I went to a thrift store and tried on some musky clothes because they were on sale. When I tried them on they were way too big and I noticed there were sweat stains too! Yet for some reason I couldnt find the will to take them off...
Musky and stained clothes? In a thrift store? That's odd, I most definitely didn't do that. Someone must have put them there precisely for someone to find them... Quite curious about what hides behind that. A wifebeater and sweatpants, both definitely a few sizes too big for you, what a weird combo.
Oh, putting them on already? I would have done the same, I'm curious as to what will even happen to you.
As soon as you put those clothes on, a sense of relief breezed over you. You felt good in those clothes. They were warmer than they were supposed to, and slightly damp, but to you it only added to the comfort of it all. You knew you were meant to find them.
In the changing room, you stared at your reflections. You had never realised how good you looked. But still, something was not quite perfect. Was it the tiny voice in your head telling you how weird it felt and how you should remove those clothes and never touch them again? No way. You just didn't feel the clothes against your skin enough, your underwear was in the way.
So, you promptly removed everything again, leaving you butt naked in the changing room. But then, the guy standing in the mirror felt... Different. As if he weren't exactly you, but another version of you. Sure, you had the same eyes, and a similar athletic build, but he exuded so much charisma you couldn't help but be in awe. You looked at the stranger in the mirror, into his eyes, and smiled. You knew what you had to do.
As if entranced by your own reflection, you idly put the clothes back on. And it felt good. Your stiffening dick pulsing against the damp fabric of the sweatpants, a dark spot right at the tip — did you make it, or had it been here before, who knows.
The air felt heavier around you. More humid, more... Musky. You brought the top to your face, breathing in deep. God, it smelt so fucking good. But not strong enough. Using your nose like a wild animal, you sniffed around, trying to find anywhere with a stronger scent, anywhere it could come from, and soon enough you found yourself burying your face in your very own pit. Smelling such bliss made you moan out loud, and your entire body tensed suddenly.
The face still buried deep in your own pit, you felt something brushing against your skin. From your pit against your face? From your face against your pit? Both. While a dense forest of wet dark curls sprouted under your arm, you could feel the lower part of your face begin itching; and soon enough, the timid chin hairs you had before quickly found company, as a dense stubble covered your entire lower face, before becoming a well trimmed beard. But wait, didn't you always have that? Why were you only noticing it? Whatever, it made you so hot and horny, a hand wandered into your pants, pawing at your crotch.
And even that felt much bigger than it did — or at least you thought it did — mere moments ago. That was, of course, after finding your own dick through the thick jungle of hair that had sprouted in your crotch. But when you found it, part of you was surprised; there was no way something that thick was your dick, right? Heh, who am I kidding. You were so proud of your hefty sausage, even touching it made it throb with excitement. Its warmth against your calloused hand did not help in the slightest. You felt it thicken and harden, snaking down your pant leg while smearing pre down its path. And gosh, your balls felt so full and heavy, you needed to dump a load somewhere.
"Is everything alright in here-"
A poor unassuming clerk asked, behind the curtain of the changing room. But he must have had noticed your amazing smell, seeing how he stopped in his track. Without a second thought, you opened the curtain just barely, and put a large hand behind his back to pull him in. And while you closed the curtain back, you lifted him up as if it were nothing, and shoved your lips against his. He didn't fight back; heck, he even was the one to initiate the kissing. His tongue timidly thought to enter between your lips, but as soon as you started to get serious, your thick tongue quickly took the dominance and lead the dance.
The entranced assistant's hands were roaming around the massive shelf that was your chest, sensually fondling soft fat and relaxed muscle alike, bringing a deep moan — or a low growl — to resonate in the cramped space. And as his hands roamed lower and lower, they quickly found themselves around your leaking rod, already smeared with pre from all the excitation.
"Turn around."
It wasn't even a question, it was an order you had just barked at him. But the clerk was so horny now that this was enough to make him moan before he quickly complied, offering his soft bubble butt at you. And after aiming your thick bear cock at his hole, you began rubbing it with the tip, lubing it with the huge amount of pre you were producing.
"Please sir, just slide it in already!"
Oh well, no need to tell you twice. With one hand on the wall and another on his hips, you slowly inserted centimetre after centimetre in his hungry hole. It all was going smoothly, until the end where you decided to slam the last few centimetres in, your sweaty balls loudly smacking against his legs, ripping a loud moan out of his throat
You could hear it. The short breaths, the fapping sounds, of the clerk's coworkers standing behind the curtain. So why not bring them some smell as well? Lifting one of your massive arms and exposing your damp jungle of a pit, the changing room exploded with musk, and soft moans could be heard from behind the curtain. You smirked, proud of how godly your masculinity was, but you were not done. You had balls to empty.
Fuck. You were so much of a man now, your seed was enough to make the clerk as much of a man as you. You wanted to check if anything else had happened, but your vision was blurred with lust. Everything was all too much.
Accelerating little bit by little bit, you began going back and forth, in and out. His bubble butt was stretched out to its limits, but seemed to be growing under your pre to accommodate your rod better. Breathing in your own pit, you moaned loudly, as your other free hand began rubbing his ass. Surprised, you looked down; it definitely looked hairier than before.
Back and forth, back and forth. The more you went, the more you felt your chest bounce up and down, so much so that it began bumping in your chin. You couldn't even see your own bear cock, despite it thickening and lengthening as if trying its best to remain in your view. And your hands looked so thick and hairy against the clerk.
You just wanted to cum already. You wanted to cum so bad.
With your dick still deep in him, you spun him around, lifting him with your hips alone, and buried your tongue deep in his mouth, hoping this would be enough to deafen the roar you let out as you began cumming. And kept cumming. And kept cumming even more. You just couldn't stop.
Since you were holding him in place with your bear cock and massive chests, your hands were free to roam his body, and it was even more heavenly than you could have expected. From his sloshing belly full of your potent man seed and its thickening treasure trail, to the massive wide load of a hairy ass behind, without forgetting his big milky pecs and the silky beard brushing against yours, you had definitely made a man. A man whose clothes were struggling to contain.
Once finally empty — for now — you stepped back, letting the clerk fall down, a certain amount of cum pooling out of his ass, your dick still dripping.
You were so proud. You were a real man, and managed to make the shop assistant a real man as well.
Dick first, you opened the curtain and found who you assumed to be coworkers completely exhausting and panting, dick out, and cum stains on their tight shirts. Maybe you had just not noticed them when you enter, but you were so sure they were not such handsome cubs when you entered the shop. With a grin, you shook your ever half hard rod above them, letting your thick milk drip on them and in their mouth. A little gift from you to them, you thought with a grin.
Finally putting your dick back in your shorts, a thought crossed your mind, and you almost rushed to your car.
You needed to work out so bad. And your refilling balls needed emptying again, and you knew some people would be more than happy to help.
POV: You kept telling yourself it had to be temporary, even as you occupied your father’s body as it settled heavier into the couch like it had always belonged there. One of his cigars sat thick between your lips, bitter and smoky - a habit that came along with this body - the salt-and-pepper walrus mustache brushing against it every time you breathed. Your hand moved over the curve of your new belly almost without permission, patting the warm, hairy weight of it while the television flickered across your older face. The beer in your other hand felt natural in a way that scared you.
Somewhere across town, your real body was still out there: young, strong, sharp-jawed. But the longer you sat there in your father’s shorts, feeling his stomach rise under your palm, the more impossible it seemed to imagine getting it back. Dad had looked too calm when it happened. Too prepared. And now all you could do was stare at the TV through his tired eyes, wondering if this was the rest of your life.
By the time the fourth phone's Scruff profile was activated, none of the four friends sitting at the dining room table were laughing quite as naturally as before.
(Pictured Left to Right: Phil, Don, Ralph & Tom)
Tom’s house had always been their safest gathering place. It sat at the quiet end of a suburban street, comfortably furnished but still half-decorated, as though Tom had moved in months ago and had never committed to where everything belonged. The dining room opened directly into the living room, where a warm floor lamp cast amber light across the couch, the darkened windows, and the crowded wooden table.
There were cards, poker chips, bowls of pretzels and tortilla chips, four beers, and four phones displaying newly created Scruff profiles.
They all knew the rules. One current photograph. No filters. No false ages. No changing the location radius. Each player would transform into the first man that messaged them. Not just his face. Everything.
Age, height, weight, dick, voice, posture, health, mannerisms. Even personality would begin to bleed across, along with fragments of memory from the stranger’s life. The player’s own mind would remain underneath it all, but the longer the night went on, the harder it might become to tell where one man ended and the other began.
They were not allowed to answer the messages. The strangers would never know what had happened.
Phil had been the one to discover the game, or at least the instructions for it, buried in an old online TUMBLR called Hairy-Bothered, which was devoted to transformation stories that everyone insisted were fictional. He had brought it up as a joke months ago. Don had dared him to prove it was real. Ralph had spent two weeks researching every version of the ritual he could find, then concluded that it was probably fake. Tom had volunteered his house.
Now, with the profiles active, “fake” no longer felt like the right word.
“Last chance,” Don said.
At thirty, he was the oldest of the group and behaved as if that made him responsible for the others, despite the fact that he was usually the one pushing them toward bad decisions. His thick brown hair was styled into a deliberate wave, and his heavy mustache gave him an old-fashioned athletic confidence he clearly enjoyed. Even seated, he held himself like a man posing for a locker-room photograph—shoulders back, arms apart, gray T-shirt stretched neatly across his chest.
Phil glanced at him. “You were the one who said backing out would be pathetic.”
“I said backing out after uploading the picture would be pathetic.”
“That is where we are now, dummy!” Ralph reminded him.
Ralph, twenty-six, sat across from Don in a black short-sleeved shirt with NAUGHTY printed in large red letters across the chest. His dark hair was carefully styled and his mustache looked almost too precise, as though he had trimmed it immediately before coming over. He was normally the most cautious of them, the one who checked rideshare license plates and made sure everyone had charged phones.
Tom sat at the right end of the table, younger than all of them at twenty-five, wearing a red Lacoste polo and khakis. He was smiling at his phone in a way that made Don narrow his eyes.
“You’re hoping for somebody old,” Ralph said.
Tom shrugged. “Not old. Mature.”
“You have been saying that since you were twenty-one.”
“What can I say? I know what I like” Tom smirked.
Phil shifted in his chair. His blue henley made his fair skin and short blond hair look even lighter beneath the warm lamp. At twenty-seven, he was quiet, agreeable, and so conflict-averse that he sometimes apologized when someone else bumped into him - like any good Canadian immigrant to a sleepy American suburb.
Phil picked up his beer but did not drink. “What if the personality part doesn’t go away in the morning?” he asked.
Ralph looked toward him. “The instructions say everything reverses at sunrise.”
“The instructions were written by someone called Hairy-Bothered. Do we feel like he's a reliable source of information?”
“They were very specific.”
“But that doesn’t make them reliable.”
Don leaned over and tapped the table near Phil’s phone. “You wanted to know whether it was real.”
Phil opened his mouth to answer. His phone buzzed and all four men froze. The sound had been ordinary, almost disappointingly so. A short vibration against the wood. Phil looked at the screen.
A new message sat beneath the profile photograph of a heavyset man in his mid-thirties. He wore a dark cap and a bulky jacket. A massive brown beard covered most of his lower face.
The message contained three words.
How you doing?
Don whistled. “Well, Phil.”
Phil stared at the picture. “He’s large.”
“He’s a hot daddy redneck,” Tom said.
“He looks like he owns several guns...” Ralph added.
“I don’t think I want—”
Phil stopped. His breath caught sharply, and one hand flew to his stomach. The first sensation was pain. It began beneath his ribs and rolled outward, flooding his chest, shoulders, and abdomen. His blue shirt tightened gradually across his torso. The fabric did not change, but the body beneath it did, swelling into unfamiliar proportions.
“Is it happening?” Tom asked.
Phil blushed and nodded quickly. His stomach pushed forward, rounding heavily over the waistband of his jeans. His shoulders broadened, not with the balanced definition of a gym-trained body but with the solid weight of someone naturally large. His arms thickened against the sleeves. Blonde hair darkened at the roots and seemed to retreat beneath the shape of a cap that had not been there before.
Then his face began changing. Phil pressed both palms against his cheeks as his jaw widened beneath them. Light stubble darkened into coarse brown hair. His beard grew quickly, spreading over his chin, down his throat, and outward until his fingers vanished into it.
“Oh my God,” Don said, half laughing and half appalled.
Phil’s eyes widened. “My voice—”
The words came out deeper than before, dragged through a thick Southern accent. He went silent.
Something else had entered him alongside the voice. For one disorienting moment, the dining room disappeared. Phil smelled hot pavement, gasoline, tobacco and stale coffee. He remembered sitting behind the wheel of a truck he had never owned, watching miles of highway disappear beneath him. He remembered arguments conducted loudly and without apology. He remembered a father who believed silence was weakness and a string of roadside bars where no one had ever asked him to lower his voice.
The memories were incomplete, but the emotions attached to them were powerful. Confidence settled over Phil like another layer of muscle and fat. His usual urge was to make himself smaller when people stared. Now he found their attention satisfying.
He leaned back, spreading his legs comfortably beneath the table. His new stomach strained the blue henley. One hand moved through his enormous beard with instinctive familiarity.
“Well,” he said slowly, the Southern drawl now effortless. “Ain’t that something?”
Don stared at him. “Phil?”
Phil looked directly at him. The old Phil would have smiled nervously. This one lifted one eyebrow. “Who's Phil? He your faggy friend?”
Don blinked and Phil’s expression shifted into a broad grin. Then he laughed, a deep, booming sound none of them had ever heard from him before.
“I’m kidding,” he said. “It's me, Phil - mostly...”
Tom handed him a small tabletop mirror. Phil examined himself, turning his head from side to side. The more he looked, the more pleased he became.
“I look strong. Real strong-like.”
“You look like you could throw me through a window,” Ralph said.
Phil’s grin widened. “Maybe don’t test me on that, son.”
The change had taken less than two minutes. When it was over, there was nothing visibly left of the blonde, soft-spoken Canadian except the blue shirt and a faint uncertainty behind the stranger’s eyes.
Phil reached into a pocket and fished out a cigar that had appeared along with his cap. He picked it up naturally.
“I know how to smoke this,” he murmured.
“That’s the memory bleed,” Ralph said.
Phil rolled the cigar between his thick fingers, lit it carefully, and took a deep drag. “Feels more like remembering something I forgot.”
While the men were still dazed by what had just happened to Phil, all of a sudden Don’s phone buzzed. His confident smirk vanished.
The message came from a twenty-two-year-old with dark curly hair, a narrow face, a slim body and almost no visible facial hair.
Don shook his head immediately. “No. Nope. Nuh-uh. I'm not going to be some Twink. I don't want to play any more!”
Tom leaned over. “You can’t refuse after the message arrives.”
“I’m not refusing. I’m stating a fact. I’m out.”
But immediately after the last word slipped out of his mouth he felt his gray shirt begin to loosen across his chest. Don looked down.
The muscles he had spent years building began to soften and recede beneath the fabric. His broad shoulders narrowed. His arms slimmed against the sleeves, veins and body hair fading as his skin became smooth. He gripped both sides of the chair.
“Son of a bitch…”
His mustache thinned with every word until only a faint shadow remained. The strong lines of his face softened. His jaw narrowed, his nose changed shape, and his heavy brown hair curled forward in loose dark waves. Even his posture collapsed inward - more diminutive. More submissive.
Don had always sat as though he owned whatever room he entered. Now his knees drew together beneath the table. His hands looked too large for a moment, then became slim and youthful.
He glanced at Phil and immediately looked away, intimidated by the bear of a man Phil had become.
A rush of foreign memories hit him. A cramped first apartment with mismatched furniture. A phone held beneath restaurant tables while he waited for a daddy to answer. A nervous laugh used to smooth over awkward silences. Nights spent trying on three different shirts because he was afraid the first two made him look too big or too masculine.
The new personality did not erase Don’s confidence all at once. It undermined it from beneath. His anger remained, but the instinct to express it weakened. “I hate this,” he said. His voice was younger, lighter and less commanding.
Phil rested one enormous arm across the back of Don’s chair. “Aww, hey there buddy, you look cute.”
Don recoiled, his face flushing. “Don’t call me cute!” The words lacked their former force.
Phil laughed.
Don crossed his thin arms over his chest, but the gesture only emphasized how small he had become beside Phil.
“I’m twenty-two,” he muttered. “I’m younger than when I graduated.”
Tom smiled. “Some people would consider that lucky.”
“I don’t.”
Don caught his reflection in the black screen of his phone. For several seconds, he looked genuinely wounded. His mustache had always been part of the identity he projected—older, tougher, more established than he felt. Without it, and without the body that supported the image, he seemed exposed.
“I look like some dumb Twink bottom that I would take home and fuck, this is humiliating...” he said quietly.
Phil’s expression softened. “You’re still Don inside there, bud.”
Don looked at him.
Phil paused, as though searching through two personalities for the right thing to say. “At least underneath those cute baby cheeks and scrawny chicken arms.”
But before Don could respond with the appropriate level of vitriol, Ralph’s phone vibrated. Ralph looked down at his phone, blinked once then closed his eyes. “Of course...it’s always older men messaging me on three apps!”
The profile showed a man around 65 with a huge white beard, a bald crown, and a broad, heavy frame. Ralph’s face drained of color. “Come on, man, he's older than my grandfather!”
“Rules,” Don said, sounding almost pleased that someone else’s result was worse.
Ralph pushed himself to his feet. He paused as his balance shifted. His center of gravity settled lower, his stance naturally widening as his body grew broader.
The external changes began in his hands. His skin thickened, veins becoming more prominent beneath weathered flesh. Coarse gray hair spread across his forearms beneath the sleeves of the black NAUGHTY shirt.
His shoulders widened. His chest and stomach filled out into the solid build of a man who had spent decades carrying himself with quiet confidence. The chair groaned when he sat back down, now supporting considerably more weight.
His dark hair retreated rapidly from his forehead and crown. Gray swept through what remained before fading completely to white.
His neatly trimmed mustache blossomed into an enormous beard. It poured down his cheeks and over his chest until it formed a thick, brilliantly white curtain. Ralph instinctively combed it with his fingers, surprised by how soft it felt.
Deep lines settled around his eyes—not harsh ones, but the kind earned through decades of laughing - but at this moment his face rested in a grimace.
He blinked. A flood of memories slipped effortlessly into place. He knew exactly how to trim a beard this size without making a mess. He knew which reading glasses lived in the kitchen and which pair stayed in the car. He remembered the passwords to three different dating apps, which profile pictures got the most attention from younger men, and which local coffee shop was best for a first rendezvous.
His phone suddenly felt different in his hand—not unfamiliar, just... organized. He frowned. "Why do I have notifications turned on for everything?"
His thumb moved across the screen before he consciously decided to. Three settings changed. "That's better."
Tom laughed. "You just hacked your own phone."
"I didn't hack anything." Ralph kept scrolling. "This app keeps suggesting men forty miles away." He wrinkled his nose. "Absolutely not."
Phil leaned over. "What are you looking at?"
Ralph angled the phone away on instinct. "My business."
Phil grinned. "You weren't this private five minutes ago."
"In my 65 years I've learned that people online will absolutely waste your time." The words came out so naturally that Ralph stopped talking. "...Did I just say that?"
Don folded his arms. "You sound experienced."
"I am experienced. Well...he is?" The answer escaped before Ralph could think. He froze - lost between his former and current mind. Then, after another moment, he shrugged. "I suppose I am."
His posture shifted almost imperceptibly. Gone was the restless energy of a twenty-six-year-old. He settled comfortably into the chair, crossing one thick leg over the other with practiced ease.
His gaze drifted around the room, assessing everyone. Tom -still unchanged - looked exhausted. Phil desperately needed a haircut and a beard trim. Don's shirt fit poorly across the shoulders. Ralph noticed all of it in an instant.
"What?" Tom asked.
Ralph smiled. "Nothing. You boys just have no idea how you're presenting yourselves. People used to put more effort into such things.”
Phil burst out laughing. "There he is."
"There who is?"
"The old guy."
Ralph reached up, absentmindedly stroking his beard. "It is an exceptional beard."
"It is," Tom admitted.
Ralph caught his reflection in the darkened window. A large man stared back—sixty-five, bald on top, framed by a magnificent white beard. He expected horror. Instead... "Huh." He tilted his head. "I actually pull this off."
Phil stared. "Seriously?"
"What? I'm not saying I'd have picked sixty-five..." He turned his face from side to side. "...but I'm handsome...I mean he's handsome." Ralph rested one hand in his beard, surprisingly at ease. "I still know I'm Ralph," he said quietly. "But I also know who this man is."
Tom looked up. "What's he like?"
Ralph smiled—not sadly, but with unmistakable fondness. "Confident." He glanced at his reflection again." Comfortable in his own skin." A beat passed. "And apparently very picky."
Phil snorted. "That sounds about right."
Ralph laughed. "It really does."
For several minutes, they sat quietly. Then Tom’s phone buzzed. He looked down at the screen.
The man who had messaged him appeared to be in his mid-forties. Dark hair showed gray at the sides beneath a baseball cap. Salt-and-pepper scruff framed a tired but attractive face. His profile offered little information, but the photograph had been taken in a kitchen. A family calendar hung behind him, partially visible on the wall.
Tom smiled.
Don noticed. “You are far too happy.”
“I told you, this could be fun! I got a hot daddy!"
Tom’s red polo tightened first across his shoulders, then relaxed as his body settled into a broader, slightly softer maturity. Fine lines appeared around his eyes. His face lengthened, his jaw grew heavier, and dark stubble spread across his cheeks before turning gray in patches.
His hair darkened from sandy brown, then silver appeared at the temples. Tom held his phone in front of him throughout the change, studying every new line with fascination.
His hands aged around the device. The skin grew rougher, the knuckles more pronounced. Hair thickened along his forearms and beneath the open collar of the red polo.
He inhaled sharply when the memories arrived. A wife asleep upstairs while he stared at his phone in the kitchen, looking at pictures of men. A wedding ring slipped into a drawer before taking photographs. Children calling from another room. Years spent building a life that looked perfect from the outside and felt increasingly divided from within.
Tom’s smile faded as the stranger’s guilt settled into him alongside his attraction. He felt the practiced caution of a man who deleted conversations, cleared notifications, and always listened for footsteps. For the first time, the transformation frightened him.
“Tom?” Don asked.
Tom looked up. His face now belonged entirely to the middle-aged stranger. “He has a family,” Tom said.
Ralph frowned. “You knew that from the picture?”
“I remember them.” He closed his eyes. “A wife. Two kids. He tells himself this app doesn’t count if he never meets anyone in person. He just shares pictures and sexts men while jerking off.”
Don looked uncomfortable. “That’s dark.”
Tom rubbed his salt-and-pepper jaw. The texture fascinated him despite the sadness in his expression.
“He’s lonely,” Tom said. “And terrified. And he’s been both for so long that they feel like the same thing. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep up the façade before it comes crashing down.”
The older personality moved through him more subtly than the others. His posture became relaxed but watchful. His speech slowed. He checked the position of his phone before setting it face down.
Yet when he looked at his reflection in the window, pleasure returned. Tom touched the gray at his temples and smiled. “I still like this face and body…”
Don groaned. “Of course you do, and if I'm being honest from my new body yours is looking pretty good to me as well...but I'll never admit that again so soak it up.”
Tom laughed, now in the warm, slightly rough voice of a suburban father. “Sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry...”
With all four transformations complete, the four friends - now unrecognizable - sat around the same table like strangers wearing evidence of a friendship no one else could see.
Phil lounged in his blue henley, cigar smoke curling from one hand, his large body relaxed with newfound authority. Don sat beside him in his loose gray shirt, slim and young, visibly annoyed whenever Phil’s arm drifted too close. Ralph occupied the center like an aging patriarch who had been dragged reluctantly from bed after 10pm white beard resting against the red NAUGHTY lettering across his chest. Tom on the right in his red polo, smiling at a touch of his salt and pepper beard or a glimpse of his older hands whenever he thought no one was watching.
They returned to the card game. It was not the same. Phil became competitive and loud. He slapped winning hands onto the table and accused Don of bluffing in a Southern drawl that grew thicker as the night continued and he had more to drink.
Don insisted he was not bluffing, then folded whenever Phil stared at him too long out of sheer intimidation.
Ralph complained about the quality of the beer, the temperature, and the way young gay men today can’t tell Tina Turner from Janet Jackson.
Tom quietly won three rounds in a row - reluctant to draw attention to himself or to the conversation he began with a now younger man on his phone on GRINDR.
By midnight, the new personalities settled more deeply, and fragments of the other lives slipped into their conversation.
Phil described rebuilding an engine, then stopped when he realized he had never done it.
Don mentioned a roommate named Evan and could not remember whether Evan was real or imagined.
Ralph began telling a story about a great niece’s birthday before his voice broke.
Tom reached automatically for a wedding ring that was not on his finger.
At around one in the morning, the game ended without anyone declaring a winner. They remained around the table, surrounded by empty bottles, cards and phones.
As they prepared to depart for their own homes, to give themselves a few hours to "explore" their new situations, Don asked "What happens when we wake up?”
“We go back...in theory.” Ralph said.
“That’s not what I meant.”
No one answered immediately. Phil looked down at his huge hands.
“I think I’m gonna miss this, y'all.”
Don curled his cute twenty-two-year-old nose and gave Phil a tired smile, “I won’t.”
“Maybe we keep some of it," Tom said.
“The memories?” Ralph asked.
“The perspective.”
The next morning Tom woke with his cheek pressed against his pillow - and an unfamiliar young man in the bed next to him. Someone who messaged him thirstily on GRINDR before his friends headed home for the evening.
For several seconds, he did not move. Then he lifted his head and saw his own young hands. His red polo laid on the floor next to the bed. The gray had vanished from his hair. His face felt smooth. "Ugh, this is going to be fun to explain to him."
In the back of his mind Tom also felt a sense of satisfaction. He was able to follow through on an action his middle-aged married counterpart was always too afraid to carry out.
After a couple minutes reflecting on his predicament, Tom reached for his phone and saw a chain of messages from his friends on the experience from last night culminating in a message from Phil:
So ... Same time next month?
Next to the message were 2 thumbs up. Tom smirked and typed:
“For what you lose he will gain, for what he gains ye will lose”
————————————————————
It was just an average day for someone like Keaton. Go to his boring office job for most of the day then head home where he’ll have to cook dinner, shower and sleep before repeating it again. He was beginning to dread his days knowing that in order for his to survive he needed to follow such a boring routine with little time to do things he wanted.
But today was different. Keaton hadn’t been oblivious to the fact that he had put on a ton of weight since he started the office job and was well aware that he looked way older than the 27 years he was. He knew he needed to make a change and decided that it was time to go to the gym for the few hours of free time he had every day. He knew that he’d struggle with the idea of being so big compared to the rest of the gym goers but decided to push through as if he didn’t he’d never even have a chance to look his age.
———————————————————
“Twenty Two, Twenty Three, Twenty Four, Twenty Five” he said as he hopped off the pill up bar “Phew that felt good”. Thomas spent every waking moment he could at the gym working out. He had no job and relied purely off his parent’s wealth to carry him through life. He spent his time making sure that he had a hot body to show off for any ladies. Thomas was also a dick to those around him, he’d walk around the gym making loud remarks about heavy set people working out “you don’t even fit fully on the machine… that should’ve been your sign to work out ages ago” or “you’ve been on the bike for 2 minutes how are you already tired”.
Thomas thought less of those around him and made sure they knew that, to him working out was a simple thing that he could do for fun. He couldn’t fathom the idea that other people struggled at such simple task. When he saw Keaton walk in he knew he had a new target.
———————————————————
Keaton made his way through the gym doors and prepared himself for the struggles he was about to face as he had no clue how to use half of the machines in the building. He decided that he’d start with the bench press as it was the simplest thing he could see so he made his way over. He started with reps of 50 and then decided that it was time to move up to 80. He layed back and attempted to lift the bar but was unable to.
Thomas walked over at this point and stood above Keaton “It’s only 80 pounds? How fucking weak do you have to be to fail an 80 pound rep” before walking his way back over to the pull up bar. Keaton felt embarrassed about failing in front of someone but more so angry that he was just humiliated out of no where. Keaton tried to keep his composure but knew that he was better off stepping away for a few moments to do so.
Keaton headed into the locker room where he sat on a bench to chill whilst he calmed himself. He took heavy, deep breaths in and out before he was startled as a man tapped him on the shoulder “I saw what happened out there no need to say more, do you want revenge for what happened before?”. Keaton looked back at the man and stared at him, confused on the riddle he had just saids meaning but ultimately saying “Yes, I want revenge on him for shaming me, for humiliating me in public”. The mysterious man looked Keaton straight in the eye and said “For what you lose he will gain, for what he gains ye will lose” before snapping his fingers causing a cloud of dust to appear.
Keaton coughed on the dust cloud before looking around to see the man but he was no where to be found. He decided that after the humiliation and now the disappearing man that maybe the gym wasn’t for him, he packed his things and headed home. He was hungry from the little bit of working out he had done and decided that if he was going to be depressed and hungry he may as well go full out and got himself a big meal from the closest fast food chain he could find.
—————————————————————-
Thomas sat there and laughed as he watched the man walk away from the bench press “God he was so pathetic looking, he shouldn’t have gotten that fat in the first place and maybe he wouldn’t have to be trying to fix himself.” He went back to his pull ups waiting for another victim to come in. He finished another rep of 25 and hopped off the bar when he was approached by a mysterious man, Thomas wasn’t a fan of the way he was approaching him “Aye dude watch your fucking step, I’ll beat this shit out of you if you try anything”. But the mysterious man just stared at him and said “No matter how hard you work, you’ll only get bigger from here” before walking away.
Thomas watched the man leave and just stared at him… obviously he was going to get bigger if he kept working out? Was the man stupid or something. Thomas decided to call it a night and head home where he’d already prepped all his meals for the week.
——————————————————————
Keaton sat in his living room eating non stop meal after meal accepting that no matter what he did he’d always be a fat slob who works a dead end office job and had no free time or motivation to do anything he wanted. Keaton ate and ate but he never felt full, Keaton had eaten well over 4000 calories that night but still went to bed starving. Thomas on the other hand sat in his kitchen frying up his chicken knowing that he’d eat a max of 1500 calories today. He finally finished his food but took only 2 bites before feeling full. Not wanting to waste the food that he’d made he decided to push himself to eat it all before going to bed.
The next morning Thomas woke up and started his routine as normal until he got to the mirror and noticed he had grow a tiny guy over night, he freaked out before ultimately deciding that it was from having to force himself to eat his food last night. He knew that he’d have to work out extra today to get rid of it but that wasn’t a problem to him at all.
Keaton on the other hand woke up feeling extra hungry like he hadn’t ate in weeks. His stomach was as growling and before he knew it Keaton was at the grocery store picking up as many snacks as he could to keep himself from starving. He made his way home and immediately started snacking, he had no clue what came over him but within minutes he’d eaten 3 packs of cookies, 2 bags of chips, 2 pre made microwave meals and a whole box of granola bars but took only no avail was still hungry.
Thomas arrived at the gym and got changed into his gear. He went to put his shirt down before realizing that his stomach had grown since he left the house this morning. Thomas started to panic as at this point his abs were fully gone and replaced by a soft stomach. He immediately slide his shirt on and started working out hoping to combat the stomach growth as soon as possible.
Keaton tried to enjoy his day off from work by chilling at home but between the hunger and random pain in his body ended up feeling nauseous. He choose to take a nap in the hopes that he could just sleep through the problems. He went to lay in bed but upon laying on his side realized he felt uncomfortable as if he could feel his bones for once. Not wanting to deal with the pain and being uncomfortable he layed on his back and went to sleep.
Thomas had been non stop at it for almost 4 hours at this point but felt like nothing was happening, how could he grow a stomach in just a few hours and why couldn’t he lose it in hours?
He had grown so tired from attempting to lose it that he knew he needed to head home before risking fainting in the middle of the gym.
Upon waking up Keaton was still starving and in an absurd amount of pain. He felt like he was dying, he felt empty but also constricted as if his stomach were starting to compress. He looked at himself I. The mirror to see if he was staring to look ill but when looking could’ve sworn he’d looked smaller? Was that possible? Surely not he had ate so much food in the past 24 hours there’s no way he was smaller.
Thomas arrived at his house and went straight to bed. He was so tired from his work outs that he had forget to eat or shower excusing it as he’d still have time tomorrow morning to do it.
Keatons hunger for the best of him and he ate what felt like 3 weeks of groceries that night In attempts to stop his hunger. Meal after meal and snack after snack nothing mattered no matter what he did he always remained hungry. At this point he had given up and decided to go back to bed.
Thomas wake up and attempted to sit up but was met with a round stomach instead. He screamed in fear at the idea of his perfect body being ruined. There was no way he could show himself at the gym like this. He immediately started panicking before deciding the only thing he could do was attempt to work out at home.
Keaton went to work though was almost instantly sent home as he was feeling ill and his boss didn’t want to risk any other employees getting sick. Keaton was worried about himself and decided he needed to keep track of himself as he felt like he’d lost a lot from his constant hunger and illness. He arrived home and stepped on his scale, “226” read back. That was 50 pounds less than 2 day ago??? How was he not dead from this drastic weight loss?
Both Keaton and Thomas sat at their homes trying to figure out what was happening to them. It finally clicked to both of them that a mysterious man had approached them and said something before disappearing. Both knew that the only thing they could do was attempt to find the man again. They both knew that their best chance was to check the gym where they had originally encountered the man and a each other
They both rushed to the gym and upon arriving ran into each other Keaton looked at the once buff man now turned chub “What are bulking to finally see how hard it is for fatter people”. “No why would I ever bulk to be this fucking fat? I have no clue what happened I just keep getting fatter and fatter every day. And what about you? How do you look so much skinnier after only a few days?”. Keaton looked shocked at what Thomas had just said “No I’m having the opposite problem, I can’t get full and no matter how much I eat I keep losing weight.”
the two men stared at each other when suddenly a man walked between them. They both flagged it as the man who had said something too them. The man stopped and without facing them said “I hope lessons have become clear Thomas as your new life will be much harder, and Keaton I hope for you realize your in charge of his”. Before walking into the gym.
Thomas and Keaton looked at eachother confused before dashing after the man. They found him sitting on the locker room bench where they asked him to explain. The man looked at them and said “For why don’t I speed up the process and show you” before snapping his fingers causing a smoke cloud to appear once more. The smoke dissipated before reveling a bulkier Keaton and a rounder Thomas. The two gazed in shock of what had just happened
The man looked them in the eyes “For a lesson has been taught and you are forever intertwined. Whenever Keaton would’ve gained weight the body of Thomas will now be the one to gain it. Whenever Thomas were to build muscle Keaton would’ve been the one to gain it. And now said pattern shall continue until Keaton decides Thomas has learned his lesson”. The men put together that Keaton was constantly hunger because he kept eating but instead of filling himself he was filling up Thomas stomach, and Thomas couldn’t lose weight as he was losing it for Keaton.
They man threw down one more smoke cloud before disappearing for good. Thomas and Keaton looked at each other, Thomas begged Keaton to break the curse and allow him to lose weight again. Keaton stared back at him and questioned if the public humiliation he’d already gone through being fat made up for the humiliation Thomas caused him… “Maybe a few more days and I’ll let you be free but for now I’m starving so I think I’m going to enjoy my new bulky body before I break this curse and allow myself to gain weight again”
Hope you guys enjoyed the story! I’ve always wanted to write story about someone having weight but due to another person gaining it for them, feel free to send asks and critiques as I love suggestions and learning what I can do to get better :) -Willy
When scrolling social media I've started seeing more and more lanky guys with insanely small waists.. I've always been insecure about my weight so could you help me achieve what they have ideally without developing an eating disorder?
So you’re insecure about your weight and want to achieve an insanely small waist without developing an eating disorder? Well I’ll attempt to help you but may have to have some fun myself. Let’s start by possessing you and taking a look at what I’m working with.
Man such a hot body… and you’re insecure about it? If you don’t want it I’ll gladly take it from ya haha but that’s besides the point. Well I’ll definitely have to change that but first let’s look at these guys you keep seeing hmm first let’s look at Snap. Your most recent message is from a ginger twink named Kyle, let’s take a look at the photo.
Yea he’s definitely skinny and a handsome dude but I don’t see why you feel the need to compare yourself to him. But I have a plan in mind already but let’s look around a little more. Next let’s check your instagram. The first post I see upon opening your page is from Submissive_Sammy1997 and he’s yet another twink.
Im starting to think you have a thing for twinks and they just happen to make up majority of your feeds. But just for safe keeping let me do one last check on your Twitter to see. Swiping open the app and shocker it’s BubbLevi_Butt and it’s yet another skinny man this time with a huge butt. Hmmm I think I’ve cemented what I’ll change and it should be a simple fix.
First off I’m changing your body but not to much cause your already hot dude. I get wanting a skinny waist so you feel confident but I think once I’m done you feel confident either way. So let’s start by growing you 150 pounds so you’re still a handsome cub but your waist is a bit bigger for your sake (and mine) and don’t worry you’ll understand why in a minute hehe ;)
Second off I’m changing your type, no longer will you be attracted to twinks. No now all you’ll crave is the warmth provided by bigger men.
And third and final change is a huge one, I’m using all the power I can to change the ideal male body type. No longer shall men try and achieve a tiny body, no now they wish to show off their big gassy belly’s. Men around the world should wish to become incredible, hairy, gassy beast.
*FLASH*
Alright, let’s take a look at your phone again. First let’s check on Kyle and looks like he’s happier than ever showing off his growing stomach and posting farting videos to his IG story. Looks like you’re chubbing up just looking at him so I consider that a success.
Next is Sammy who now prefers Samuel as he feels it presents him to be older. Samuel now weighs at least 350 pounds and god does he look better than before showing off that hulking gut. I know you wish to use it as a pillow don’t you :)
Finally let’s take one last look at Levi. And just like the others Levi seems to have ballooned up. No longer does he post about his Bubble butt. Now he post about his bubbly gut. That’s right he now prides himself in his burps and farts and has even gone as far to making a living off simply rubbing his stomach and farting. Your rock hard there buddy and I don’t blame you I think it’s incredibly hot as well.
Well looks like your enjoying your new body and no longer are you insecure of your bigger stature. Now you feel like you fit in don’t you? Finally living in a world where every man looks like you and no longer is the word “twink” a know one. Bigger Is better and I hope your new life allows you to understand :)
It was all fun and games, dressing up in a jock and leather uniform to go to the bar with friends. But little did he know that with each minutes in the Bear’s Den, the guy felt his leather uniform grow snugger. The more the evening progressed, the more a nauseous vertigo assailed him. Since when did everyone get so short? Why did his boots felt so cramped? Why was his jock torn apart? Why did this jacket felt so…. SNAP. Well, at least the fresh air felt relieving on his furry sweaty back. Might need a new uniform soon tho.
Stefan was confused when he showed up to the backyard barbecue party. It was supposed to be a frat event, but all the guys there were middle aged fat dudes in their 50s - it was like partying with a bunch of dads.
Still, free beer was free beer. When one of the old guys offered him a bottle, Stefan accepted graciously. He chugged the cold bottle down, finding it especially refreshing in the summer heat. Stefan was a little embarrassed as he let out a loud belch, clutching his belly which suddenly felt bloated.
Stefan gasped when his stomach inflated into a round beach ball, his abs being replaced with a beer belly. His defined pecs quickly followed suit, growing fat and sagging with additional weight. Dark black hairs covered his arms and legs while his tight ass swelled outwards into a big round rear.
Stefan's face aged, remaining handsome but maturing as wrinkles started to form. His hair began to gray as a bushy beard sprouted from his previously clean shaven jaw.
Stefan was now a chubby but handsome middle aged man in his 50s, fitting right in with the rest of the men at the party. He grabbed another beer and took a swig, his memories of being a frat bro long forgotten.
A dude steals from the gas station but gets caught and finds himself stuck inside the body of the overnight cleaner as punishment
Pretty privilege. It was the saying Issac lived by and used to navigate his daily life. He was convinced that he deserved anything he wanted because in his eyes he was the hottest man to walk the planet and it was only fitting such a sight like himself were treated to the best. That mentality didn’t disappear no matter where he went.
The evening sun was slowly setting as Issac made his way back from the local theater he’d been volunteering at. He’d been given a main role in the city’s summer play and knew it was the perfect opportunity for him to show off his beauty. Though the hours were long and tiring he knew showing off his looks were worth the effort he’d “painstakingly” put in. Around 6:45 he’d started leaving when he’d realized just how hungry he’d become after spending the day practicing. He reached into his bag to see if he’d packed any quick snacks but was unable to find anything of use, not even a wallet.
He decided he’d just rush home but without a wallet to pay for a train ticket he knew he’d be walking for at least the next hour. He started his trek down the street but after only 20 or so minutes he’d grown too famished to continue. He turned to the next street and walked into a small corner store. He quickly headed to the back away from the counter in hopes of being able to grab a quick snack without being caught. He reached onto the shelf and grabbed himself a protein bar quietly unwrapping it after confirming there were no cameras nearby.
Just as he took a bite he heard a door handle rustle as a large man stepped out of the office. He’d immediately made eye contact with Issac noting the snack he was currently consuming
“Did you pay for that boy”
“Yes! Obviously I’d payed for it sir”
“Your trembling, are you lying to me boy”
“No sir I’m not lying”
“So if I go back in the office and check the camera I’ll find you at the front register paying before eating?”
“Ughhh fine. No I didn’t pay and why should someone like me have to pay? Do you see what I look like. It’s not easy to look like this when I’m hungry and haven’t ate. So what I stole a 2$ protein bar you probably make that in 5 minutes. So let’s just let me go. It’s my human right to eat especially”
“Is that so? You think you’re better than everyone just cause of you you look. Let’s see how you feel about that in a second”
The man walked back in the office swiftly returning with a blue powder which he immediately blew over Issac knocking him unconscious.
Upon waking up Issac immediately noticed a fowl smell emanating nearby. He’d went to lift himself off the floor and was immediately met by extra pressure. He looked down to see he was now barely clothed with only his underwear remaining. Weighing minimum an extra 150 pounds Issac immediacy started to freak out. Suddenly he heard a noise in front of him. The man from earlier swiveled his chair to face Issac.
“I see your finally awake and realizing you now look much more handsome if I do say so myself. You see when you made your comments earlier I couldn’t help but think about how egotistical you were so I thought I’d teach you a lesson. You see your new body is that of my son Rodger. He’s a great kid who I sadly fucked over with my genes and couldn’t help him live the life he wanted. So when you made your comments earlier I decided it was time to enact a plan I had thought of long ago”
Issac tried to scream at the man but was met with pure silence
“Ahh you must be confused why you can’t make a sound. Let me explain boy. You see I decided that your body was hot even if not for my personal taste and I decided I’d finally give Rodger the life he deserved. So when I blew the powder in your face I called Rodger over and finally tried a spell I learned. It worked and I’d successfully swapped your bodies. But with that I also was able to make it so you’d never be able to mention the swap to anyone. Anytime you try and speak about the swap you’ll find pure silence is the only thing you can make. Writing will not help you either as you’ll find yourself unable to control your hands”
Issac looked around trying to find anything that could help him escape this new body. He screamed at the man in frustration at his new ugly body not being up to his standards and how his life was now ruined.
The man shrugged off everything Issac had said.
“If you want to live in this world and pay back for your misfortunes you’ll have to work for it. I can only assume that protein bar is the least bit of “pretty privilege” you’ve used. If you want to return to normal you’re going to work for it. You’re taking Rodger’s job as my overnight custodian and will be working a 9pm-5am every night tidying up my store. If you do good maybe I’ll give you a different body. But fuck up and I’ll make that your permanent residence.”
Tears began rolling down Issac’s new face as he realized just how much shit he’d gotten himself in. Forever regretting his use of Pretty privilege… would he ever gain it back?
You knew that look. The one that screamed, "Dear God, what have I done to myself"? Every gainer goes through it. It might be a ripped pair of pants, failing to tie your shoes, a stranger's lingering glance on your heavy frame... You reach that point where you question every choice that led you to your current state. "Is this my will, or the whim of a fading kink?". It takes you three seconds of doubt to answer that question: you want to be fat. It's the reason you eagerly weighed yourself every morning through the first 20 lbs. It's the reason you started ordering a second, third, fourth entree every night out. It's the reason you hold dearly to every outgrown item, a physical measurement of your progress. To define it as a mere kink, a "fattening fetish", is a grave injustice to your very identity. For you are driven by more than pleasure, greed, gluttony, lust, approval, or even acceptance.
Please, we're really sorry! We didn't know what kind of a bar this was! No, no, that's not what I... Wait, really? You'll let us go if I just drink this beer? Huh, okay... here goes... ugh, what's in this? It's so strong... guys... I... I don't feel so good... o-okay... I'll try to drink the rest...
Aww fuck! This one really hit the spot boys! Got me all horned up too! Huh? Those little twerps? Now, why the fuck would I want to let them leave? Sure as hell not before we've bent them over and had some fun, reckon they need a few brews first though, not like I'm fucking anything without a beard!
I have started sharing such tiny TF themed captions over on my bluesky profile, I don't think I will be reposting all of them to tumblr, but if you like them, you can follow my account and maybe if some get popular I will turn them into longer stories! @burrcapts.bsky.social — Bluesky
Our buddy over at @tight-stories wanted a nice stinky arab transformation story, well I’ll be he’ll be even more pleased getting to experience the story first hand, so why don’t I tell you all how it went down…
A few days ago our buddy Gaz was driving home after a late night run for some ice cream thick shakes. It was all pretty standard, he drove down the same roads to get home when his stomach began to rumble and bite demanding food. Gaz could see a gas station at the end of the road, one he’d never seen before or remembered, it definitely wasn’t there when he drove to the shop only 30 minutes ago but the stomach pains became worse and he knew he had to stuff himself as soon as possible.
Gaz pulled up at the dingy gas station, the thing looked like it had been abandoned for the past 30 years but the pumps were churning out in the car park and the lights were on inside, so he lumbered his way through the doors. Looking around no one was inside, no customers, no staff. Just stocked shelves, filthy floors and the buzzing of dingy flickering lights. Gaz looked around on the shelves for something to sink his teeth into, but he had never seen any of these brands. There was a protein bar with a picture of a bodybuilder so large he was missing a neck, sunk into his cartoonish muscles, but Gaz wasn’t in the mood for protein. There was a bag of lollies with a picture of some stoner looking dude with pit stains, but Gaz wasn’t in the mood for lollies. His stomach was craving something he could properly sink his teeth into and thats when he found it. A heating shelf that smelt like gas station heaven. Fully stocked with meat pies in little plastic sheets. On the front of the clear plastic sheet was a picture of some anthropomorphic pig with huge biceps flexing and a big belly that slightly lifted the tank top showing a slit of the pink skinned belly. Gaz snorted finding it funny before heading to the front desk. He stood waiting for 5…10..20..30 minutes and still no service no matter how much he slammed on the desk bell. He soon remembered the ice cream shakes in the back of his car that would have began to melt by now and he hated refrozen ice cream, he had to get home. Gaz threw a $20 on the counter and scribbled on a near by post it note, “sorry couldn’t wait for service had to get home, bought one of those piggy pies”. Surely $20 would be enough to cover one gas station pie, he thought, and sure it would be if this was regular food.
Gaz jumped in his car and immediately began to chow down on the succulent meat pie. Digging his face the gravy covered meat spilled out onto his tank top and got stuck to his upper lip and nose. As he used his arm to wipe away the meat from his nose it began to tingle and itch, like on the verge of a sneeze.
——-
When Gaz got home he chucked the ice cream shakes in his freeze and went and sat on his bed, he felt ill and bloated…maybe a pie from a dirty gas station wasn’t such a good idea…
Gaz rubbed his stomach as it grumbled before letting out a loud belch. He began to sweat and watched as his tank top became damp within a few minutes. The sweat spread to his bed as he began to itch all over. It was like he was infested with fleas feeling tiny pin prick pokes all over his body. He itched his face and felt prickles of hair under his finger tips, he watched as hair began to grow all over his arms right before his eyes.
Gaz’s body stretched as he grew taller and the fat of his stomach stretched stinking his gut. He couldn’t help but burp as his gut was stretched to be slightly flatter than before. His skin darkened under the hair and his arms inflated with muscle, looking extra bulky from the layer of fat that was already on them. Gaz took his tank off feeling a burning inch under it as a forest of dark hair spread across his chest and stomach like wild fire.
He had no idea what was going on but he loved it, ever second more hair, packed onto his frame. As the stretching began to slow down he saw his new body. Sure there was the same amount of fat as before but the new muscle and height made him look fit, not that it lasted log. A horrific bloating sensation formed in his gut and worked its way up. Gaz belched and burped uncontrollably as the bubbles of gas rose from his gut, to his stomach then out of his mouth. He felt a large one drift up into his stomach, where it stayed, he could hear the churning of his stomach as things moved and settled “glug glug glug” his belly sounded like a fucking water cooler. But this bubble stuck in his gut continued to grow and with each passing glug his stomach expanded.
BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRPPPP
Gaz was now kitted out in a dark hair body chocked with muscle and fat. He rubbed his now enlarged stomach as he felt the itching on his face now begin to subside although the tickling on his nose still hadn’t disappeared since the drive home. He pulled out his phone turning on the camera to see if the changes had effected his face too, and they had. Gaz’s face was now dark and hairy just like the rest of him.
Gaz felt his pant grow tighter, and not just from the new heft of his muscle fat ass, but his dick was as hard as a rock. He tried to reach it but the combination of muscle and fat made it impossible to get more that a fingertip down there.
It wasn’t long before he began to feel hungry again, the new body felt like it wanted twice as much food and he was already shovelling in his mouth each day, but not knowing what he was in the mood for he decided to take to his Pateron to have his followers vote on his next meal. Shortly after making a post a notification popped up at the top of his phone, an email from an address he didn’t recognise.
“Hey there piggie, I think I know your next meal! how about a nice meat pie”
Gaz instantly found this odd, how did someone get his email and how did someone know he ate a meat pie? but another email rolled in before he had a chance to respond.
“I understand you must have been a hungry guy but $20 was no where near enough for my meat pies, the stuff I sell isn’t just for a snack it’s life changing stuff and not many people buy food that changes their whole life so they are much more expensive, normal $500 just for something as simple as a change of nose shape, but since you were clearly starving I think I’ll give that to you for free. Hope the changes are to your liking you naughty pig”
Gaz was stunned $500 for a fucking gas station pie? sure it did all this but $500?? He tried to reply but every time he click send or reply the email app would crash, there was no way he could get in contact with this guy again.
Gaz’s sweat kicked in to overdrive as he watched it run out his pits and down his sides like it was watch from a shower head. He heard a massive crash bang from his kitchen and got up to investigate and grab his next meal. As he stood up he felt the weight of his body, he felt the uncomfortable bloat in his stomach and he felt the jelly like fat wobble over the rock solid muscle underneath. He waddled his massive frame down the hallway feeling the flood of sweat get worse with each step. Half way down the hall he stop to take an enormous ear busting belch, as he stared down at his now size 20 hairy feet he watched the carpet of the hallway go from the dry cream, to a soaking wet, squishy dark grey as it absorbed all the sweat rolling off his body like a sponge.
Gaz made it to his kitchen, it was a short few meters but it felt like a hike under the weight of this new body. He looked through the door seeing his cupboards and pantry were gone, like they had been ripped off the wall in a renovation and never replaced, but something was definitely in its place. Right in front of him, right where his cupboard once were way a humming dingy dirty heat shelf stocked to the brim with those same meat pies. The smell was so inviting and he was so hungry he just had to have one. He stumbled over in front of the shelf, the heat keeping the pies warm poured onto him making him so much hotter, making him sweat more and making his sweat evaporate leaving him sticky and stinking of B.O worse than before. Gaz grabbed a pie off the shelf unwrapping it and taking massive chunks out of it with his gob. He felt the meat get stuck in his new beard and the gravy pour onto his belly. The bloated belly couldn’t take any more inside of it and a burp was forced out of his mouth any time he opened it. He felt the feeling of growth all over his body like he did before, with each bite he got larger and larger. Now on his hands and knees his legs drifted apart leaving his manhood being pressed between his large body and the kitchen tiles below.
Gaz tried to fish his manhood out from underneath his massive body but he didn’t want to put the pie down, and with all the muscle and fat he couldn’t reach no matter how much he tried. Gaz finished the pie and took a deep breath having not stopped to breath the whole time he was stuffing his face, but his body wanted more food and he reached up and grabbed another pie, this time he stuffed his whole face in it, burring his nose in it the sticking sneezing sensation got worse and worse until he finished the pie and sneezed. His teeth clashed in his mouth and it felt like he just broke his nose. Wiping the meat and gravy off his face with his arm he got another email and he picked up his phone to read it.
“take a picture it’ll last longer”
Gaz’s camera app opened itself and he was shocked by what he was greeted with. The rugged face he had just developed had developed new features. The first of which was an underbite with 2 lower canines sticking up over his lip, like some sort of orc or bull, but the most noticeable change was his nose, gone was his human nose, replaced with a hairy pig snout.
Gaz dropped his phone on the ground hearing a faint splash, noticing the massive pool of sweat that was now under him. But all he could think about was more meat pies. In the blink of an eye he had an unwrapped pie in one hand and a cold iced cream shake in the other. With every bite and chug his stomach gulped and moaned like a water cooler, he burped non stop. He would catch a glimpse of his wall paper whenever he looked up to grab a new pie noticing it beginning to peel away from the stink and musk in the air.
And that is what happened to our Mate over at Tight Stories, the dude wished for a nice stinky arab transformation, well now he gets to spend the rest of time as a sweaty stinky arab muscle pig stuffing his face.
You try to explain, tell him that this was a mistake, that you didn’t mean it, you were lost and only wanted to ask for the way back to town..
You tell him that if he lets you go you won’t tell anyone about what happened.
Instead he simply smiles and slowly lifts his arm. You already know what’s coming next. You try to run, but his smell reaches you before you get to take even a single step and instead you find yourself plunging straight back into his nasty armpit.
Unable to control yourself you start lapping at it with your tongue. You taste his salty bush of hair and that alone nearly brings you to an orgasm. You moan and push your nose even deeper inside his armpit as his pungent musk makes your head swim.
You’ve only just spent nearly an hour working it with your mouth, but it smells so rank you would have believed it if he said he hadn’t showered in weeks.
You can’t explain why but imagining just how ripe the rest of his body must be drives you wild. Suddenly, it’s the only thing you can think about and you want to explore it with your tongue, every raunchy nook and cranny on it.
Within seconds you are so far gone that it doesn’t even occur to you just how revolting you should be finding all of this. You have tried fighting him before and you know how it always ends. It is so much better to just do what he says.
He mentioned that if you behave well he will give you a special reward. Maybe he will let you go, or even better, let you clean up his other armpit. Oh fuck, that is exactly what you want right now.
You start lapping at it even more eagerly than before and it doesn’t go unnoticed. He lets out a low, rumbling moan and pushes your head further underneath his arm.
You can feel him hastily undoing your belt but you can’t bring yourself to do anything about it and a moment later your pants drop to the ground. He grabs your exposed hard on and gives it a few firm jerks that send jolts of pleasure across your entire body.
You feel something pressing against your cock. It’s big and hot and only when he seizes both of them within his huge, furry hand you realize that it’s his own fuckstick sandwiched against yours.
He starts working them together and with each stroke your body spasms uncontrollably. You hear his panting, feel his breath against your neck and you know that he’s about to cum soon, but so are you.
His leaking out precum coats your cock as it becomes almost unbearably sensitive. Even with your face inside his armpit you can smell it, his pre, the musk coming off his crotch. The thought of having your own tool coated with all of that is too much.
Your cock begins to shoot and your mind goes perfectly blank for a moment. It suddenly feels so good you nearly collapse to your knees, unable to make even the faintest sound. He on the other hand lets out a roar that must be heard for miles as his hot seed erupts all over your body.
Your cock is still oozing with cum when something changes. Before you know it, it’s as if the spell he cast on you is broken and you are yourself once again.
A wave of disgust washes over you and you want to puke, feeling his stray armpit hair sticking to your tongue, but you know that you don’t have time for that.
You have to run, but instead discover that he’s holding you firmly against his chest. It’s only one arm but for some reason you feel so incredibly weak you find it impossible to pull away.
“No… please…” is all you manage to pant out when you hear his chuckle.
You see his hand moving towards your face, his furry, meaty fingers are coated with a thick mixture of his and your cum.
You desperately try to close your mouth and turn your head away but you are already starting to lose control. Despite your efforts his two fingers pass your lips and brush against your tongue.
It takes you a full moment to register just what exactly is happening, that smell, the taste. It’s a thousand times more intense than within his armpit. You feel your already softening cock suddenly twitch and shoot out uncontrollably. Then do it again when you close your mouth and lick off the rest of the cum off his fingers, the sensations becoming so strong they knock you out instantly.
****
You wake up laying on the couch inside his house. You don’t recognize any of the clothes you have on, they must belong to him too. They are completely yellow with sweat and dried up cum, but you find that for some reason it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.
You have no idea how much time had passed since the day you met him but there is a full, five o’clock shadow on your face now. The rest of your body looks much hairier than it’s supposed to as well. You see hair sticking out from under your collar, thickly covering your arms and have no idea how it got there.
You try to stand up but with an exception of your arm, your body refuses to move. It on the other hand simply can’t stop as it swiftly moves up and down your engorged cock.
It has changed too. It might not be longer but it’s definitely much thicker, barely fitting within your hand anymore.
You notice that your entire crotch and chest are coated with sticky, slowly drying cum. There is so much of it, it couldn’t have been a single load. How long have you been doing this for?
Something feels strange between your legs. You manage to let go of your cock for a moment and use the opportunity to dive your hand into the crusty, soiled briefs he gave you.
You can’t believe it. Your ballsack, it’s so fucking huge. Like a ripe grapefruit or maybe even bigger. In disbelief you give it a squeeze, wanting to confirm it’s actually real, but don’t realize how big of a mistake it is until it’s too late.
As if by the push of a button your whole body arches up and your cock erupts with cum. You are too dumbfounded by what’s happening to even react when the wave of pleasure washes over you and you feel your seed splattering onto your face and chest.
You desperately try to hold on, feeling yourself drifting away, not knowing when will be the next time you wake up from this strange stupor. But it’s useless, within moments you are completely gone.
****
A loud knock on the door gets your attention. This is the first time he’s had any visitors since you can remember and he looks equally surprised by the fact when he tells you to stay put and crams a foul smelling jockstrap inside your mouth.
Earlier its stench would have been enough to knock you out instantly but it doesn’t have as much of an effect on you anymore. You have grown much more accustomed to it. It still makes it difficult for you to think, difficult to tell what’s wrong and what’s right. Like whether you’re supposed to have this huge, hairy gut or specks of grey in your beard but thankfully your big bro had been teaching you how to make sense out of everything and cope with it.
When the door opens somehow your first instinct is to scream for help, to warn whoever it might be that he’s in danger but you know better than to act on it, your big bro had taught you better than that. You are not supposed to trust those kind of thoughts.
Even though you could have sworn you recognized the visitor’s voice you are going to stay put just like he told you to.
The man talks about someone who went missing around here recently and for some reason the whole story really upsets you. You don’t exactly know why but your head hurts really badly the more you think about it.
Eventually it grows so painful you barely manage to stop yourself from screaming but before it comes to that the touch of your big brother calms you down. He tells you that the man is gone and everything is fine now.
He slowly guides your head down to his crotch and says that this is your reward for laying low like he asked. And as always he knows exactly how to make you forget about your worries, by the time you swallow up his load it’s as if you never felt disconcerted in the slightest.
When you get up he kisses you deeply and tells you that he thinks he knows why the man looking for his friend got you so worked up.
You must have imagined how difficult it would have been if you were alone like him, without your big brother to help you out whenever you got confused. Immediately you know that he is right, it would have been so terrible you don’t ever want to think about it again.
He says that the two of you have to help him out, show him that he doesn’t have to be alone anymore and you agree.
Smiling he picks up the phone and dials the number the man left for him in case he remembered anything new.
“Can you come back? I think my brother might know something about this guy you are looking for.”
He just came home from work, and it happened again. He didn’t know how. The door was locked, nothing else was stolen. His computer was intact, and everything else that could be considered valuable belonging was still there. Guitar? Check. Camera? Check. The bulky smart fitness scale he bought 4 months ago shortly after New Year’s Eve ‘cause he promised that he would start eating in moderation but eventually stopped using it after just two weeks? Check.
The only things that were tampered with were his clothes. Every time when he was away from home, he would return to find that some article of clothing was missing. At first it was not even that noticeable. Mark never considered himself to be an orderly person, and while he could pretend to be so at work just to give out an aura of tidiness and care for details, his room was always a mess. So when he couldn’t find his favourite pastel green t-shirt amongst the pile of pending laundry, he just assumed it a once in a month incident where everything got mixed up and after some nice cleaning things would once again be in order.
But he was wrong, and that was the moment the alarm buzzed off in his head and the threat radar went from “random encounter” to “scripted event”. Because by the time he did that inevitable cleaning, more of his clothing had disappeared. The range of afflicted items and the spectrum of their wear and tear had also expanded, going from recently bought trousers to old merch bought from a rock concert to worn off-white undies. All gone.
Channelling fury into his knuckles, he knocked loudly on his flatmate’s door. He had discussed this with Cam before, and there didn’t seem to be any reason for nor any indicator of him performing this peculiar heist. The bloke was a decent one, and although he sometimes behaved like a dim-witted dork, there was nothing in question about his moral compass.
A profanity-laden scream, clearly not directed at him, pierced Mark’s ears. His flatmate was busy playing CS:GO again. As he thought more clearly about the whole fiasco, he felt like whatever he was doing was unnecessary: Cam was not the culprit, and he should direct his energy towards building a plan to prevent further disappearance, and think about the bizarre crime itself later.
As Mark returned back to his room, he heard a strange rustling sound.
His ears soon caught up with his eyes, and he discovered what was the source of it.
The doors of his wardrobe were wide open, and between them, a disembodied arm was poking around. It grabbed a pair of Mark’s socks.
“You fucking cunt”, Mark charged towards the animate object, not really caring about how the situation itself defied physics and biology.
Using all of his strength, he took hold of the thing and try to pry its fingers off. The arm was big, meaty and hairy, with a small scar running diagonally on the back of its hand. Its patches of dense hair almost covered up the bulging veins running across its skin surface. Compared to it Mark’s looked like a twig. And indeed, it was twig versus iron pillar when it came to the power discrepancy between Mark and whatever the thing was. Even with the element of surprise, it took him almost a minute to get its hand off his clothes.
The light in one spherical part of the room suddenly refracted strangely and started to ripple as if underwater. The arm promptly disappeared into that rift, leaving the room as quickly and discreetly as it had entered it. A moment later, the rift itself began to diminish, until everything returned to normal. Mark let out a heavy sigh, still trying to take in the situation. His adrenaline was still pumping, and he felt both of his arms sore and still shaking as a result of the altercation.
He flinched.
Another arm was behind him, slightly different from the first one, slowly sizing him up. This one had lighter hair on its surface, but still just as stout and imposing as the first. Mark shoved the arm away, and the arm jumped around to dodge his move. It made a quick stride across his chest, then bum, then legs, back to belly, groin, then nape. No matter how hard Mark tried to catch it, its lightning speed outmanoeuvred him.
Mark was losing his patience, and with it his sanity and stamina as well. Sensing that bare hands alone wouldn’t do with this thing, he was desperately in need of a weapon. Any would suffice. He dashed towards the monopod on the table. His makeshift baton was almost within fingers’ reach, when it was snatched away from him.
The first arm had returned.
While Mark was busy fighting the light-haired arm, a new rift had opened in his room. The dark-haired arm casually threw away his monopod, then immediately joined up in reinforcement with its conspecifics. Within seconds, the two arms overpowered him, and in the end Mark’s hands were rendered immobile in their tight grip.
A third arm appeared from the rift.
Then a fourth.
And a fifth.
Then another and another. At this point it was impossible to even distinguish which hand was which. The first few of them tackled Mark’s remaining free limbs until he was pinned to the couch, then the rest started to swarm in.
They made quick work of his clothing. They explored every nook and cranny of his body. One hand was up his ass. Another fiddling with his cock. Another cupped his balls. One played with his nipples. One’s fingers were interlocked with his toes. Every exposed surface of his body was covered with a hand. Rough, strong, callused hand. A sweaty palm was preventing him from letting a muffled moan. An olive-skinned arm was running its fingers around the tip of his mushroom head, sending waves of pleasure across his body.
The sea of hands suddenly disentangled and reduced their intensity. Mark was still restrained and in a semi-floating state, with his feet also being carried by several arms. As the arms hovering near his torso lowered themselves for whatever’s coming next, his field of vision was unclouded.
The first arm, the one with the scar, was floating above all other arms, stretching out its fingers.
It dove straight into Mark’s chest, sinking deep into his flesh. Mark gasped. When the entirety of the arm had completely disappeared inside his body, one by one the army of arms retreated into the rift.
Mark felt as though he was having a fever. It was hot, excruciatingly hot, and sweat in massive quantity poured out of his pores. He laid his arm over the area where the thing had entered, checking for any bump or sign of a foreign organism.
He couldn’t help but let bewilderment took hold of his eyes.
His heaving chest was getting firmer and protruding outward, prompted by an increase in muscles and fat. Hair started to sprout, first forming small patches on his sternum, then spread in every direction: sideways, downwards, upwards, until all that could be seen on his chest was hair and a pair of sweaty pink nipples.
Thick coarse, dark hair soon grew out of his neck, chin and jaw, blessing him with an intimidating beard. He had a feeling that something was stuck in his neck, but when he swallowed, nothing was there. Except when afterwards he let out a soft groan, he discovered what it was: his voice had dropped an octave lower.
At first, his stomach hardened up, revealing washboard abs running along it. But as the hair spread downwards, a new layer of meat and fat surfaced up, burying the six-pack underneath it, with only soft, fuzzy hairs and treasure trail as the only indicator of where the short-lived abs had been earlier.
The transformation was reaching its final stage, spreading out to his extremities. As his arms resembled more and more what had fused with his body, there was a parallel change in his nether region as well. He felt the weight between his legs increasing tremendously, almost doubling its previous size as his balls expanded to the size of tennis balls. Instantaneously in response as though to support that new weight, his legs lengthened up, adding at least half a foot to his height, his thighs swelled up like tree-trunks, his calves greatly widened and feet reached new dimensions that few shoes in the world would fit, all this accompanied by more and more hair covering his lower body.
Rivulets of sweat dripped down his bulky arms, coyly navigating through the jungle of newly formed hair. Mirroring the change to his torso, his biceps bulged out, veins popping along the contour of his upper limbs, only for the rigid curves to be replaced with softer and softer lines as meat and fat deposited more and more above the foundational muscle core.
Overstimulated by all the upgrades his body was receiving and by the ecstasy brought to him by his overgrown cock, he came.
————————————————
Cam thought he heard someone knocking earlier.
It was getting dark, so his flatmate must have been home already.
He went out to check, but no one was there. The door to Mark’s room, however, was standing ajar.
“Mark?”, he called out.
No answer. And neither was there any sound coming out of the room.
Curiosity got the better of him, and he gave the door a gentle push.
The room was dominated by fresh man-smells, mainly sweat and cum. Laundry littered all over the floor.
Lying peacefully on the couch, eyes closed, was a man Cam didn’t recognise.
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