I had some more writing juice left in me so I did some more of the thing. Also I'm so attached to Aster that I just had to have @debachoory do a portrait of her. Love how it turned out, friggin huge nose dragon gf.
Female sneezes, nose play, micro/macro, various causes
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Aster has gotten herself into a bit of trouble. She’d been tasked with keeping track of the university’s alchemy supplies, and she had the misfortune of sneezing into a jar of pixie dust. Not wanting to call attention to her little accident, she instead chose to replenish the reagent herself. And with the next alchemy lab session happening tomorrow, she doesn’t have much time.
Pixies live in the woods, right? Aster can only hope that at least one does as she pushes her way through the trees. Normally her long strides would enable her to cover a lot of ground quickly, but in a forest where she’s almost as tall as many of the trees, she’s not quite so lucky. Her short wolf cut hair has picked up a few sticks and leaves after only a few minutes, and despite her rough exterior she flinches away from every branch that swings too close to her face. It seems her only stroke of luck is that hay fever season hasn’t rolled around just yet.
A sudden wave of dizziness washes over the draconata. Aster stops in her tracks, closing her eyes and lightly pinching the high bridge of her big nose. An aroma she can’t describe tickles her nostrils, and when she opens her eyes, the scenery around her feels the same as it had been a moment ago, but also just slightly different. The inconsistencies become more unsettling the longer she looks around, and she can only hope this means a fae creature of some kind is nearby.
“Hello?” Aster calls out, slowly spinning in place. She knows she could easily handle any physical danger, but fae are not to be trifled with. Or so she’s heard. Aster’s never actually met one before.
Ugh, this is a stupid idea. Just fess up to sneezing in the jar, surely the alchemy professors will understand. Even if they don’t, whatever punishment they mete out is guaranteed to be more reasonable than a deal with the fair folk. Aster shakes her head and turns around, hoping to simply go back the way she came. But, just as she takes a single step, she feels something perch on the wide, upturned tip of her nose. She crosses her eyes to look, and she’s hit with a surge of fear and excitement when she finds herself face to face with a pixie.
“Golly, you sure are a pretty gal.”
Aster’s mouth opens wordlessly, and eventually she manages a dumbfounded “you really think so?” Her cheeks flush once her brain catches up. The pixie lifts off from her nose after giving it a reassuring pat on the bridge.
“Why, of course I do! Just look at your cool hair, those beautiful eyes, and this lovely big nose.”
Words escape her. Aster’s blush deepens, and she can’t hold back a bashful smile. The pixie gives a twirl and a giggle, speaking up once more when Aster is clearly too flustered to.
“Now, what can a humble pixie do for you this fine evening? Is everything alright, sugar?”
Eyes widening for a split second, Aster finally recalls her task. She digs an empty jar out of her bag and fidgets with it, not wanting to thrust it at the pixie too abruptly.
“Oh, I, um.”
The draconata clears her throat and gathers herself, earning a silent chuckle from her host.
“I was hoping to obtain a jar of pixie dust,” Aster announces plainly. It’s an ordeal to resist a long-winded explanation, but she knows it’s best not to give a fae any unnecessary details. Plus, she doesn’t want to bore the little thing. Or embarrass herself by speaking the tale aloud. The pixie flutters around the jar, taking a closer look.
“Hmm, I see, I see,” she says, a hand on her chin. “And what would you offer in exchange? A pixie’s dust is not something to be given away freely.”
“I am prepared to offer some of my scales,” Aster replies. She lifts her shirt, partially exposing her midriff. Shiny purple scales cover her body from her belly to her hips, and the pixie swiftly moves to inspect them.
“Ah, draconata scales. Not as large or as hard as a true dragon’s, but almost as magical, and perhaps better suited to one of my stature. A tempting proposition indeed.”
An unexpectedly long silence passes. Just as Aster is about to ask the pixie if she’s willing to make a deal, she suddenly feels… Upside down. To be clear, she hasn’t moved, and her feet are still planted on the forest floor, but even though she isn’t falling into the sky, gravity seems to be pulling her in the opposite direction.
“But, I think I’m craving something more immaterial today,” says the pixie. Aster feels a little pitter-patter on the underside of her nose, and what she’s unable to see is the tiny fae taking a stroll up and down her wide, spacious septum. She scrunches her face in response to the tickle, and then the world returns upright. Aster wavers slightly as she regains her balance, and then she slowly rubs an outstretched finger back and forth under her nostrils. The pixie flutters up before her once more, smiling brightly.
“Dragonkin, if you would allow me to play with your nose, I will gladly fill your jar with pixie dust.”
“Play with my nose?” Aster queries. The pixie nods enthusiastically.
“You won’t turn it into a snout or anything like that, will you?”
“Would you like me to?”
Aster wordlessly shakes her head.
The pixie giggles until she snorts, rolling head over heels in midair.
“You’re wise to be exacting, but don’t you worry your pretty little head. Cross my heart, I have no desire to alter your state of being. Simply, that nose of yours has charmed me. I wish to become acquainted with it.”
Somehow the pixie’s choice of words makes Aster blush all over again. She rubs her nose, not even to stop a tickle this time, more to cover it up and preserve its decency. But, all things considered, this seems more favorable than any deal she’d expected to get from a fae. Provided the pixie is being truthful, that is. And if not, then Aster supposes she’s already beyond saving.
“Alright,” she says, holding off a sigh. “How long is fair for a jar of pixie dust? An hour?” Not about to let this little thing live in her nose for the rest of her life. The pixie gives her a pitiful, exaggerated frown before straightening and holding up a finger in revelation.
“I, Bixu of the Summer Court, will spend the remainder of this evening with your nose in exchange for two jars of pixie dust,” she proposes, holding out a hand to shake.
Aster hesitates, though not for long. The alchemy professors would likely notice that a second jar had appeared from thin air, but Aster is Aster, not Aster the Wise. Bixu’s entire body is smaller than her little finger, but she too extends her hand. She feels a tiny pinch on her skin, and then the pixie disappears beneath her nose before she can blink.
“My, such elegant nostrils,” sighs Bixu, staring up at the underside of Aster’s nose. She delicately traces a fingertip along the edge of Aster’s left nostril, then her right, leaving them both encircled in a golden glitter. The nostrils flare outward and then gently suck in as Aster unconsciously sniffs up the pixie dust. Her lips part and she emits a low “hheh…”, but any urge to sneeze passes as quickly as it arrives.
“Such power in your breath,” the pixie continues. Aster isn’t sure how to respond to any of this. All she can do is focus on keeping her hands at her sides, not wanting to interfere with the pact.
“Would you be a dear and sniff again, please?”
Aster stammers incoherently for a second before obliging Bixu’s request. She inhales sharply, the suction again thinning her nostrils for a brief instant.
“Good girl. Sniff, sniff!”
Unsure if that was meant to be another command or just a casual remark, Aster sniffs twice rapidly. Bixu gives another giggle snort, and then she climbs over the tip of the draconata’s nose to sit atop it. She straddles across the bridge, splaying her arms, legs, and wings.
“You truly do have a lovely nose, darling,” Bixu moans, nuzzling her face into the soft gray skin.
“Thanks?” Aster replies, one eyebrow raised. If she had a nickel…
A moment passes while Bixu continues to hug Aster’s big nose. At least an hour, but no more than a few seconds. Aster isn’t sure if the sun is beginning to set, or if it’s simply circling around the same point in the sky. Eventually the pixie relaxes her grip and slowly slides down the long nose, coming to rest on the upturned tip. Then, she rolls over the end and disappears beneath it once more. From the light fluttering on her skin, Aster surmises that Bixu is drifting back and forth between her nostrils.
“Which of your nostrils do you prefer? Left or right?” the pixie asks, her tone completely earnest. Aster frowns.
“...I have no idea,” she states flatly. Bixu again traces the outline of her left nostril, then the right, prompting Aster to sharply wriggle her nose.
“Well, the left is slightly narrower,” Bixu observes. “I suspect it becomes stuffed more easily, though it may be less susceptible to irritants.”
Aster can’t begin to guess as to the veracity of such a hypothesis. Probably best not to say anything. Before she can decide what not to say, she feels something, presumably Bixu, shoving its way into her left nostril. Aster snorts, scrunching her nose to the side.
“Well? Is it stuffed?” the pixie asks, her voice echoing inside Aster’s head. Aster tentatively opens one eye.
“It’s a little blocked up, yeah,” she answers, fighting the urge to stick a finger in there and dig the pixie out.
“Only a little, that’s good. I must say it’s quite spacious in here. Your right nostril must be even more so.”
“I guess,” says Aster with an irritated sniff.
Bixu shifts around, taking in the sights. The draconata’s nostril is protected by a dense forest of hairs, and every surface is coated in a soft, powdery soot. Grains of pollen and specks of dust dot the landscape, trapped in the layer of ash. Bixu turns her attention to the closest hair, reaching up into the distance like a mighty tree. Unable to help herself, she gives it a push.
A tickle shoots up Aster’s left nostril, making her scrunch her face yet again. She ponders asking Bixu to get out, but before she can…
“Ah-CHOO!!”
The pixie sneezes shrilly, blasting a puff of soot from Aster’s nostril. She coughs once, then manages a choked “gesundheit.” Bixu crawls back out of the draconata’s nose and pats herself off, leaving a little dark cloud in the air.
“Goodness, excuse me. It’s awfully dusty in there. Doesn’t it make you want to sneeze?”
“Not really,” Aster says, casually rubbing a finger under her nose. Bixu grins as curiosity takes hold of her.
“What happens when you do sneeze? Does it get blown out?” she interrogates, fists clenched with excitement. Aster glances off to the side and scratches behind one ear.
“Uh… Some of it, yeah.”
Bixu clasps her hands together and twirls.
“Oh, that I must see!”
Uh oh.
The pixie disappears under Aster’s nose once again, this time gathering a mound of pixie dust in her palm. She takes aim right between those big, long nostrils, draws a deep breath, and then lets the glittering powder fly free. Moving like a creature all of its own, the stream of dust splits in two before surging up both nostrils. Aster’s face immediately goes slack as the pixie dust reaches deep into her sinuses, tickling everything along the way like a thousand tiny feathers.
“hh… heh…”
Aster’s chest rises and falls as she feels her soot and ash begin to roil in the depths of her nose. For better or worse, Bixu is certainly going to get an up close and personal example of a draconata’s sneeze.
“I… Ohgods… hh-heh!”
One hand still clutching the empty jar, the other raises to hang limply in the air. Hitching breaths turn to gasps, and then gasps turn to intermittent snorts that release preliminary tendrils of smoke. This is going to be a big one.
“heh-hhh-! G-get bahh… ahh… haahh…!”
Bixu ignores Aster’s wispy warning, continuing to hover in place barely more than a foot away. With one final shrieking gasp, the draconata throws back her head, and…
“HRAAHHSHHHOOOOO!!!!!”
Aster unleashes a monstrous sneeze, bending fully at the waist. Thick, dark smoke blasts from both of her nostrils, engulfing not just Bixu, but the entire little clearing around them. At a glance the whole incident must have looked like a small explosion. Aster sits up as the haze dissipates, having stumbled and fallen on her butt in the chaos. She rests against one arm on the ground, while her jar hand firmly scrubs an outstretched finger back and forth under her nose, a bit of smoke still puffing from her nostrils.
“Oh bless you!” chimes Bixu, seemingly no worse for wear after the deluge. “What a big sneeze!”
“Yeah, that was a doozy,” grumbles Aster. She sets the jar down on the dirt beside her and gives her nose a slow, upward wipe with her palm. Her nostrils stretch against her hand as she presses on her nose, but the tickling continues.
“I hope it didn’t hurt your poor nose,” Bixu continues, giving Aster a gentle pat on the bridge. She shakes her head, still scrubbing at her nostrils.
“Nah, just tiih… T-tickles! hhRAHSHHUH!!!”
The draconata suddenly sneezes again. Smaller this time, and with a smaller cloud of soot to match, but it’s still a loud and messy affair.
“Bless you twice!”
“Thanks,” snorts Aster, wiping her nose down the length of her forearm. Later she’ll look back and wonder why she handled this whole fiasco so calmly, but at the moment, what else is she going to do? Well, for one, keep rubbing.
“Ugh, itchy nose…” Aster complains, swiping her fingers back and forth under her nose with gradually increasing speed. Eventually she lets her hand fall away, and she tips her head back to stare up at the sky. The sun is nowhere to be seen, though the forest is still bright and colorful as ever. Aster gives a start when she feels Bixu touch down on her philtrum, best let the pixie do as she pleases. Mercifully her host provides only a cathartic scratching under her nose.
“Scritch, scritch!” Bixu chirps as she kneads the soft skin of Aster’s septum with both hands. Such tiny fingers, but they work wonders on Aster’s big nose. After just a few seconds, the draconata’s nostrils are good as new. She takes a deep breath and sighs, tipping her head back down to gaze at her strange companion.
“That… Actually felt really good,” Aster admits with a shy smile. She slides an outstretched finger across the underside of her nose to chase off any lingering tickles, and Bixu curtseys in mid air.
“Much obliged, dragonkin,” she says, clasping her hands behind her back. “But alas, I believe time is near for us to go our separate ways.” Aster is almost disappointed. Well, she’s not fond of sneezing or having her nose invaded, but this has been… Fun? Maybe? Almost.
“Well, I, uh…” Aster mumbles, avoiding eye contact. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Bixu.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” replies the pixie, extending a hand. “One last thing.”
Bixu does her best to cradle Aster’s vast nose with her tiny palm, and she gives it a long, tender kiss right on the tip. A fleeting tickle swirls into both of Aster’s nostrils, making her scrunch up her face, and when she opens her eyes again, Bixu is nowhere to be seen. After giving her nose an upward flick with the side of a finger, she turns to find two jars of pixie dust on the ground beside her, as promised. Aster picks them up and returns one to her bag before spying a small note attached to the second.
My Dearest Dragonkin,
I was in such a rush to make a dramatic exit that I forgot to give you a final warning. Some of my friends can be quite jealous, and they may wish to take you for themselves now that we’ve parted. Hurry on home quick as you can, silent as a very quiet pixie.
Nasally yours, Bixu of the Summer Court
p.s.: Don’t sneeze! Now that you’ve sneezed for me, I might be the one to get jealous if you should happen to sneeze for them…
Aster blinks.
“That’s the scariest thing I’ve ever read in my entire life,” she mutters to herself, staring into the distance. The forest feels darker already. Aster yanks the note off of the second jar and drops it to the ground, and once she’s secured her bag, she begins to retrace her steps. Or at least, she thinks she’s retracing her steps.
Despite the distressing note, Aster soon forgets her worries. Just a brisk walk in the woods back to the university. No problem. No…
Aster stops in her tracks, a chill running up her spine. It wasn’t a noise that startled her so, but rather the complete lack of any. The forest has gone utterly silent, as if the animals and even the wind itself have fled. With no time to think, Aster quietly jogs toward the biggest bush she can see. Hopefully it’ll be enough to obscure her tall form. Aster dives into the foliage with a deafening rustle of leaves, and then stillness sets in once more.
The only sound Aster can detect is the thump of her own heart, but something is passing by. She can’t hear it, see it, or smell it, but she feels it all the same. Has it noticed her? As long as she’s still coherent and in one piece, she can only assume that it hasn’t. The imperceptible presence continues on its way, and Aster remains motionless for what seems like hours compressed into minutes. Eventually the invisible weight lifts from her soul, and a bit of ambient noise returns to the forest.
Aster allows herself a quiet sigh and she peeks her head out of the greenery. But, when she tries to take a breath of fresh air, the air is anything but refreshing. Unlike the fierce, feathery tickle of the pixie dust, the aroma of the undergrowth leaves her feeling sluggish and stuffy.
Oh no.
“Really? Now!?” Aster grumbles under her breath, giving her nostrils a slow, firm rub with her fingers. She glares daggers down at her big nose, and already she can see a few flecks of yellow on her gray skin. Of course she hadn’t brought any allergy potions. Just water, a few snacks, and the jar for the pixie dust. Not even any tissues. Normally she wouldn’t need them for another month, but it seems spring has come for her early.
Still haphazardly rubbing her nose, Aster takes off through the trees. Eventually she wipes her nostrils across her forearm and turns to a full on sprint, trusting that she’s headed in the right direction. Unfortunately she doesn’t get far before her foot snags on a thick root and she stumbles. Aster throws out her arms to steady herself, but still she crashes to the ground. She props herself up on her elbows, ready to leap to her feet…
A colorful flowering shrub bars Aster’s path. That hadn’t been there before she fell. It couldn’t have. Why would she run toward it? Whatever, no time to worry about that now. Aster holds her breath as she tries to back away, already feeling the pollen tickling its way into her nostrils.
“heeh-!”
A minuscule hitched wheeze is enough to halt the draconata in place. Eyelids fluttering, she clumsily maneuvers one hand to rub her fingers back and forth under her nose. The pollen continues its onslaught, and Aster can only slow its advance.
“hh… ghih…”
She snorts softly, her flaring nostrils releasing a small puff of smoke. A gentle breeze clears it away, but the gust is suddenly cut short.
‘Don’t sneeze,’ Aster pleads with herself. She gives one last swipe left and right across her nostrils, slow and firm, and then she presses her fingers up as hard as she can. The aching tickle recedes ever so slightly as her nose compresses on top of her hand. Not enough. Still need to…
“Don’t…! Sneeze!”
She’s too far gone to realize that she’d said the words out loud. The silence zeroes in on her, and if it needs any more help…
“heh-! hHRAAHSHOOO!!!”
Smoke and pollen spew from Aster’s nostrils as she sneezes. Small by her standards, but by no means quiet. She pushes through her disorientation and surges up to resume her sprint.
Nothing.
No shrub, no forest, no ground, no sky. She is nowhere. But not alone.
“Dragonkin!”
A discordant symphony of tiny voices calls out to Aster. Too terrified even to scream, all she can do is wait. Cacophonous fluttering fills her ears, and after a single blink she finds herself surrounded by what must be a hundred pixies, all swirling around her in a mad vortex.
“Hello!” “What’s your name?” “Play with me!” “Where are you from?” “Tell me your name!”
Aster can only recognize an occasional word among the chaos. She keeps her lips tightly sealed. No matter what she says, she knows she’ll regret it. Whatever rational part of her mind remains desperately wants to find a way out, but where can she even escape to?
The air soon grows thick with pixie dust, and more than a little finds its way into Aster’s long nostrils. They begin to flare and wriggle almost immediately, giving her little time to react. She unconsciously lifts one hand toward her face, but she’s unable to make any use of it.
“ha-haa-haaa-! RAAAHCHOOO!!!”
Aster doubles over with a sharp, loud sneeze. The smoke expelled by her nostrils is immediately swept up in the tornado of pixies and carried away, though some of the tiny creatures still take notice.
“A sneeze!” “She sneezes!” “How cute!” “I want to try!” “Do it again!” “She sneezed!” “Sneeze!”
Now she understands Bixu’s warning. Sort of. This is still beyond what Aster could have imagined. She barely has time to straighten before she feels at least a dozen pixies trying to scramble into her nostrils. As vast as they are, they’re not quite big enough for all the pixies to fit at once. Her nose is completely plugged before any of them can get fully inside, but that doesn’t stop them from raising all kinds of havoc.
The pixies fill Aster’s head with glittering dust. They kick up a storm of ash and soot in her sinuses. They play with her nose hairs, tugging on them and tying some together. It’s unlike anything Aster has ever experienced before. All this to say, she really, really needs to sneeze.
“hah… hh-hih…!”
Smoke begins to seep out of the draconata’s nostrils, blocked as they are. None of the fae seem to care, and they continue with their mischief. Swirling soot, quivering nose hairs, it’s all too much.
“ghhah… hih… nnheh!”
Aster’s knees buckle. She would have fallen to the ground if there was any beneath her feet. One pixie finally manages to shove its way past the rest and it soars deep into Aster’s nose, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. The little intruder gives a happy twirl, sending the surrounding nose hairs all aflutter. Aster has reached her limit.
“haahh… Hhaaahhhh…!”
The pixies don’t let up. Soot pours from Aster’s nose, nearly as much as if she’d already sneezed. Plenty of pixie dust is mixed in with the ash, seemingly more than should be able to fit inside the poor draconata. Her besieged nostrils give one last great flare, and her final gasp for breath is more akin to an inward scream.
“HHRAAAAHHHSHHHHOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”
An enormous cloud of smoke rises above the treetops. Every inch of the clearing below is blanketed in soot, including Aster herself. She lays flat on her back, somewhere between unable and unwilling to move. Some of the dryer plants around her have been singed. She snorts out a pair of smoke rings in the shape of her nostrils and finally sits up with a weak cough.
“hih… hehh… hHREHSHHUH!!”
Another sneeze, another cloud. It’s a wonder she has any smoke left in her. With an exhausted whine, Aster slowly rubs her outstretched fingers back and forth under her nose. She scrubs away until her tickly nostrils are sufficiently numbed, and finally she opens her eyes. The devastation all around her doesn’t surprise her half as much as the fact that there’s anything to see at all. Aster shakily stands, checks her bag and jars, and gives her nose another much needed rub.
“Uh… Excuse me,” she mumbles, her voice tired and congested. She lazily turns her head from side to side, and the pixies are nowhere to be seen. Her big sneeze must have scared them off, or blown them away. Aster frowns, her cheeks warming. Not sure which possibility is more embarrassing.
With no energy left to sprint, she slowly trudges forward. The trees begin to thin, and the university buildings gradually come into view. The campus clocktower reads just after 4:00 in the morning, hopefully the same night and plane of existence from which Aster had set out. She drags herself to the alchemy building, deposits both jars of pixie dust in the store room, and promptly collapses into a chair in the atrium.
“Next time I’ll just tell them I… I… hih… hRAHCHUHH! Ugh…”
Aster lets her head fall back over the top of the chair. She drifts in and out of sleep, exhausted but still too wound up to fully doze off. Eventually a long, pointy nose comes into view from behind, followed by a familiar face staring down at her.
“Aster?”
The draconata blinks slowly.
“Hey, Milly. What’re you doing up?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” the elf counters, resting a hand on her hip. “I was prepping for my lab later today, then I heard you sneeze. I swear, you’re so loud.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m amazed it’s just me. You probably woke up half the campus with-”
“Yeah. I got it.”
Milly pouts, her slitted nostrils flaring in frustration.
“What happened to you?”
Aster sighs, snorting out two thin wisps of smoke.
“Allergy season came early.”
Milly gawks.
“You expect me to believe this is all because of hay fever? I…”
She trails off, her expression softening almost imperceptibly.
“Do you want a massage?”
Aster grins, slowly rubbing an outstretched finger under the tip of her nose.
“Yes please.”
Milly slaps Aster’s hand away, then she delicately places her fingertips on the draconata’s forehead and nose. A classic Milly sinus massage. Aster’s nose lets off a long, gentle puff of smoke, easing her congestion. Milly frowns at the messy display, but she continues unabated. At least, until…
Hiiii new Norman and Jack story but this one is a little different…
Norman uses a magic candy to tf Jack into him, but Jack uses it back on him ❤️
Twinning, transformation, personality swap, body swap but like in a tf way, weight gain but in like a tf way. Selfcest, kind of. I focused a ton on the sensation of gaining weight and also of a tdick transforming into a phallus. This is one of my very few stories where people actually have sex, but they are having sex as each other in one another’s bodies with one another’s desires so it’s fun. I hope u like it ❤️
Filling In
Norman stumbled into his private suite at a quarter after noon, groaning. He removed his sunglasses, before thinking better of it and slipping them back on.
Hungover. He didn’t overindulge often, but when he did it became everyone’s problem. And right now, it was Jack’s problem.
It had been three months since Jack had moved into the secret suite attached to Norman’s dressing room. After they had retrieved his belongings from his apartment, he’d begun living there full time. His own comfortable, vintage taste combined with Norman’s love for kitch into an eclectic, cozy space. He was surprised by how quickly it had come to feel like home.
And it was good that it did, because he didn’t have a choice in the arrangement.
Jack sat at the bistro by the window with a bagel and coffee. Despite the circumstances, he’d been enjoying the slow mornings.
He watched as Norman stumbled into the bedroom, clutching his head. He flopped dramatically onto the bed.
“Jackie, bring me a coffee, would ya?”
“Late night?” He obediently went into the kitchen and poured a cup for Norman. This too was a part of the comfort of his new life, the normalcy of domestic servitude. Even an act as simple as pouring a coffee put a warm glow in his chest, though he would never admit it.
But he didn’t have to admit it. Norman and Aster knew it all the same.
“The new sponsorship is killing me,” he rubbed his eyes and took the cup from Jack. “It’s not enough to blast their name across all our merchandise, preach their shit to the masses like they’re the second coming. No, I gotta wine and dine ‘em too.” He took a sip of his coffee, savoring it.
“What are they selling again?”
“Shoes.” He set the cup down and laid on the bed. This was where he would normally have begun a tirade about the crappy product, so he must have been feeling extraordinarily lousy. For Norman, complaining was a part of the fun. He didn’t really hate the sponsorships, the schmoozing, the fact that out of all the ugly mugs in the world, they wanted his to be the one selling Saxon’s Fine Shoes. Even when he complained, it was for the love of the spotlight. “I think you’re gonna have to fill in for me tonight, Jackie,” Norman said pathetically before dragging Jack’s face down to meet his.
He kissed him. This had become a normal greeting. Norman kissed possessively, warm and open-mouthed. As he slipped his tongue into Jack’s mouth, Jack felt something else slip past his lips: a hard candy.
Jack scoffed and pulled away. “I’m sure the sponsors would love that.” The candy was sweet and citrus. A shiver ran up his spine, though he didn’t know why.
“Fuck the sponsors.” Norman rested his head on the bed again, loosening his tie. “You should take your pants off.”
“I thought you said you weren’t feeling well,” Jack said with an eye roll.
Norman laughed, then groaned from the pain in his head. “I mean it. You aren’t gonna fit into ‘em in a few minutes.”
“What the hell does that mean?
“Like I said, you gotta fill in for me tonight.”
Norman loved to catch him by surprise. To hint, to play with words, waiting until the last possible moment to reveal his motives and consequently, turn Jack into a stuttering mess.
Jack knew this, but he couldn’t imagine what Norman was hinting, and that fact filled him with unease. What new humiliation was in store for him? He tried to steer the conversation. “I don’t think people want to see me run the show anymore, Norman.”
“Oh? I thought you liked being the host. Thought maybe you missed it.”
“I did. I-I do. But…”
“And anyways they won’t see you. They’ll see me.”
Jack felt a strange pit forming in his stomach. It was like the feeling he got when Norman and Aster made him feel so small, so out of control, but there was more weight to it. It was a physical feeling. “Like I said, Jackie. Take off your pants.”
His trousers were oddly tight. It felt like his belt was digging into his soft belly in the way it might if he had just eaten a big meal, but half of his bagel sat unfinished on the table by the window. What was going on?
He tongued the candy in his mouth and he felt that strange shiver through his body again. It was like that sugar sweet taste went directly into his belly, warming it. Filling it.
He fumbled with his belt, but without it cinched around his middle, his stomach ballooned outward. He choked back a gasp.
“What the hell? What’s… what did you do?” He felt his body growing warmer. Swelling. Straining against his clothes. He ran his hands over his belly, feeling it grow plump.
He’d fantasized about this. About getting big. About outgrowing his clothes. He realized with dismay that he was already hard. Before he could reach a pudgy hand between his legs, the button on his trousers popped off.
Norman chuckled. “I told you to take them off,” he said. “Those poor pants of yours.”
He rushed to wedge himself free of his trousers and underwear. He sat on the floor, struggling against them with effort until he was finally able to shove them from his thickening thighs. In moments they had gotten so tight. And the extra weight didn’t help. He pulled off the shirt that had already ridden up over his belly before that too began to tear.
Norman was grinning at him, amused. He gestured to the floor length mirror against the wall. “Check it out. You’re already looking pretty damn good, though it’s hard to compete with the original.”
His body felt so heavy when he stood. His thighs rubbed against each other with every step, a sensation that was foreign to him. He’d always been skinny. The feeling of his body jiggling with each movement, his plump belly bouncing with his steps, brought a blush to his cheeks. He couldn’t suppress the heat that spread to his groin, made hotter by the new sensations of skin rubbing against skin.
Did he even want to look in the mirror? He peaked down at his body.
He was fat. He was fat and getting fatter.
Fuck, it felt good.
Norman chuckled, “Getting distracted by your own good looks?” Jack was rubbing his hands over his belly. A sound between a whimper and a moan escaped his lips. “Hey, if it helps, your ass still looks pretty much the same. You were already well-endowed in that particular area.”
Finally, Jack took a hesitant look in the mirror. Every part of him was thicker. Not just his thighs and stomach but his arms, his hands, his neck, his face. He still looked like himself, sort of, but his cheeks were decidedly chubby. “What—” he coughed. His voice sounded strange, more gruff than his usual tone, but he couldn’t seem to clear it. “What did you do?”
“Well, I didn’t think people would buy it if you tried to play me. It’ll be a whole lot easier if you become me.” He winked. “Better for the show, I mean. I know I’m enjoying it!”
Jack stumbled toward the bed, each moment adding a few more pounds, but he still had a bit to go before he reached Norman’s size. The bed seemed taller. But no, he realized. He was shorter.
He climbed onto the bed, pulling himself on top of Norman. “Take it easy, kiddo. Headache.”
The feeling of their bellies pressing together was almost enough to drive Jack over the edge. The curves, the movement, the texture of his thickening body hair against Norman’s.
He couldn’t help it. He’d always thought Norman was incredibly hot. Taking on this body for his own filled him with a strange euphoria that blocked out all other thought. He kissed Norman. Slipped his tongue into his mouth— even the sensation of his mouth was different, the texture and taste and size and the angles of his teeth all sparking his nerves with a pleasurable newness.
He slipped the candy into Norman’s mouth. Norman grimaced, pushed him off, a low, throaty laugh, “Oh, you little bastard.” He held Jack’s face as it shifted to look more and more like his own. “I’d slap that face if it weren’t so damn handsome.”
Jack found himself rutting against Norman’s thigh. He almost couldn’t fit his own thick thighs around Norman’s, and he had to adjust a few times to get the angle right. He couldn’t stop himself. The arousal burned in him so bright that it brought tears to his eyes.
“Lay down, Jackie.”
He didn’t want to stop the rubbing, the movement. Norman put a hand on his chest, nudging, directing his attention. “Lay down.”
He pulled himself off of Norman. “I-I’m sorry,” the voice that came out of his mouth was Norman’s. It felt alien on his tongue. “It feels so…”
As Norman sat up, he turned away, blushing a bit. “Kinda creeps me out seeing me talk like that.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed, “Well whose fault is that?”
“Shhh, Jackie boy. It’s almost done. Open your legs.”
He might have resisted, or at least pretended to resist, but he felt so wet and hot that he needed to obey, just for the possibility of Norman’s touch.
And Norman obliged, taking Jack’s tiny cock between his fingers, just as he had the first time. Jack tried to watch, but he couldn’t see past the new belly in his line of vision. This just turned him on more.
He felt Norman stroke, and he whimpered. A gentle touch. One, two, three…
He couldn’t see it, but he could feel every sensation. His cock engorging, growing. Norman’s feathery touch as it lengthened delicately into a more phallic shape. It bloomed, mushroom-like into Norman’s hand, and he rubbed his thumb softly along the head. Below it, he felt the new weight of his balls, pillowy against the bed.
“Good boy. That’s it.” Norman knew exactly how to tease this body without sending it over the edge, sending shivers through Jack without allowing him the clarifying release of an orgasm.
But then the touching stopped, and Norman groaned. “Ugh. Here we go…”
Jack pulled himself up to look at Norman, who was already getting a little gaunt. His clothes seemed to deflate, slipping down around his slimming body. He stood, and his pants fell around his ankles. Norman was holding his head again, wincing. “Get me something to be sick in.”
Jack got up, stumbling, almost falling. He didn’t know how to walk in this body. The shape, the weight, the height, the center of gravity… it was all so new. He managed to grab a bin from the corner, and he brought it to Norman, who was doubled over.
“Augh!!” Norman groaned.
And then there was a strange popping from behind his head. A lengthening of the spine. And all at once, his hangover had cleared in a single sharp wave of pain. It was like the relief of cracking knuckles. He leaned against the side of the bed, panting, sweat across his brow.
He looked up at Jack.
Jack looked down at Norman, and he saw himself.
“Well, I’m not sure this is viable on the market as a hangover cure, but it certainly did it for me,” muttered Norman. Jack was silently thankful for the years on television that had gotten him used to hearing his own voice from outside of himself, strange as it was to hear it using Norman’s words. Jack helped Norman to stand.
Norman’s newly tall legs shook beneath him like a baby deer. He sat on the bed. His face was flushed, his pupils dilated, and Jack realized that Norman was feeling his new body’s sensitivities as well.
Norman pulled Jack closer to him, and their sexes pressed together. He seemed to be contemplating. A shiver passed through his body, and Norman gasped a shaky breath. Jack had never seen him so flustered. “K-kid,” he stuttered, “Do you always feel like this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean so… so small.”
“You’re calling me small, you short bastard?” He wanted to dig into Norman and then stopped himself.
What was he saying?
Norman let out a laugh. “Oh, Jackie. It’s not just the way we look. It’s the way we feel. We’re going to start acting like each other, too. It looks like it’s already starting.” He pushed Jack, laughing some more. “I was gonna coach you before you’ve gotta go out on the set, tonight. Thought it might be funny to make the crew panic a bit, ya know? As if one of me wasn’t enough. Ugh.”
“Well, sorry I ruined your plan.” Jack responded sarcastically. “But it woulda been nice to know ahead of time, Norm.”
“This sucks,” Norman was still laughing.
“What? Having the rug pulled out from under you? Never knowing what the crazy bastard running your life is gonna spring on you outta nowhere?”
“No, no. Feeling like you. It sucks.”
Jack’s face turned crimson. He wasn’t quick to anger, but Norman was. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean that I’m a big guy. I like being big. I like to be the man in charge. But not you, Jack. No. I didn’t know what it was like until I felt it. It’s something inside you. Something that makes you so sweet and pathetic and fun to play with. It… I…” he looked down. “I want you to take charge for a bit.”
Jack felt a sense of pride and satisfaction bloom in his belly. Norman’s hot-blooded confidence coursed through his veins. He felt sexy and strong and so damn big. For once, he knew exactly what to do.
Jack pushed Norman back onto the bed. He was surprised by the force of his own strength, how Norman yelped in Jack’s voice. He kissed Norman and tasted himself, the citrus of the melted candy still on his tongue.
Norman was pinned beneath the weight that had been his and he knew what it was to enjoy feeling trapped. His face was flushed with shame. The pain felt like satisfaction, catharsis, and overwhelming arousal. He let Jack bite his lips, his neck, his chest. Little marks were peppered along his upper body. It made Norman feel something like love.
Jack had no sense of the strangeness of shoving his cock into a simulacrum of himself. His mind echoed a mantra of fuck, mine, fuck, mine, mine, mine, mine…
But Norman was aware. He looked up at Jack for a moment and was struck by the creeping, almost incestuous feeling of being fucked by himself. That only made it feel better. He closed his eyes and thought, God Jack, you really are a sick little freak aren’t you?
Jack felt his belly rubbing up against Norman with every thrust, felt the movement of his body and the overwhelming pleasure of having a cock that was big enough to use the way he wanted. He came quickly. He wished it could have lasted longer.
As he slowed, panting, the bizarreness of the situation began to set in.
He could not kiss Norman. He gently pulled away.
At this point, Norman was probably becoming hypersensitive, and Jack knew that. He let Norman rest for a bit, eyes closed, breathing hard. Then he got a toy from his dresser, a vibrating wand that he knew exactly how to use on this body.
When Norman came, Jack was holding him from behind, running the wand over his most sensitive places.
He held his own body close and felt his own weakness, his own smallness in his arms. When they were done, they washed each other’s bodies in just the right way.
…
When Aster arrived later that afternoon, it took him no time to guess what had happened. He doubled over with laughter.
Norman was dressing Jack, fretting over what tie he should wear, what suit was most authentically Norman. He couldn’t have Jack ruining his reputation. Aster plucked the red tie from Norman’s hands and put it around Jack’s neck.
