It all started when my brother and I ran into a bit of a problem. See, our parents were leaving town for a week, and we wanted to throw a party–the problem is that I was twenty, and he was eighteen, and neither of us had any older friends to buy the booze for us. So what do we do? We put an ad on Craigslist–stupid, right? Well, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, and we got a response pretty quick.

It was from a farmer on the outskirts of town, who wrote back and said that he had just finished up a batch of his moonshine, and that he’d sell it to us dirt cheap. We hadn’t gotten any other offers, so we decided to give it a shot–if it was horrible, we could always not buy it. We drove out to the farm, met the toothless hick, and he gave us a bottle to try, and he said we could get the rest if we liked it.

We got back home and sampled it. It was strong, way stronger than anything we’d ever had before, but the taste wasn’t too bad, and it went down surprisingly easy. But…strange things started happening. My brother started talking in a Southern drawl after a few shots, and when I passed by a mirror, I saw my clothes were gone, replaced by a pair of overalls and nothing else. We both were packing on weight as well…and horny as shit. Before I could stop him, my older brother shoved me down on the sofa, hauled out my cock and sucked me off, and later than evening he fucked me back, and it all seemed perfectly right and normal, until morning, when we both woke up with the worst hangovers of our lives.

We were back to our old selves thankfully, and we said we wouldn’t go back, but the hangover only got worse. We needed more of that damn moonshine, and we both knew it. The farmer was waiting for us, grinning like an idiot. He…He made us drink another whole bottle each  then and there, and before long our alter egos were back, worshipping our “Pa’s” fat, filthy body, and we both knew it was wrong, but we were hooked.

We did throw the party that week. All of our guy friends are hooked on the moonshine now too, and most of us stay in our redneck forms full time now–it hurts too damn much to be normal. I’m writing this sober, because when I’m Jerod, I’m illiterate, but I can barely take the pain. I just want someone to know what happened. I’m never going back–I’m going to be drunk on Pa’s moonshine for the rest of my life, and I don’t care. But tell my parents, tell them Jerry and Grant love them very much. Tell them goodbye.

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