming thick and juicy until the blue briefs could not contain them any more and the lower half of each ass cheek slipped free and exposed themselves to the world. When the aching in his hips finally stopped, they were wide enough to fill most doorways. Each cheek now the size of an overinflated basket ball jiggled with each breath Patrick took. Staring at his reflection, terror filled him as he looked like a caricature of a Pixar mom, with an impossibly voluptuous lower half and cartoonishly fertile hips.
"Looking good Patrick!" Harvey yelled "But don't deprive the audience, turn around!"
Patrick was almost in a daze as he looked at his new hips and felt his massive cheek clapping booty protruding from his behind. The platform below him then started to rotate and Patrick craned his neck to look at his reflection and gasped at what he saw. The contrast between his upper body and face compared to his lower half was horrifying. His upper body was still lean and male, while below the waist he now possessed the exaggerated, maternal curves of an animated fertility goddess, the kind of exaggerated silhouette that only porn stars or animated sex bots achieved. Patrick knew he looked ridiculous and that he now had the ass of some fertile 30 something mom of 4 had and that he should be freaking out but something in his mind told him not to. That his ass looked good and fat, perfectly spankable and that he would be a fool not to show it off! Patrick tried to shake those thoughts from his head and instead tried to focus on the fact that having such pear shaped body and enormous jiggling ass cheeks was wrong and made him a joke and that he needed to find a way to hide his frame if he was even going to be taken seriously, especially in business where he would be ridiculed. Yet, those thoughts were hard to grasp and keep solid in his mind as the new arrogant, vain and impossibly self assured him told him that he looked good. That he should start wearing jockstraps and thongs to show it off more and that people would be lucky to get a glimpse of him in his underwear if that meant getting a peek at his cheeks.
Patrick was still staring at his massive ass when Harvey snapped him out of his daze.
"Enjoying your new curves Patrick?" Harvey smiled with glee.
"Yes, I mean no, I mean my ass does look hot. It's just, erm, err..." Patrick stuttered as he tried to get his thoughts straight he knew he looked stupid but anytime he thought about it for longer than a couple of seconds his mind would reinforce just how great he looked.
"Well that new butt earned you 8000!" Harvey turned to the audience who all wooed "Do you want to make it 16,000? Do you want to RISK IT ALL!" The audience screamed along with Harvey and cheered.
Part of Patrick knew he had made a mistake, with an ass this massive at his new height all people would talk about would be his hips and voluptuous feminine posterior. However, a larger part of him told him that it didn't matter what he looked like, even if he looked great, he would still command a boardroom and turn his ideas into millions. "Let's keep going Harvey, I'm a winner!"
Harvey’s smile grew as he spun the wheel again and it landed on his favourite segment, yellow.
The audience all cheered "You guys know this is my favourite segment, random! Anything is possible and we even have some audience suggestions floating around back here!" Harvey smiled as he fished around in the box behind the yellow segment and pulled out a card. Harvey let out a short laugh before reading the card aloud. "It might be hard for you to maintain your professional business look with your new neon green punk Mohawk. Rock on!"
Patrick barely had time to comprehend what Harvey had just shouted to the audience and the platform below him glowed and blinded him with the flash of white light once again. This time the changes came quickly as Patrick's scalp suddenly felt cold and he hurriedly grabbed at his hair. Patrick's hands made a small slapping sound as they hit the bald sides of his head and as they searched they only found a thin strip of hair running down the middle of his head. "No, not my hair! Not my beautiful golden hair!" Patrick yelled as he ran his hair over most of his bald head, it was then that his head started to tingle. Patrick continued to feel his scalp hoping it would mean more hair would start to grow but the bald areas remained shiny and smooth, it was the strip of hair in the centre that started to grow. The thin strip of hair started to grow rapidly, each strand was perfectly straight and rigid as it grew outwards in a uniform neat line. It was as if each hair was infused with hair gel and hairspray so that it would always permanently be in place, never moving and never drooping. Patrick whimpered as he felt the tower of hard hair grow from his head and soon the tips of his fingers could no longer reach the top as the hair continued to grow higher and harder. When the tingling stopped the hair was at least a foot long and now stood impossibly high and stiff. Patrick looked at his reflection and his eyes widened in shock as he watched the last hair on his head turn from blonde to a vibrant, impossible to ignore neon green. Finally completing his punk neon Mohawk that made Patrick look anything but businesslike.
Patrick's mind was in turmoil as once again he wanted to panic, he knew that no one who wanted to be taken seriously as a businessman had a haircut like this. Plus having most of luscious blond hair being shaved away down to his scalp made him feel sick, yet the new arrogant him told him not to worry. That his hair looked awesome, made him stand out from the crowd and that it would appeal to investors who didn't want just another establishment grey suit worker bee but an innovator, a maverick that was going to change the business world. Patrick might have even started to believe his own hype if it hadn't been for Harvey interrupting his arguing internal monologue.
"Now that's a feat of engineering that hairstyle! You risked your golden locks and you lost them but that's just what happens when you... RISK IT ALL!" Harvey turned to the audience who joined him in shouting. "But with that lovely hairstyle you now have 16,000 , do you want to continue and make it 32,000?"
Patrick paused for a while as he looked at Harvey, he knew now what a mistake it was to risk his body and mind, he knew that he should stop now and leave with what he had won even though it wasn't even close to what he needed.
Harvey's smile faded slightly as he sensed he was about to lose a contestant, one he did not want to lose yet and so he quickly jumped in. "Remember Patrick it's only hair! With your ideas, your business and your pioneering spirit, hair shouldn't matter. Don't let a mohawk stop you from getting the money you need to achieve your goals! What do you guys think? Should he keep going?"
Patrick heard the cheers from the audience and he looked at Harvey again. The asshole was right, it was only hair and while a cut and razor it could easily be fixed. Patrick then let out a small sigh and forced a smile and nodded to Harvey as the audience screamed with delight as the host spun the wheel once again, the crowd went wild and Harvey's smile turned sinister as once again the wheel landed on yellow.
"Another yellow! It's my lucky day! Let's see what you risked for 32,000!" Harvey giddily pulled out a card from the yellow segment and happily read it aloud. "You are going to be feeling a sharp prick... or ten as you get piercings from head to toe!"
Patrick's eyes widened in fear as the platform below him started to glow and with a flash Patrick was left panicked as he felt no tingling across his body. Patrick looked over to Harvey confused until suddenly a sharp pain raced through his tongue, Patrick rushed his hands to the pain and stuck out his tongue for them to feel something hard and metallic tasting speared through the centre of his tongue. Another sharp pain then stabbed in the eyebrow and as Patrick yelped he grabbed to find a ring dangling from his left eyebrow. "STOP IT HURTS!" Patrick yelled as his nipples stung with pain and two gold rings drooped from his nipples and pulled them down. Patrick yelped again as pain shot through his chin and belly button as more gold piercings appeared and adorned his body. Patrick had tears in his eyes as his ears then felt like they were being attacked by a porcupine as three god rings appeared on each of them and then a yawning painful stretching pulled at his ear lobes. Patrick cried "No not those!" As his hands rushed to feel hard plastic rings slowly expanding and growing inside his earlobes as thick, heavy ear gauges pushed the skin until there was a vast hole that at least three of his fingers could fit into. When not worn Patrick's ear lobes would be destroyed floppy loops of skin, so wearing the huge black gauges would now be preferable. Patrick didn't know if he could be in any more pain but then another excruciating burst of anguish rain from his nose to the rest of his body and a massive septum ring pulled painfully downwards, it was enormous something an bull in a field would have not a human businessman looking for investors. Patrick looked at his face and let a tear run down his cheek, his face and body pricked and pierced with garish gold rings and spikes. Patrick looked pleadingly at Harvey, who only smiled, his eyes met Patrick's and then they looked down at Patrick's crotch and Harvey's grin widened. It only took a second for Patrick to realise what Harvey might be alluding to before he screamed "NOOOOOO!" as the vast imaginable pain emanated from the tick of his dick and a fat thick prince Albert pierced his cock and pulled it down violently. After a few moments of clutching his much heavy cock that would be forever dragged downwards by the oversized piercing, Patrick eventually recovered and was able to look at himself, his image ruined and freakish as his face glistened in the studio lights thanks to the 12 piercings now poking out of his face.
"Ooof that looked painful Patrick! But on the bright side those piercings just bagged you 32,000!" Harvey yelled as the audience cheered while Patrick let out a little sob.
Patrick now knew what a mistake he had made, his face was ruined and even with all the piercings gone his ears were permanently ruined. His hair looked ridiculous and his ass was a joke. How would he be able to walk into a meeting and try to explain his business model about markets and making millions looking like this? Even as his mind fought him and told him how amazing he looked and that more piercings would make him look even more unique, he managed to wade through those thoughts and get some clarity. "Harvey we need to stop." Patrick finally said a little breathless.
The audience then fell silent, "Are you sure Patrick, you only need a little more to get what your investors need?"
"What investors? They are going to run a mile after they see me! Give me what I won and get me off this platform!"
There was a long pause before Harvey began to speak as he pulled his best concerned face "That is a shame, I am surprised you are losing your nerve already. I thought this was an opportunity for you, if you get the money you need you could change the world and make a lot of money, what happened to that drive huh? Real visionaries push through the discomfort, they embrace the change no matter how humiliating or irreversible. Are you telling me that you are not the businessman, the innovator, the winner you said you were? Because a winner wouldn't let something as simple as a haircut and some piercings get in the way of what they wanted to achieve. A winner wouldn't give up! But if you are so set on leaving now then you were never a winner and if you quit now you will never be a winner. Instead Patrick that would just make you a loser. Are you a loser Patrick?!"
Silence then lingered in the air as both men stared at each other. Patrick could feel the anger bubbling inside him, he was no loser but he was also no fool either. He knew that continuing would be a mistake but seeing Harvey's smug, condescending look stare back at him filled him with rage. Patrick knew he should stop, go home, get his hair fixed, buy some new suits to hide his ass and take out the metal in his face but an urge was growing inside him fuelled by hatred. He had the urge to prove Harvey wrong, to show him that no matter what he looked like he would get the money, he would win the show, attract the investors he needed and become a billionaire, that would acquire the show and Harvey would be the first contestant.
"So Patrick, do you want to quit or do you want to be a winner and... RISK IT ALL?"
Patrick wiped the tear from his eyes and clenched his fist, whether it was the new louder arrogant voice inside him that told him he could do it or the pure hate he felt towards Harvey, Patrick found himself saying "Let's risk it all."
The room erupted with cheers and shouts as Harvey didn't hesitate to spin the wheel. Harvey then took a moment to compose himself, he had never had a guest quite yet and he wasn't going to start now. Harvey then turned back to the audience and gave his winning smile as the wheel landed on the blue segment.
"Ah, our first identity segment of the game!" Harvey then pulled from the box of cards from behind the segment and tried hard to conceal his excitement. "It seems Harvey you are going to be much more relaxed from now on as you identify with the potheads and stoners of the world."
Patrick's rage quickly turned to fear as the platform below him glowed, he tried to move but for the first and last time he realised he could not escape from the platform as he was blinded with the white light and his brain started to hurt.
Patrick blinked slowly, his eyelids started feeling heavy and pleasantly weighted as a thick, smoky fog settled permanently over his mind. The panic, fear and anger he felt just moments ago seemed to be hard to grasp as his thoughts now drifted in a constant, hazy euphoria, as if he had taken the deepest, most perfect hit of the strongest weed imaginable and it simply never wore off. Every worry about his reputation, his business, his looks or his future felt distant and muffled, like trying to shout through layers of cotton. Patrick wanted to panic, to demand Harvey reverse whatever was happening, but the urge kept melting away into lazy contentment and instead the previous vain arrogant voice he had fought against now took full control. The worries about his hair now turned into him making sure every hair was in place and looking as tall and spiky as possible. The humiliation he felt about his ass and hips, tuned into angling his body so that his ass looked even rounder and more alluring. The piercings that clinked over his face were no longer distracting additions, but beautiful adornments that he only wanted to add to or increase the size. Patrick's mind became a smokey mess that the old him was quickly getting lost in as he screamed it seemed his voice was not heard and his body didn't react to his commands as instead a vain, dazed, giggly stoner took over.
As Patrick's mind settled into its new identity, so did his new look. A pair of ratty old boxers grew out from his designer briefs, always on show and showing off his fat ass. A loose pair of shorts and an old worn vest appeared short enough that his belly button piercings could still be shown off and both reeked of weed. While a pair of sandals materialised on his feet, Patrick gave his toes a wriggle and chuckled. His pierced face fell into a sleepy, dumb look of contentment. Yet buried deep beneath the pleasant, permanent stoned haze, a small, frantic voice screamed in the back of his mind, raw with terror. "This is so fucking wrong. Make it stop." it screamed but the voice was barely heard as the new Patrick laughed as his massive septum ring swung back and forth on his nose, clinking against his teeth.
"Wow that's certainly a different look from what we started with! How are you feeling Patrick?" Harvey grinned.
"Huh?" Patrick said before noticing that Harvey had asked him a question "I'm feeling pretty good... and call me Rick, it sounds way cooler. Like my man Pickle Rick!" Rick then let out another dumb chuckle as the audience joined in.
"Well Rick you just earned yourself 64,000! Now do you want to keep playing and earn 128,000? I know you had some doubts before?"
"Doubts? Naaa, I'm cool let's keep going I look fucking awesome dude!" Rick cried even as Patrick tried desperately to take control, to try and stop the new him from making it any worse but every time he thought he made it through the smoke he found himself once again at the very back of his mind watching in horror as the wheel spun once again and landed on red.
"I like your attitude Rick and it looks like another body part section." Harvey happily rooted around in the box of cards and pulled one out and read it aloud. "Looks like you are going to filling out that gangly frame of yours Rick, but just in one place as you get a nice round pot belly."
Rick barely looked down at the glowing platform before smiling and saying "Dope"
While Patrick screamed for body to move away as the light blinded him once again and his stomach started to gurgle. The once flat belly soon began to swell with a strange, insistent pressure, the skin stretching outward as his midsection ballooned and protruded prominently from his otherwise lean frame. Inch by inch it expanded, growing taut and smooth like an overfilled beach ball, the curve becoming so pronounced that it jutted out several inches in front of him, giving him an absurdly pregnant silhouette. Though that fat poured around his stomach and began flabby and soft, nowhere else in his body expanded making him look even more absurd. When the pressure did finally stop, Rick looked like he had swallowed a yoga ball. The growth leaving him with a comically exaggerated beer belly look on an otherwise tall trim physique. The heavy, rounded gut swayed and bounced with every movement, its smooth surface tight and shiny, the belly button piercing glinting in the studio lights. With his wider hips and massive ass Rick found it hard to stand and the new weight forced him to adjust his stance wider to accommodate the new hanging ball of blubber that dominated his torso.
"Wow now that is a belly! Are you sure you're not expecting Rick?" Harvey laughed as the audience chuckled.
"Expecting what?"Rick chuckled as he picked up his gut and let it drop and bounce in front of him, the stoner in him mesmerised by his new stomach's movements. Patrick was freaking out, his huge fat belly hung obscenely in front of him. It was so round and rotund that no item of clothing would ever be able to hide it and it would forever peek out, not that Rick was concerned his arrogance led him to believe that it look amazing and he already had plans to make all of his shirts crop tops so he could show off his beautiful pot belly.
Harvey grinned "Now you have a bulge in the front as well as the back, c'mon let's turn Rick so we can all admire his... unique shape!" Harvey cheered as the platform below Rick started to turn. Internally Patrick gasped in horror as he looked at his new freakish silhouette.
Patrick screamed in frustration as he tried frantically to take back control from the drugged up ego maniac that now controlled his even movement, but no matter how much he demanded that his body quit the game, not even a hint of his true emotions showed on his lazy eyed face.
"Now Rick you are on a roll, do you want to double your money and RISK IT ALL"
"Hell yeah, I am a Winner!"
"You sure are Rick, you sure are!" Harvey laughed as he spun the wheel again and it landed on red once again.
"Ooo two body part segments in a row!" Harvey quickly grabbed a card from behind the red section and read it to the audience. "It seems you are going to be getting some help balancing out your new belly and butt as your feet grow to a whopping size 19!"
Rick didn't even seem to care as the platform below him started to glow and flashed bright white, the tingling in his feet causing him to give a dumb chuckle. The sensation intensified rapidly as the bones in his feet lengthened and thickened with audible creaks and pops. Patrick's once ordinary size 10 feet expanded dramatically, the arches rising higher and broader, his heels rounding into massive, sturdy bases, until they reached a whopping size 19. Each one now absurdly long and wide, dominating his lower legs like two powerful, oversized paddles. Each of his toes grew longer and thicker as the nails hardened and turned slightly yellow. To Rick it was nothing but a tickle and some mighty feet to stride around on but for Patrick it was another freakish addition to his body, Patrick didn't think things could get any worse but then he was hit with the smell. A masculine stench began to rise from his enormous feet blending salty sweat with a sharp, vinegary tang that deepened into a heavy, musky odour that clung to his tongue. Beads of moisture formed naturally between the massive toes and along the broad soles, amplifying the ripe aroma until it filled the surrounding air with an intoxicating, inescapable cloud of foot musk. Patrick gagged internally as his new huge feet stunk out the studio as even some audience members pinched their noses, yet Rick just smiled in a world of his own just happy that he had now won even more money to start his business.
"Oh my... that is certainly an interesting smell Rick!" Harvey couldn't help but let out a little cough as he tried not to be bothered by the cheesy miasma that now overpowered the air around Rick. "Well Rick you now have 256,000! That is enough for you to start your business, but you said you are a winner. So are you going to keep going for the jackpot and RISK IT ALL!"
Patrick screamed NOOOOOOOO but Rick was far too high to care as he shouted to the crowd "Let's do it Harvey! Let's risk it all!"
"That's the spirit Rick!" Harvey shouted as he spun the wheel and it landed on green.
"A physical change, we haven't had one of those in a while." Harvey grabbed a card from the back of the green section of the wheel. "With such a big body you will need to stay warm, thankfully you will now have a thick fur coat covering your body as your body hair grows ten fold."
This time Rick waved and cheered as the platform glowed, his arrogance now focussed on winning as much money as possible as the platform started to glow and the light flashed.
The itching was almost instant as tiny prickles raced from the back of his neck all the way down to his enormous feet as thick dark hair started to sprout from every pore of his skin. Soon a matted forest of black curls had spread like an invasive weed across every inch of his skin, making it feel hot and trapped. The growth raced across his back, shoulders, belly and back forming a dense, prickly pelt that irritated and itched with every movement. While his arms and legs became overrun with long, wiry strands that sprouted unevenly, turning his once smooth limbs into something grotesquely primal and unkempt. Rick's entire body was buried under an excessive, oppressive forest of thick dark hair that felt heavy, scratchy, and alien, trapping sweat and intensifying the already pungent, musky odour rising from his oversized feet.
"Looking good Rick! Even better now that you have won 512,000!" Harvey cheered along with the audience. "I think I already know the answer but Rick, do you want to spin one more time to win the jackpot and RISK IT ALLLLLLLLL!"
Rick stood smiling, the cheers from the crowd only inflating his ego more as he screamed "LET'S RISK IT ALLL!"
However, Patrick was now sobbing at the back of his mind as no amount of money was worth what had happened to him. With his new body there was no way he could be an entrepreneur, a CEO, someone who was going to revolutionise the world of business! The mohawk and the piercings alone would have been enough to scare off 90% of investors but that now coupled with his enormous hips and womanly ass, along with his huge hanging belly which his body refused to hide would make him a laughing stock, a freak, a clown to be laughed at. That's what he had become, a clown with enormous smelly feet to match. The thoughts that now entered his head were put through a cloud of stoner smoke and no longer came out how he wanted, his overly relaxed, giddy and vain attitude made him totally unserious and completely ill equipped to run his own life let alone a business. He had risked it all and while he had the money, he had no future. Patrick wept as he tried to take control and try to avoid one last humiliating change, but it was too late. The confident businessman was no longer in control, instead Rick the arrogant stoner lay about who would spend the rest of his life getting high in some basement was in control and in his twisted mind thought he was some sort of winner, when Patrick knew he was the biggest loser and laughing stock of them all.
"Another random to finish off the game, let's see what has won you the jackpot!" Harvey grabbed the card and smiled with glee "It's an audience submission and it's a good one. Enjoy permanent pleasure with the feeling of a buzzing butt plug going 24/7"
As the platform glowed even Rick's eyes looked confused as he listened to Harvey speak, he couldn't have heard that right? But as the platform glowed and flashed, Rick felt a pressure growing his own hairy asshole. Rick's finger instantly reached behind to touch his hole but he felt nothing there yet he felt the unmistakable pressure and stretch of an enormous, thick butt plug lodged firmly up his ass. Its massive girth forced his hole wide open in a constant, burning fullness that made his cheeks clench involuntarily. The phantom toy then began to buzz powerfully at random intensities, sending deep, relentless vibrations rumbling through his prostate and inner walls. Rick grunted as the plug created waves of unwanted, twitching pleasure mixed causing the straight businessman to feel intense discomfort and shame. The invisible plug seemed to grow in size until it felt impossibly large, stretching him to his limits and making every shift of his weight feel uncomfortable. While the buzzing grew stronger whenever he tried to ignore it or whenever he tried to touch the invisible intrusion in his asshole. Sweat beaded across Rick's thickly furred body as the humiliating sensation refused to fade, turning his heavy, hairy ass into a constant source of distracting, degrading arousal that left him mortified and unable to focus on anything else.
"We have another jackpot winner here! Let's give it up for Rick! Now are you ready to get that business started and change the world?" Harvey grinned as he walked over to his latest winner the smell from his feet burning in his nostrils.
Rick moaned slightly before looking at Harvey stoned, dazed and distracted by the pressure and pleasure he felt from his asshole "Huh what business?" Rick said before going back to moaning as his asshole buzzed with painful orgasmic pleasure.
"Now that's all we have time for this evening. Rick here risked it all and won big! You could be next, so if you want to be a winner you have to be willing to RISK IT ALLLLLLLLL. Good night everybody!" Harvey shouted as the camera's shut down and Rick was whisked away by some men in black suits as Harvey waved him off.
After several days of living in a hazy pleasurable cloud Rick finally tried to use his money to start his business but the more he tried to think about it the more his asshole buzzed, the more his mind clouded and left him in dumb giggles. Rick tried to meet with an investor but when they met at a coffee shop to discuss his business plan he was just met with stares and laughter as people looked at the tall, fat ass, pot belly, hairy, giant smelly footed giant that couldn't stop touching his asshole. While Patrick screamed in embarrassment as all attempts at starting his business were thwarted by his new freakish body, hair and piercings. No longer would he be a success but instead a stoned freak spending his days at home, fingering his asshole and trying to remove a toy that wasn't even there.
The entire table gulped audibly as Adrian handed them the character sheets. Even though they didn’t know about the magic, something about the sheets felt weird to them. However that feeling was quick to pass as the excitement of creating new characters took over.
Noah went first, basically vibrating as he grabbed the dice.
“Okay,” he said, grinning nervously. “I’m doing it. Full commitment. Human barbarian.”
Ethan burst out laughing immediately.
“You? A barbarian?”
“I can play against type!”
“You look like you lose fights against folding chairs.”
Noah flipped him off, but blushed slightly, looking at Adrian for the okay to start the character creation.
“Roll in order.”, Adrian nodded softly, “Strength first.”
The D20 clattered against the old wooden table, everyone’s eyes drawn to the shiny piece of plastic.
18
For a second nothing happened. And suddenly Noah inhaled sharply as he sat upright in his chair, his posture suddenly remarkably straight.
Underneath his hoodie his shoulders shot out to the sides as meat piled onto his frame, the fabric just barely adjusting in time to not get completely shredded under the pressure of the frail nerd’s inflation. His forearms thickened, his biceps bringing the sleeves devastatingly close to breaking point, veins pushing out against his skin. His hands flexing as they grew to the size of dinner plates, powerful and manly. Then his chest expanded, pulling the fabric already struggling with his cannonball arms tightly against his enormous pecs.
The chair creaked.
“Oh my God,” Oliver whispered.
Noah lurched upward as another inch—then another—was added to his height. His knees pressed awkwardly against the underside of the table before the transformation settled. Not monstrous. Not absurd. Just overwhelmingly athletic. Broad. Powerful.
Like a heavyweight fighter hidden beneath a nerd’s clothing.
And then reality adjusted.
The others blinked.
New memories appeared, the image of tiny Noah disappearing like ice under the midday sun, the awkward ginger runt replaced with the overwhelmingly manly mountain of muscle who acted like a tiny nerd. Only Adrian retained his old memories, smiling faintly at the awkward way the towering Barbarian warrior sat there, squeezing his enormous bulk at the table and still trying and failing to take up less space than his intensely huge frame demanded.
Noah himself looked oddly surprised by his new size, carefully balling and relaxing his fists a couple of times, almost seeming unsettled by the size of his own muscles. Only the sound of Adrian’s smooth voice ripped the Barbarian-sized nerd out of his stupor.
“Dexterity.”
Noah nodded and rolled again.
8
The change was subtler this time.
His posture and movement looked less precise, less graceful. It really appeared like the low roll on Dexterity had grounded the mountain sized geek somewhat. His posture now seemed more confident and solid, heavier even, his behaviour now showing less nervous and anxious shifting. Like someone who relied on power over grace.
A water bottle slipped from his grasp a second later.
“Jesus, dude.”, Ethan laughed, “I still can’t get over the fact that a guy that’s built like a linebacker has finally dipped his toe into playing a Barbarian after all these years. Speaking of which, are you still hellbent on getting on the football team? Coach must be getting fed up with your clumsy ass constantly trying out.”
Noah just blushed, his ears nearly as ginger as his hair, which he now hid under a cap of the local football team. With his clumsiness he didn’t make for the best player, but he’d tried enough times to like the sport.
Adrian watched from behind his DM screen as reality settled around Noah, curiously observing the mental changes that had begun around the edges. Noah was still Noah … just more.
“Constitution.”, Adrian prompted.
Noah rolled.
The die bounced once. Twice.
19
The effects hit like a freight train this time.
Noah gasped as his frame became denser. Not bigger per se, but more sharply defined, his chest swelling against the fabric and pulling it tight against his mid section, the outline of 6 brick sized abs clearly visible. Even his neck thickened, a prominent Adam's apple pushing into existence and lowering the Barbarian’s voice from a soft tenor to a booming bass.
Even a beard forced itself into existence against his more masculine lantern jaw. Not the teenage scruff he had been able to grow before, but a thick manly beard that looked utterly right on his rugged face.
Noah looked amazing. Not delicate. Not pretty-boy handsome. Dangerously handsome. Like some mythological northern warrior accidentally dropped into a college apartment.
“Hell yeah,”, the incredibly sexy lumberjack said, once again shocking his friends with the foghorn boom of his voice, “Nineteen Con.”
The other three players just nodded. Even sitting down, Noah dominated the room physically now. His shoulders stretched the seams of his hoodie so badly he eventually peeled it off entirely, revealing a black tank top straining across an absurdly broad chest and thick, powerful arms.
The Barbarian shifted in his seat, immediately drawing attention to another result of his roll.
“Dude, can’t you wear underwear for once to DnD? Your sweatpants look ridiculous!”, Ethan complained, trying very hard not to stare at the obvious outline of what was running down his left leg. Noah just blushed, trying to make his footlong soft cock somehow less noticeable through his grey sweatpants. And failing miserably.
Like the rest of him the thing sat heavy, thick and huge off the edge of the chair, even the outline of his bull balls being faintly visible through the fabric trying to cover his crotch.
“Talk about Barbarian Constitution.”, Marcus chuckled.
“Shut up,” Noah muttered.
But he sounded more embarrassed in theory than in practice. The growing confidence from his partially locked-in stats kept blunting his old insecurity before it could fully form.
Adrian quietly watched the magic settle again.
“Keep rolling.”, he said, “Intelligence is next.”
Noah, still feeling high from the absolutely monstrous roll on Constitution, enthusiastically threw the die.
5
The change was immediate.
Noah blinked.
Then blinked again.
The sharpness behind his eyes dulled and he relaxed in his seat. The constant anxious overprocessing vanished instantly as his racing thoughts slowed to a crawl. Adrian just grinned. A Barbarian wasn’t meant to be smart after all. He already had the overwhelming physicality, he didn’t need to think too much.
His posture spread wider in the chair.
Heavy.
Certain.
He looked at his friends with a relaxed and easy smile, confident despite his reduced intelligence.
“Dude, you’re literally playing yourself. Huge in body, but not the brightest bulb.”, Ethan chuckled at his simple friend. Noah just grinned in return and threw up his enormous cannonball biceps in a flex. Reality had settled seamlessly around the giant himbo.
Adrian cleared his throat and nodded towards the dice. “Let’s roll Wisdom next.”
Noah rolled.
6
The effect was subtler but somehow more unsettling.
Noah’s eyes softened immediately.
Not weaker physically—far from it—but more suggestible. More trusting. More willing to follow stronger personalities without questioning them deeply. Especially Adrian. Adrian noticed it at once. So did Ethan.
“Earth to Barbarian,” Ethan muttered. “You’re looking at Adrian weirdly again.”
Noah frowned faintly.
“Huh?”
“You keep waiting for him to talk before doing stuff.”
Noah opened his mouth.
Paused.
Then shrugged.
“Guess he’s the DM.”
Simple.
Logical.
Final.
The room laughed.
Only Adrian understood how profound the shift really was.
Noah’s independent critical resistance had just permanently collapsed. Not mindless obedience. Just reduced willpower. Reduced need to question. The barbarian archetype was crystallizing perfectly. While always physically in charge, he liked for others to take the lead, make suggestions and tell him what to do.
And there was still one stat left.
Charisma.
Adrian folded his hands together behind the DM screen and smiled faintly.
“Last roll.”
Noah rolled the die.
It spun across the wood.
Stopped.
15
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Noah smiled and the entire atmosphere of the room shifted instantly. Not magically glowing. Not supernatural mind control. Just… overwhelming presence.
His posture straightened subtly, massive shoulders rolling back with effortless confidence while his expression relaxed into an easy, rugged charm that looked absurdly natural on him. The lazy grin beneath his copper stubble suddenly carried weight behind it. Warmth. Magnetism.
His face redefined itself, becoming even more devastatingly handsome, manly, rugged. Like his entire look had been designed by someone who wanted to show what copious amounts of testosterone would do to a handsome man’s face.
And reality adapted around him. To the rest of the table Noah had always been overwhelmingly charismatic. He could say the most stupid shit and people would still laugh with him, his entire personality just becoming comfort food, easygoing and welcoming, while never losing the raw sex appeal that made people want to suck his cock or get impaled on his meat hammer within 5 minutes of meeting him.
“Guess I’m just charismatic.”, the massive ginger chuckled dumbly.
Reality now insisted he had never existed in that form at all.
Instead, Noah had always been this. A towering, massively muscular ginger barbarian of a man with movie-star ruggedness, absurd stamina, effortless charm, and the simple confidence of someone who had never spent much time doubting himself. A beautiful brute with long wavy copper hair, heavy stubble, broad hands, thick muscle-packed limbs, and a mind optimized less for critical analysis and more for instinct, confidence, and immediate physical certainty.
And according to everyone’s rewritten memories? He had always been the heart of the group. The guy strangers flirted with constantly. The one who won arguments through sheer presence instead of logic. The one who solved problems by kicking doors open.
Noah himself looked down at the completed character sheet and grinned proudly.
“Damn,” he rumbled. “This dude rules.”
“Our resident himbo literally plays himself.”, Ethan rolled his eyes. “Massive super stud football player, massive super stud barbarian. Tomato, tomato.”
“Still taller than you.”, Noah countered and the room burst out laughing.
And Adrian quietly watched the rewritten world stabilize around the completed barbarian.
One player down.
Three to go.
The grimoire beneath the table pulsed warmly against his knee.
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Will found the cane wrapped in an old wool coat at the back of the attic, beneath a collapsed cardboard box labeled CHRISTMAS — 1998.
He had only meant to look for a set of folding chairs. His mother was hosting the family that weekend, and Will, home from college for a week, had been sent upstairs with a flashlight and strict instructions not to “start digging through memories.” Which, naturally, meant he started digging through memories almost immediately.
The attic smelled like mold and dust. Every step made the floorboards groan under him. He found yellowed photo albums, cracked picture frames, a box of his father’s old baseball trophies, and finally an old coat he recognized as his late grandfather’s.
When he picked up the coat an old cane slid out from underneath. It hit the floor with a sharp wooden tap. Will froze.
He knew it at once, though he hadn’t seen it in years. His grandfather’s cane. Dark polished wood, curved silver handle, the shaft worn smooth where a hand had held it for decades. His grandfather had leaned on it at weddings, funerals, birthdays, every family gathering Will could remember from childhood. He had always seemed impossibly old to Will: broad-shouldered but stooped, white-bearded, watchful, smelling faintly of shaving cream and tobacco.
Will picked it up. The silver handle was cold. For a moment he saw his grandfather’s hand instead of his own: thick fingers, pale knuckles, age spots, the tremor he used to hide by gripping the cane harder. Will smiled despite himself and planted the tip against the attic floor.
“Still solid,” he murmured. The cane pulsed. Not vibrated. Not shifted. Pulsed, like something alive waking up in his palm.
Will tried to let go, but his fingers had already tightened around the handle. The attic dimmed and his breath caught. A strange heaviness entered his arm and moved upward, slow and certain, as though invisible water were filling him from the inside.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Nope. Not dealing with this today!” as he tried to drop the cane but still couldn’t.
His wrist ached first. Then his elbow. Then both shoulders. The flashlight slipped from his other hand and rolled across the floor, sending a beam of light spinning over boxes and rafters. Will staggered after it, but his knees buckled strangely, not with weakness exactly, but with unfamiliar weight. His body seemed to fold into a new alignment: spine compressing, hips stiffening, balance shifting forward.
He gasped and caught himself on the cane. The moment he leaned on it, the change quickened. His jeans tightened at the waist, then loosened oddly as his body reshaped beneath them. His flat young stomach softened, then settled lower, heavier. His chest broadened but lost its smoothness, skin slackening over muscle that felt dense and used rather than young. Pale hair pushed across his chest in wiry curls. His forearms thickened, veins rising beneath thinning skin.
Will stared down in horror as his hands changed on the silver handle. The long fingers he recognized shortened and widened. The skin dried, creased, spotted. His nails dulled. Fine lines opened across his knuckles, then deepened into wrinkles, as if time were writing itself into him with invisible ink.
“No, no, no—” His voice cracked. Then dropped. Then roughened into something older, lower, and hoarse around the edges. He reached a hand to his head and felt clumps of hair began to fall out leaving his scalp mostly bare and cold in the damp attic. He clapped one aged hand over his mouth in panic and felt the first prickling along his jaw. Stubble burst through. Not dark stubble. White.
The hair on his face spread rapidly, thickening from his chin up his cheeks, filling under his jaw, climbing toward his ears. His upper lip tingled fiercely as a heavy white mustache grew in, bristling over his mouth. Will stumbled toward an old standing mirror half-covered by a sheet.
He yanked the sheet away. An old man - his grandfather Carl - stared back.
Will cried out, but the sound that came from him was a ragged bark. The young face he knew was gone. His cheeks had hollowed. His brow had deepened. Lines carved themselves beside his eyes and across his forehead. His hair finished retreating in a cool rush, vanishing from the top of his head while white hair remained around the sides and back. His neck thickened, then sagged slightly beneath the jaw.
He lifted one trembling hand to his face. The man in the mirror did the same. His grandfather’s cane rested in his other hand. For several minutes, Will could only breathe.
The attic was silent except for the dry creak of the house and the faint ticking of pipes in the walls. He expected panic to keep rising until it swallowed him. Instead, after the first terror passed, something stranger settled over him. Memory.
Not images exactly. Impressions. The weight of birthdays attended from a chair in the corner. The ache of knees before rain. The habit of pausing before standing. The knowledge of where every light switch in the house was. His grandfather’s voice saying, “A man ought to know when to hold on and when to let go.”
Will looked at the cane. His grip had become natural. Too natural. He tried to stand straight without it and immediately felt the pull of age through his back and hips. He grimaced, then planted the cane again. The old body accepted the support with humiliating relief.
From below, his mother called, “Will? Did you find the chairs?”
He opened his mouth to answer. For one wild second, he imagined going downstairs like this. His mother seeing him. The screaming. The impossible explanations.
Then his reflection caught his eye again. The old man in the mirror looked frightened, yes—but also steady. Familiar in a way Will did not want to understand. He swallowed. The beard shifted against his chest.
“Not yet,” he called back. The voice that answered was deep, weathered, and unmistakably not his own.
His mother went quiet. Will tightened both hands around the cane. Downstairs, footsteps began moving toward the attic door. Then, on instinct more than courage, he let go.
The cane struck the attic floor with a hard wooden clatter. The sound cracked through the room like a spell breaking. Will staggered backward, suddenly unsupported, expecting his old knees to give out beneath him. Instead, a sharp heat rushed up through his legs. His hips loosened. His spine stretched. The heavy ache in his back peeled away all at once, so quickly it made him gasp. His hands flew to his face as the beard withdrew beneath his palms, white bristles sinking back into smooth skin. His scalp prickled as dark hair returned in damp curls. The wrinkles around his eyes softened, the weight in his belly pulled tight and flat, and his voice—when he breathed out—was his own again.
By the time the attic door swung open, Will was on his knees beside the fallen cane, panting, young and shaking in his hoodie and jeans. His mother appeared at the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing, already frowning. “Will, what are you doing up here? I asked you to find the folding chairs, not unpack the entire attic.” She stepped carefully over a box, glanced at the cane on the floor, and shook her head. “Honestly. Your grandfather’s things have been sitting here for years. Leave them alone and help me.” Will swallowed, still feeling the ghost of the cane in his palm, then reached for the nearest stack of chairs without looking back at it.
Eighteen-year-old Ben slipped into the costume shop to escape the rain on a cold Chicago fall morning. Scrawny, freckled, and painfully aware that he still looked younger than most college freshmen, he decided to browse a bit to pass some time - hoping for the rain to let up. He stopped when he found an old Chicago police uniform tucked behind a rack of capes.
It was several sizes too large, but he tried it on anyway. Staring at the baggy sleeves in the mirror, he laughed. “Yeah, real convincing. I look soooo intimidating.”
Then the uniform tightened. Ben shot upward as muscle filled his shoulders and arms. The uniform started to fit better.
His youthful face sharpened and aged beneath his fingertips while reddish peach fuzz spread into a dark mustache on his upper lip.
His hair thinned rapidly until only a narrow fringe remained around the edges. By the time he looked thirty-five, the uniform fit perfectly—and he was smiling.
He leaned into the mirror to admire his new more handsome, rugged looking face. Grasping at the corner or his new mustache and smirking.
Before long the last strands of hair disappeared and his face sagged a bit with age as his body settled into the powerful frame of a man in his mid-forties.
As the rain finally relented, Ben stepped out of the shop a changed man. Nobody would have mistaken him for a kid anymore. His days of homework and youthful anxiety were just a distant memory. It was time to return to his precinct and then hit the beat for the day.
Chad only bought the costume because it was the last thing left in the shop that wasn’t for kids that might fit him: a black leather vest, heavy wrist cuffs, mirrored aviators, two little rings, a thick chain necklace, and a sealed cigar tucked into the pocket like a joke.
He was twenty-two, constantly anxious about fitting in, nervous about the costume party his friends were dragging him to, and the whole outfit felt ridiculous in his hands. The old shopkeeper only smiled when Chad asked if there was anything less intense. “That one chooses men who need to grow into it,” he said cryptically.
“Ok - whatever. I guess I can just say I’m a biker.” Chad replied rolling his eyes.
Chad popped by his apartment to throw on the costume, making sure to leave an undershirt on beneath the leather for modesty. As soon as he slid in the vest, Chad’s brain started to feel a little foggy - he looked himself over and thought maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. He put the chain around his neck and pocketed the glasses, rings, cigar and leather cuffs for later.
By the time Chad reached the party, the vest had begun to work its magic. While completely oblivious, slowly it began to tighten around him. His shoulders broadened first, then his chest pressed outward, hair spreading across it. His face burned beneath the sunglasses as his jaw thickened and a heavy blond mustache began to push across his upper lip. His pants tightened as his thighs plumped with new muscle. His cock began to twitch in his boxers as it thickened and lengthened.
After a few beers, Chad got his first real compliment on the costume. “Nice mustache,” someone said, laughing approvingly as they passed him in the hallway.
Chad froze and snapped out of his trance. He didn’t remember the costume coming with a mustache. Slowly, he touched his upper lip and felt coarse hair bristling beneath his fingers, snapping into place as if it had been waiting for him to notice. He gave the new mustache a small, disbelieving tug. It didn’t shift. It was real. His stomach dropped, and he muttered something about needing the bathroom before pushing through the crowd.
The main-floor bathroom had a line, so Chad hurried downstairs into the quieter basement, following the faint sound of pipes and party music muffled through the ceiling. He found a mirror in a room with gym equipment at the end of a narrow hall. The room was dim, unfinished, and cold around the edges, with a cracked mirror above an old sink. When he looked up, his changes were intensifying.
He grabbed the sink with both hands as his shoulders broadened beneath the leather vest. His black undershirt stretched tight across a chest that felt heavier, older, and unfamiliar. Panicking, he pulled the shirt up and off, needing to see what had happened to him. In the mirror, coarse hair spread across his changed chest while his stomach softened into the solid, confident belly of a man who no longer worried about looking young.
As his face morphed into an older man, and the changes began to slow, Chad felt two sharp pinches in his nipples as they were pierced - holes appearing out of nowhere. As if by instinct he placed the two rings into the new piercings. He gave them a little tug - feeling a jolt move through his body. The leather cuffs fit perfectly now on his wrists. The chain settled against him as if it had always belonged there.
Then he remembered the cigar in his hand. He didn’t know why he brought it to his mouth, only that the gesture felt natural, almost practiced. He lit it and gave a deep inhale - smoke filling and warming his older lungs as if he had smoked a thousand other cigars.
In the mirror, Chad no longer saw a nervous younger guy in a borrowed costume. He saw a broad, mustached man in leather, calm eyes hidden behind aviators, the cigar angled between his teeth with easy authority.
His mind fogged again and he unzipped his pants and pulled out his larger dick and balls, propping them against his jeans. He began to jerk his dick with one hand while smoking his cigar with the other. He pulled the cigar out of his mouth long enough to give his reflection a little knowing smirk - happy with what he saw.
He put the cigar back in his mouth, leaned back to give himself more leverage on his dick and continued to jerk off in the basement gym with the buzz of the party upstairs in his ears - and the chance of being found only increasing how turned on he felt. He put the cigar back in his mouth and began tweaking his new and improved sensitive nipples.
Even his voice had changed when he whispered, “Oh - that’s good” to his reflection. “Daddy likes these changes. I can’t believe I was nervous about coming to the party! I’m the hottest guy here by far.”
After playing with his nipples until his cock and balls started to ache for attention, he reached one hand back down to his dick and gave it a firm flick before spitting on his hand and jerking his cock hard and fast while deeply inhaling his cigar and tweaking one nipple then the other.
It wasn’t long before he came - shooting load after load of cum onto the basement gym floor. After letting the afterglow wash over him, he put his cock and balls back into his jeans and returned to the party - chest bare except for the leather vest and pierced nipples, cigar still lit.
Outside, his friends didn’t recognize him at first. They looked past him, then back again, confused by the width of his shoulders, the heavy mustache, the leather vest that now seemed less like a costume than a uniform. Men stepped aside as he moved through the party, drawn by the weight of him, the confidence, the faint smell of leather and cigar smoke.
Chad waited for the panic to return, but it never did. The costume had not trapped him exactly. It had found something in him, pulled it forward, and given it shape. He lifted the cigar from his mouth and caught his reflection in the dark window across the room: older, broader, mustached, impossible to ignore.
Someone beside him blinked and said, uncertainly, “Chad?”
For a second, he almost corrected them - that name no longer felt like it fit - then the mustache lifted with his smile “Yeah,” he said, his voice deeper now, calm and sure. “It’s me.”
Experiences like these didn’t come along all that often. Tom had been sitting on the sidelines with his buddy, Ben, reminiscing about high school, imagining their futures without it. They looked across at the familiar building whilst their other friends kicked around a football. It was a conversation, much like any other, yet it had stuck with Tom for years afterwards; replayed in his head, word for word, many times.
“Imagine us all, ten years from now,” Ben had laughed, “coming back here to catch up. I wonder how many of us will still be in touch.”
Tom nodded. There’d been a strangely melancholy gloom to their afternoon now that the summer was ending and college loomed for them all; everyone disappearing off to different parts of the country. It was exciting, yes. But letting go of the beauty of the present, that amazing summer, with all their friends together, was not something either of them relished at that particular moment.
“I imagine we’ll all always stay friends,” Tom replied, knowing he was perhaps being a little optimistic and naive.
“What do you think we’ll be like by then?” Ben had asked, clearly in a ponderous mood. “I can’t see any of us being fit enough to play football like this by then?” he chuckled.
Tom had laughed, but his interest had already been piqued by the choice of question. Nobody knew about his secret desires to gain weight. Tom had pictured it clearly each night as he masturbated in his bedroom; imagining himself with an enormous gut and giant ass. “Why? Are you saying you think we’re going to get far too fat to play football in ten years from now?” he laughed, feeling the first spark of arousal as the words left his mouth.
Ben laughed. “Well, maybe not everyone. But there are certainly a few of us that I can see getting pretty fat in a few years time. Liam already eats like a pig!” he joked.
Tom felt himself getting an erection. He’d never known an innocent conversation like this play into this kinks so well. “Who else do you think will get fat in the future then?” he asked, moving the t-shirt he had already taken off over his crotch, just in case.
Ben considered, looking over at all the other guys. “Hmmm, Sam, perhaps. I know I certainly will be. I’ll be like my dad. We both love takeout and beer, so it’s a no-brainer!” he laughed, slapping his six-pack stomach as if he already had a giant, fat belly on him.
“No way,” Tom disagreed, imagining that Ben was probably looking for reassurance that he wouldn’t end up looking like his dad; even though the thought of it turned him on more than anything else had that summer.
“It doesn’t bother me,” Ben shrugged. “I have a big appetite. It’s definitely going to catch up with me one day.”
The idea that Ben was so relaxed about the idea of gaining weight when he was older blew Tom’s mind. He’d felt so guilty and conflicted about his strange fantasies, the thought of someone as athletic and attractive as Ben letting go was almost too much for him to bear. “What about me?” Tom asked, feeling his lustful heart beating fast. “Do you think I’ll be fat when we’re older too?”
Ben looked across at him, surveying his flat stomach and toned chest. “I’m not sure about you,” he replied, seeming to be considering many different factors in his head. “It could go either way.”
“I like beer too,” Tom shot back, desperate to keep the conversation going. “Takeout, cake, doughnuts, pizzas… I love all that shit. I’m bound to get fat as well,” he stated, suddenly desperate for Ben to agree with him. “Getting fat sounds pretty awesome!” he laughed, slapping his flat stomach in the same way that Ben had moments before.
Now Ben laughed too. “Okay then,” he joked. “I’ll add you to my ‘fatties of the future’ list.”
Tom was already excited to go home and masturbate with the images that were flooding through his brain. “Thanks, man,” he chuckled, hiding his arousal well.
“I reckon…ten years’ time…” Ben went on, still thinking things through. “We’ll be almost twenty-nine…” He twisted his head from side to side and looked up at the sky. “I guess, if I’m anything like my dad, I’ll be about 360lbs by then.”
From the corner of his eye, Tom saw and felt his own bulge bounce beneath the draped t-shirt and he jumped in alarm, sitting up and closing his legs. Why the fuck would Ben speculate like this? It was too much for him to bear.
“That’s about two hundred pounds bigger than I am now,” Ben clarified. “I think that’s around about what my dad was at that age.”
“That’s… quite a lot,” Tom mumbled awkwardly.
“What would you be if you gained two hundred pounds in ten years?” Ben asked, looking curiously at Tom.
Tom quickly did the math. “Three-seventy five,” he replied, feeling almost desperate for the conversation to end by now.
“Yeah, you’re a few inches taller than me,” Ben nodded, seeming to agree. “Yeah, I can see you at that size,” he smirked. “Definitely.”
With that, Ben got himself up and strutted over to join the others, with no idea just how much he had turned on one of his best friends.
It was a constant battle, remembering how arousing that conversation had been, yet trying to suppress those urges so that the imagined outcome would never actually become a reality. Upon starting college, Tom had been swept up with the athletic crowd once again and enjoyed finding popularity in his sporting prowess. The days of high school gradually drifted into the past, becoming less and less cherished in his mind. He could tell that the others were starting to feel the same, with some not even bothering to come home the following summer; including Ben, who had apparently met some girl in college and was spending the summer working up north. Although everyone looked much the same, excluding a few ill-advised tattoos and haircuts, it always felt good to meet up. They’d have so much fun in each others’ company and promise that they wouldn’t leave it so long before meeting up again. But then they would go back to their new lives and forget all over again.
Despite all of the hard work involved in getting a college degree, there was also a lot of fun to be had. The three years flew by, with the end of the academic conveyor belt quickly approaching. It had been the most incredible time, where Tom had enjoyed exploring his sexuality with other guys, partying far too hard, and making friends that he truly believed he would have for the rest of his life. But then the reality hit home: what was he actually going to do with his life now?
It felt like such a backwards step to be heading home. Perhaps he should have thought a bit more wisely about his choice of degree, looking at the list of professions he was now qualified to apply for and sighing with disappointment. Unlike the old days, his parents now wanted rent money from him each month, and that meant finding a job… any job.
The full-time work with the landscaping company was meant to be a temporary fix. Tom hadn’t even had an interview before he started. When he’d gone in to enquire about potential work, the manager had simply looked over his athletic build and asked him to start the next morning. Tom could see why, the work was often back-breaking and, with a keen eye on profit margins, the manager had them working at a pace that often felt unsustainable. Still, by the winter of that year, Tom’s physique had never looked better. Fed on a diet of proper, home-cooked meals once again, combined with the natural strength and cardio workouts he had every day at work, Tom gazed at his reflection, knowing full well that he was an impressive looking guy. Picking up guys had never been much of an issue. He was tall, with a handsome face and naturally broad shoulders. But, after months of intense work, he now knew that he could have his pick. It felt empowering, building Tom’s confidence like never before, as he strutted about his day.
“Did you hear that Ben’s moving back?” asked Pete, another one of the old high school crew who had moved back after college.
“Really?” Tom shot back in surprise. Ben had seemed to disappear off the face of the earth once they’d finished high school. However, just the mention of his name made Tom think back to that unintentionally erotic conversation he’d had with him years before. The one that sang through his brain in the early hours of the morning when his darkest fantasies found it easier to invade his thoughts. Ben had been so sure that he was going to end up piling on the pounds…
Although he played it cool in front of Pete, Tom knew that he actually couldn’t wait to see Ben after nearly four years.
It turned out that the reason for Ben’s return home was because he had finally secured a job that utilised his college degree. As he showed up to meet Tom and Pete at a bar about three weeks later, he came hand in hand with the girl he had dated in high school; the pair having rekindled their romance online and deciding to give things another go. He looked good; very good in fact. Every summer, and for the last year since graduating, he’d been employed as a farm worker, even helping out his new girlfriend’s family on their farm. Throughout high school, he’d always been a handsome guy, but he’d certainly grown into his looks more in his early twenties. Lifting bales of hay seemed to agree with him as his strong physique rivalled even that of Tom’s muscular frame. So much so that Tom found himself competitively puffing up his chest a little as they shook hands in a strangely formal manner after being apart for so long.
Tom could tell that Pete was into Ben’s girlfriend, for his line of questions were directed more at her than they were towards their long lost friend. Sure, she was a pretty girl, but the guy’s flirtation was surprisingly obvious. Tom began to remember why he and Ben were such good friends in high school and when he finally got around to talking about himself and how he’d come out in college, Ben didn’t get in the slightest bit weird about it like most people did. Two minutes later, they were back talking about anything and everything; nothing had changed.
“It’s been great to catch up with you,” Ben finally said at the end of the evening. He looked over with disapproval as Pete continued flirting with his girlfriend. “How about next time we just do something, the two of us?” he asked, obviously keen to shake off Pete.
“Sure!” Tom smiled brightly, feeling like he’d found something precious that he thought he’d lost a long time ago.
Being gay in a small town was definitely not something that Tom enjoyed all that much. People meant well when they tried to set him up on dates but, in all honesty, he rather wished that they wouldn’t. None of them were likely to pair him up with the types of guys that he was actually interested in. In fact, it was only through his work that he came across the types of guys who really excited him.
Jake livied in a large home out in the country, with a cheeky smile and an increasingly flirtatious tone with Tom whenever he came to do his yard work. About twenty years older, large and massively ball-bellied, it wouldn’t have made sense to anyone else just how attracted to the homeownerTom actually was. He tried to find excuses to shake off his other workmates and head over to the house himself, braving the sometimes chilly days by strutting around the garden shirtless in order to attract the desired attention.
No stranger to attracting guys at a bar, Tom suddenly felt completely out of his league going after someone that he felt so enamoured by. He could hardly describe his burning lust as he saw the giant belly on Jake; the way he swaggered when he walked and the tight fit of his clothes around his overhanging gut and wide rear. He was also acutely aware that he could lose his job if things went wrong; if Jake didn’t take kindly to unwanted attention, or if Tom had misinterpreted the whole sequence of flirts that had excited him so much. No, if something was going to happen, it would have to be Jake who would make the first move.
“Can I get you a coffee before you leave?” Jake asked at the end of the day, just as Tom was packing up the truck.
Tom didn’t even like coffee all that much, but he accepted, heading straight inside with blood pumping optimistically into his groin. “This is a big ol’ house for you to be living in by yourself,” he swooned, looking around.
Jake chuckled. “That’s why I eat so much,” he joked, picking up a huge slice of cake he’d already cut for them both, “I’ve got to fill this house somehow!”
Tom laughed, but his arousal felt like a ball of fizzing energy in his chest. Fuck, that was a sexy thing for Jake to say! Did he really intend for that quip to be so hot, or had he just been making a joke at his own expense? “Well, I’d recommend a few more slices of cake if you really want to fill this giant house up,” Tom played back, looking around the house still and marvelling.
“I don’t need any more encouragement to have more cake,” Jake laughed back, actually rubbing his large gut. Tom had to slip his hands in his pockets in order to keep his erection from pushing too hard against the material of his tight work shorts. He was so desperate to take the lead and flirt back, but coming on to someone in work time - the rules were all different. Except, it wasn’t really work time anymore. He’d clocked off about ten minutes ago and this whole conversation with Jake felt a lot more social than work-related. He sat down across from Jake, marvelling at the way the man spread his legs so wide as his monstrous belly filled his lap. Even if nothing did happen between them, Tom was absolutely sure that he would need to jack off at least five times when he got home later, just to expel this sexual energy that was rising in him like a pressure cooker. Flirtation was a dance that needed to be taken with care, but Tom knew his strengths. He was sitting there without a shirt, which never failed to elicit attention.
“I need to head to the gym after this,” he started, sitting back slightly and allowing Jake a free pass to look at his chiselled torso.
“I’d have assumed you got all the exercise you needed with this job,” Jake replied. “I was watching you as you ripped up that shrub earlier. The poor thing didn’t stand a chance.”
Tom smiled, leaned even further back and tensed his muscular guns. “I’m very strong,” he agreed. “Feel my bicep,” he suddenly suggested, getting closer to Jake with his signature move.
Jake reached out and rubbed it with his hand. “It’s nice,” he smiled. “The only part of my body I get to rub is my belly.”
Without an explicit invitation, Tom reached out a hand and slapped it onto Jake’s gut. “That’s a good trade off,” he grinned cheekily.
“You like?” Jake teased back, as if well used to getting attention for having such a spectacularly shaped belly.
“I love it!” Tom whispered back.
Jake started tugging at his t-shirt, lifting it up and over his enormous body until his great gut bounced out and filled the space between his stretched out legs once more.
“This thing gets me a surprising amount of guys,” the big man grinned, rubbing his hand over it in a wide, circular motion, as if he knew how precious and prized it really was. “Have you ever touched a gut as big as this before?” he asked, seeming to grow in confidence as Tom’s horny gaze couldn’t leave the great expanse of fat that had just been unleashed.
Tom shook his head, worried that his voice would quiver if he tried to speak; his lustful heart beating with such ferocity. Then he saw the large man reach forward to grab his hand and place it back on the monstrous ball of his gut, holding it as he slid it down the great expanse and back up again. “It’s huge!” Tom cried out with delight. He allowed his other hand to join the party and was soon kneeling at Jake’s feet, simply rubbing that enormous gut: the warmth of it, the size, the secret softness, despite its firm appearance. “It’s beautiful!” he exclaimed, sending his lips soaring towards Jake’s the moment he saw the large man start to move towards him.
Needless to say, he finished work pretty late that evening.
Over the coming weeks, Jake made no bones about laughing at Tom’s exciteability. He told Tom that he was the most easily stimulated guy he had ever met. He referred to him as his ‘horny chaser’ or sometimes just his ‘little pup.’ He claimed to have never come across someone who got hard so frequently around him, or needed to jack off quite so often. He laughed in amusement as he saw how far and how explosively Tom came whenever he masturbated over Jake’s enormous gut; as well as how quickly he recharged and wanted to go again. But, despite that, the big man had no interest in pursuing a formal relationship with him. Jake was part of a large network of guys who pursued a larger size and enjoyed the company of many contrasting, fitter guys like Tom.
Through Jake, Tom had met many other larger men, as well as their so called ‘chasers’. Suddenly a whole new world had been opened up to him in a way that he couldn’t imagine before. These men had genuine sex appeal, unlike the other guys Tom had been with in the past. They seemed to instinctively know how to excite him, simply by grabbing a large wedge of their fat, or by stuffing something greasy and fattening into their mouths in the most gluttonous and hedonistic way possible.
“Take this one home with you tonight,” Jake suggested to one of his very large friends, who had been eating and stuffing himself all evening in a manner that Tom had not been able to tear his eyes away from. “Tom’ll sort you out with good belly rubs…” he chuckled. “He’s very enthusiastic!”
Tom nodded in agreement, now realising that over the coming weeks, he may actually get the chance to play with every one of these big men. It made sense why Jake didn’t want to make their relationship exclusive. Why enjoy one chaser when there was a vast buffet of other guys to play with out there?
Tom was a popular new addition to the group and Jake was more than happy to take the credit for having ‘found him’, much like he had done with some of the other chasers who were part of the crowd. However, Tom had relatively little time for the other chasers he came across at the social events he attended with the big guys he now most frequently socialised with. They were small and skinny, wanting to be subservient and secretive above their love of larger guys. Tom was popular amongst the guys because he was so different. He found no shame in being seen to ogle over the fat guys when they were out in public and he didn’t put up with their bullshit when they claimed to be too full after eating less than he knew they could; especially with those guys he knew were still actively trying to grow fatter.
Despite this, one evening, about eight months after he’d started hanging around with the larger men, Tom noticed a strange alteration to one of the other guys within the group. Nick, a short, slender and quiet twenty year old chaser, was looking decidedly pudgy. His face had filled out, noticeable even with the short, patchy beard he was trying to grow. Tom had seen the slender boy many times without his shirt on, so it didn’t make sense that he should look so thick around his waist that evening. Unless, of course, the guy had packed on a serious amount of weight in only a short few weeks. His butt appeared broader and even his flat chest seemed beefier and larger.
“Does Nick look a little different to you?” Tom whispered discretely to Dan, the broad-bellied stud, as they sat at the opposite side of the room.
Dan simply nodded. “He’s flipped sides,” he chuckled as the pair of them watched Nick spooning a handful of the peanuts from the table into his mouth.
“What do you mean?” Tom asked, still trying to remain discreet, despite the fact that Dan didn’t seem to want to lower his booming voice for anyone.
“Usually, you have about three good years before a chaser starts to gain. I’ve seen it over and over. I’ve been fat my whole life, but most of these guys,” he pointed around the room at many of the men who were busily chatting away, “most of them started out as skinny little chasers.”
“Even Bruce?” Tom asked, not believing that the 450lb guy in the chair opposite had ever been anything but pure lard.
Dan scoffed. “Oh hell, yeah! You should have seen how slim he was when we first met him! But the need to experience the fat for yourself always gets these guys. The pounds creep on and they love it… they gain more, and we acquire another fatty in our group.”
“So, you think Nick is going to end up getting really fat?” Tom asked, looking over once more and feeling a strange lust for the young guy that he hadn’t before.
“No doubt about it,” Dan laughed. He seemed to note Tom’s look of interest and then chuckled once more. “Don’t be so surprised. It’ll happen to you one day too!”
Instantly, the memory of Tom’s conversation with his old friend Ben, all those years ago, flooded his mind, arousing him just as much as it ever had. “You think I’m going to get fat?” he asked, as a wave of lust and pleasure pulsed through his crotch as he spoke.
“You’re a kinky one,” Dan nodded, seeming to scrutinise Tom. “I reckon you’ll be one of the fattest here one day.”
It was clear that Dan was half joking, not truly believing what he was saying. Yet the arousal was already in full swing, turning Tom’s body into a bubbling cauldron of lust and pleasure. He pulled Dan up by his hand and tried to compose himself as they walked the short distance to the bedroom.
Tom felt like he was learning more and more about himself the longer he was hanging out with the men he found so attractive. Each time he thought he had experienced the pinnacle of pleasure, a new incident would happen and he’d reach even greater and intense sensations. He’d been so enraptured with his new crowd, that he’d not actually seen any of his hometown friends in quite some time. So when he decided to show up one Friday evening for quick drinks before heading out to meet the larger guys, Tom suddenly realised that he had been missing some rather serious changes.
The mid-twenties were hitting some of the boys quite hard. Settling into a working life, they’d started to look more tired, with that youthful spark in their eyes beginning to dim. They appeared to dress differently, adopting a more mature style, with designer pieces that they perhaps felt advertised their income and professional status. But, from Tom’s perspective, there was no getting away from the slight thickening that he could see around their waistlines; an odd padding to their rears, not caused by the cut of the new style of pants they wore. No wonder so many of the fat guys Tom hung out with worked in office jobs if these were the results.
“Have you seen Ben lately?” Eddie asked between supping his beer. He seemed to be grinning, as if there was some salacious piece of gossip just waiting to be told.
“Not since his wedding,” Tom shrugged, trying to remember how far back that was. He’d been a guest at the evening reception and could only remember vague snippets from the night after drinking so much with all the old school friends.
“Oh, well… you’re in for a shock when you see him then!” Andy nodded, looking around at the others who were nodding in agreement. “Let’s just say, he’s been eating well since he tied the knot!”
There was a sly chorus of chuckles from the boys, but Tom simply rolled his eyes. From the looks of things, there were only one or two of them who didn’t look like they’d gained a few pounds. It was all classic deflection on their parts. Or, at least, that was what Tom had thought.
It wasn’t long afterwards that Ben strolled in, late as usual. Tom caught the smirking looks the other guys gave each other, all thinking the same thing. Unlike the others, Ben’s clothes didn’t seem particularly new or expensive. Perhaps that was why his little paunch stuck out like a sore thumb. His shoulders were strong and broad, well developed from giving up his job and working on his new family’s farm full-time. He strutted in, holding his elbows out as if to emphasise this. However, underneath all that sat a hard, solid-looking starter gut that was pressed unflattering against the t-shirt that had probably once looked rather good on him. Instantly, Tom’s mind flew back to that moment at the end of high school when Ben had talked about ending up like his dad, and his hand reached into his pocket to try and grab at his developing hardness so that it didn’t press against the material of his pants.
Tom took all of the changes in. The gut, the thicker thighs and puffiness of the face. He added it all up, like an expert surveyor, and tried to calculate the increase in mass. It wasn’t an easy task, given how much stockier and stronger Ben was looking in general. Thirty pounds? Forty? Tom tried to factor in everything he saw, only realising that he was missing the group conversation when they all started laughing at a joke that he had completely tuned out of. He caught up, taking the reins as one of the biggest personalities there, and being that typical bad influence when he ordered in a round of tequila shots for them all. But none of them could have ever noticed how enraptured he felt, surrounded by the thickening boys, caught in a real-life erotic fantasy.
Unlike the last few times when they had met up over the years, Ben cancelled his plans to meet up with his other friends afterwards, deciding to stay out the entire night with the old high school crew instead. They moved from bar to bar and then onto the hot sweaty club that was nearby. By this point, the beer had bloated Ben’s gut considerably more and the leaching sweat was causing his already tight t-shirt to stick to his thickened torso. Tom’s mind recorded it all, knowing that he would need to relieve his pent-up sexual frustration as soon as he got in later. The other guys started leaving in twos and threes, until it was only Ben and Tom left on the dancefloor as the music finally came to an end. They headed out for a late night hamburger, further escalating Tom’s arousal, watching Ben taking such meaty mouthfuls as they continued to chat and catch up.
Tom had hoped that Ben might reference his gains at some point as the thicker man went back for another order, his stomach growling after all that dancing and beer. Tom had even tried to steer the conversation in that direction, asking about married life and how intense the work might be for him on the farm. Although he wouldn’t come straight out and ask Ben about it, he felt a genuine longing to find out how all these extra pounds felt on the man’s body. Was there something about his diet that had changed? Had his new wife gained as well? Was he not getting as much exercise? Had people tried to ask him about it, or made comments about his new padded stomach? The questions burned in his mind as the conversation continued to circle back around to sports or mutual acquaintances. So, it was only really in that final hug before parting at three in the morning that Tom could momentarily appreciate the width of the man’s shoulders and the stout stomach pressing into him. They looked at each other, not saying a word, but knowing how much they missed the old days, before their work and commitments stopped them from getting together like this. Then, the two men turned and headed off to their own separate lives once more.
“Are you still going on about that old school friend of yours?” Phil asked, rolling his eyes at Tom a few weeks later. “I weigh 318lbs. I’ve got a huge gut and I can drink a whole tub of ice cream in one go. Yet, you’re going on about this little guy like he’s some sort of fat boy model!”
Tom cringed slightly at being called out for his newly acquired infatuation. Phil was right. He’d gone on about Ben for weeks now. There was just something different about seeing someone he’d known for so many years starting to really get quite overweight. He could see how it would be annoying for the guys to hear about, considering that they were the ones who were actively gaining and were always considerably larger. Why should some straight guy fantasy suddenly come along and steal all of Tom’s attention?
Tom promised not to mention Ben again, yet he continued to search himself for the source of his deep arousal about it all.
After many weeks of pestering from Tom’s cousin, he finally agreed to go on a blind date with a guy from her workplace in the hopes of putting an end to all of her messages and pleading. They met in a restaurant in town nice and early in the evening so that Tom wouldn’t have to give up his entire Saturday night and would be able to head over and see his larger buddies after he had happily done his duty. The guy was nice enough; handsome in that generic way, with interests that gave away why Tom’s cousin assumed they would be a good match. If he’d been carrying an extra one hundred pounds of fat on him, Tom might even have been interested. As it was, he kept checking his watch, trying to gauge how much longer until he could call it a night.
Just as they were finishing their meal, a group of girls entered the restaurant and were seated at a table next to theirs. Tom had done work for one of them and waved politely, until he spotted another girl in their group, his heart leaping as he recognised her: Ben’s wife.
It was obvious that she hadn’t spotted him, preoccupied as she was with the other girls. In Tom’s mind, he had imagined Ben’s wife having happily settled into a gradual spiral of weight gain, much like her husband had clearly succumbed to. That would have made more sense to him somehow. However, the girl looked entirely unchanged, still sporting her slim and athletic physique that wowed the other guys at her wedding. Now Tom’s mind was racing, rethinking everything he had imagined about how Ben’s weight gain had occurred, and he tried hard to listen in on the conversations on the table behind him whenever he heard Ben’s name creep up into their conversations.
“Would you like to grab a coffee someplace else?” asked Tom’s date, hoping to prolong their time together.
“Coffee? Sure, that’s a great idea,” Tom smiled, only slightly distracted, quickly making eye contact with the waiter and ordering them at the table. His date, who had moved to slip on his jacket and leave, looked slightly puzzled, but smiled nonetheless. “So, er… why don’t you tell me about your childhood..?” Tom mumbled, hoping to set his date off on a broad enough topic so that he could focus on listening in on what the other table were saying.
“He’s just so lazy!” Ben’s wife complained about her husband after one of her girlfriends asked whether things were getting better between them. “After he finishes work for the day, he doesn’t want to do anything. He just sits in his chair, snacking and watching TV.”
Tom heard their offers of sympathy towards her. He could tell from what they were saying that she was the only one of them who was married. “How’s his diet going?” one of the boldest of them asked.
“What diet?” she snapped back. “He won’t cut down on anything. He just eats and eats!”
Tom felt his erection growing at the pictures that were being painted in his mind.
“Sometimes his mom calls over with cakes and treats that she’s baked and I could just strangle her! She’s not the one that has to look at Ben’s fat belly every day.”
“Is that just the type of diet he’s used to, though?” asked another of the girls in a surprising defence of Ben. “His parents aren’t exactly small, are they?”
Ben’s wife grumbled at the comment. “You’re right. Ben’s looking more and more like his dad every day. It’s just gross!”
Tom wriggled in his seat as he felt his hardness developing. He’d driven many fat boy gainers wild with lust with his gentle teasing about their increasing weight. Yet, here was someone genuinely disgusted by his old friend, and the thought of that was making his heart beat ever faster.
“So, it’s a date!” Tom’s dinner companion smiled with delight. “We can head up there this weekend!”
Tom’s attention snapped back. He’d been nodding his head and not really listening for quite some time. Had he just unintentionally signed himself up for another boring meet-up?
Getting time with his fat boys afterwards was exactly what Tom needed. A couple of the ones who knew him best smirked as he arrived, always seeming to know when he was especially up for a horny time; a bouncing young puppy, ready to play. Having heard Ben’s recent weight gain being discussed in such a harsh way, he’d been turned on like nothing he had experienced in quite some time. He wanted to get down to business with some seriously kinky play; undressing himself down to only his underwear and letting his pulsing boner swell against the tight material. He disappeared to the kitchen, whipping up a huge batch of deliciously calorific shake, then strutted back into the living space to see his favourite fatties.
“Which of you fat pigs is going to guzzle all this down for me?” he teased, ready to make at least one of them pack on some serious blubber that evening.
The men chuckled to themselves. They’d clearly been talking about Tom and speculating on why he was so aroused. It seemed as if they were deliberately going at the slowest pace possible to frustrate him, having not even ordered their usual greasy take out yet.
“Hmm, maybe later!” one of them replied, winking at the others as they all laughed, seeing how well their laid back approach was frustrating their favourite hunky chaser.
Tom’s erection was throbbing and he massaged it gently over the material of his underwear. He needed to climax like never before.
“Fine!” he called out, seeing what they were all doing to him. “Do what you want then.”
“Maybe we’ll just catch up on the sports tonight,” another of the guys joked, playing along. “I’m a bit tired,” he lied, pretending to yawn dramatically.
The other men nodded in agreement, watching Tom’s face for a reaction and hoping he’d crack before they did.
“I’ll drink it myself then,” Tom stated seriously; the idea coming to him, complete and whole.
The guys laughed. “As if!” they called out, not believing him for a second.
“You don’t think I would?” Tom challenged them, stroking his rippling six pack. He’d hit a nerve in them; he could see it in their eyes: a genuine curiosity. “Growing a gut is so fucking hot. Why should I leave all the fun to you guys?”
“Go on then!” one of them teased; his eyes twinkling with arousal at the thought of such a spectacle.
Tom smirked, finally feeling like he was regaining the upper hand. He had the boys hanging on his every word and scrutinising each movement he was making. Then, like raising a massive jug of beer at a frat party, he nodded his head at them all and began to let it flow into his mouth.
“Shit! He’s actually doing it!” one of them cried aloud, moving to the very edge of his seat to watch.
Tom took a breath and allowed a large, rumbling burp to come bubbling up from his throat. He smirked at their shocked faces, feeling the thick mixture draped over his upper lip like a handlebar moustache. “Shall I drink more?” he asked them, sensing the suddenly very real and urgent arousal in each and every one of them. They nodded, none of them saying a word: speechless.
Tom chugged again; with large, gulping intakes of shake, thicker and sweeter than any protein supplement he had ever had after a gym session. Now that the jug was lighter, he could hold it with just one hand, using his other to pull out his hardness and stroke it furiously for all to see. He could feel it all bloating his stomach and making it swell out like a ball pumped with air.
Another burp needed to be released and Tom chuckled at the twinkling eyes of the men all around him; some of whom had even reached their hands awkwardly into their ow crotches to stimulate themselves whilst watching such a horny sight. “That’s it!” Tom bellowed at them all. “Come on, piggies! Get your little buried dicks out and watch me!”
Soon, moans of horny pleasure gradually began to sound out from the large men as Tom went back for a third round of the enormous jug of gainer shake. So much so, that Tom’s next break was merely to let out his chuckle of amusement. He moved to sit on a couple of their laps and smiled broadly as he felt their hands start to rub and explore the round, bloated stomach they had never witnessed on him before. One of them rose from his feet and immediately set to work sucking Tom off as he lay back against the stomach of the largest guy there. Yet, still he rocked the jug back, chugging it down, determined to make every last one of these fatties ejaculate in the process.
Shirts came off and pants sank to the floor; their entire evening now descending into erotic chaos. Tom’s underwear had been ripped from him and flung across the room; likely to never be seen again. Then, when Tom took a break from the shake, he felt new, soft, sticky doughnuts being pressed against his face and into his mouth.
It was all so much stimulation. Tom barely knew where his head was at, or what was to come next. He’d never enjoyed having his hardness inside a guy’s mouth like this before, nor felt the waves of pleasure, so intense and yet contained; not sending him over that edge until it was time; until they were all ready.
One by one, the men succumbed, moaning as they came. Then Tom felt that it was his turn at last, moaning louder than any of them. The volume didn’t matter, the intense sex-face he made did not bother him in the slightest. When Tom finally came, it felt like it was the orgasm he had been waiting for his entire life.
The following week, Tom realised that he had become the biggest piece of gossip to travel from tongue to tongue amongst the ever expanding circle of fat men and admirers within their group. Guys who had not made it on Saturday began to message him and ask if it was really true what everyone had been saying about his feeding and the eventual orgy that ensued. His cell phone had not stopped, packed full of messages and teasing voice notes. At least three times during the week he had been invited over to one of their places for a mixture of fun and indulgence. Who was he to say no?
Many of the guys seemed genuinely shocked at how much he could eat in a single sitting. Usually, the surprise came from those men who had never trained to gain muscle. They had been fat their entire lives, or became overweight later on; assuming that gluttony only belonged to those who carried a large fat gut to show for it. They had no idea how many calories a muscled jock would have to force down his throat during a bulk.
Tom’s eyes twinkled with lust seeing how enamoured the guys were with his eating; the bloating up of his stomach. He loved the way they rubbed, patted and admired. His body had never been kissed and massaged so much in his life. Tom became an expert at stretching himself to the limit, knowing that beers and carbs worked especially well to round off his muscular stomach by the end of an erotic evening.
It was a hot day as Tom began digging out a new flower bed for a regular client. He removed his shirt, feeling the sweat pouring off him. All those calories from the night before getting burned up in the fiery furnace that was his body. Digging, digging, digging, Tom ploughed into the ground churning it all up, feeling a sudden, strange flutter at his sides. He dropped his shovel to the ground, feeling his body. Was he getting soft? Were these the start of… lovehandles? He looked down at himself, imagining that his toned stomach was less visible, although it was impossible to really tell in the blinding sunlight.
Tom started digging again; the fluttering feeling at his sides seemingly magnified now that he had noticed it. Once more, he dropped his shovel and looked around. Was anyone watching him? Could anyone notice the hardness that was developing in his crotch? A hardness that he found unable to resist giving a little rub with the back of his hand. The feeling and sensations; they were all just so inexplicably erotic. He pulled out his cell phone and rubbed his sweaty brow. ‘Who wants to feed me tonight?’ he typed into their kinky group chat, reaching out and taking a shirtless selfie at the same time. He had his date lined up within three minutes flat.
A tightening began to occur in all of Tom’s work pants over the following weeks: a pinching and general uncomfortable feeling as everything began to fit differently. His meaty glutes had been swelling. Tom could feel it, and his admirers had never been shy about telling him their observations. He looked in the mirror and saw how thick he was looking, still pumped full of muscle, but inflated with and added plushiness under his skin. He didn’t care what anyone would tell him. He liked this look and it was working well for him. Guys he had been with who had no intention of bottoming for him in the past, were suddenly lining up, whilst the kinky dominant types began to survey his own rounder glutes with interest too. Why hadn’t he done this years ago? He couldn’t say the thought had never crossed his mind.
“That’ll be an extra fifty if you want that doing as well,” Tom explained to his regular client, feeling exhausted in the summer heat. He really didn’t want to start cutting down a tree at this time in the afternoon. Not when he was off to one of his favourite fat guy’s places that evening.
“Forget it, then,” she shot back, surprisingly impatient with him. She had always been one of his most irritatingly flirtatious clients in the past. Tom had often tried to shift her onto the other workers in the company. However, she had always phoned up and insisted on having Tom to do her garden. “It’s a strange time of year to be on a bulk, isn’t it?” she nodded down to his swollen little stomach, glistening with sweat from the hard labour.
“Oh, this?” Tom laughed, rubbing his hand over the sweaty mass, actually starting to shape up into a real paunch. “No, I’ve just really been enjoying my food recently.” It certainly wasn’t a lie.
“It can’t be good for business?” the lady hit back harshly.
“I work in grounds maintenance!” Tom replied, hardly believing that his client was trying to make an issue out of his weight gain.
Getting back to his truck ten minutes later, Tom’s mind was still buzzing with the interaction he had just had. Had he just been fat shamed? Was that what that was? Despite never liking that particular client, he had to give her some credit: there was an aching hardness sitting in his crotch right now, all thanks to her unfavourable comments. He remembered how aroused he had been hearing Ben’s wife complaining about his gain and how much that had aroused him. Did this mean that Tom was heading down the same slippery slope? Fuck! Just the idea of that was sexy!
A few weeks later, Tom stood in the kitchen area of his apartment having just cooked up a quick microwave meal after his lunch, when his cell phone buzzed. He’d been receiving messages all week from the guys; their lust and hunger for him suddenly ravenous; each of them wanting a piece of him. His endless thirst traps had helped; posing for multiple shots with his bulging muscles and sprouting paunch, whilst telling them all how much he loved it. His words weren’t a lie. Tom absolutely adored the little pot belly he was starting to get. He’d never felt more masculine in his life, nor so connected with his body.
‘Eat up, Piggy!’ read one message.
‘I want to make you so fucking round and blubbery!’ read another, especially horny one.
Suddenly, Tom’s attraction to the idea became the most unusual urge. Discarding the fork in his hand, Tom removed his shirt and placed the plate on the floor. He set his cell phone against the wall to record the whole thing and then took a deep breath, diving with tremendous speed into the cheesy goodness of his large meal. An erotic joy spread throughout his whole body as the sticky, warm meal began to coat itself around his mouth and nose. He moaned with pleasure as his tongue slid along the bottom of the plate and he swallowed giant mouthfuls with an entirely new type of hunger. Now Tom removed his pants, sliding everything down and stepping out so that he was entirely naked in his apartment; for all those wonderfully kinky guys who he was going to send this to. He took his erection firmly into his hands and began tugging as he went in for more and more. The sensation of letting go like this was unbelievably thrilling. Tom took a pause, lifted the plate on the table, then climbed up on all fours, actually oinking as if he really were a pig; ensuring that every moment was captured on his cell phone. He imagined the spectacle he was making of himself; what all of them would say when he showed them him doing this; gorging himself like a real pig. Then he came, his face falling into his meal like a toy that had run out of batteries, feeling an incredible sense of satisfaction.
With a newly rounded out stomach now fully installed on his strong physique, Tom had looked forward to showing it off at his old friend’s house warming party. He’d been told that there was a pool, and so Tom strutted around in the skimpiest pair of swimming trunks that he had. His gains were hilarious, even to him. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror, having no interest in hiding how stout he had become. Everyone knew how physically intense his job was. The fact that he had managed to gain 40lbs in only a few months was testament to just how greedy he had been, and definitely something that definitely needed to be shown off.
“What happened to the abs, buddy?” joked one of his friends as soon as he arrived and saw Tom climbing out of the pool.
“I gave myself a little upgrade!” Tom grinned back, patting his tight little paunch. He’d never been shy and revelled in attention at the best of times. However, his relaxed attitude to his swollen physique was ensuring that it was the focus of almost all his conversations that day.
“Are you going on a diet?” one would ask.
“Hell no!” Tom chuckled back. “Why mess with perfection?” he joked, having the most tremendous fun; realising that this was the first time in weeks that he was socialising with people who didn’t actually share his love of fat and weight gain. He knew he could repeat back all the comments he was receiving to his fellow kink friends that evening, collecting them all like an opinion survey. Then he could inspire each and every one of his admirers to want to fatten him even more.
Tom’s friends laughed, seeing how much his ego wasn’t in the least bit affected by the loss of his abs, the development of such chunky lovehandles and the fact that his butt crack was starting to peek out of his swimming trunks. However, their jovial approach was in no way matched when Ben turned up a couple of hours later with his grumpy looking wife by his side. Tom might have been eating a bit too much and put on a little gut, but something much more impactful had been happening to their friend, Ben. It was as if a widening had occurred to his entire body. Those lovehandles Tom had seen last time had now spilled out entirely into the man’s hips and broadened out his oversized butt. The fat had spread itself into Ben’s chest, sliding under his armpits and puffing out the tops of his arms. It was obvious that the man had quietly amassed at least an additional fifty pounds of fat in the last year alone.
Tom stared in awe at the face that he knew so well, now coated in the fat that puffed out Ben’s cheeks and filled up his neck. It was the only time that evening that Tom had regretted wearing trunks that were so fitted. He had to breathe deeply to control himself as he saw Ben trotting about, dressed in a t-shirt that was at least one size too small. Despite having been with so many fat guys in his time, and knowing exactly how soft and fleshy love handles like Ben’s would feel, Tom’s hands itched to touch them; to explore. He caught the looks that all their old friends were giving him, gawking with disgust at his chubby butt the second he moved away from them.
“What happened to you?” Ben smiled as he saw Tom’s body, reaching out and patting the tight little paunch like many others had that day.
“I’m trying out a new look,” Tom grinned, patting his small belly proudly. “Anyway, I could say the same to you, buddy!” Tom joked back, seizing upon the chance to pat Ben’s large love handles in return.
Ben rolled his eyes, agreeing entirely. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Every time I step on the scales I seem to have put on more weight!”
“It’s good. It suits you,” Tom shot back, well used to encouraging weight gains.
Ben nodded in quiet agreement. “I’m starting to look like my dad!” he chuckled.
“Well, you always knew you would,” Tom shrugged.
“I did always say that, didn’t I?” Ben replied, nodding with such conviction that Tom could tell this was an argument he had used many times before. “Try telling her that though!” he pointed over at his wife, chatting with others across the yard. “She thinks I’m the devil incarnate each time I eat anything.”
“Is she putting you on a diet?” Tom teased.
“Fuck that shit!” Ben chuckled back, lowering his voice so that others would not overhear and report back to his wife. “What about you?” he nodded at Tom’s middle.
“Not a chance!” Tom smiled, patting his firm paunch.
Ben smiled back, not saying anything for a few seconds. “Actually, I was thinking about you the other day,” he began explaining. “I heard the company you work for is losing clients left, right and center. Your buddy, Roy, got laid off I heard?”
Tom nodded. “Yeah, they’ve pissed a lot of people off over the last couple of years. They’ve lost about a third of their contracts already. I’m looking for something else, just in case.”
At this, Ben’s face lit up. “Excellnt!” he cried. “I’m looking for some help on the farm, just a couple of days a week. I’m sure your work would be more than happy to let you drop a couple of days if they’re having to let people go.”
Tom nodded keenly. He knew some of his feeder friends wouldn’t approve, having been trying to convince him for a few weeks to take up less physical work to speed up his growth. However, a decent daily rate for helping out his best friend, and secret crush, wasn’t something to be turned down.
Once Tom was shown how things worked on the farm over the next couple of weeks, he began to realise just how easy he had it in comparison to his usual work. No wonder Ben was able to pack on so much weight; his late father-in-law had bought every single piece of machinery available to ease the workload.
Back when he was a randy teenager, Tom could remember getting an erection in the most random and embarrassing places. That period of his life had ended, but the feeling of being inside that big tractor never failed to make him feel like that breathlessly horny sixteen year old once more. It was the way it rocked and bounced, sending vibrations through the whole of Tom’s body; jiggling his new stomach fat with as much expertise as even his most skilled of feeders. Despite the solitude in the cab of the tractor, Tom felt like his overeating was being exposed to himself in a way that was more erotic simply because of its everyday nature. By the end of the shift, Tom felt so aroused by the way his fleshly overweight body had been thrown about, he had often succumbed to the most intense lust of his life. Teased all morning, his boner would refuse to be anything less than semi-inflated. The feeling of the fat was just so insanely addictive, Tom felt himself being drawn to the more dominant feeders who would message him in the day.
Did he want to get fatter?
Yes.
Did he feel like it was a desire within him that he was slowly losing control of?
Yes, fucking please!
Tom would strip himself as soon as he got home. Despite the physical nature of his job, it was a revelation to him that his body had barely broken a sweat all day long. Yet he had still eaten his large, calorie-dense lunches daily. His stomach was growing, or at least that was what his aching dick wanted to believe as he stroked it in the mirror. He needed to eat! He needed to feel that jiggle spread across his body. Some nights he would lay out mountains of food, climbing up onto the table top, rubbing his dick as he ploughed his face into it all, oinking like a submissive pig. Other days, he felt more dominant. He could mount his cell phone in the cab of the tractor, capturing the way his body bounced as he ploughed a field and masturbated for his fans at the same time.
The farm had endured a tough couple of years after prolonged droughts. Tom could feel the strain of it on Ben’s marriage. Tom had to admit that Ben’s wife had a point; the guy wasn’t pulling his weight around the farm. He wanted to sit back and enjoy the easy jobs and the admin side of things; all the while continuing to put on weight. That was where Tom felt a little bit of guilt, contributing to Ben’s assertions that his weight was not really an issue and that his wife was unreasonable for suggesting that it was. When he heard about the divorce, he’d not been in the least bit surprised.
Ben had come to him first when it was clear the farm needed to be sold as part of the settlement. Due to its unprofitability, the sale price was definitely cheap.
“Just imagine! We could be business partners!” Ben offered excitedly, trying to sell the idea of Tom getting a loan and buying his wife out with him.
“Are you sure you two can’t make it work?” Tom tried, feeling ever remorseful for his part in it all.
“Not a chance!” Ben hit back; fury quietly burning behind his eyes. Ever since his wife had left to live with her friend, Ben had been enjoying the life of a spoiled brat, indulging himself in take out and not putting a shirt on once as he pottered around to complete his simple tasks in the summer heat. Physically, the whole divorce had been transformative, absorbing any remaining definition on Ben’s body and replacing it with pure softness. Tom’s own weight gain seemed to make Ben trust him even more; he felt understood by him and not criticised, as he had been by everyone else. “You could have the little space above the loft and save on rent for your apartment,” Ben continued on his sales pitch. “I’m not sure how many guys you get coming over these days, but you’d have plenty of privacy up there.”
“I’m still getting plenty of action, don’t you worry!” Tom laughed indignantly, patting his rounded belly with pride. For that’s exactly what it was: a real belly, with a deep belly button and pecs above that had become noticeably softer. “I just appeal to a different crowd now,” he grinned.
The pair laughed, but agreed that the idea of Tom’s investment did have legs. Ben’s wife had always hated the farm and resented having to live there, so she hadn’t put up much of a fight when Tom made his low offer. By the Fall, it had all been settled and the pair began eagerly planning for the next season, hopeful that the years of drought would not continue.
Tom’s family had thought he had been mad. His parents said they hardly recognised him. Getting so out of shape and putting his entire financial future in jeopardy like this by taking out such a large loan.
“Do you ever get that rubbing between your thighs when you walk?” Ben asked a few months later as they sat down in his kitchen to review the weather for the next week, preparing to spread the first seeds of Spring. He was grunting, as if sore after having to walk back home the day before when the tractor had broken down in one of their fields. It had been an easy fix, but Ben wasn’t mechanically minded enough to spot the issue himself.
Tom smirked. Were they really swapping fat guy problems now? “Sure, I do!” he beamed, proud of how chunky and soft his thighs and butt had grown over the winter period.
“It fucking hurts,” Ben continued complaining as he rubbed his thighs. “It’s the one thing about gaining weight that I actually don’t like.”
Tom was a little taken aback. “You don’t mind being fat otherwise?” he asked, intrigued.
“It helped me get rid of my horrible wife, didn’t it?” he joked, leaning back and appearing larger than ever. “And you clearly don’t mind it either,” he chuckled, prodding Tom’s stout stomach, ball-shaped and firm-looking.
Tom nodded. He’d loved every second of his transformation and it showed on his bright and excitable face. He’d dressed to accentuate it and swaggered about with a confidence in himself; managing his own farm and never feeling prouder. “Oh, absolutely!” he nodded. “I wish I’d done it years ago!” he laughed. Now that he was over three hundred pounds, his feeders had started talking about more extreme weights: four hundred, four-fifty… five hundred! Even now his hardness was ready at the thought of it all. The fat was so erotic because it gathered wherever the hell it wanted. Unlike the muscle he had sought for so long, it was untameable. He ate and ate, feeling it slide wherever it wanted across his frame without any permission sought.
Ben laughed, knowing Tom had not exaggerated in the slightest. “I wish I’d started earlier too,” he admitted, rubbing the shelf of his nearly four hundred pound tank. “It would have been so much fun to have begun this back when I was in college.”
“Oh yeah?” Tom asked keenly, clearly enjoying the conversation. It was the reason why so many people opened up to him; he never appeared to judge anyone in the way most people did. Every choice in life was valid. “I can understand that,” he nodded. “Frat parties, beers and growing out your gut for the first time. It sounds like the perfect dream!”
“I had a girlfriend once who was quite into the idea,” Ben confided, looking to the windows to check that none of the other farm hands were about to arrive back.
“Seriously?” Tom smirked, leaning in closer. Ben had actually come face-to-face with the world of feedism in the past?
“She was seriously kinky about it too,” he grinned, enjoying Tom’s interest. “She’d seen me at a buffet with one of my social groups. She said I had good potential!”
Tom laughed, looking Ben up and down. “Well, she was clearly right!” he pointed at the sliver of belly fat emerging from the bottom of Ben’s t-shirt. “What did she want to do to you?” he asked delightedly.
“This!” Ben chuckled, pointing at his fat torso. “I told her how fat my dad was and she said it would be simple; like it was an inevitability.” He looked across at Tom, his eyes full of trust. “I’m not going to lie. I found it fucking hot! She once sucked me off as I ate an entire pizza.”
A bright smile beaming across his face, Tom could hardly believe he had found a kindred spirit. “Why didn’t you go with it then?” he asked.
“I wanted to,” Ben nodded, almost defensively. “But I was still really fit back then. It was hard to let go. You know what I mean?” he asked, clearly understanding that Tom would. “She soon moved on; found some pear-shaped nerd in another dorm. I was crushed. In truth, I’ve always fantasised about being a big man.”
Tom nodded frantically. “Same here, buddy!” he stated with certainty, not wanting his honesty to be misinterpreted as an attempt at humour. “Not all those muscles and shit,” he cried out dismissively. “But the fat gut… the huge ass… the love handles!” he moaned in appreciation.
“I always wondered whether you were like me!” Ben laughed with a mixture of relief and surprise plastered across his face. “Do you remember that time we were talking about it…”
“Right after graduation?” Tom jumped in extatically. “Fuck! I had a boner for like a week after that!” he laughed.
“Same here, buddy!” Ben nodded, laughing with surprise that they had both hidden this for so long.
“Did you ever tell your wife about all this?” Tom asked, just wondering how far back all these secrets went after having shared his own fattening tales of kinky feeders.
“I tried a couple of times,” Ben replied unenthusiastically. “She constantly wondered why I always had a carton of whipped cream in the refrigerator! I talked about it more towards the end, when I started to give less of a shit about her opinion. Whereas, at the beginning, I used to find her nagging about my weight to be the biggest turn on.”
Tom nodded back, recounting the story of overhearing Ben’s ex wife complaining about him, making the guy hoot with laughter.
“You know I’m here for you, don’t you?” Ben asked as the pair of them stood up to resume their duties that afternoon. “If you ever want any advice about that thing…” he pointed at Tom’s increasingly rounded middle.
Tom chuckled and patted his ball-like stomach. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a whole team of guys working on this!” he joked, pleased that he’d told Ben about the several feeders and gainers he was associated with.
“Well, that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for one more,” Ben smiled, reaching across and rubbing Tom’s gut suggestively.
Tom looked up at his friend in surprise. He knew that they had both been getting a little horny as they had shared one kinky revelation after another. But was Ben actually coming onto him? “I’m always up for new feeders,” he replied.
“Oh, this would have to be a two-way street,” Ben laughed, grabbing Tom’s hand and placing it on his gut in return.
“A partnership?” Tom asked, hardly believing that he was actually touching the mass of gut on his friend that he had admired for so long.
“A very successful partnership,” Ben replied, knowing that, no matter the weather on the farm, the upcoming summer was about to be the hottest of all.
*
It felt strange to be back in the old high school. The smell of the corridors, the shine of the floors; so familiar, and yet, as if from a distant dream. The people surrounding Tom were very well known to him, however. Many of them were still close to town, whereas a few had moved further away and had started new lives elsewhere. None of them had altered as much as he and Ben had however.
“So, you guys actually own your own farm?” asked Emily, an ex-girlfriend of Ben’s who had moved away to New York a few months before they graduated. Judging by her face, she was more than a little surprised by her first love’s remarkable weight gain.
Ben nodded. “Tom bought out my ex-wife when we divorced.”
“The farm was pretty much on its knees back then, with this lazy slob in charge!” Tom joked, poking a 465lb Ben in his gut. “He just wants to sit on his ass all day!”
Ben smirked, not denying a thing as Emily’s eyes roamed, uncomprehendingly over once the handsome, strong boy she used to date. “As opposed to you, who just likes to sit on his fat ass in the tractor all day?” he teased Tom back, patting his overly wide rear affectionately. He’d worked hard, bulking all spring to get up and over four hundred ready for the ten year reunion, with the results evident in the tight stretch of his shirt.
Emily didn’t understand their dynamic. Few in the town did. Were they business partners? Lovers? Overly-familiar friends? It was hard to discern from just looking at them.
The food was decent enough and it was amusing just how many looks Tom and Ben had just for the way they had piled their plates up. They didn’t mind undoing the top buttons of their pants to really cram it in, knowing what a special occasion this was. They had expected more people to comment on their sizes; jokes and teasing from some of the guys who used to play sports with them, but it was perhaps hotter to realise that their dramatic weight was now probably something that was beyond a joke to most people. Their old gym teacher, Mr Freeman, hadn’t recognised either of them to begin with, although his jaw certainly dropped once he did. Those once promising athletes were now… these enormous obese guys?
“You should have seen the looks you were getting when you got up to dance!” Ben laughed as the pair of them got back to the farm later.
“Is that after my shirt button had popped?” Tom laughed, feeling more than a little tipsy.
Ben nodded. “I don’t think they’ve ever seen a fat guy like you trying to bust out those kinda moves!”
“Well, I thought that chair was going to buckle underneath you as you were eating,” Tom chuckled next, nodding at Ben. “Did you see Maggie’s face when it made that noise as you sat on it?”
Ben laughed in return. “Definitely. She thought this fat boy was going to hit the floor!” He unbuttoned his shirt and sighed in relief as he dropped his tight pants to the floor. “That’s better!” he breathed, feeling the air on his large stomach once more. He was so used to not wearing shirts at all during the summer months. “You staying with me tonight?” he asked suggestively.
“I think I could cope with that,” Tom smiled back keenly, admiring the massive shape of his occasional lover.
Ben pulled out a carton of whipping cream from the refrigerator, chugging it down as he slipped his hand into his own underwear and started tugging. Tom completely undressed himself as he did so, knowing it was always going to be a fun session when Ben started this way. After a few seconds, Ben passed the carton to him, smirking at how much he had drained it in just one chug. Nevertheless, Tom put it to his lips and chugged the third that remained, determined to catch up to his significantly fatter friend. He felt Ben’s hands on his butt, admiring the blooming shape of it from the last fifty pounds he had gained, finally losing its ex-jock distinctiveness and becoming something altogether softer, wider and bursting with lard. Finally he could see how his body would bulge and swell as more extreme obesity set upon him.
“Come on, Fatso…” and excitable Ben whispered, grabbing a large cake from the cupboard for them to feast upon like a pair of pigs as they made love. “Let’s go get ready for the next reunion…”
Sitting in the office of the wizard, Jace didn’t know what to do. He was being given two option for punishment. Both would result in him having to go through some unpredictable changes. And the only thing he was being told was choice either B or C. When he asked what happened A the wizard simply laughed and explained how everyone asks that but never understands how choice A is the life you live freely before you have to be punished by the wizard.
With a hard swallow. Have chose option B. He knew what had landed him here. Treating women like objects. Constantly thirsting for a relationship but never taking them seriously. Always treating woman as if they were a slab of sexy meat for him to throw himself at. He would often times walk up to them and shake his package at them through his shorts trying to coax them into his bed. It was a common trend for him that became one his signature moves.
The wizard grinned and clapped his hands. “Great choice my dear man!!” The wizard told him to go home as plan B would start in the morning and with that, Jace hung his shoulders and went home not knowing what fate awaited him.
Morning came with a frenzy as Jace was drug put of bed by the wizard. “Come on. We don’t have all day”. He was placed in front of a mirror to see his reflection. “Are you ready for a whole world of change ? “ the wizard grinned. Jace began to object but was instantly put into a mental trance. Conscious mind asleep while another one was in control. Always taking orders. Always compliant. Building a new life. A new being. Days turned into weeks. And weeks turned into months.
Soon it had been 6 months since Jace, the dominant personally had been asleep in his own mind. All the while his nee personality had gotten him used to nee habits. Gotten him used to taking orders. New routines. It was now time that the wizard felt Jace needed to wake up. And with that, the wizard snapped his fingers.
“Alright Jace , smile for the camera “ and without control Jace found himself smiling.
He began to ask why was going on. It was so bright and hot outside. He was leaning against his car. And there was the wizard. Taking his picture. “That’ll look great on your profile J. Perfect! Now come along !” And as if on auto pilot, without control, his body moved following the wizard. His neck was stiff. Gaze focused in the blaring sun. “You’ve done a lot of changing over the past few months J. Lots pf changes. Turned your whole life around. You’re going to be really surprised with what you’ve done”. The wizard lead him to the pool and turned around. It’s bright enough out you can see your reflection. Go on. Look”. And for the first time time in 6 months J seen his reflection.
“Who is that!?” Because what used to be a white man. Was now a black man staring back at him mimicking his every movement.
“It’s you J. You e been doing lots of changes I told you !” The wizard snapped his fingers and with that J was back on auto pilot. Walking to his house followed by the wizard. The whole time the wizard talking to him about his changes. How he was changing race day by day. J walked into the kitchen. Pulled a vial fridge. Tears welled up in eyes as he drew up 80 units in a needle. “This is how you stay this perfect color J. Gotta stay this perfect color right ?” And without second thought J shout “YES BECAUSE DARKER IS BETTER” and with that the wizard and J both watched as J on auto pilot injected the full needle of solution into himself. “See J. And just think. You do this everyday. And now what do you do?” J found himself throwing the needle away and walking to his garage where there was a tanning bed. Setting it for 20 minutes. He stood. Getting. His daily dose to make himself the black man he was destined to now be.
Another month passed and even though Jace was now fully awake he was anything but in control of his actions. His subconscious was in full control of everything. He was literally a passenger in his own body. Shortly after he woke up the wizard had told him “I saved the best part of this whole change for when you were awake. Now is the time” and on auto pilot he dialed a clinic. Scheduled some appointments. He’s tried to fight it. He even tried to fight driving to them. Tried to fight signing the waivers. But to no avail.
Now after his surgeries had healed. Jace looked like an African American man. Perfect thick lips. A broad nose. A strong brow. All characteristics he told the surgeon.
He was still taking his daily injections when the wizard showed up with another set of shots. Instinct and auto pilot commands had J injecting them immediately and it wasn’t long before he seen effects. Hair. Thicker. Darker.
J was lost in a world that was ever changing. One day after his daily tanning he got in the car with the wizard and was driven to the local government office. There the final change happened. J officially signed paperwork correcting his race. Making himself legally the black man he was now. Jacen Hairston. The worker was surprised when he showed his old id and even tried to accuse him of stealing someone else’s id until the wizard used some magic to make the issue disappear. In the car on the way back to his house the wizard just laughed and said “well now Mr Hairston. You’re an official black man now. A hot one too I have to say! But I think there is one more thing we need to do to make sure you’re really fitting if your ethnicity” as the car came to a stop he looked at J and then down to his crotch. “We need to blow that thing up HUGE!” He handed J a phone and on auto pilot J called a number he didn’t even know he knew, and scheduled another surgery. Penile enhancement coupled with teste enhancement. 2 weeks later J was being wheeled out of the clinic pain meds in hand. 8 weeks after and the bandages removes he now had 13 incher as thick as a beer and nuts the size of lemons. Hard to walk at times but he grew accustomed to it. He has no choice. As the wizard would tell him “someone if your ethnicity is massive. And you’re no different”. Deep down J still felt that one day he might be able to reverse what had happened to him. But everyday. Looking in the mirror he knew it would never happen. His change into this black man staring back at him was permanent. And he was slowly beginning to accept it. And with looks like this, not only were woman fawning at his massive genitals perfect complexion, the men were too.
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Just like every moring, Jaden looked in the mirror before starting his day. He was a slim, skinny guy.
His best friend would come over to hang out together. Jaren could not wait to have fun with his friend. Just a couple hours later, his friend arrived and he had brought some snacks with him. " Hey, got us some snacks for today" he said. "Amazing! Come in" Jaden answered.
After half an hour the guys payed some games and where hang out, Jadens friend asked: "Should I take out the snacks?" "Yes! Sure!" Was the answer... "Take away, there is more than enough" His friend said while placing the last bowl filled with candy on top of the tabel. At the end of the day, all the candy and chocolates where gone. When Jadens friend left the house, Jaden said to himself: "I feel a bit full, I think I had to many of those chocolates." He didn't know that he ate all the snacks by himself. In the bathroom he had a look at his stuffed belly.
'I am looking very round, I did eat a lot today"Jaden said while smiling a bit.
The next day his friend was back, this time he brought 3 pizzas with him. "Hey Jaden, got you some pizzas! Can I come in?" "Yes, come in. I will get a plate for those pizzas!" Jaden answered. Both eat one pizza. But than his friend said: "I am full, would you like the remaining pizza?" "Yes, I will have them. We can't let them go to waste." And like that Jaden stuffed himself with the last pizza. After the pizzas were finished, Jadens friend left again.
"Oof, I should not have aten 2 pizzas" Jaden said to himself "But I couldn't let the pizzas, witch my best friend brought me, go to waste."
His belly was full and his shirt sat tight around his stuffed belly.
Today his friend will come over again. Jaden is feeling very hungry today, over the last couple of days he gotten more and more hungry! The doorbell rings, his friend arrived. Quickly Jaden went to open the door, "Hey come in!" Jaden says. "Got some more pizzas today for you!" His friend says while holding 5 pizzas is his arms! "Wait, do you mean they are all for me? I don't think I can eat that much" Jaden says while laughing. "Ofcourse you can, just sit down and I will help you." Is the response he gets.
And just like that Jaden sits down and starting eating. After the first 2 pizzas, Jaden says:" I am already full, my shirt has gotten to tight for my belly already and I feel like exploding!"
His friend responds:" It is not bad, take of your shirt and I will help you by gebtly rubbing that growing belly!" Jaden takes of his shirt and says: " I am getting very chubby" while grabbing his belly!
After Jaden finished the 3th pizza, with the help of his friend. His friend says:"You are making good progress, take some time to appriciate that belly. Give it some rubs!" And just l that Jaden started to rub and poke his growing belly.
After 5 minutes of rubbing the belly, Jadens friend asks:"Are you ready for those last two pizzas? I know they can fit in!" Jaden says "Yes, I guess I have to!" And 30 minutes later Jaden eats the last piece! Jaden says:"Please stop now, I am full! Just one more bite and I explode!!" His friend quickly responds with:"It is over now, you finished every last piece of pizza! Go and give your new belly some love and rubs, I didn't know you could fit 5 pizzas in there! Great job!" ... Jaden is proud of himself but at the same time a bit angry at his friend because he did this to him! Without saying anyting back, Jaden walks to the bathroom and makes some pictures of his stuffed chubby belly.
"I look so fat and big" Jaden tels himself "But I do like this new chubby look, ever since the first day I was stuffed I enjoyed poking and rubbing this belly! I should be happy my best friend gave me this belly, we both some to enjoy it! I like to play with it and he loves to stuff me and see it grow." Again happy Jaden comes back and asks his friend:"Would you like to stuff me again tommorow?" "YES,I want!!!" Is the response.
Pictures are from @ojuice744445 . Thanks for letting me use the photos in this gaing story!
Too highfalutin - Muscle growth, reality change, AI image sequence.
A buzz echoed from his PA system and James put down his pen and pressed the button " What is it Martha?"
"Mr Tucker... there is a man here to see you. He says he's your brother Buford?"
James froze in his chair, he hadn't seen his brother or any of his family for over a decade. James had never felt part of his family growing up, school, maths, academics and business all came naturally to him whereas the other members of his family dropped out and could barely read. They made him feel isolated and different as they made fun of him for studying and working hard when they said he would just be working on their ranch in the future anyway. James made sure that would never happen, he didn't want to trapped in his small town with people who he had nothing in common with. James worked his ass off in school to get perfect grades and when it was confirmed he had received a full scholarship to college he ran as far as he could from the dinky, backwards swamp water town and his embarrassing, hick family.
James had worked hard, got his degree, got a good job in the city and rose quickly of the ranks of the company and was now a regional manager with whispers that he may even make director at just 32. James loved his new life, he lived in a fancy high rise a completely different world to the cramped trailer he would share with his brother outside on the ranch. He drove an expensive sports car, wore tailored suits and spent his summer's skiing, far from the nasty old pickup truck his family took him to school in or the hand me down clothes his brother gave him and the summer's spent by the lake down the road being bitten by bugs. Everything about his past he hated and he loved the person he had worked so hard to become but hearing Buford's name filled him with a mixture of emotions.
Buford has been the only one he had any kind of relationship growing up, as the big brother he looked after him and he was the only one that sort of understood why he wanted to leave.
"Hello Mr Tucker? Would you like for me to call security?" Martha interrupted his thoughts.
"No that will not be necessary. Martha send him up and while you are at it send everyone on the floor to lunch, yourself included. We are not to be disturbed." James said, while he was curious to see his brother he certainly didn't want everyone he worked with to know where he came from.
"Of course Mr Tucker."
James waited in his office for a short while before there was a knock at his door and sure enough a head of ginger hair poked around the corner and Buford grinned and greeted his little brother.
"Well howdy there, Jimbob! Been a mighty long spell, ain’t it? And don’t you look all gussied up and proper." Buford smiled his accent thick and his drawl long.
"Don't call me that, I go by James now." James said cringing at his brother's accent and his birth name, both of which he found deeply embarrassing.
"Well, pardon me, Mister Fancy Pants. It’s just… I missed you somethin’ fierce!" Buford said, his smile warm as he stared intently at James who felt guilty for snapping at his big brother. After a brief pause Buford broke the silence "I brought ya a little somethin’." He then held up a large jug of moonshine. "I reckon y’all can’t get somethin’ like this up here in the fancy city, now can ya? Figured maybe we could sit a spell, have us a drink, and catch up proper." Buford smiled and James couldn't help but let his defences down, his brother was genuinely happy to see him and James had forgotten just how positive and fun his brother could be.
"Sure thing Buford, let's have a drink" James smiled and gestured for his brother to sit as he pulled out two scotch glasses from the cabinets behind his desk. Buford poured and they clinked glasses and sat down. James winced at how strong it was and the flavour was a little different to what he remembered.
"You remember the last time we had us a drink together?" Buford said savouring his sip.
James was then bombarded with a memory of the moonshine "I do, you had stolen some from under Grandpa's bed and dared me to try some with you!" James laughed.
"Yeah… didn’t taste much better back then neither. I just remember us sittin’ out front, watchin’ them fireflies dance around, talkin’ with you. I think on that a whole lot." Buford paused and James suddenly felt a pang of guilt, he had left his big brother, abandoned him on that ranch with his extended family. Now here he was in a ripped shirt and dirty jeans, while he was in his expensive and wearing a watch that probably could buy the whole ranch. James let out a small smile but that soon faded as Buford continued to speak.
"Matter of fact, the whole family’s been thinkin’ on you lately."
"Why is that?" James said suspiciously as he took another deep drink of the moonshine. "Buford why are you here?"
"Truth is, little brother… the ranch needs help." Buford sighed but before he could continue James stepped in.
"And you want my money to save it! Typical, everyone made fun of me of working hard in school but look who has come crawling to ask for help!" James's feeling of guilt quickly faded and his previous resentment for his family filled him to the brim.
"Whoa, whoa, now it ain’t nothin’ like that, Jimbob. Ranch is doin’ alright, truth be told. Ain’t makin’ us rich or nothin’, but it keeps us comfortable enough. What we do need is help. Somebody strong enough to pitch in with the liftin’ and carryin’, all that manual work that’s gotten to be too much for Pa and the others. And, well… that’s when we all got to talkin’ about you.” Buford smile then turned a little bit more sinister.
"Why would I help with that?!" James sneered as he finished his glass and poured out another.
"Cause we need somebody we can trust, Jimbob. We need kin. I can see it plain as a brand on hide, you been workin’ awful hard to scrape every bit of Tucker off yourself. Changin’ your name, dyin’ that hair, fillin’ your life up with all these shiny, uppity city things. But that ain’t you, little brother. That ain’t your blood, and it sure as Sunday ain’t us. You done got too big for your britches. Too snobby. Too uppity. Yous gone too highfalutin." Buford then grinned and stared into James's eyes. "That’s why they sent me up here. To fetch you back home where you belong. Back to family. Back to the ranch. Back where we can get you raised right."
"I told you my name isn't..." James then felt a burning in his throat as he coughed to try to clear it and then he continued what he was saying "Jimbob and I don’t rightly know what you think’s happenin’ here but I ain’t ever goin’ back to that ranch. Not now. Not nohow.” James's eyes then went wide for horror as the words he wanted to say changed as they came out of his mouth, his voice was tainted by words he hadn't uttered in a decade.
James then tried again to speak, he wanted to say 'what happened to my voice' but instead in a thick, slow, heavy drawl and accent he said "What in the Sam Hill… why in God’s green earth am I talkin’ like that?" James throat burned as his old accent and vocabulary blurted from his mouth, a voice he had spent years training to get rid of, the accent he had tried so hard to disguise, the voice he trained himself out of so no one would every mistake him for some dumb redneck, it was back. How was it possible? James then looked to Buford who was smiling happily and raising his glass of moonshine. James dropped the glass instantly as it smashed and splashed across his desk.
James was both panicked and furious as he stood up and yelled at his smiling brother who didn't even flinch. "What in tarnation! You done poisoned me! How dare you! Martha! Call security, now, ya hear?!"James screeched, hating every second of the dumb voice he heard coming from his lips.
"Shoot… you done sent ever’body off to lunch, didn’t ya? Ain’t nobody here but you an’ me now, Jimbob.” Buford smiled as his brother stood over him.
Filled with rage James yelled "Git outta my office! Git on out! Don’t just stand there lookin’ like a mule starin’ at a new gate, GIT!”
"No, I don’t reckon I will. Matter fact, I’m gonna make dang sure you lose every last one of them highfalutin city ways. Then I’m haulin’ you back home to Ma and Pa where you belong. Now… let’s start by makin’ you look a little more like a Tucker.” Buford said grinning as he leant further back in his chair and sipped his moonshine.
James was about to start yelling again when his head started to tingle, it started as more of a tickle but soon became an itch and James couldn't help but scratch it. "What in God’s name did you do to me?" James screeched as he looked to his window to catch his reflection and James anger quickly changed to fear as he watched his hair slowly start to change. James didn't know how it was possible as he watched his dyed, jet black hair lighten in colour and start to turn a bright autumn colour. "No it can't be real!" James said as he watched his hair change into the bright ginger colour he had for all of his childhood, in his small little town there was only one red head family and that always identified him as a Tucker. It's why he has dyed it for decades, but now it was back the bright copper top he had hated there staring back at him. How had Buford done it? This was more than just some drug in a drink that could change his voice.
"This here ain’t funny, Buford. What in the hell you doin’ to me? I don’t wanna go back home, y’hear? I ain’t goin’ back to that ranch, not no way, not no how! "James yelled trying to sound assertive but his fear was clear as Buford just smiled.
"No, course not Jimbob. Some college learned, high paid big shot like you ain’t gonna wanna come crawlin’ back home, but what if you hadn’t gone off to college, huh? What if all them fancy books and big-city notions never got stuffed in that head o’ yours? Maybe then you’d be singin’ a different tune huh?" Buford's grin made James nervous.
"You ain’t makin’ no sense. What do you mea-" James stopped as his whole body started to feel strange as he looked a Buford with wide scared eyes. Did he seem closer now? Did his shirt feel looser? James had no idea what was happening as his body started to change. It started with his height as he started to get shorter inch by inch, starting at 6'1 he was already to 5'10 by the time he realised why his suit was feeling bigger on him. James panicked as he looked down and then back at his reflection and almost screamed as he realised he wasn't just getting shorter. The muscle mass he has gained was slowly wilting away, his skin looked smoother as any wrinkles or creases started to fade. His adult manly body seemed to shrivel in on himself as he shrunk down to 5'8, as his expensive suit now drowned him. James whimpered as as he looked down at his body, felt his face and then stared at Buford. He hadn't just got shorter, he had got younger. Staring back at him in his window reflection was the 18 Jimbob who had waved goodbye to the Tucker ranch and ran away to college. The problem was he hadn't seen that face in 14 years and now he was staring back at him while his older brother grinned sinisterly at his diminished form.
"Phee-eww… now that’s how I remember my little brother. You was always a late bloomer, weren’t ya? Guess you didn’t hit that growth spurt till after you done left the ranch." Buford laughed heartily as he looked at the diminished James.
James was terrified as he looked down at his younger body, how was this possible? The last decade of his life had just been taken away, he no longer looked like the regional manager but like someone lost their kid at work! At 18 James now felt vulnerable as his brother would now tower over him, how would he be able to fight back? He couldn't call for help everyone had gone to lunch?! What was he going to do, he couldn't let Buford drag him back to the ranch, he may be physically younger but he wasn't that same kid. The life he had now was the one he had worked tirelessly to achieve, the money, the car, the clothes, he knew what it was like and he wasn't going back. Yet, as he stood there helpless, James didn't know how he could fight back, physically he was now too weak but maybe he could use his brain.
"Buford… I don’t know how in the Lord’s name you done this, but you don’t want me back on that ranch. I hated it there. I weren’t never no good at the work, and just look at me, I’m weak as creek water and twice as useless. Please… I don’t know what you, Ma, and Pa been jawin’ about, but I’m better off here, and y’all are better off without me. Just change me back, Buford. Please. I’ll give you money. I got a whole damn mountain of it!" James said hating how his elegant thoughts were now put through a filter of his old accent and cadence.
There was a long pause before Buford sighed "I know you didn’t take to ranch life, little brother. That’s exactly why I’m takin’ you home, so I can teach you better this time. You done got too uppity for your own good." Buford's smile faded as he looked deep into James's eyes. "I don’t want none of your money. I need my little brother back."
James then felt his expensive suit move, was he getting younger again!
"Though I reckon you was right ’bout one thing… lookin’ at you now, you ain’t gonna be no help on the farm. Not all scrawny like that, and sure as hell not dressed in them fancy city clothes" Buford seriousness faded as he went back to laughing as James looked down and panicked as his attempt at reasoning with Buford failed.
James couldn't believes eyes as he watched his expensive suit start to change and morph. The expensive leather shoes that cost him a small fortune turned a dirty brown as they changed into clunky farm boots. The suit jacket he had tailored to fit him faded away, while he itched at his crotch as his underwear changed from designer briefs to cheap, scratchy boxers that he recognised as an old pair of Buford's. James's head then tingled as his hair started to grow, the expensive, styled cut grew out into a wild, curly red haired mullet. James detested the style as it made anyone look like a poor redneck, everything he had tried to hard not to be. James almost felt like crying as he watched his shirt and trousers melt together, the silk fabric turning to rough hard denim, the sleeves disappearing the buttons fading until his shirt was just two straps and his trousers grew longer until he was no longer dressed like a businessman but instead was left in nothing but boots and pair of overalls. The only piece of him from his old outfit was his watch and now it looked entirely out of place on his dirty farm boy look.
James felt tears in his eyes as he looked at his reflection, there he was the young man who just wanted to escape his backwater town and life on his family ranch dressed and ready to work again. He didn't want to go back it wasn't fair he worked so hard to escape, he didn't want to be Jimbob Tucker!
"Buford, please… this ain’t funny no more. I don’t wanna go back home. I don’t wanna live with you and Mama again. I wanna be me. I want my life, my house, my car, my job, all of it. Please, Buford… don’t do this to me. Please. I'm beggin you!" James said as a tear rolled down his cheek, his whole life was being taken away from him and dragged back to the one he spent every second trying to avoid.
"It’s alright, Jimbob. You ain’t gotta fret none. Life’s gonna be better this way, you’ll see. You’re gonna love bein’ back home, and we’re sure as Sunday gonna love havin’ you there. You’re gonna be the best damn worker this ranch ever seen, makin’ me, Ma, and Pa proud, instead of prancin’ around like some highfalutin city snob. Now… let’s get you ranch-strong." Buford smiled as James felt a wave of energy suddenly pulse through him.
"No! Please! No!" James shouted as his body began to change, James felt a slow pressure racing around his body and suddenly he started to grow and expand. It started with his chest as it pushed outwards as to round, perky pectorals began to push against the straps of his overalls. His arms followed quickly after as his biceps and triceps swelled with muscle, pushing his arms outwards and radiating strength. Then his body started to push upwards as he started to gain inches in height more than they ones he had lost moments ago and growing bigger still. James felt his overalls beginning to tighten as they didn't seem to be expanding with his body, his thicker thighs, rounder butt and longer legs seemed to be pushing them to their limits. James looked at his reflection and barely recognised the muscular 18 year old in his reflection, this wasn't him, he didn't want this to be him!
"Please Buford no more!"
But Buford just smiled as his little brother grew taller and more muscular.
James just whimpered as he looked down at his fast growing body as he passed 6'1 and now looked like he was close to 6'8, a giant of a man! This new humongous frame was then packed with a extreme amounts of muscle. James's shoulder exploded with muscles and broadened along with his back, giving him a lumbering imposing form, his arms doubled in size with thick cannonballs for biceps with heavy pulsing veins running across them. His chest grew larger until his pecs were the size of melons and bounced with the smallest movement, his torso was ripped and defined with a strong six pack with washboard abs. James whined as his hands and feet grew larger, his legs grew into strong tree trunks as the overalls ripped above his knees leaves his legs exposed. When he finally stopped growing he was a mountain of muscle, a huge cumbersome heavy hulk of a man that looked nothing like an intelligent regional director, his large hands making it impossible to type but great for hauling hay. James' felt himself begin to sob and even that now came out a deep rumbling voice to match his new monstrous size.
"Why you done did this Buford?"
"Don’t you worry none, Jimbob. Ma and Pa’s gonna raise you right this time. Ain’t gonna be no more notions ’bout runnin’ off and turnin’ into some big city big shot. No more of them big, smart, tangled-up thoughts rattlin’ round in that head o’ yours. All you gotta think on now is the ranch. The ranch, the family… and nothin’ else, Buford will take care of ya." Buford smiled as he got up and touched James's heavy muscular arm and suddenly his brain started to feel fuzzy.
"NOOOOOOOOOO PLEASE NOOOOOOOOOOOOO" James bellowed as his mind started to cloud and change. It started with his job, the memories of him managing a team of people faded, the idea of wearing a suit was now nothing but a fantasy and working in an office was unheard of as everything he could remember about working was erased. He tried to remember what he did, Martha, the time and hard work he had put into climb the corporate ladder but all of it faded to dust, the only place he had ever worked was the ranch. Next was his home and belongings, he had never had an expensive sports car he was far to big and clumsy to even pass his test, instead he was driven around by Buford in the back of pick up truck. The clothes, the food, the apartment all were pulled from his brain as replaced with what he remembered from all those years ago, he only wore old clothes from other people never anything knew which meant they always stunk. He ate whatever Ma cooked up for him even if he hated it and he lived with Buford the trailer was cramped and barely fit them both and his brother stunk up the bathroom something fierce but he could fire back with a nasty fart or two.
James smashed at his head to try and stop the erasing and replacing force in his head but he was unable to pull back any memory he lost and the new ones were too strong. James felt the fuzz intensify as it started to attack his schooling, education and knowledge. "NO, NOT THAT. PLEASE BUFORD LET ME KEEP MA SMARTS" but nothing stopped the change in his brain as he forgot everything he did at college, all the essays, exams and papers were erased without a second thought. Then came high school, then middle school and then elementary school. James sobbed as he found himself struggling to think of words to say, his brain slowing and even what was happening to him was getting hard to comprehend. He felt sad, he knew he lost something but he didn't know what. As his brain slowed he was left with some of the alphabet and his numbers to ten but everything other than that was gone. James had lost everything and now all that was left was big, dumb Jimbob, ready to be raised right, never to become uppity and highfalutin ever again.
Jimbob felt scared, he didn't know why he felt sad and where he was. The only thing he recognised was Buford the best big brother around.
"Buford…" Jimbob said slowly as if every word was now a challenge to think of. "I don’t like this none. I wanna go home"
"Sure thing, Jimbob. Let’s get you on home. My truck’s waitin’ downstairs, so come on now, let’s get you back where you belong. Ma and Pa’s sure gonna be happy to see ya." Buford smiled as he grabbed his monstrously sized little brother by his giant hand and led him out of his office.
Jimbob didn't resist, why would he? Buford always knew best, some people stared as the muscular farm hand walked past the men in expensive suits but no one stopped them from leaving. Buford clambered into his truck as Jimbob sat in the bed of the pickup and watched as he was driven away from the city. As the buildings got further away, Jimbob found himself crying, it felt like he was leaving something he cared about behind but what could that be? Jimbob was then distracted as he heard a ticking, he looked around for a long time before he heard it coming from his wrist. There was a circle with some numbers on it, it looked shiny and new but he didn't recognise it. Jimbob then got up as the truck moved and almost climbed out as he shouted to Buford.
"Buford. What’s this here tickin’ thing?" Jimbob said as he almost made the truck tip over.
"Set yourself back down, ya dang fool, ’fore you go hurtin’ yourself. I’ll talk to ya proper once we get home!" Buford shouted laughing at his dumb little brother as he wobbled around in the back of the truck slumping down and smashing the expensive watch and breaking it and as Jimbob sat there drool starting to collect at the side of his mouth a tiny part at the back of his brain sobbed endlessly.
4 months later...
"Er hello there? Is this the Tucker ranch?" A man in a black suit said as he approached Buford.
"Yes sir, sure is. Name’s Buford. What can I help ya with today?"
"Well I am from M.S Thompson we are a big firm in the city, we had an employee by the name of James Tucker. He seemed to just disappear overnight and after some investigation we found that this might be his family farm? Have you seen him?"
"Hmm no James, but might you mean Jimbob? He’s over yonder in the field, messin’ around with one of our stallions. Big ol’ stinkin’ beast, that one always passin’ wind like he’s tryin’ to clear the whole pasture. But from the sound of it, Jimbob’s givin’ him a run for his money with some of his own backside thunder. Poor fool thinks he can out stink a horse, he’s got another thing comin’… but knowin’ ol’ Jimbob, he’s sure as shootin’ gonna try." Buford smiled as both he and the man in the suit looked over to the field.
There was Jimbob ass bent over as a loud rumbling fart could be heard echoing across the field followed by loud, dumb laughter as the giant dumb monster had a farting contest with his favourite horse.
The man in the suit grimaced before turning back to Buford "That certainly isn't the James Tucker I am looking for.
"No I don't think you will be finding that James Tucker anywhere round these parts" Buford laughed as he waved at his little brother, farting and laughing, back home for good, never leaving and never getting too highfalutin ever again.
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