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-Oh shit, “He” is here again! And… all my friends?- I said in solitude while I had half of a delicious and greasy donut inside my mouth, I swallowed quickly letting the sugary crumbs fall on my dirty blue uniform and my big greasy belly.

I moved as fast as my new body allowed me, I got up from my huge chair dropping a bunch of crumbs, the back pain disappeared from my mind as I walked to the door of the surveillance room to lock the door, and then I returned to my comfortable chair to continue watching the show.

I changed each of the security cameras to focus on those perfect bodies, their steps were arrogant, and their shirts were soaked with sweat, at no time did they stop looking at the security cameras smiling, or flirting with me through the computer.

They all stopped in front of the dairy aisle and one by one, they started removing their shirts. revealing their perfect, muscular bodies. I couldn't resist for another second, and I searched between my fat crotch to find my small penis. With the tips of my fingers, I began to jerk off while my gaze focused on my old body.

-Damn Bob... you're doing so fucking good with my body- in just a couple of seconds my security guard uniform was soaked with sweat. Maybe the smell of the sweat from this body was the worst part, but right now I didn't care at all, all I could think about was the show I was receiving right now.

The pleasure didn't last long, I was now a premature ejaculator, my hands were covered in the hot smelly goo, -Fuuuuuck!- I screamed with my hoarse voice as the last drops came out of my little cock, I had to admit it, this body had the best orgasms, and I was an addict, I let my thoughts wander as I caught my breath, and I remembered how this all started, how it made me addicted to all this…

One second I was lifting weights at the gym and the next I was in a disgusting and smelly public bathroom holding a phone with one of my Instagram pictures in one hand and the other was submerged in a thick layer of white hair holding an unknown penis… I had so many questions, but I wanted to rub my cock with this calloused hairy hand even more…

I still don't know how Bob swapped our bodies, every day I woke up in Bob's smelly fat body was a new nightmare, especially with the real Bob sending me erotic pictures and forcing me to masturbate in his body, it's amazing that several months later I'm actually enjoying my new life... I get hot selfies of my old body and my friends, and occasionally Bob sends me a video of himself jerking off to the thick, veiny piece of meat I used to have between my legs.

Maybe life as a middle-aged mall guard is alrigh, actually like my new beard!

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Hey guys, sorry for the long wait for new stories. The truth is, my life took a sudden turn and… I didn't feel up to writing anymore, but things are stabilizing now. This is one of my old stories that I have in my archives, which will be updated again soon. I have a bunch of stories I want you to see and some ideas I want to write. See you soon.

Oh. You must be talking about skyler. Poor thing.

Skyler was a typical jock. Making fun of people constantly. And even making fun of the one person that always love and took care of him. His grandfather. But that wasn’t going to last for. Alex, his grandfather, had been talking to a shady character at the local bar. He told the man in a drunken state about how skyler was disrespectful. Not a young man he was proud of. And that man offered him the chance to make skyler the grandson he would be proud to call his own. And with a flick of his cigar he blew the smoke into Alex’s face. The man was gone abs Alex just continue to drink his liquor. When he was done he walked from the bar to his truck. Not even noticing the changes that were rapidly happening to his body. Alex was getting younger by the second. His gut shrinking rapidly and he began to get taller. His shoes began to feel tight as his feet got bigger by a 2 sizes.

If he wasn’t wearing over all’s his his pants would have fallen off from his weight loss when his stomach pulled itself into a perfect set of abs. His beard pulled back into his face as the wrinkles left his eyes. When he shut the door to truck he positioned himself ready for driving and found it weird he had to put his seat back some. Then he look in the rear view mirror. And that’s when he screamed. Seeing his grandson staring back at him. “No no no no!”

———————

Across town Skyler was doing a water fall with liquor in the middle of a party when some strange man in a stretch coat came up to his abs blew cigar smoke in his face making him cough. Skyler pulled back to punch the man but he was done. He felt physically ill and staggered away from the party to the nearest bathroom. Holding onto the wall for balance. Already starting to dry heave. The door to the bathroom was slammed behind him blocking him from the party. Making him alone. Skyler began to sweat uncontrollable as the beads rolled down his chest abs back. He vision went blurry not even knowing that his eyes would need glasses from now on. He was t even able to see the small dusting of hair that quickly covered his body. All the way down to his toes. And he didn’t feel his abs expanding outward abs looking down through his blurry eyes he was able to see a dark sphere pushing itself ourself and he could feel the tufts of hair costing it and his shoulders began to tickle as the hairy climbed up and over his back. His hair fell out making him bald. His pants split at all the seems leaving him standing in the bathroom in an extremely tight jock strap. Not even his shoes fit anymore as they were joe too big. He could something was wrong. He panicked and began to scream only to hear a deeper voice that sounded aged and familiar. One that he was afraid that his voice now matched the body tooo. It rougher hands went to his mouth to cover it only to feel a really thick beard costing his face. He had to find some way out of the bathroom. He had to find a way home without being seen. His hearing wasn’t good as it was moment earlier. Everything was a lot quieter. But he did what he could. Abs through blurry vision managed to find his way from the party and across the street back to his house where he slammed the door and began screaming as if he has lost his mind.

—————————-a month later ————-

“Get up you fat fuck!” Alex was at the foot is his bed ripping the Ed sheets off to reveal the fat older form of the body he used to have. Alex was pumped like always. Form the constant working out and find a stable job he was putting on muscle fast. And now that he quit partying until all hours of the night he was getting rested every night. Alex had taken skylers body and his actual life abs literally turned it around. Making him the grandson that he would have been proud of. But every moment he got a chance he would make Skyler remember that he was stuck in the body of a grandpa. The aging the hairy body of one that wasn’t taken care of. Skyler got to the kitchen with sweat coming from his forehead after caring the massive gut around already and Alex slapped the hard orb and laughed. “How does it feel to have the life of the one you always made fun of now you old fuck!” Right before he walked out of the house half naked ready for his job working on lawns. Skyler wa slept there. Like every day before to hate his life. Stuck in the old form of his grandpa. Hoping that the made in the coat would come back and fix this.

Oh god he feels so good. I cant let him win. I have been fighting this guy for control. He is a fighter but after I saw him shower, I had to have that body.

"Get out of me!!!!" He squeezed out.

"Nnnnooooo" I said fighting to finish my possession. I cant let him win

This went on for a few more minutes and then like a snap, I was in and in control.

I took a deep breath.

"OH fuck yeah" I said as I ran my hands over my new chest. My belly, my.....oh god my dick was big. And it was getting hard. Oh fuck I hadn't felt throbbing in years. This felt so good. I kept pumping. Every stroke like ecstasy. Oh fuck Im close Oh god Oh god.....damn that was quick. I came all over the place. Time to go get a shower.

This body has a high libido because as I got naked and showered and began washing my body I was hard again and came in the shower.

"aaaaaand, there we go." The tailor said as he slid the suit jacket over your shoulders.

He stood back and analysed his work, going over the full suit he had custom fit for you.

"What do you think?" He asked.

You stare in the mirror, doing a couple turns to get a look at everything.

"It's a lovely suit, but it's way too big. Are you sure you got the measurements right?" You questioned.

"Don't worry man, you'll grow into it."

The question struck you as odd. At 25, you were well past your days of growing.

"See, it's already fitting better." The tailor said.

Looking back at the mirror, you notice a small belly pressing against your shirt.

"What the hell!?"

You stood there shocked, looking at the mound of fat rapidly cover your abs.

"Don't worry about it, it's something a man should be proud of." The tailor tried cheering you up as he proudly stuck out his own belly.

Your belly grew and grew until it looked like a beach ball was stuffed under your shirt, making it stretch tight around your skin.

*Snap!*

"Let me get that for you."

After your belt snapped, he wrapped his arms around you and readjusted it to fit your growing waist. As he pulled away, he shifted your suit jacket, letting your gut hang out easier and showing off your pecs, which had grown into man tits by now.

You spread out your legs, trying to leave room for your thick thighs. And you lean back in an attempt to balance out the round gut that's hanging out of your jacket.

"I knew it would fit perfectly." He stood back and stared at you through the mirror with a proud smile.

He approached you from behind once again, letting you feel his belly press against your back. He adjusted a few things, loosening the shirt around your belly, loosening your belt again, and lengthening your tie so that it would reach past the top of your gut.

"The white shirt even matches your beard." The tailor pointed out.

The comment caught you off guard, you didn't have a beard, let alone a white one. But looking back at the mirror, a much more mature version of you stared back at you. A man in his fifties with near fully grey beard.

"That and the shaved head make you look mature and manly, like any good businessman should." The tailor complimented.

Surely he was just fucking with you this time, right? You've got a full head of hair, and you're proud of it. But just like every other time, you glanced in the mirror and saw the shiny reflection of the ceiling light on your scalp.

"Now that you're dressed for the part, you ready to open up shop, Boss?" The tailor asked.

"Course I am, son. Just like any other day." You responded in a gruff voice.

"What's wrong, son?" Your foreman asked, seeing a saddened look on your face.

"I'm putting in my two weeks." You respond, shying away from eye contact.

"What?"

You knew it would be hard. You spent all of college working construction with these boys, but now that you've graduated, it's time to move on to bigger and better things. You didn't think it would be this hard though.

"You're leaving!? Just like that." He scowls, "I thought we were family to you?"

"I... I.." You stuttered.

"You know what? Since you're too good for us now, why don't you go and play Rich Boy with your business buds."

The words echoed around your head as you staggered backward. Looking down, you were shocked to see your tattered jeans replaced by dress pants and your stained sweater replaced by a freshly ironed suit.

"Go ahead and replace us with stacks of cash. You can get fat and happy while us labourers make all your money for you."

Your balance shifted as your flat stomach suddenly surges forward, quickly turning into a large beer gut that hung out of your suit, which seemed to grow along with your fattening body. You felt your growing man tits rub against your shirt, making your dick spring to life as your nipples rubbed against the fabric. Your pants tightened around your thickening thighs and expanding ass, only being held up by the belt around your large waistline. Your feet grew into a large pair of dress shoes and your hands grew large and chubby, contrasted by the shrinking bulge in your pants as your dick shrinks into your fat pad. And your collar started to constrict your neck when a thick double chin formed over your neck, complimenting your rounder face.

"You can grow old in a nice mansion by the ocean with enough money to do anything you could dream of, and not a worry about the backs you stepped on along the way."

Wrinkles took over your face and your skin began drooping under its own weight, giving you a meaner look. Your ears and nose grew as a jaded frown became permanently fixed on your face. Your hair fell out, leaving only a ring of white hair around the back of your head. You felt thick hairs growing under your suit, making most of your body itch.

"You wouldn't really leave us, would'ya boss?" The foreman asked.

"Course I'm not leavin'! Not till I'm six feet under. Now I didn't come all the way from the office for no reason, our investors want to know how much progress we've made." You said in a raspy voice.

"Good man!" He tapped you on the shoulder, "now we wouldn't want that big brain gettin' hurt, now would we." He said as he threw a hard hat on your balding head.

I'd been couchsurfing and doing odd jobs since my parents kicked me out after I came out of the closet, when I saw a classified for a truck driving gig. I had basically zero experience outside of getting my driver's license, but figured a full time job was better than nothing, so I went for it.

I ended up getting the job. Thought it was pretty funny, since I didn't look the part - kinda incongruous having a fresh faced twink as a truck driver, right? Just look at me.

So it was my first real long haul trip solo hauling some produce interstate. I was kinda terrified of having to lease a truck or something, since there's no way I'd have a vehicle remotely suitable, but the company gave me a truck for free. I had to sign this huge contract that made me go a lil crosseyed when I tried to make sense of it. Something about being the right driver for the truck, driving safely, making some lifestyle changes - on the road, I guess? Didn't really make sense, so I skimmed through it and signed.

Anyway, not even half an hour in and I start feeling a lil hot under the collar. Not around, just... hot. Sweaty, itchy even. Keep finding myself scratching my chest, my chin, adjusting myself in the seat. Takes me a couple minutes to notice that I keep touching scruff when I rub at my face.

I usually can't grow much of a beard, and I was clean shaven to begin with. Right? I thought I was, but now I'm not sure.

Anyway, I'm feeling kinda weird, so I pull over to stretch my legs, take 5. Don't know if I'm really supposed to do that, but the company did say to take a rest if I get distracted. They'd rather I get in late over me crashing the truck falling asleep on the road.

So I still feel kinda weird, heavy, almost bloated but not quite? Doesn't really go away. So I hop back into the truck, reach for the steering wheel, and...

What the actual fuck? Since when was I buff? And when the hell did I get this tattoo?!?

I quickly flip down the little shade and eye myself up in the dinky lil mirror. I look totally different. Kinda masc, all stubbly, like a big jock instead of the twink I'm supposed to be. And I'm so sweaty!

So I keep driving, because what the hell else am i supposed to do, mind going a mile a minute, and i keep heating up. I can feel myself sweating more and more - first a little, then a lot, then enough that I can feel it dripping from my chin, down my neck, my chest, sinking into the fabric of my shirt.

When I'm on an empty stretch of road I have a look down to see the damage.

I see a stranger's body where mine should be. This body is sweating like a stuck pig, perspiring so heavily that it's soaked through the sleeveless shirt I'm wearing - hell, is that a hint of plaid I see starting to come through?

Now instead of just a jock, I'm giving more exjock. Or, like, fat jock. Strongfat? Fuck, I don't know. I look like a musclebear, is what I mean. And while I'm looking down, I can see myself swelling even bigger, and bigger. "What the fuck is happening," I say, except it rumbles out of my now-massive chest and comes out far deeper than I'm used to. "Shit, is that my voice?"

I can't spare more than a glance every few seconds or so, since I'm on the highway - there really isn't anywhere to pull over. But with every glance, I feel like I notice more details... or maybe I'm just changing more and more.

By the time I get to where I'm supposed to go, this is how I pull up.

Fuck, man. All those lifestyle changes, becoming the right driver for the truck, those things about consenting to modifying my habits as the company saw fit... it's starting to click.

"C'mere, son. I need to talk to you." Your dad asks from the other room.

You bite your tongue, there has been something you have been meaning to tell him, but you suppose it can wait.

The intense smell of smoke hits you when you open the door. He's waiting there for you, still in his suit from work. He turns to face you, posed with his hands to his side's and his gut proudly stuck out in front of him.

"What's up?" You ask, trying not to cough through the cloud of smoke.

"Now that you've graduated college, I think it's time you take over the family business." He says with a stone cold expression.

Your fake smile fades away, you knew this was coming.

"I'm not taking over the business, you know this." You reply.

"Nonsense. I sent you to a good business school for a reason." He retorts.

"I only went cuz they have a great football team. Besides, I've already heard back from some talent scouts, they're interested in signing me on. I'm gonna go pro!" You say with excitement, hoping he'll understand.

Your father stands there for a moment, clearly thinking. The anticipation is killing you.

"Could you at least try on this suit." He asks.

"What?"

"This was the suit my father gave me when he passed the business down to me. I want you to have it." He hands you a suit.

"Right now?"

"Of course, son."

"Ok..." You say with reservations.

You appreciate his understanding, but you can't show your face anywhere professionally wearing this suit. Your father, and grandfather for that matter, were much larger than you when they were your age. You need a suit that can show off the body you've trained your entire life for, not some oversized hand me down that makes you look like a child.

You place the three piece suit on a nearby coffee table before picking up the shirt and putting it on. As expected, it's really loose.

"Don't leave it like that, son. Tuck it in."

As you tuck the shirt into your jeans, he starts setting the tie around your neck.

"It suits you already." He says with a smile.

You look at a nearby mirror, but something seems wrong. You shaved this morning, but some stubble has already started to fill in your beard. And it could be the lighting, but it looks like you're starting to get some grey hairs along the side of your head.

"Now look how mature that makes you look. You're becoming a man."

You look at him as the realization strikes, but it's too late. A loud gurgle erupts from your stomach.

In an instant, your flat abs expand into a round belly, filling in your loose shirt. It's not just that, you can tell the rest of your body has grown, it feels.... heavy. Your pecs press against your shirt and your ass has started to strain the fabric in your jeans. Not to mention all the hair, your stubble fills out into a thick beard and wiry hairs sprout all across your once hairless body.

"What is happening..." You say, too confused to notice your voice become deeper and more mature.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, son, but this family cannot escape tradition." He says solemnly, "y'know I had a promising career in modeling before I took on the business." He chuckles.

Your belly continues to grow, almost untucking your shirt as it struggles to contain it. And your pecs, if you can still call them that, have swelled to the point of looking like man tits that press tightly against your shirt, leaving little to the imagination.

Your pants finally give out, your belt snaps in dramatic fashion before your jeans rip clean down the back. You look up at your father, helpless as your pants fall to the ground.

"It happens to the best of us, it's nothing to be ashamed of. A real man's gotta have some meat on his bones."

He leans down and grabs the pants that match your suit, helping you put them on.

"I stopped keeping track of how many pants I ripped after about a dozen." He laughs.

Your fat ass perfectly fills out your new pants, as if it was meant to be.

You tremble as you bring your thickening man hands to your crotch, struggling to contain your pleasure as your dick begins to grow, snaking its way down your pant leg.

"You get used to it." Your father smirks. "Besides, your competition will find it intimidating."

Your feared expression slowly disappears under a smug smile, matching your father's as a lifetime of ambition of pro football drains away. Your hard earned biceps deflate, replaced by soft fat that fills out your sleeves, giving the impression of strength.

"Here, can't show your face to the world unless you're complete." Your father says as he places the suit jacket over your shoulders, completing the look.

As a final cherry on top, you look back at the mirror and watch as your face becomes unrecognizable. Your chiseled jaw becomes buried under a layer of fat, creating a prominent double chin. Though it's hard to see under your beard, which has gone almost fully grey, only leaving patches of grey as you cling to your youth. As for your head, who knows, most of it fell out before it had the chance to go grey, leaving a band of salt and pepper hairs around the back of your head.

You smile in the mirror, seeing a man who looks just like a younger version of your father and it makes you proud. And with this newfound confidence, you relax, letting your feet spread apart and your gut hang out of your suit.

"Now that's my son." Your father says proudly. "You're no longer the boy you were yesterday, but a real man through and through."

He reaches for his pocket and pulls out a set of keys.

"For you. I know you'll do great things."

Samuel Harris was relaxing at his house one Wednesday evening, browsing Grindr to potentially find some young guy to hook up with later in the week, when he got a text from his bar friend, Silas.

Samuel and Silas were older gay men who both came out later in life and often ran into each other at events at the gay club downtown. Samuel liked Silas well enough and they usually had pleasant conversations when they met up, but they often got a little competitive in the club, going after the same younger men who were looking for a big strong daddy to show them a good time. Samuel knew Silas resented him a bit, as Samuel enjoyed swooping in and stealing the attention of a cute twenty something Silas had been flirting with for the last hour. Last week, Silas had suggested that maybe they should see if a boy wanted to take both of them at the same time, but Samuel just laughed, saying that he wasn't interested in sharing the spoils and that Silas was just being a sore loser. Besides, while Samuel thought Silas was a pretty hot and charming guy, he wasn't interested in hooking up with older guys like himself.

When you play a game of Black Jack with the boys on a late Friday evening, and one of your mates is out of money, you'd expect them to go bust and leave the table, right? Nah, that's too much to ask from Garret. He always takes things too far. He gets too passionate and scared to lose. So, you would expect him to bet something stupid, like his keys or phone or something. But his body? It was something I did not expect him to say. I thought he was bluffing, and I didn't think he would go through with it. I let him carry on playing, out of pity. And he lost, as always, and I took home the money. After that, we drunk more and more, watching old sitcoms from our childhood before most of us went home. Garret was too drunk to leave, so he crashed on my couch. Before he slept, he whispered to me "Remember our deal." before immediately passing out drunk. I was not in the right mental state to even process what he had said, so I ignored it and stumbled into my bedroom.

Next thing I knew, I was sleeping on the sofa, hand under my briefs, the other on my head, skin stuck to the sofa. I put my feet on the floor, feeling my body sway side to side as I tried to stand up. I don't even remember sleeping down here last night. My pants, slung around my ankles, dragged as I waddles over to the TV, checking the time before turning it off: 7:30am

It was not until I made my way to the blinds, holding onto its lift cords that I realised something was off. Something I struggled to notice with my dazed, hungover mind. Tattooed shoulders? Hairy arms? Salt and Pepper Beard? And then it clicked.

"Remember our deal." he said. I thought he was joking, I did not think I would actually wake up in his body. I caught a glimpse at myself in the TV's reflection, seeing my new bulker and cocky self smiling back.

It was not my smile, it was his, bleeding through me. I was completely and utterly flabbergasted, but I was also amazed that Garret of all people could pull something like this off. How would he of all people, the same person who can't screw in a lightbulb or nail a piece of wood, be able to somehow make me wake up in his body.

“Garret?” I croaked out, but my voice was completely his. It was like Garret's voice if he had to go through puberty again, filled with trembles and stutters. That drunken promise of his was true, it was not some desperate attempt to win a game. If it was a game, he has already won and I was the fool.

I turned my head to the kitchen, stumbling with my pants still down and my tank top rolled up for a fresh breeze. My phone, still left on top of the Black Jack table from last night. I needed to call someone, somebody had to believe me. Someone had to tell me I was not dreaming.

I unlocked my phone, scrolling through my contacts. Eric. Our other mate, sat right at the top of my recents. I face timed him, he was groggy himself, just waking up from a nap. I saw his expression change in an instant when he saw me - saw Garret - on the other side of the phone.

"Where's Rich?" He asked.

"You're not going to believe me when I say this - Remember last night when Garret offered his body or some shit?" I mumbled, stumbling over my new voice.

"You're having a laugh." he said, tussling in his bed, desperate for a good rest,

"Eric. I am being serious. It's me Rich." "Quit messing Garret."

"I need you to believe me" I tried.

"Tell me something only Rich would know then."

"I don't know" I yelled, thinking for a second, still trying to fix my voice. "One night after we both went to the labours, we went around the back and we-" Eric cut me off.

"Holy hell, it is you."

"No shit! What the hell do I do about it." I cried, confused about my situation

The gym was quiet except for the rhythmic clank of iron and a father’s sharp, mocking voice.

“Look at that little belly shaking. You’ll never get strong carrying that thing around, Conner.”

Conner’s face burned. The bar stalled halfway up again, his arms trembling under the weight.

His dad Mark, ruggedly handsome, hairy, athletic and strong, folded his arms and smirked. “Pathetic.”

Richard, finishing a set on the cable machine across the room, felt the silver ring warm against his finger. He had tested its power in small ways over the past days, but this casual cruelty disguised as tough love demanded more.

He walked over to the pair as Conner managed one shaky rep and racked the bar, breathing hard. Mark opened his mouth to deliver another dose of tough love.

Richard raised his hand and the ring flashed. Mark froze. Mouth open, arms still crossed, eyes wide and suddenly terrified. Unable to move a muscle.

Conner blinked, confused, then felt strength flood into his chest and arms like he’d never known. He seized the bar again and began pressing controlled and perfect reps.

Richard stepped close to Mark, close enough that the frozen man could see every detail of his face. He spoke quietly.

“For every rep your son completes, you’re going to gain five pounds of pure fat. Right now, while you stand here helpless. You’ll feel it happen. You’ll feel your body soften and swell and bury every bit of muscle you’re so proud of.”

Mark’s eyes darted frantically. A muffled noise tried to escape his throat. Richard smiled without warmth.

“When he’s done today, you’ll be around 350 pounds. A massive, sagging beer belly. Heavy moobs that pull at your chest. Thighs that rub together when you try to walk. You’ll waddle, Mark. You’ll sweat just climbing stairs. And it will be permanent.”

Ethan pumped out another rep. Mark’s midsection rounded almost imperceptibly at first, then faster. The tank top tightened.

“You’ll never care about lifting again,” Richard continued softly. “The thought of a gym will bore you. You’ll crave beer and junk food constantly, and you won’t be able to resist. Every time someone comments on how big you’ve gotten, even a casual joke, your gut will surge with more fat. You’ll keep growing, slowly, endlessly.”

Another rep. Mark’s belly pushed forward, forcing his back to arch slightly even in his frozen stance. The sharp V of his waist vanished under a heavy, hairy dome.

“You’ll remember everything that happened here,” Richard said. “You’ll remember being strong, being proud, mocking your own son. You’ll hate what you’ve become. You might even cry about it at night. But you will never be able to speak of it. Not to Conner, not to anyone. And you’ll watch him get stronger, leaner, better, without his father's help. While you sit on the couch getting bigger and bigger.”

Conner hit fifteen reps, then twenty. Mark’s chest sagged into heavy breasts that rested atop the growing swell of his gut. His arms thickened with soft fat over the muscle beneath. His face rounded, his handsome angular rugged face disappearing under the new fat.

Richard leaned in one last time.

“Goodbye, Mark.”

He lowered his hand.

Conner racked the bar with a triumphant clang and stood, chest heaving, staring at the stranger wearing his father’s face.

Mark unfroze and immediately staggered forward under his new weight. His huge, hairy belly forcing his legs apart. Tears welled and spilled down softened cheeks, but no sound came out.

He tried to speak, to tell his son what had happened to him, but the words died unspoken. The curse sealed his tongue.

Reality shifted around them as memories rewrote themselves. To the world, Mark had always been the fat, lazy dad who drank beer and watched TV while his son trained alone.

Conner picked up dumbbells and moved to the next station, glancing back once with a mix of confusion, wondering why his fat lazy dad had come to the gym with him.

Mark turned slowly and began the long, humiliating waddle toward the exit. Each step sent ripples through his massive gut. The automatic doors slid open, and the evening air hit his exposed lower belly where the tank top no longer reached.

At home, the sofa waited. The fridge was full of cold beer. The cravings were already rising, warm and irresistible. He retrieved his phone and slid a thick hairy finger over the screen, ordering a greasy pizza and burger for when he got home.

A Brief Introduction (and Links!)

Hello, Tumblr! My name’s Charlie. I’ve been writing (and reading) gainer fiction for years, and I finally have the confidence to start posting. My goal is to publish one story or chapter every day for the rest of 2025.

Here’s what I have so far:

Long Stories:

Fat Passengers - 3 parts Nightly Feedings - 4 parts (ebook) A Milkshake a Day - 4 parts (ebook) My Former Best Friend - 5 parts (ebook) Go with the Flow - 9 parts (ebook) Fatter for the Wedding - 12 parts (ebook) Alex Gets Soft - 22 parts (ebook)

Short Stories:

Hey, Chubs! (2 parts) Chicken Shack Fatties Fattening the Actor Fat Felix Tries Ozempic Unrecognizably Fat Fat Farm Boys Improving Myself Final Destination: Obesity Three Roommates Scooter Hangry Search History Back from the Oil Rig Good Memories Tiny Tim and Small Sam You Ruin Your Perfect Body Metabolism Blockers Sliding Doors, Changing Waistlines I Really Want You to Like Me Liam's Sweet Tooth Are You Happy? My Best Friend Comes Back The Writer's Retreat Halloween Before and After Marriage Body Mark Wears the Pants Two Fat Guys on a Blind Date Giving In (2 parts) Fat Camp Reunion (2 parts) The Lottery Winner (2 parts) I'm Too Fat for My In-Laws (2 parts) Speedos (2 parts) Fat Blind Date (2 parts) The Hottest Guy in Town (2 parts)

And here’s a bit about me:

I woke up with a start, my head pounding like I'd been on a bender the night before. The bed felt wrong, too big and lumpy, and when I swung my legs over the side, they hit the floor sooner than expected. I looked down at my feet. They were massive, hairy... not mine. I stood up, and the room spun a bit. This wasn't my room. It was Dad's, with the faded Arsenal posters and the smell of sweat and aftershave hanging in the air.

I stumbled to the bathroom, flicking on the light. I froze, staring into the mirror. It was Dad. Paul. Bald head shining under the bulb, thick salt and pepper stubble. The chest was a barrel, covered in coarse black hair that trailed down to a gut that wasn't exactly beer belly but spoke of years of fry-ups and pints after shifts.

I lifted a huge hand, scarred from bricks and tools, and touched the face. It was me in there, but this body... it was heavy, solid, like wearing a suit of armour made from meat and bone. I flexed, and muscles bunched under the skin, powerful from all those years on the sites. But it felt alien, this bulk, this hairiness. I was trapped in a real man's man, the kind who grunted more than spoke, who fixed things with his fists if words failed.

"Paul? You up, love?" Mum's voice from downstairs snapped me out of it. Sarah, Dad's wife, my mum. Shit. It had to be that weird lightning strike or whatever happened last night during the storm. Dad and I had been arguing in the garage, and then... nothing. Now I was him, and he must be me. The realisation hit me like a brick: around family, act like the body you're in. Alone, be yourself. It was like some invisible force in my head, compelling me.

I cleared my throat, deep and gravelly, and called back, "Yeah, comin' down." The words came out in Dad's thick Cockney accent, not my own. I had no choice.

Downstairs, Mum was in the kitchen, flipping bacon. She turned, smiling that warm way she always did for him. "Morning, handsome. Rough night?"

I nodded, lumbering over. The body moved on autopilot, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "Aye, bit of a headache," I grunted, but inside I was screaming. This was my mum! But the compulsion made me lean in, kiss her cheek, then her lips. She laughed, swatting my chest.

"You're frisky this morning. Tom's still asleep, lazy sod. Eat up before your shift."

I sat, devouring the plate like Dad would, grease dripping. Every bite, every word, was Paul. When she wasn't looking, I tested it, alone for a second, I whispered, "This is mad," in my own voice. But as soon as she turned back, it was gone. "Pass the brown sauce, love."

After breakfast, she headed out for errands, leaving me alone. Finally. I paced the living room, this heavy body sweating already. I needed to talk to Dad. Figure this out.

The door creaked upstairs, and footsteps came down. There he was: my body, slim and lanky, with my messy hair and clean-shaven face. But the way he moved, a confident swagger, not my awkward shuffle. "Tom?" he said, in my voice but with Dad's edge. We were alone, so free will. "What the fuck is this?"

"Dad it's me, Tom. Somehow we swapped places. Remember the storm?"

He rubbed his... my face. "Yeah, yeah. Feels weird bein' all... young and scrawny. We gotta switch back. How?"

"I don't know. But around Mum, I can't stop actin' like you. It's like I'm possessed."

"Same here. Nearly called her 'Mum' earlier. Listen, let's go to my bedroom. More private."

We headed up to my old room, posters of bands and games still up. He shut the door. "Right, think. Was it that old mirror in the garage? Or..."

The door burst open. Mum, back already. "Forgot my keys...oh, what're you two doin' in here?"

The compulsion hit like a wave. My mouth opened, but it wasn't me. "Just havin' a chat with the lad, Sarah. Man to man."

She smiled. "Good on ya. Tom's been slacking lately. Needs a firm hand."

Inside, I fought it but Paul's personality surged, rough and dominant. It pushed me back, deeper into the shadows of this mind. The builder, the bloke who'd raised a family with calloused hands, took the wheel. I felt myself fading, watching like a passenger.

But it was too late. The interruption had locked it in. I was Paul now, fully. This bald, tattooed frame feeling right, natural.

I grunted, clapping a heavy hand on the shoulder of the body that used to be mine. "Yeah, Tom. Get your arse in gear. No more lazin' about."

Sebastian stood at the bar his friends took him to waiting to order. He had been studying abroad in the US for a month at this point and was pretty much settled into American culture and had especially been eating like one. All his friends said he would get fat overseas and he was starting to think they were right. His ass had gotten plump enough to stretch out the fabric of every pair of his dress pants and his gut had started to show under his shirts. But at this point he didn’t mind, he knew he would work it off once he got back to the UK. Staring at the beers on tap, an ale from Bear Paw Breweries peaked his interest.

He brought back a large glass and began to guzzle it down, the crisp and complex taste of the refreshing cold beer coating his mouth. The beer was so delicious he found himself racing back for another. Soon he found his self feeling tipsy, having already had 5 of the ales while chatting with his friends. While he had been putting them down, his gut had grown to the point of straining the buttons on his dress shirt. While most of his friends had started their journey to a beer belly, it now looked like Sebastian had already finished his. Occasionally a friend would pat his gut and earnestly announce had large he had gotten.

With their encouragement, Sebastian finished another 5 beers before burping loudly. At this point he looked like a stuffed sausage, his tight button down and dress pants leaving nothing to the imagination as his newly engorged body strained against the fabric. Each button on his shirt threatened to pop off in response to the weight he had put on. His arms were now especially flabby and his breasts were plump enough where his friends could squeeze them through. Now his stomach was large enough where his shirt looked as if it would bust open, the fabric pulled to expose his gluttonous gut. As he finished another beer, his stomach grew even more and finally sent his shirt to the limits. Each button flew off as his belly exploded out from his shirt and as it did so, his friends began to clap as if they had been waiting for this.

The eroticism of the moment made Sebastian’s dick grow hard as a rock and was completely visible through his pants as his fat thighs had already stretched the fabric to the seams. He stood up to go to the bathroom only to hear a loud rip as his pants split straight down his ass crack. Luckily his underwear survived as he ran to the restroom, still gaining weight with each step he took. Getting into the bathroom, he had gained 200 pounds of fat and his belly looked as if he had swallowed a beach ball. In the mirror he saw a massive version of his old self and grew harder at the sight of how obese he had become.

Suddenly, a man who looked as if he had gone under a similar transformation motioned for Sebastian to join him in a stall. The other man had a large hairy gut whose shirt was barely covering and was beginning to whip out a massive, veiny cock. Sebastian waddled over to the man and leaned over, letting the stranger rip open his underwear and begin to plow his hole. With the stranger’s stomach resting on his back and hands gripping Sebastian’s love handles, he was engrossed with the new sensations his fat body was bringing. Each thrust of the man’s rock hard cock into Sebastian’s chubby ass cheeks sent a shockwave across his newly jiggly body and added to the pleasure Sebastian felt. Soon the pair came at the same time, Sebastian squirting all over the stall as the man filled his rectum with warm cum.

The pair left the bathroom in order, and Sebastian walked back to his friend’s table, now barely clothed and rustled from the rough sex. Grabbing a beer, he continued to drink knowing his body would only grow more. His friends cheered him on as he continued to down beer after beer, gaining pound after pound in the bar. Now his friends were rubbing his exposed belly and grabbing his fat ass cheeks even as he exploded outwards causing him to grow horny once more. With another man transforming across the bar, Sebastian expected it wouldn’t be long until he could take care of business again. Now all he could think of is the look on his friends’ faces when he comes back to the UK exactly as they predicted: immensely fat and addicted to it.

This damn Great Change ruined my life. For months now I’ve been carrying this sagging, heavy belly that used to belong to my father. And, even worse, I can’t help distracting myself by running my hand over it now and then — as if it were a memory stuck to my skin. It’s disgusting and fascinating at the same time.But let me go back to the beginning.I was 19 years old. My body was nice, not athletic, but firm, healthy, young. I liked looking in the mirror and seeing a handsome boy, ready for the future. Until one morning I woke up with a strange weight on my chest. I opened my eyes and saw wet, thick hair covering my torso.

— What the hell is this?! — I shouted, trying to tear it off me.I ran to the bathroom, stumbling, desperate. The image that stared back at me in the mirror was a nightmare: my father’s tired face, dark circles under his eyes, thinning hair, sagging belly. I touched the glass, trembling, and all I could think was: where the hell is my real dad?I rushed to his room. I shoved the door open.

And there he was. In my body. In my bed.He jumped when he saw me. He tried to quickly cover his waist with the sheet, but I had already seen it. My own body — the body I loved, the body I recognized as mine — was in his hands, sweaty, trembling. He was masturbating.— Sam?!... hi, son! — he said, forcing a guilty smile. — Looks like… something happened to us.I froze. My stomach turned. My heart was pounding. I didn’t know whether to scream, throw up, or just run away.

Months passed, and I don’t even need to say that being an old forty-something was horrible. The Great Change swapped several people around and made relationships really complicated. I had to go to college with this chubby old man’s body. My girlfriend? Forget it, she didn’t want anything to do with being with a guy who looked like a middle-aged man.And my dad? That was the most disgusting part. I knew he spent the whole day locked in his room, masturbating. And it wasn’t because of hormones — after all, I had already gone through that phase. I couldn’t stop thinking about how it all sounded so… incestuous.

He, at least, was taking care of my body. He was going to the gym, getting me in shape. But I shouldn't even worry about that, since apparently it was a permanent exchange and I'd be stuck like this for eternity. What really worries me are the thoughts swirling around in my head now. I know I find it disgusting that my dad constantly masturbates, but I can't deny that I'm also... I can't help it. I'm not dating anyone, having sex with anyone. What disgusts me most are the thoughts, because all I can think about is my own dad bod that I now have. It's so wrong, yet so inevitable. Sometimes I catch myself pleasuring myself and saying immoral things while looking at myself in the mirror.

Sometimes felt a lot of desire for my own reflection. I wasn’t used to liking men, but damn, ever since the beard started growing on this body, I just can’t control myself! I searched the internet to see what this could be and found out it was a normal symptom of such a big change, happening in at least 20% of swapped people. But damn, did I really have to swap with my father? I kept reading and reached the bottom of the great change, which lit a little light in my grayish head. Apparently, some swapped people feel a strong sexual attraction to each other. No one could explain why, but it happened. Quickly, the thought of my father—now in my body—looking at me sideways around the house and also spying on me in the bathroom came to mind. What terrified me the most was that this symptom was usually reciprocal!

I felt the bulge in my pants growing. I tried to hide it—there was no way I was going to touch myself with Samus. But before I could finish my thought, he opened the door. He looked at me and said cheerfully, with a friendly face, "Hey, son, how’s it going?" And suddenly his expression vanished when he looked at the bulge in my pants. -"Don’t even think about it!" I said as he looked at me with that gaze."Come on, Garito, are you going to tell me you’ve never been curious before? Think about it—we’re just exploring our own bodies," he said, moving closer and closer. Before I could respond, he leaned in and kissed my mouth. It was so confusing and, at the same time… right. The kiss was intense, and I could feel my beard hairs being tugged by it. I had never felt this before. We did all kinds of things that I’m disgusted to remember. I never thought I could ever do this with the man who brought me into the world. He didn’t seem guilty. Since then, it became frequent. I was the dominant active one, and he my submissive. I’d be lying if I said a part of me didn’t enjoy it. Using his little ass as a receptacle was the least bad part of my life now.

He was there, all sweaty after hours of riding his old cock that brought me to life but now belonged to me. He looked at me in a way I never imagined he would. Damn, I was screwed. Even though it felt amazing, it was horrible to feel this guilt. But this little slut doesn’t seem guilty at all. I guess I have no choice. My life is already ruined anyway. Maybe it won’t be so bad to spend the rest of my life pounding my old ass.“I love you, Dad,” he said, all sweaty between gasps of exhaustion.“I love you too, son.”

The temporary swap employee program was created to help us gym workers and gym goers enjoy our bodies and stay disciplined. You see, being in such a fit body 24/7 can be tiresome. So this program was created. It allows us to have the body of our dreams, but also splurge occasionally, have fun and enjoy life.

We're always on the go, pushing ourselves to the limit, to get bigger and stronger. Always lifting, running, eating, but never enjoying the fruits of our labor. But now that we have this program, we can enjoy life in another body. It's a win win situation, we get to hop into the body of someone more… average, or even overweight. We can enjoy the food we eat, enjoy the days off we rarely get, and even enjoy the drinks we consume. It's like a mini-vacation for us, but in someone else's body. And it's not like we are harming anyone, the person we switch with gets to experience the feeling of a fit and healthy body, and we get to indulge in the things we have been missing out on.

This is my second time swapping with Dave. He's an overweight guy, in his early 50s, with a chubby face, nice gray stubble and a thicker mustache. He looks like a total Dad, which is quite the change up from my normal lean self. He has a large belly, which is a sight to behold. I can't even begin to describe how heavy it feels.

I was at his house staring at myself in the mirror, amazed at how different my body felt. The heaviness of the belly, the tightness of his pants. I smiled as I used his pudgy hands to rub around my stomach.

I lifted the belly up, it jiggled as I let go, making me laugh. I continued to explore the body I was in, moving my hips around, watching the stomach shake and jiggle. I couldn't get over how different it felt from my normal body.

I moved back to the couch, and sat down, spreading my arms across the backrest. I let out a sigh as I sunk into the cushions. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of sitting down, without having to worry about burning calories, or how long I was sitting for. I continued playing with my large stomach.

I sat there for a while, just relaxing and enjoying the feeling of my body. After a while, I decided to head out to the store and get some groceries, maybe a couple of beers too. I headed to the closet and pulled out a blue polo shirt, a size 4XL. I put it on, and it stretched around my body, hugging me tight. The shirt was tight around the gut, really constricting my stomach and holding me up. I smiled seeing how it help my gut up.

I looked in the closet to see what pants I could find. I decided to go with his jeans. I laughed at the sheer size of them before I pulled them out and put them on. They fit around my waist, but the buttons were a struggle to get done up, especially with this large stomach getting in the way. Once I got them buttoned up, I looked at myself in the closet mirror.

The jeans sat just below my stomach, and they were a little tight. But I didn't mind. I actually enjoyed the feeling of tight clothes, knowing that it would be a challenge to get them off. I looked at myself and couldn't help but smile. I felt like a total dad, just like Dave.

I grabbed his keys and wallet, and headed out to the car. I even propped up my phone to see what I looked like.

I got in and closed the door. It was a little tight behind the steering wheel, but I didn't mind. The seat was comfortable, and I was able to stretch my legs out a bit. I started the car and began driving to the grocery store.

As I drove, I couldn't help but think about how different this body felt. I was used to being lean, strong, and agile, but this body was the complete opposite. It was soft, weak, and slow. It felt like a completely different person.

But I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the feeling of being overweight, of being able to relax and not worry about what I was eating. I enjoyed the idea of being able to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.

I arrived at the grocery store, and parked in a spot near the entrance. I got out of the car and walked to the entrance, my stomach jiggling with each step. I went inside and grabbed a cart. I walked down the aisles, looking for things I wanted to eat.

I started with the snacks. I grabbed a box of donuts, a bag of chips, and a jar of cookies.

Then, I got curious. I wanted to see how I looked. I propped up my phone against the jar of cookies, and hit the video button. I turned around to face the camera, and started to walk down the aisle, watching the screen. My belly jiggled with each step, and I couldn’t help but smile. It looked so big and round. I could feel it jiggling against my tight pants. It was like I was watching a completely different person. But I was enjoying it.

I walked back and forth down the aisle a few times, enjoying the feeling of the soft, chubby belly moving underneath my clothes. I stopped the video, and watched it back. I couldn’t believe how big my stomach looked. It was round and soft, and it jiggled with every step I took. I felt a surge of excitement as I watched it. It looked amazing.

The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly as Jake jogged up the steps toward his apartment complex. Sweat glistened on his muscular frame - the product of two hours of grueling football drills. But he barely noticed the heat. His mind was already onto bigger things… namely, tonight's big date with Sarah Thompson, head cheerleader and campus queen bee. She’d finally agreed to go out with him after months of relentless pursuit. This was his chance to seal the deal once and for all.

He fumbled with his keys, still panting slightly. "Better hit the showers," he muttered to himself.

The shower felt incredible against his skin. Steam filled the bathroom as Jake lathered up, admiring his physique in the foggy mirror. Six-pack abs, broad shoulders, chiseled jawline - the whole package. No wonder girls couldn’t resist him. He grinned at his reflection.

"Looking good, Jakey boy," he said aloud. "Sarah won’t know what hit her."

As he toweled off, he grabbed a protein bar from his gym bag, scarfing it down in three bites as he walked back to his dorm room. "Gotta keep these guns fueled," he quipped, flexing an arm.

As Jake entered his dorm room, he wrinkled his nose immediately. The pungent smell of weed hit him first – thick and cloying. Then came another stench underneath, musky and unclean. Mark’s sweaty tank top sat balled-up on the floor near his unmade bunk, looking like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. Empty Red Bull cans littered every surface. And the laptop was propped open, screen displaying what appeared to be some paused porno.

"Oh fuckin’ hell," Jake groaned, "Fuckin' disgusting, bro."

Jake kicked aside a pizza box overflowing with moldy crusts to get to his desk. His own laptop sat pristine beside a neat stack of textbooks – his side of the room looked like a model dorm compared to Mark’s pigsty. He glanced over at the other bed again, noticing fresh stains on the sheets. Gross.

Where the hell was Mark anyway? Usually glued to his computer chair, jerking off to god knew what. The dude was a total loser. All day every day, just sitting there getting high and watching porn until his eyes glazed over. Total waste of space.

"Poor bastard never leaves." Jake thought scathingly, "Who lives like this?"

Jake sighed, dropping his towel, and tossing his sweat-soaked jersey into the laundry hamper. At least he kept his shit clean unlike his slob roomie. He caught sight of himself in the dresser mirror – golden tan, bulging pecs, washboard abs, thick, cut cock. Damn right he worked hard for this body. Not like Mark, who probably hadn’t seen sunlight since freshman orientation. He smirked as he rummaged through his closet- he was gonna look good for Sarah tonight.

The laptop across the room dinged suddenly, making Jake jump. He froze, realizing Mark must’ve forgotten to log out. Curiosity got the better of him. Against his better judgment, he padded over to the bed, careful not to touch anything.

"What’s so special about your stupid porn videos, huh?" Jake muttered under his breath. "Let’s see what’s got you so obsessed…"

Jake hovered over the keyboard, mouse cursor hovering uncertainly. Part of him wanted to shut the thing off and pretend he’d never seen this pathetic display. But another part – the nosier, more judgmental part – needed to confirm his suspicions. With a resigned sigh, he clicked play on the paused video.

"The fuck?"

It was some grainy footage of some tubby dude sprawled naked on a mattress, stroking his flabby gut while moaning like a whore. The audio was muffled but Jake could make out the sounds of the man’s hand working his soft belly folds and small, erect cock. Disgusting.

"Why would anyone watch this shit?" Jake wondered aloud, shaking his head. "Mark’s seriously fucked in the head."

Ignoring the grotesque clip, Jake stalked back to his side of the room. He grabbed a pair of boxers and walked over to his desk.

"Alright, no one can resist this." Jake smirked, applying some deodorant and splashing on some cologne, "And now…"

As he slicked back his hair, the audio from the video picked up.

The voice came through loud and clear now. A low murmur, almost breathy. "That's it baby, work that cock," the chubby dude cooed. "Up and down… slow… slower…"

Jake snorted derisively, rolling his eyes as he walked over towards his closet, "Really dude?"

"Yeah, stroke yourself to me," the man moaned. "Just like that… Nice and easy…"

Jake pulled out a tight-fitting button-down shirt and stepped into a pair of designer jeans. "God, what a creep," he muttered, "No wonder Mark’s such a freak."

The voice grew louder, more insistent. "Bet your cock is getting nice and hard for me, isn't it?"

Jake zipped up his jeans and turned to face the laptop, "God this is almost funny." he chuckled, staring at the screen incredulously. The fat man was now leering directly into the camera, rubbing his swollen belly obscenely.

"Go on baby, touch yourself," he urged, eyes locked on the lens. "Get nice and horny for me. C'mon, don't be shy!"

Jake let out a short bark of laughter and shook his head, turning away sharply. "Holy shit, not going there," he said nervously trying not to notice the growing discomfort and pressure between his legs.

And then he felt it. Undeniable. A sudden throbbing need pulsing through him. With rising panic he pressed his legs together, trying to hide the growing tent in his jeans. Was this actually happening? Him – popular athlete, lady killer Jake – getting turned on by some pudgy geek fondling himself?

No. That couldn’t be. Couldn’t possibly be. It was totally ridiculous, completely wrong. Just nerves or adrenaline or maybe those lingering endorphins from his workout earlier. Yeah, that was it. Nothing to freak out over.

Jake took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Relax," he told himself firmly, "It’s just the weirdness of the situation. Doesn’t mean anything."

But even as he spoke, his traitorous cock twitched eagerly in his pants. Fuck. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, desperate for relief. Maybe he should just whip it out real quick and take care of business. Get rid of this annoying tension so he could focus on his date with Sarah later.

Before he could second-guess himself, Jake hastily unbuckled his belt and shoved his jeans down around his thighs. His erection sprang free, flushed and straining. "Shit," he gasped, giving himself a rough squeeze. Pleasure rippled through him and he groaned.

"I’ll be fast," he promised himself breathlessly, wrapping his fingers around his shaft and starting to pump. "Don’t think, just… ahh…"

His hips jerked involuntarily, thrusting into his fist. God it felt good. Too good. The depraved voice from the laptop echoed in his ears.

"That’s it, baby, touch yourself," it crooned. "Nice and slow. Let me hear you moan."

Jake peeled off his clothes haphazardly, leaving only his snug white undershirt. The thin cotton clung to his sculpted torso, riding up to expose his defined V-line. His cock bobbed heavily between his thighs, thick and veiny, leaking pre-cum.

"Damn," he breathed, wrapping his fingers around the heated flesh. Slowly, he began to stroke, savoring each delicious drag of his palm along his sensitive length. His breathing grew ragged as pleasure built inside him.

"That’s it, nice and easy," the voice murmured approvingly from the speakers. "Take your time. Enjoy every second."

Jake bit his lip, fighting the urge to speed up. Every cell in his body screamed for release but something held him back. Some dark instinct told him to obey, to prolong this sweet torment. So he complied, pumping his aching cock in torturously slow, deliberate strokes. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as his muscles tensed.

"Yes! Good boy," the disembodied voice praised. "Now hold it. Hold it right there for me."

"Ahhh fuuuck," he grunted through gritted teeth, thighs trembling. His heavy balls drew up tight. He was so close, teetering on the razor’s edge of ecstasy. But somehow, impossibly, he willed himself to stop. To hover there, suspended in agonizing bliss, cock throbbing desperately in his grip.

Jake ran his tongue over his lips and scratched at his chin absentmindedly. Something felt different. Off. His fingers met coarse bristle instead of smooth skin. What the—? When did he start growing a beard?

Confusion clouded his lust-hazed brain. He didn’t have a beard. Hadn’t ever had one. He made a point of keeping his chiseled jawline clean-shaven. Always had. It was part of his image. Chicks dug the clean-cut look.

So why the hell was his face covered in fur now?

He rubbed his cheeks, blinking in disbelief. Thick, wiry hairs sprouted everywhere. Down his neck, dusting his collarbone. Even a little patch on his chest. Like a grizzly bear was crawling out of his pores.

This wasn’t possible.

"Keep going. Up and down, up and down…"

The voice droned on, encouraging him to keep pleasuring himself despite the terrifying changes happening to his body. Jake squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the sensation of his cock in his hand, trying to ignore the strange sensations covering him elsewhere. But he couldn’t deny it. His hands confirmed what his eyes saw—the most alarming shift of all. His pubic hair seemed thicker and curlier than usual, springing wildly outward as far as his fingertips could trace. Worse, similar tufts were spreading up his inner thighs and descending into his crack.

"You’re doing great," the stranger on the screen rasped, oblivious to Jake’s confusion, "Keep going… more…"

Unconsciously, his hips started rocking faster, chasing the release he’d denied himself for so long. His balls tightened painfully, cock pulsing urgently in his grip. He was so close, balanced on a knife’s edge. Just a few more strokes—

"And stop! Bask in it…" The command cracked through the air like a gunshot.

Jake froze mid-stroke, trembling violently. Every muscle strained, screaming for completion. Drool leaked from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to obey, to stay perfectly still with his throbbing cock in hand. Tears pricked at his eyes. It hurt. Oh god, it hurt so bad.

"Good boy," the voice purred. "Such control. Now breathe. Deep breaths. Feel the pleasure build. Don’t fight it."

Jake whimpered, chest heaving. His vision blurred. He was lost. Drowning in sensation. There was nothing else. Only the ache. The need.

"Pl-please…" Jake begged, "I… oh fuck…"

"Almost there," the voice coaxed. "Hold on just a little longer. You’re doing so well. Such a good boy."

Jake sobbed brokenly, hips twitching uncontrollably. His cock wept steadily now, dripping sticky fluid over his fist. He was beyond thought, beyond reason. There was only the endless cycle of agony and ecstasy. Edge. Deny. Repeat.

"Focus," the voice instructed, "On your task. On my voice. Forget everything else. Cancel any plans. Focus solely on this."

"B-but my plans… Sarah." Jake's breath was heavy, his eyes half-lidded, "I… don't want this. Why can't I stop?"

But his hand moved almost of its own accord, thumbs flying across the screen.

'Sorry babe. Can't make it. Got sick.'

Sent. Done. Forgotten. Because the truth was, Jake didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to break the spell. Not when he was so close. So tantalizingly close.

As he tossed his phone aside, Jake became aware of a new sensation. A strange fullness pressing against his waistband. Confused, he lifted his shirt and peered down.

What he saw made his blood run cold. Where once there had been taut, toned abdominal muscles, now lay a soft swell of flesh. Not much yet—a mere hint—but undeniably present.

A gut.

Like Mark’s.

"No," Jake whispered hoarsely, "Not me. Never me."

But even as he protested, he could feel the changes accelerating. His skin prickled and stretched, expanding rapidly. Coarse hairs sprouted across his chest and belly, thickening into a dense pelt.

"Wh-what’s happening to me?" he wailed, voice cracking. "Make it stop! Please, someone make it stop!"

"Take a hit, get into the mindset." the voice instructed, "But don't let go of your cock. Up and down. Up and down."

Through half-lidded eyes, he looked over to Mark's desk.

Amidst the clutter lay a familiar blue pipe and lighter. Mark’s weed. Of course. He used it constantly to enhance his sessions, lose himself completely in the haze.

Jake licked his lips hungrily. Just a tiny puff to dull the edge. To give him strength. The glass tube trembled in his grasp as he lit it, taking a deep drag. The acrid smoke scorched his lungs but he didn’t cough. Didn’t dare. Holding the burning inhale, he squeezed his eyes shut and focused inward.

Instantly, the world narrowed. Distances collapsed. Sound muted. Time slowed. All that existed was the throb of his cock in his hand and the velvet caress of the high blooming behind his eyelids.

Yes. This was good. Right. Exactly what he needed.

With renewed vigor, Jake stroked himself, gasping and shuddering as waves of euphoria crashed over him. Deeper and deeper he fell, losing himself in the rhythm. In and out. Up and down. An endless loop of pleasure and denial.

Nothing else mattered. Only this. Only the voice guiding him. Telling him how good he was. How perfect. How he was exactly where he belonged.

Hours passed. Or minutes. Jake couldn’t say. He drifted in a dreamlike state, pleasuring himself robotically, existing purely for the voice and the commands it gave. His body continued changing, morphing into something unfamiliar and foreign. Hair spread like wildfire across his skin, hiding his old shape beneath a matted blanket of fur. His face rounded, jowls sagging. Belly swelled, stretching his shirt taut. Muscles softened, melted away. The smell of his deodorant and cologne were drowned out by his new, pungent musk.

Yet he didn’t resist. Couldn’t. He was lost. Drowned in the sea of sensation. The constant push-pull of agony and ecstasy. Edge. Deny. Repeat. Distantly, he registered the buzz of his phone. Text alerts. Missed calls. Probably Sarah wondering why he stood her up. But he ignored it. It meant nothing. None of it did anymore.

______

A door creaked. Footsteps shuffled closer. Soft gasps and murmurs followed. The smell hit Jake next—a familiar blend of stale chips, sweat, and pot.

"Aight Jake," Mark drawled, settling heavily on the edge of the bed. "Guess ya found the vid, huh?" His words slurred lazily, pupils blown wide. "Hooo-wee buddy, that’s somethin’ ain’t it?"

Jake blinked blearily, struggling to focus on the figure looming above him. Mark’s doughy face swam into view, split by a slack grin. His roommate’s usual stained t-shirt strained over his rotund middle, armpits yellowed with perspiration.

"S-saw it," Jake managed weakly, throat raw. "Couldn’t… couldn’t stop."

"Yep," Mark nodded sagely, picking at his nose. "First time I watched it too. Life changer, lemme tell ya. Went from being a nerd to well… this."

"But… but…" Jake whispered hoarsely, "Gonna wake up and it’ll all be a bad dream? Right?"

"Sorry, but no. Your old life’s over, bro," Mark said, placing a meaty paw on Jake’s hairy shoulder. "Welcome to the club."

Jake shuddered at the contact, revulsion warring with reluctant acceptance. Because Mark was right. His sleek muscles had gone soft, replaced by pillowy rolls of fat. His chiseled features had smoothed into pudgy blandness- all covered in a forest of wiry, musky hairs. Even his cock, once proud and powerful, had shrunk to a stubby nub buried in a nest of coarse curls.

"We’ll get you set up," Mark promised, reaching for the pipe. "Help you really embrace it. We’ll be like… brothers, yeah? Two goons livin’ large, gettin’ high and edgin’ all damn day."

Jake stared numbly at the ceiling, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Everything he’d worked for, strived for, was gone. Poof. Vanished like smoke. Leaving behind only this…

"So uh… whaddya wanna do?" Mark asked, kicking back on the bed. "We could order a pizza or somethin’. Maybe find ourselves a livestream to edge to. Together."

Jake didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. They both knew he had no choice anymore. Jake stared blankly at the wall, listening to Mark dial the pizza place. His fingers idly played with his drooping cock, squeezing lightly. Still so sensitive. Still so much need. And Jake knew it then.