Inherited Belly

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.”

I never imagined life could turn upside down like this—I didn’t deserve it. I had always been a lucky guy, or at least I thought I was. Strong, athletic, handsome, easygoing. I had a divine body that took me years to build. I was the kind of guy everyone liked having around: a workout buddy, a party friend, a caring boyfriend. I was in my early twenties and it felt like the whole world was open to me. Until the Great Change... this down here is my old body, now taken over by my jerk of a grandfather. He loves posting pictures like this on my old Instagram just to taunt me.

No one really understood what happened that night. The whole city woke up with stories of people who were no longer in their own bodies. Some got a better life, others lost everything. I was one of the latter. I woke up trapped inside my grandfather’s fat, hairy body.

And what a cruel irony. The man I had always hated, the one the whole family avoided, was now… me. Fat, decaying, with sagging skin and eyes always clouded with exhaustion. A body that looked more like a cruel caricature of everything I never wanted to be. Worse: my grandfather seemed to be loving the swap. In my young, athletic body, with muscles I had spent years building, he looked reborn. I saw him smile for the first time in decades—and it was with my smile.

Months have passed, and I still can’t accept it. I try, but I just can’t. The feeling of carrying this huge belly in front of me, of having shaky legs and losing my breath with every flight of stairs… it’s suffocating. The other day I got into my car and realized I no longer fit properly behind the wheel. The bulging belly pressed against it, making it hard to drive, like a cruel reminder that I wasn’t myself anymore.

I look at my hands now—thick, wrinkled, stained by time—and I can’t recognize a thing. I try closing my eyes, remembering what it felt like to have firm muscles, smooth skin, the agile body that used to dive with ease beside my girlfriend. But that memory hurts. She left me within the first weeks. And I understand. Who could keep loving someone who had suddenly become… this?

In the beginning, I cried a lot. Then, I started laughing out of nerves. Now, most of the time, I just exist. I mess around with his flabby belly, as if squeezing that useless mass could give me some kind of answer. But all I feel is anger. Anger at myself for still being here. Anger at my grandfather, who now parades around in my body as if it were a trophy.

The worst part is my body betraying me. I hate to admit it, but sometimes this old body reacts in ways that make no sense. Out of nowhere, I get aroused. I can’t even reach properly to relieve myself—another humiliation. It’s like this body has a life of its own, constantly reminding me that I’m no longer in control of anything.

What scares me the most is thinking that maybe this is irreversible. That maybe I’ll die in this body. Alone, abandoned, forgotten. My grandfather, on the other hand, will live the rest of his life enjoying everything I built—the loves I had, the opportunities I fought for. And me? I’m stuck here, trapped in a body that will never represent me.And with each passing day, I feel it more: I’m not just losing my body. I’m losing my mind. One day I caught myself absentmindedly stroking my dick—my tiny dick—while looking at this photo of me distractedly staring at the landscape on that trip. I stare at my huge belly stretching against the blue t-shirt, pinch my sagging, flabby chest, and think that maybe it isn’t that ugly after all… DAMN IT! I’m hard again just writing about this. Please, someone help me!

"Raine… Raine," I said, my voice sounding much deeper, but I assumed it was just because I was still sleepy. "For God's sake, turn to your side! You're snoring so loud, like a tractor! Raine?" I reached out, expecting to find my girlfriend's slender shoulder, but instead, I touched a sweaty, hairy, and broad shoulder. I widened my eyes in shock. Between me and her, the first thing I noticed was a huge, rigid belly. No, a mountain of belly!

"Raine?! What the hell is this?!" I tried to jump up—or at least I attempted to—but my body felt like it weighed a ton. I collapsed back onto the bed, my round belly resting heavily on my legs. My skin looked aged, and my arms were covered in gray hair. As I turned to my side, a body rolled over—it was a man, just as old and big as I was. My mind raced: "Raine?!" It had to be her. The transformation must have happened to both of us. "Raine!" I yelled, my voice hoarse and deep. "We… we’re old men!"

She blinked, still confused, and brought her hands to her face. As soon as she felt the rough beard with her fingers, she quickly pulled her large, calloused hand away. Her tongue brushed against the thick mustache now sitting above her lips. "No!! Nooooo!!!"

She turned to the side, saw my new form, and froze in shock. Horrified, she rolled out of bed, standing up with her hands pressed against the enormous, hairy belly now hanging from her frame.

"What happened to us?!"

I wanted to run to her, to comfort her, but the moment I tried to get up, I realized it was going to be a battle. My legs felt like tree trunks, my back ached as if I’d carried a truck, and the heavy, drooping belly had completely shifted my center of gravity. "We’re… our neighbors?"

That’s when we realized that, somehow, we had become the old neighbors who owned the flower shop in the building. Later, we found a letter explaining everything. They had stolen our bodies and taken over our lives! They ran away before we woke up and told no one in the building where they had gone...

The following weeks were a nightmare. Raine, once a beautiful and refined girl, was now a man named Mario (according to the documents we found) and went into a crisis."Tomas, I look horrible! Look at this, I have a penis, and I can’t even see it because of this huge belly!"

"Welcome to my world, darling! We’re in the same boat," I grumbled. "My name is Alfredo now, apparently, and I have a belly so big it looks like it could swallow a horse whole."

I had to teach things that, honestly, I never thought I’d have to explain to Raine, like how to shave (she cut her face about twenty times) or how to pee like a man. Although, given the way we were now, we could only pee sitting down.

"This is disgusting, Tomas," she yelled as I tried to explain how to clean herself in the shower.

On my end, I was suffering too. Climbing the stairs in this building without an elevator was a challenge. And bending down to pick something off the floor felt like trying to fold a refrigerator. The worst part was showering; my belly was so big I had to lift it just to reach certain parts.

"Can you see your feet? Or have you accepted you’ll never tie your shoes again?" I asked Raine, trying to be funny.

After a few months, we gave up hoping the two would return and undo the swap. But honestly, what sense would it make? Giving up a young life to come back to this heavy one… "So, this is it," Raine said one night while we sat on the couch, shirtless, with her lying on top of me. "You’re not going to leave me? Even now that I’m a hairy, fat man?"

I looked at her — or rather, at him, at Mario. Her eyes, even in a wrinkled and chubby face, were still the eyes of the Raine I loved. I sighed, stroking her belly (she loved that now) "I never wanted to leave you. I still love you, Raine… or should I say Mario! I love you, and honestly, I still find you attractive, even as a 60-year-old man, haha."

She smiled and got up. We tried to kiss, but our bellies collided — it was like a natural airbag.

"I still need to get used to this part," she said, laughing.

"Yeah, I guess we’ll have to adjust. But honestly, it’s not that bad. The two of us, eating whatever we want, not working too hard, living a quiet life," I replied as she — or rather, he — leaned in to kiss me, successfully this time.

"I'm sorry," I said, after accidentally turning all my weight onto my boyfriend while trying to get comfortable at night. My name is Tommy; I’m 22 years old… or rather, I used to be. I met my boyfriend on a dating site two years ago. When he told me he had magical abilities, I didn’t believe him. Until he proved it, right in front of me, making objects appear or change shape. After a few months of dating, I made a mistake and ended up cheating on Matt at a party. I didn’t intend to tell him, but… he’s magical, and he found out on his own. There was no way around it: he threw everything in my face, and I had no choice but to humiliate myself, begging for forgiveness. After all, I loved him. I made just one slip-up, which, in the end, came with a very high price.

"I used to be a good-looking, fit twink, everyone would stare at me, and I couldn’t help it that I was so drunk that night. Well, maybe a little bit of guilt," I thought.

“Well,” he said, “I can’t believe you had the nerve to do this to me. I don’t know if I can trust you again, but… I can make the most of this.” He grabbed one of his books and pointed his finger at me. I knew nothing good would come from this. “I’ll make sure you never betray me again. And since I like older, bigger guys… I’ll make the most of this.”

The result of this "game" is that today, here I am – a man in his 50s or 60s, old and fat. I never imagined I could be this big. Being old felt strange. I preferred lying down all day, and no one looked at me like they used to. I had no choice; Matt had said countless times that he would never undo the spell, no matter how much I insisted. All I could do was accept this new life as an old man. My back hurts, and I still haven’t gotten used to this huge belly. Being fat is a complicated experience – I sweat from the smallest effort and, all the time, I’m hungry. My deeper voice and advanced baldness give away my age.

But, when I think about it, not everything is as bad as it seems. After all, I love Matt, and someone like me – now old and fat – would hardly have another chance at a relationship. And, to my surprise, Matt seems to like it. In the afternoon, we sit on the couch, while he feeds me and strokes my belly, which has become a kind of giant cushion. At night, when we go to bed, he buries his face in my sagging chest, and at least now I fall asleep much faster than before, even though I snore loudly like a sleeping elephant. Everything feels much more affectionate than before, even though everyone thinks I'm Matt’s grandfather, not his boyfriend. And apparently, no one looks at me anymore. In fact, his exclusivity plan seems to have worked.

Although I want my old life back, I can’t deny that some things have improved, at least for Matt. He assured me that my life hasn’t been shortened – I’ll just keep this form until he also becomes an old, fat man like me. So, I guess it’s better to get used to this new appearance. After all, I kind of deserved what happened. I just wish my back didn’t hurt so much from having to carry this huge belly around…

My gaze traveled up and down Marco's completely transformed body as I tried to absorb what I had become myself. He was… colossal. Every muscle looked like a block of stone, his arms thick and strong, his chest defined, and even his face was more square and charming. Of course, the Hercules of the party. And me? When I looked down at myself, all I saw was a round belly, a tight white shirt, and a cigar that seemed glued to my mouth, already half-burned and letting out smoke. My calloused hand couldn’t stop touching my giant belly; it was a funny sensation.

— Stop flaunting those arms near me! They’re not even yours! — I said bitterly, my voice slipping out deeper and hoarser than usual. I almost jumped back, startled by the sound. Is this my voice now? With the jump, I felt my belly sway from side to side; that was strange.

Marco looked at me, more confused than before, but with a glint of amusement that made me even angrier. He was looking at me, holding back laughter. He looked stunning, as if he had stepped out of a Greek sculpture. And me? A fat, old, hairy cowboy with a belly and man-boobs resting on my stomach. Just breathing made my shirt tighten, the fabric practically begging to burst open. — Dude, what just happened? — Marco asked, flexing his massive arms, not hiding his fascination with being a “living legend.” — We should take these things off, — I retorted, trying to suck my belly in unsuccessfully. I’m not going out like this; there’s no way I can explain this to my parents!

That was the worst attempt ever. The shirt seemed to cling to me with hatred. As I pulled it off, my belly jiggled like jelly, and when I looked in the mirror, damn! I never thought I’d be this fat one day. I felt the wind on my hairy arm and got chills. Marco, more relaxed, started taking off his costume too. I tried not to stare too much at his massive body, but God, what jealousy! I should have picked the Hercules costume. There I was, waiting for something to happen while trying not to topple forward with my weight. As we removed the last pieces… nothing happened!

I looked at myself, growing more anxious by the second. My sweaty hands — large and rough — told me something was wrong. It was as if my own body had betrayed me. My heart started racing, my belly gently swaying with each beat. — Marco, what’s happening? Why haven’t we gone back to normal?

Marco blinked a few times, unsure of what to say, before grabbing his phone and showing me the contact for the store where we bought the costumes. It was a simple number from some random Halloween shop. I dialed, trying to control my breathing, which was now heavy, every moment reminding me of how tight the shirt was against my body. The attendant answered with a calmness that only worsened my mood.

— Look, — I said, my voice coming out even deeper and more authoritative. — We bought some costumes from you and… I don’t know, I think there’s something wrong with them. I need you to reverse this immediately.

— Sir, the costumes have an additional cost to be undone, — the attendant replied, her tone suggesting she had been expecting a call like this. — Just a reminder that all items were purchased with an understanding of the risks involved.

— Risks? Are you kidding me? — My voice turned even harsher. I felt sweat trickle down my forehead as my belly protested, demanding more space. — We paid good money for this to be turned into freaks!

After hearing my complaints, the attendant let out a dry laugh.

— I see that you gentlemen aren’t fond of your new bodies. — There was a hint of disdain in her voice, as if she was enjoying my frustration. — Well, that’s unfortunate. You know, we like to keep rude customers trapped in the form they despise the most.

And then the line went dead.

I stared at the phone for a few seconds, unsure whether to laugh or smash the device against the wall. But the only thing I could manage was to look at Marco and say:

— What did she mean by “keeping us like this forever?”

I felt my face heat up, my chest rising and falling with a heavy, uncomfortable breath. I glanced down again, and that volume of my belly stared back at me, almost like a cruel irony of a malicious fate. I had never felt such an uncomfortable weight, nor a fatigue that came simply from existing.

Marco, still unsure of what to do, began to try to calm me down.

— Roy, maybe there’s a way. She must not have been serious; she just wanted to scare us.

— Scare us? Look at me, Marco! — I shouted, and once again, I was startled by the tone of my own voice. — I’m not me anymore. I’m this… this disgusting cowboy, smelling of tobacco with a sagging belly! Maybe it’s easier for you as a big, handsome man!

And then it dawned on me that maybe he was right; that this could be permanent.

A year has passed since the cursed transformation happened. Looking at myself in the mirror, I barely recognized the man reflected back. The grumpy, fat cowboy I had become had become part of me, a weight I couldn't bear. It was as if I were that grumpy uncle who lives unhappily with relatives, and to make matters worse, my younger brother now thought I was Santa Claus, calling me "grandpa" with an innocence that only irritated me further.

My body, once young and agile, was now a mountain of flabby flesh and hair, as if every passing day was a new reminder of what I had lost. My clothes no longer fit, and the new ones only seemed to accentuate how far I was from my former self. God, how I wished I could be young again—I thought often. Meanwhile, Marco, with his sculpted body, sailed through life as if he were meant to shine. He was happy, and in a way, I couldn't feel angry at him for it. Our friendship had become strange; often, we exchanged longer glances, as if there was something more between us. My God, I must be going crazy, I caught myself thinking, trying not to confront the confusion that our new dynamic was generating.

I would do anything to go back to who I was, even lose a few pounds—at least that would give me a bit of the self-esteem that had been lost in this aging body. But the reality was that acceptance had never come. Every day was a struggle against the reflection, against the role I had been forced to live. On that Halloween night, as I watched children having fun in costumes, a part of me still dreamed of wearing an outfit that wasn't a symbol of my own misery.

Waking up in my uncle's body had always been an unpleasant experience, but the first time was a shock I’ll never forget. As soon as I opened my eyes, I was immediately greeted by a sight that made all the white hairs I now possessed stand on end. I blinked a few times to process that the enormous stomach of my uncle was now stuck where my once beautifully defined abs had been. It was there, sitting on me like a watermelon. It took a few seconds to grasp the reality, until I stumbled out of bed with difficulty. I was now heavy and bloated, struggling to move with the agility I once had.Still a bit dizzy, I followed the sound of what seemed to be my old voice shouting in my uncle's bathroom. As soon as I arrived, I saw my body feeling up my chest in disbelief, with an expression of curiosity. The moment our eyes met, the shock was mutual, and we stood there, wide-eyed, staring at each other.

After a few occasional swaps, we discovered that, for some inexplicable reason, we could switch bodies for 24 hours whenever either of us wanted, and for some reason, this only worked between the two of us. It was a full 24 hours. In the beginning, the swaps happened more often on my uncle's side, of course, since I didn’t like being a hairy, overweight man. He seemed to find the idea of being a handsome young guy like me fascinating, as if he had been given a temporary ticket back to youth.

Waking up occasionally in my uncle's body became a recurring nightmare. I remember moments when I would simply open my eyes after a nap, and there I was, lying in his bed in just his underwear, with my hand resting on his belly. It was disgusting.

The worst of all, of course, was going to the bathroom. Peeing with my uncle's body was terrible. Not to mention the bath. I never thought I would have to see this man naked so many times a day. As the exchanges only ended after 24 hours, I had to face many more intimate moments. I was once aroused by my uncle's body, it was so embarrassing... But what could I do? I think that so much friction between my flesh ended up making me hard. I confess that I have admired myself naked on my uncle's body in front of a mirror and I'm not proud of it... It was more out of curiosity than for other reasons

And his job… exhausting. I spent the entire day with his huge butt planted on a tractor, following the instructions he had given me. Even while sitting, that body sweated like it was running a marathon. There was no way to wear the same clothes two days in a row.

Over time, my uncle seemed to lose his enthusiasm. I think he realized how the swaps were affecting me and that my life wasn’t as glamorous as he had imagined. And honestly, I couldn’t stand being old anymore. Months passed, and I was never taken out of my body again, until a party was announced at my college, and my uncle, in one last burst of youthful curiosity, insisted it would be a good farewell to my body. He promised it would be the last swap, and it was… but not in the way I wanted. I gave in. I also needed a break from the loud college parties and decided to stay home, watching TV while stuffing myself with something.

The swap was done, and here I was again, in my uncle’s heavy body. I got out of bed, feeling the familiar weight press down on my legs as I sat up, letting out a long sigh. It had been so long that I’d almost forgotten the feeling. I went to the bathroom. "Hello again, big guy," I said to my reflection in the mirror, patting my belly with a hint of nostalgia that I didn’t like to admit. But as the day went on, I remembered all the reasons I hated being in this body.

When night finally came, I threw myself onto the bed, sighing heavily. I just wanted those 24 hours to end quickly. I was already anxious to return to my body, to my normal life, and never be this guy again. But then, just as I was falling asleep, a phone call woke me up. It was my dad, calling my uncle—meaning me. When I answered, I got the worst news of my life. There had been a car accident. My body, my real body, had died. The despair hit me like a punch in the gut. I was trapped, forever, in the body that had once been a temporary experience. Something that had even been fun for my uncle. Now, it was my new reality, my new life. My young body, my entire life, had been wasted. Now all I had was my uncle's body. The reflection in the mirror of someone who wasn’t me. But now it was the body I would have for the rest of my life.I felt the death of my oncle, but we mostly fougrt more than anything elso, and now, in a way, i was condemned to see his reflection forever and to adopt his life as my own. It was his name they would call me by from now on…

Years have passed since that fateful day, and here I am, living a life I never chose, but one that now seems to fit perfectly. I took on my uncle’s identity, and while I left my old job behind, I found a new home as a mechanic. I spend my days in a workshop, fixing motorcycles and cars, always with my belly sticking out, exposed to the heat and dirt. I learned to smoke and drink like my uncle, adopting his habits and even his way of speaking. The curious thing is that over time, I began to realize that those moments when I felt excited in his body were actually reflections of a deeper desire to be like him. Now, sitting in a plastic chair, waiting for a new customer, I rest my hand on my sweaty belly, a symbol of my new life. I can't deny that, strangely, it's not so bad after all. This body that once felt foreign to me is now part of me, and in a way, I've found a peace I never imagined I would have.

I start the day excited about the new job. It's not what I dreamed of, of course, but it's a start, a way to gain experience and, maybe, distract myself from the mess my life has become. I work in the warehouse of a factory. I'm an apprentice to Mr. Fred, a big, sweaty 60-year-old man. When I arrived, he was leaning against a pile of boxes, breathing slowly, the weight of his enormous belly rising and falling. He has a deep, thick voice that seems to resonate in his chest, but what stands out the most is his size. I'm not talking about his height, but his width. The guy is huge, almost as if life had shaped him around a giant belly. When he laughs, it feels like his whole body shakes. I can't imagine being in his skin, it must be uncomfortable and gross, but aside from that, he's a nice guy.

The work is exhausting. We carry and move boxes, organize shelves. Things are always missing, and we're the ones responsible for keeping everything in order. I just wish my life was like that—organized. At the end of the day, after lifting heavy things all day, Fred suggests we sit down and talk for a bit. Sitting across from him, I start to open up. I don’t know why, but the words come out before I can hold them back. I talk about my issues with my dad, how I don’t have a mom, and how the pressure to choose a college is suffocating me. I don’t know what I want to do with my life, I just wish I could skip this phase, wake up one day and have everything figured out. Fred listens attentively, his gaze heavy, almost as if he’s absorbing everything I’m saying. He nods slowly, and after a pause, he laughs, slapping his large belly. "Funny," he says. "I wish for the opposite. I wish I could be young again. Skinny. Do everything over, make different choices." His laughter fades, and he looks at the floor for a moment. Then, he looks at me with a strange gleam in his eyes. "You know what, kid? I think I know how to solve our problem." He snaps his fingers, and before I can respond, my vision goes black.

When I wake up, the first thing I feel is a strange coldness on my head. I reach up to the top of my head and… nothing. I'm bald. My heart races, and I look down, terrified. I see a huge belly, a round sphere dominating my field of vision, as if it’s an extension of me, but… it can’t be. The striped shirt covering this body isn’t mine. I try to get up from the armchair I’m sitting in, but everything feels different. Heavy. I grab the belly, this mass of flabby flesh that seems to be part of me now, and I look at my hands. They’re large, wrinkled, covered in saggy skin. It’s like I’m wearing gloves of flesh. I feel panic rising, and I let out a scream, but the sound that comes out of my throat isn’t mine. It’s hoarse, old. I bring my hand to my neck and feel a double chin. Horror overwhelms me, and I fall forward, my body too heavy to keep balance.

I lift my head, struggling, and I see my old body standing there, smiling at me with a malicious look. Everything clicks in an instant. I’ve switched bodies with Fred.

"What the hell did you do?" I shout, my voice now rougher than ever. Fred, in my body, lets out a short, mocking laugh. "Relax, kid. It was just a spell. A solution to our little problem."

I panic. "Undo it! I want my life back! My youth!" But he just shakes his head, still laughing. "You can’t. The spell can only be done once. Now it’s permanent."

My heart, or what was left of it in that old body, starts pounding out of control. I stumble backward, trying to process this new reality. I feel the belly wobbling with every step I take, like an anchor dragging me down. This can’t be true. This can’t be happening.

I run, or at least I try to, to the office bathroom. I lock the door behind me and look in the mirror. The reflection shows me an old, sweaty man with a desperate expression on his face. The face isn’t mine. The skin is full of wrinkles, the cheeks sagging. I run my hand over my face, unable to believe what I see. I can’t stop holding my belly. It’s always there, like a constant reminder that I’m now someone else. Fred knocks on the door, and I hear his voice—my voice from before. “Hey, it’s not going to be that bad, let’s be honest. Now you have what you wanted, and I have what I wanted.” I scream in response, but the truth is that I’m trapped. There’s no going back. Fred then enters and gives a light squeeze to my enormous stomach. I yell at him to leave, and then he steps back. He closes the bathroom door, and I, still in shock and confused about what happened, am left unsure of what to do. I lift my shirt and see: a big belly, covered in hair. I also notice that my chest, which was normal before, is now larger and sagging. With every step I take, I feel my body moving in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s uncomfortable and strange. I turn around and notice that my backside has also changed; it’s now much bigger. I look in the mirror, trying to understand what has happened. The person in the reflection doesn’t seem like me, but the way the body moves makes it clear that, unfortunately, it is mine now.

I leave the bathroom and find Fred, who is now in my body. He smiles and makes an ironic comment, asking if I’m ready. I quickly pull down my shirt and, unsure of what to do, ask, “So now what are we going to do?”

When I leave the bathroom, Fred tells me I can go to his place, which is now my home. I have no choice. Walking through the streets is hell. Every step is a huge effort. I feel sweat dripping down my body, especially between the folds of my belly and on my back. And it’s just a short walk. Upon arriving at the apartment, Fred shows me everything—where the things are, the bathroom, the pantry. During this little tour, I’m extremely out of breath from the walk. My belly bumps into everything around the house. He tells me about his routine. Now, it’s my routine. Because of the heat, I take off my clothes, and my now free belly is enormous. As I squeeze through the house, my stomach occasionally bumps into Fred, who is in my way. “Sorry,” I say, even though I’m not the one to blame for this situation; he is! He’s the one who stuck me in this huge body, but honestly, I’m too out of breath for another argument. As soon as he leaves me alone in my new room, he says, “See you tomorrow, boss,” winking before closing the door. I get ready to take a shower, which is at least strange since I’ve never had to bathe a fat old man before, let alone be the old man myself. I feel the loose skin and the weight of the fat on me. Lying down on the bed is even worse; as soon as I collapse onto the bed, my huge new belly settles against my body in an uncomfortable way, and I have to turn over, quickly causing it to fall to my side. I let out a heavy sigh. “What was I wishing for?”

Lying on the bed, with not many options for comfort, I close my eyes, trying to believe that everything was just a nightmare and that tomorrow everything will be back to normal. But it’s hard to believe that it was just a dream, considering how real everything felt. Even lying there, I had a lot of physical contact with every part of my body, since I was now bulkier. I couldn’t just run my hand over my body without my hairy arm brushing against my hairy stomach. So, I would turn to the side, still thinking my slim body would react. But instead, I felt the weight of my new body. My brain was still that of a slim man.

I would run my hand over my forehead and remember the baldness. I would touch my face and feel the old beard. I would glide my hands over my body and notice my new bulk. It was this repetitive cycle until I finally managed to fall asleep. The next morning, when I wake up, I feel an erection, but not like it always used to be, my dick was fighting against my stomach. in a fright I quickly wake up and my eyes meet see my big stomach and the white hairs on my chest. I quickly get a shock, and suddenly everything hits me: nothing was a dream, everything was real, and this is my new lif

It was my day off, and I was already bored just thinking about staying still. As I walked down the sidewalk, my mind full of disdain for that stifling day, I spotted a manual laborer leaning against the wall next to the shop. He was only wearing pants, his sweaty, exposed body making his repulsive appearance even worse. He was an old, pot-bellied man with sticky skin from all the sweat, and the graying hair scattered across his arms and chest only made him uglier. The mere sight of that man made me nauseous.

For some inexplicable reason, he flashed a feeble smile when he saw me approaching and said in a hoarse voice, "Good morning, pretty girl."

That irritated me deeply. Who did he think he was? I responded, full of disgust: "Shut up, you ridiculous fool." The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a look of sadness. He lowered his head, clearly hurt, and went back to his heavy work, but I didn’t care anymore. It wasn’t my problem. I left home that morning determined to waste some of my time on something trivial. That's when I passed by that little esoteric shop in the city center, almost hidden between a café and a clothing store. I went in, more out of curiosity than real interest. The place was a mess of trinkets, smelling of cheap incense, with lighting that seemed to come from melted candles. "So ridiculous," I thought, smirking in disdain.

"Can I help you with something, dear?" the clerk asked in a soft, almost irritating voice. The way she looked at me, as if she knew something I didn't, made me uncomfortable. But I wasn't going to show it.

"Oh, I'm just looking. These things… they're funny, aren't they?" I replied, not hiding the sarcasm in my voice. She didn't seem fazed.

"Sometimes, the funny things have more power than we imagine," she said, with that tone that only made me want to laugh more.

She looked at me for a moment, as if she were assessing me, and then said, "I have something you might want to see." Without waiting for my response, she went to the back of the shop and returned with a small metal amulet, hanging from a black cord. It looked cheap, worthless.

"This amulet can reveal a person's true nature. Maybe it will show you something interesting," she said, holding it out to me. I laughed, taking the amulet with disdain.

"Oh, sure, like this is going to make any difference in my life. It's going to put me in my place, right?" I replied, laughing at the suggestion. "Well, at least it will give me a good laugh later." Still laughing inside at the situation, I held the amulet in my hand, and then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

Terror overwhelmed me. The world around me seemed to spin as I struggled to comprehend what had happened. I looked at my hands… thick, dirty, calloused. I was wearing a shirt that was drenched in sweat, sticking to my skin and accentuating every curve of that voluminous belly. And the hair… my God, the hair! I felt the brush of the damp hair under my armpits, heavy and nauseating with every movement. The stench of my own body was unbearable. A bitter, sour smell mixed with the stifling heat of sweat running in rivers down my back. I could feel my new anatomy sticking between my legs. With a mix of panic and fury, I re-entered the store, feeling that grotesque body sway with each heavy step. I was furious, desperate, and at the same time disgusted with every part of myself. I adjusted my shirt, embarrassed with people around staring at me. As I corrected my posture, I could feel the spherical belly against the now-closed damp shirt—it was terrifying.

“What have you done to me?!” I yelled, but the voice that came out wasn’t mine. It was deep, rough, laden with a rage that felt so… masculine. I stood there, panting, feeling the sweat trickle down my stubbly face as I tried to understand what was happening. That’s when I saw her: my body, my real body, standing in the store, just as terrified as I was. I was looking back at myself with my own eyes… and they were filled with fear. The old witch of the store smiled enigmatically and said, “This place provides fair exchanges. Now, the worker is in a better position… and you are where you truly belong.” I clutched my protruding belly while shouting, “Do you think this is my place?” The witch merely laughed, watching my terrified face. I looked at that man in my body, trying to process what she was saying. He was as lost as I was, looking at himself, at the slender, elegant hands that were now his. He looked confused, scared, like a child in someone else’s body.

I had to make a deal with the shopkeeper. I knew my parents would never believe a word I said about what had really happened. Who would? She promised that the change would last only one day. "As soon as you sleep, you'll return to your original body," she assured. I had no choice. I went to the worker's house, and he went to mine.

His house was a cramped, dirty cubicle, nothing like what I was used to. I just wanted to lie down and sleep, but before that, I had to use the bathroom. My God, the disgust I felt… that bathroom was so degrading, with the cold water, the sensation of damp hair, and the unbearable stench of sweat embedded in the skin. I almost cried out of revulsion.

Finally, I lay down on the hard bed, feeling the weight of that body against the rough sheets. I focused on trying to sleep, hoping that the nightmare would end.

But when I woke up… The first thing I did was scratch my hairy chest—nothing had changed. I was still him. The smell, the weight, the sensation of the hair, the belly that felt like it weighed tons on my body. In desperation, I grabbed the phone and tried to call the store. But the response was always the same: "The number does not exist." My God, the number does not exist!

Panicking, I went to the store in person. When I arrived, my heart sank. The store simply did not exist anymore. There was no sign that it had ever been there. It was as if everything had been a delusion.

I stood there, sweat running down my back, feeling the weight of that grotesque body crushing me. And for the first time in my life, I didn't know what to do...

In the past few months, my life has turned into a nightmare. I had to learn to be a man in ways I never imagined. The body, once smooth and feminine, now forced me into a rough, macho behavior that I hated. There were no traces left of my former femininity; everything had transformed into something I barely recognized as myself. No matter how hard I tried, not even my feminine gait remained; I walked like a big, beer-bellied man.

Going to the bathroom has become a terrifying experience. Peeing standing up? A nightmare. Now I understand why guys always miss; it's incredibly difficult to aim with these things, especially since mine seems to be on the larger side. And men's bathrooms, with their awful odors and filth, are even worse. The simple act of taking a shower has turned into a complex task. I no longer needed to use shampoo on my head since my hair was falling out in clumps, but now I had to use shampoo all over my body to clean all the hair that covered me and also to try to control the unbearable smell emanating from me. I tried shaving, but the hair grew back so quickly that it was impossible to keep up. With the miserable pay of a laborer, I couldn't afford a constant shaving routine. Waxing was expensive, and the rapid hair growth was a constant reminder of my new reality. I ended up resigning myself to dealing with the smell and the hair because there was no other choice.

Every year my father dragged me to the family’s farm in the middle of nowhere. I never understood his obsession with the countryside, with the woods, with the mud. It was all disgusting and dirty. But nothing, absolutely nothing, was worse than the great-uncle himself, his uncle. A gross old man, in his seventies, and a retired truck driver. The first time I saw Uncle Frank, I had to hold back from vomiting. He was the kind of person who takes pride in being gross, you know? The kind of person who finds humor in being filthy. He would fart loudly, sneeze as if he were about to die, and didn't even bother to cover his mouth. And that smell? My God, it was as if the stench had been absorbed into his skin. It was a smell of old sweat, mixed with cigarette smoke and a bunch of other things I didn’t even want to imagine. I'll never forget the time he walked past me in the hallway and laughed when he saw me covering my nose. "Smell of a man, kid, get used to it!" he shouted, as if it were something to be proud of. Disgusting. Besides that, Uncle Frank made a point of always walking around the house in his underwear as if his body were toned and healthy—pathetic. That’s exactly what he was. Every summer was the same: I was forced to face the filth, the heat, the insects, and worst of all, Uncle Frank.

I was already counting the days to go back to the city, to my life, to the air conditioning, and away from the smell of the countryside. But my father had other plans. He wanted to make a Sunday lunch, but we were short on ingredients, so he decided that I should go with Frank to the neighboring town to buy some things. My father had an annoying insistence that I get along with my uncle. Of course, I would have much preferred to stay locked in my room rather than go in that old car, but as usual, I had no choice. At least I convinced him to let me wear something decent. There I was, in the passenger seat, trying not to breathe deeply, while Uncle Frank drove. The heat was suffocating, and his smell mixed with the old leather of the car made me want to open the door and jump out.

The drive to the town was hell. The dirt road shook the car, and every time Uncle Frank tried to make small talk, I only responded with monosyllables. There was absolutely nothing I wanted to discuss with him. But of course, the old man didn’t know when to stop. He started complaining about the city, how young people today didn’t know what real work was. I couldn’t take it anymore. We started arguing, and I didn’t hold back. He was an old-fashioned fool and had no idea what he was talking about. As if life in the countryside were something to be proud of. We were so wrapped up in the argument that we didn’t even notice when the sky suddenly darkened. A deafening thunderclap split the air, and suddenly, everything turned white.

When I woke up, the first thing I felt was a strange pressure in my stomach. What the hell was happening? My vision was still blurry, but I felt something was wrong. Very wrong… My hand instinctively went to my belly, but it wasn’t my hand. It was a thick, calloused hand, full of prominent veins and white hairs—a hand that seemed to have spent a lifetime carrying weight. And what was pressing on my stomach? My God, the steering wheel was sunk into a huge, round, hairy belly. What the hell was that? I looked down and almost screamed. A monstrous belly was there, where my smooth abdomen used to be. I could taste the sweat dripping from a mustache that had magically appeared above my mouth.

An unbearable heat enveloped me, and I realized I was sweating. A lot. As if I had just come out of an oven. The clothes clung to my body, sweat dripped down my face, neck, and back. I was drenched, and that stench, that disgusting smell, was coming from me. My breathing became heavy, and that’s when I heard a curse word in my old voice. I looked to the side and saw my body, my face, with an expression of pure terror. It was Uncle Frank. He was in my body, looking at me as if he had seen a ghost, but soon a wicked smile began to form on his lips.

— What did you do? — I shouted, or at least tried to. My voice came out hoarse, choked, like an old man’s. I put my hands to my throat, feeling the roughness of the skin, the hair on the chest. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare. I tried to move, but the body was heavy, slow.I could feel my balls, or rather, Uncle Frank's balls, sticking with sweat between my legs.

— It wasn’t me! — my uncle, now in my body, said with my voice, equally surprised. — But damn, this isn’t half bad.

I was about to vomit. I tried to get up, but the weight of the new body threw me back into the seat. The steering wheel was pressing into the belly, which seemed to have a life of its own, jiggling with every movement. I finally managed to get up, feeling the sweat dripping down my back, and looked at Uncle Frank, who was now admiring his own reflection in the car’s mirror, in my body. He was running his hands through his hair and over my clean skin.

— What are we going to do now? — my voice was desperate, and he just shrugged. — Go back home, I guess. — he said, still admiring his own reflection. The idea of going back to the farm in this body was unbearable. I could barely move, each step was an effort. The heat was suffocating, the smell of sweat was unbearable, and the feeling of the coarse beard rubbing against my neck was nauseating. I was sweating so much that my shirt was already soaked, sticking to my skin. But what irritated me the most was the old man’s grin. He was clearly enjoying himself, as if he had won the lottery. And me? I was trapped in this hellish body, with no idea how to get out of it.

In the car, I realized I had to adjust my posture to adapt to my new center of gravity. My man-boobs spilled out of the tight tank top that my uncle wore. The fat sweat dripping from the mustache was the worst thing after the giant belly. On the way back, I tried to think of how to tell my parents, but who would believe such a story? “Hi, Mom, Dad, so, I swapped bodies with Uncle Frank.” They would send me to a mental institution. So my uncle and I agreed not to tell anyone until we figured out a way to fix this. I hoped at least to wake up in the morning back in my body, hoping this would all end.

I woke up with that dry cough that felt like it was tearing my throat out from the inside. Nothing like a natural wake-up. I rubbed my sweaty forehead, trying to push away the feeling of fatigue that had been with me for months. I slowly raised my torso, feeling the familiar pressure of the mattress sinking under my weight, while scratching my belly. The rough skin stretched over the accumulated fat was something I had never managed to get used to. It wasn’t my body. It wasn’t what I should be feeling. But there I was, in that damned body, exactly one year later. I got up from the sofa, where Uncle Frank was sleeping, with the feeling of discomfort that had been accompanying me. The feeling of discomfort that came only from the extra weight he now carried. The tight underwear revealed a raging morning erection, something that became one of the few things that relieved me early in the morning. Every day I masturbated, and after orgasm I felt disgusted and repulsed, because the first thing I saw was my uncle's disheveled, hairy belly.

I went to the bathroom to clean myself up, each step making the floor creak under Uncle Frank's weight, which was now mine. I stared at the reflection in the mirror, as I did every morning. That old man, with reddish skin, unshaven beard, and deep-set eyes, stared back at me. I sighed as I always did. I started thinking. It had been exactly a year since the swap, and there was still no sign that it could be undone. I tried to maintain some level of dignity, even trapped in this repugnant body. I took showers, unlike Uncle Frank, and used deodorant. At least I tried to keep the smell under control, which was an ungrateful task, considering this body sweated non-stop. And the gas? It was hell. It was as if all the bad air in the world had accumulated in my stomach, with no escape.

Meanwhile, Uncle Frank seemed to adapt perfectly to my body, and my life. I saw his photos, now on my social media profile, showing off my body on the internet. Each image was a punch to my gigantic stomach. A reminder of everything I had lost. He was happy, smiling, enjoying life, like a city boy, while I was here, trapped in this old carcass. In addition to my routine masturbations, I still managed to pay some twinks to have sex with me. No one wanted to be with me anymore, not for free.

I sighed once again, wondering if I would ever be able to undo the curse. Or was he doomed to be a disgusting old man forever? I reached out and tapped her belly, feeling the soft flesh bounce on impact. It was surreal to still feel the repulsion when touching my own skin. But there wasn't much time to mourn. It was time to start another day of routine on the farm, in Uncle Rank's body. I opened the buttons on the front of my t-shirt so it wouldn't be so hot, I hated the feeling of my belly fighting against my clothes. As soon as I got dressed I was hard again, oh my, my body was massive and sometimes it ended up turning me on. My old dick hurt from so much moonshine against my huge dirty underwear. But I decided I should work, maybe Frank's twink helper would relieve me later if I paid him some money to suck me. Another day of pretending there was still a chance to get back what was taken from me.

I woke up that morning feeling something very, very strange. It wasn’t just discomfort; it was as if my body had undergone changes during the night. Still with my eyes closed, I began to notice the difference. I always slept without a shirt, enjoying the coolness of the night on my skin. But at that moment, as I tried to move, I felt something dense, heavy, covered in coarse hair brushing against the sheets. My heart started racing. Something was wrong, very wrong…

I opened my eyes wide and came face to face with a giant shape under the blanket. My first reaction was to pull the blanket away forcefully, and what I saw made me let out a scream. A scream that wasn’t mine. It was hoarse, choked, the kind of sound I never imagined coming from my mouth—it was the scream of an old man.

There was a huge, hairy belly covering my body. My hands, when I looked at them, seemed to be wearing meat gloves. The fingers were thick, swollen, covered in hair. Moving them felt like a herculean effort, as if every joint were rusted. I could barely recognize my own hands. The shock was so intense that I nearly fell out of bed as I got up, feeling every bone creaking under the weight of the body. I dragged myself to the bathroom, each step felt like a test of strength and balance, as if my body were fighting against gravity.

When I finally reached the mirror, I clung to the sink as if I were holding on to the edge of an abyss. And what I saw… God, what I saw. My face, or rather, the face I knew, was not there. In its place was an old, bald man with deep wrinkles, a grotesque double chin, and almost no hair—it was my Grandpa Hank! My hand trembled as I lifted it to touch my head. The skin was rough, and the few strands of hair barely covered the bald spot. My eyes were wide, almost out of their sockets, as I made faces, trying to recognize myself in that visage. Then I turned to the side, my giant belly in the mirror, looking at the extent of the damage that had happened to me—I was enormous! The sensation of carrying all that flesh was strange and nauseating.

My breathing came in gasps, and sweat poured down my forehead, neck, and back. I was sweating like a pig just standing there, feeling the body that once belonged to my grandfather. I felt the weight of the belly with my hand, and it was like touching a ball of soft meat, swaying and bouncing with every movement. It was a nightmare; it had to be. I tried to smile, or at least attempted to, and the teeth I saw were yellowed, misaligned—everything my perfect teeth never were. Suddenly, it hit me: I needed to call someone. But where? Where the hell did my grandfather keep his phone? Everything in that room was a mess, a pile of old things and junk that never made sense to me. I was about to panic when I noticed the television was on. And there, on the news, I saw… The Great Change. I quickly sat in my grandfather’s armchair, trying not to think about the sensation of throwing all that weight against the chair, making every inch of my fleshy body tremble. I could see my reflection on the TV, a sweaty, fat man in just his underwear—it was humiliating. The news showed millions of people swapping bodies, and I was one of those unlucky people. I watched in horror as reports of desperate body-swapped individuals aired, and now I was left with only myself and a belly the size of a beach ball. I think I’m going to cry…

Two years had passed, and the adjustment process was a slow torture. Living in the body of an old, fat man is a prison. Every day was a new battle against the weight, age, and gravity. The belly never ceased to bother me. Sitting was a challenge; the extra weight pulled me down, suffocating me. Peeing standing up? Forget it. The big belly prevented me from seeing anything down there, and I had to learn to pee sitting down, as if that were the cherry on top of this cake of misery. Every piece of clothing I wear now accentuates my grandfather’s enormous belly; I keep bumping into things with it. My brain is still that of a slim man, you know? So it’s very difficult to adapt to this old guy. Besides the unpleasant looks I get, at least the kids still talk to me, asking if I’m some kind of Santa Claus or something like that.

And then there was Dani… My girlfriend, who wanted nothing more to do with me. The old man, in my body, was still with her. And she had the nerve to say she preferred him like this, that he was a better boyfriend. I was arrogant, she said. Selfish. And now, he was kinder, more affectionate. Hearing that was like being stabbed in the chest. The grandfather I always despised was living the life I had built, while I was trapped in this deformed body. I still remember being a child and looking at my grandfather, afraid of ending up like him—fat and bald. And now here I am, holding his belly, living the life he left behind. On my 63rd birthday—which should have been my 23rd—my father, now my son, showed up to celebrate. The tasteless joke didn’t go unnoticed. I was pissed off, upset, and I didn’t want this to be my life. But what can I do? I’m stuck with it.

And the old man, my grandfather, he makes sure to send me messages, asking how I’m doing and helping me with my new lifestyle. But I can’t stop looking at his Instagram, seeing him post pictures with my girlfriend, showing off the muscles that were once mine. Every day I get more pissed off because it’s so unfair… I’ve lost more than half of my life. And now, I’m just an old, fat man, holding the belly I always feared. I relaxed my massive body in the hot tub—the one upside to this change is that my grandfather, feeling sorry for me, left me his fortune and his house. At least here, I can enjoy his luxuries.

Resting in the bathtub, scrolling through my phone while I absentmindedly rubbed my hairy belly, I came across information about a recovery center for people who had also swapped bodies. They kept sending me invitations, but I turned them all down; going to those places felt like accepting that I’d be like this forever. But after some time passed and nothing returned to normal, I decided to go there, driven by curiosity and the desperate need to find someone who understood what I was going through. The place was full of stories and experiences—athletes who swapped bodies with fat guys, girls who swapped bodies with their muscular dads, young people who turned old… but I could only focus on my own misery.

There, I found an old friend, one of the few I had left. He had also swapped bodies, but with a bald, pot-bellied guy in his 40s. He used to be as arrogant as I was before the swap, but now, he was just another middle-aged guy trying to make sense of it all. We talked for hours, sharing our frustrations.

He complained about the endless hair on his body—impossible to get rid of—and how his new body craved greasy food, and he could barely control himself. I understood him well; in this new body, I felt hungry almost all the time. After that meeting, we started seeing each other frequently became my favorite pastime. The strange thing is, as the days went by, I started to realize that he was falling in love with me. Maybe it was some kind of crazy fetish, a result of this cursed swap, or maybe it was just the desperate need for human connection. But who am I to judge? I think I feel the same… I was never gay, but he was the only person who understood my situation, the only thing left to hold onto. Years had passed, and there was no sign of anyone fixing things—it was better for my mental health to get used to it...

This is the story of how I ended up dating my uncle! It all started about 1 year ago. My girlfriend, Vanessa, and I met in college and had been together for 2 years. She used to spend the summer at my parents' house and we spent the whole day together. Those times were great! But my family was going through a financial crisis. My uncle Marcos was having a garage sale with old things from home in an attempt to help us with the crisis. My father let us rummage through an old pile of ancient magical artifacts that he collected in the past, he used to run the world looking for these artifacts.

Vanessa and I had started early to sort out the junk for sale. Only an hour later, Uncle Marcos arrived. He was a bit disgusting, at least that's what I thought at the time. He was a big-bellied and hairy guy, he almost never wore a shirt, leaving his father's body on display. He was annoying and clueless at times, talking loudly and trying to maintain the image of a brutish man. He arrived wearing only pants as always, raising his arms showing the thick hair of his sweaty armpits. Vanessa didn't like my uncle Marcos at all.

While we were sorting the junk, I ended up finding a peculiar object: a leather book with details of green stones on the cover. He had a strange language that he couldn't decipher. I called Vanessa to see it with me and soon my nosy uncle came close and stole the book from our hands. He tried to read what was written, making an irritating voice. Vanessa, already very stressed, decided to take the book by force from Uncle Marcos. But at the exact moment my yio finished pronouncing the words, and Vanessa held the book, a flash happened, leaving everyone stunned, and soon after we were thrown in opposite directions, each one holding a part of the book, causing it to tear.

With my heart racing and my mind confused, I ran towards Vanessa, who looked dazed. Instinctively, I leaned over to help her and, in a gesture of comfort, I gave her a light kiss, saying: "It's going to be okay, love." However, his reaction was completely unexpected. She made a face and spoke in a different tone of voice that I didn't immediately recognize: "Are you crazy?" Perplexed, I watched as she put her hands to her throat, as if something was different. My despair grew when I asked her what had happened, and she screamed in response, her eyes widening as she looked at Uncle Marcos' body on the other side. I tried to calm her down, saying he should be fine, but her next sentence made my world spin: "You don't understand, I'm Marcos!! How can I be in two places??." A wave of shock ran through my body as I tried to process what she had just said. I looked at her, at my uncle's body, and at the torn half of the book I still held, trying to piece together the fragments of understanding. Whatever happened caused my girlfriend to switch bodies with my uncle!

My uncle's body began to move and wake up. A mix of fear and perplexity took over me when I saw Vanessa, in Marcos' body, get up, putting her hand on her head and asking what had happened. But his voice wasn't the same; it was serious and harsh, completely different from hers. The moment she noticed the change in her voice, Vanessa, in Marcos' body, covered her mouth with her hands in shock. Her eyes widened as she took in the rest of the furry body she now inhabited. A hoarse, masculine scream escaped her mouth as she desperately tried to get up and grabbed my hand. His newly acquired strength, still not used to the new body, ended up pulling me down, and I fell onto his hairy chest, completely confused and not knowing what to do.

Hours passed while the three remained in the living room, awaiting the arrival of Jonas's father, the only person who could guide them on what to do. Vanessa couldn't stop crying, and it was strange to see my uncle's body so emotional, something I had never witnessed before. "We'll fix this, love, I promise", I said, trying to comfort her as the situation seemed increasingly desperate, she seemed to be quite uncomfortable with her shirt off so she asked me to find something for her to wear "find something to cover me, I'm disgusting!"

Finally, my father arrived and explained, between laughs, that the book was capable of changing people's bodies and that he used to use it in his magic show performances. "All we need to sort out this mess is the book to trade you back," he said. However, a heavy silence fell in the room when we realized that the book had been destroyed during the confusion. After hearing this revelation, my father looked horrified and, after a moment of silence, explained that the exchange would now be permanent. My heart sank at the time, realizing that my girlfriend would be an old man forever. My uncle was left unresponsive, while Vanessa looked in shock, unable to process the idea of ​​being trapped in someone else's body forever.

It was difficult for both of them to adapt to the new situation. I loved Vanessa and I couldn't abandon her like that. Even now, she was in my uncle's body. However, I had never been physically involved with a man before, especially when it was my uncle Marcos! A month passed after the exchange and I continued to keep her company, trying to find some form of comfort in this unusual situation. However, it seemed that the male body's hormones were causing changes in Vanessa's personality. At first, she opted for the shirts because she was repulsed by her father's hairy body. Now she couldn't even wear pants! He walked around the house in just his underwear, scratching his bulging belly. His vocabulary also changed, it seemed like he was living more and more with my original uncle Marcos, even in the way he slept. I remember one day coming home and seeing her sleeping, snoring very loudly with her arms up, leaving her armpit hair showing. I couldn't help but notice the path from his twat that led down to your underwear, where there was a huge erection.

As soon as I got closer tiredly so I could sleep, Wanessa turned towards me and hugged me from behind. As soon as I felt her huge erection sticking into my back, I stood up quickly, then she grabbed my arm. "What are you doing?" I asked trying to distance myself. "It's been a long time since we've touched." She said with my uncle's penis throbbing between her legs. "I can't do that! You're a hairy man now" I tried to argue, but she had a lot more attitude now. He pulled me into a hot, rough kiss. It was a totally different experience. Marcos' mouth was big and seemed to dominate mine, leaving me dazed and confused with the mixture and sensation that it provoked in me, but in the end I ended up thirsty. She pulled me closer and my chest was pressed against her hairy chest. I could barely breathe between pauses in the kiss. As soon as I pull away for a second, Wanessa pulls my face into her hairy armpit. The musky smell together with the macular moans in my ear made me dizzy with so much pleasure.

The rest of the sex was very hot, Wanessa, or better said, “Uncle Marcos” dominated me like a real bull. the hormones really turned my girlfriend into a wild animal. After sucking my uncle while he forced my head against his new hairy member, he fucked me like an animal! We had sex all night and then slept cuddled up together. The next morning, I wake up with my head resting on my new boyfriend's soft chest, sweaty and tired. It was incredible, it felt powerful even when sleeping. My hand stroked your father's belly as he snored.

A year passed, and everything seemed to be fine. My uncle, now in Vanessa's body, seemed to have adapted surprisingly well to his new life. The last time I visited him, he was much more feminine and gentle than before, as if my old girlfriend's kind and sweet personality had left a mark on him. Meanwhile, my now boyfriend Marcos and I were very happy together. Although it was difficult for my parents to accept the situation, and my friends still made fun of me for dating a 40-year-old man, we didn't care. Marcos dove head first into his new life, assuming his new personality with ease. Now we fuck each other every day haha. During this time, Marcos gained weight and now has a lot of white hair on his body and a bald spot that comes with age, making him more virile and hot. Our relationship has never been as good as it is now.

The scorching sun beat down on the busy street as Lucas parked his sports car in front of the luxurious massage parlor. Lucas was a strong man with blond hair and an arrogant look, perfectly matching his muscular body and chiseled face. He got out of the car towards the building while people on the street admired the young man's confident posture.

At reception, he cast a disdainful look at the clerk who was waiting for him. "Finally," he grumbled impatiently. "I have more important things to do than wait for you." The receptionist, a middle-aged man, ignored the comment and invited Lucas to accompany him to the massage room. Lucas wasted no time complaining about the environment, the background music and, especially, the appearance of the masseur.

The receptionist guided him to a room where Lucas would be massaged. "Good morning Roger. Another arrogant one, you know what to do" said the receptionist with a malicious look. "You're not the kind of person who should be working in a place like this," Lucas scoffed, eyeing the masseur's plumper figure as he admired his muscles in the mirror in the room. "You should go to the gym and try to lose that belly."

The masseur just took a deep breath and started preparing the materials for the session. "I have a special cream for you," he said calmly, a faint smile playing on his lips as he reached for the green-capped cream furthest away on the shelf.

Lucas barely paid attention to those words, impatient for the massage to begin soon. As the masseur began to work on his tense muscles, Lucas gradually relaxed on the massage table, letting out small grunts of pleasure. Then, as the masseur massaged his back, Lucas began to feel a strange sensation spreading throughout his body, as if his skin was stretching and his breathing was becoming heavier and heavier, and he suddenly felt heavier. "What are you?" doing?" Lucas demanded, trying to sit up. But before he could react, a feeling of dizziness overcame him and he sank back onto the stretcher, completely unconscious.

When he finally woke up, Lucas felt an oppressive weight on his body and a strange sensation under his chin, as if he were hearing an extension of himself. Confused, he tried to get up, but for some reason it took more energy than before. He then looked down and his heart sped up at the stunning sight.

His belly, once flat and toned, was now a bulbous, gelatinous orb. He could barely see what was behind the mountain of meat. He quickly tried to get up with the strongest push he could. As he sat at the table, he felt that his clothes were stretched to the limit. and when he tried to get up, his body fell forward, each movement was a fight against gravity.

"What... what did you do to me?" Lucas shouted, panicking when he saw his reflection in the mirror. His body now unrecognizable. A huge belly hung from his back where there was once a defined abdomen. His once firm pecs now spill over his stomach, and his nipples are now huge. The boy desperately tries to come up with an explanation for what happened, but the masseur just watches with a satisfied smile. "What did you do to me?" he shouts, his voice shaking with outrage. He felt his entire body undulate with each gesture, it was unpleasant and disgusting.

The masseur calmly approaches and explains that the special cream he used had magical properties, designed to teach the arrogant and prejudiced a lesson. He reveals that while the man was unconscious during the massage, his body absorbed the cream's energies, thus transforming him into an obese man. Desperate to reverse the transformation, the man begs for help, but the masseur just shakes his head regretfully. He warns that the change is permanent.

With a heavy heart, Lucas takes a full look at the mirror to see the damage done. His ass was now immense! His underwear was on the verge of breaking. His legs were now so thick that they were in constant friction. "What do I do now?" The man said with a sad tone in his voice. "It's not that bad" said the masseur, patting Lucas' belly making his whole body shake. "Being a big man is quite comfortable, you know. Maybe you should take advantage of your nipples, they are very sensitive now."

The large man walked towards a scale in the corner of the room, now noticing a strange waddle as he walked. But it was useless, his huge belly covered the entire view of his feet. Who knows how much I weighed, but it was certainly a lot more than the fat masseur who now showed a smile of satisfaction at seeing me so gangly in my new shape.

Lucas returned home in a defeated mood, after all it wasn't every day that he felt so ugly. On the street, the same people who had previously admired him now looked at him with repulsion.

Arriving home, Lucas felt the difference that his new body occupied. His large ass overturned everything around him and his huge belly prevented him from even looking at his own penis. Dripping with sweat from the effort of carrying so much extra weight, he goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water. His belly rubs against the fridge door as he opens it to get some drink.

Going up to his room, he once again admired his new body under a size G outfit given as a gift by the massage parlor receptionist. Not even a shirt that big fit his new body. Lucas then sat down while thinking about all his actions that led him to that moment. The place his intestine occupied between his legs was huge. How strange it was, this feeling of your belly resting on your lap. As he thought about his situation, his hand absently caressed his huge nipples and a sensation went down to his pants. "It's actually a pleasant feeling..." said the boy, trying to find a positive side to his drastic transformation.