There’s a new suggested story up for patrons to enjoy, based off some suggestions I received in the box and on discord from the last month. This one is a bit supersized, but it was a lot of fun to write–I might end up toying with a longer version of it at some point, but we’ll see. Here’s a sample for everyone who isn’t a patron–if you want to read the whole thing, you can find it here.
âNow serving number 351.â
Aiden looked down at the ticket in his hand–367–getting closer at least, this place was worse than the damn DMV. He heaved a sigh and adjusted himself on the squeaky metal chair heâd perched himself on in the waiting room. The temp in here wasnât that hot, but he was still sweating all over, as was the norm for him now, and he adjusted some of the rolls of fat hanging off him, trying to get comfortable, but the fact was, he hadnât been comfortable once in weeks now, ever since Jerry had cast that dang spell on him.
Jerry, having been born with no real affinity for magic what-so-ever, and no friends or family with much talent aside from a minor prestidigitation or two had never really given it much thought. Then, after college, heâd moved states for a new job, and ended up living in an apartment complex next to Damon. Damon and Jerry had hit it off, and Damon had taken to boasting about his magical ability, showing off a few spells around his place, and that was when Jerryâs wheels had starter turning.
See, Jerry had never been very happy with his body. He was rail thin and tall, and had never been able to put on much muscle. Damon, one night, talked about how heâd taken a course in transformation magic in school and aced it, showing up for the final as a buff muscle stud, and so Jerry had asked him to cast it on him. Damon had balked, and made some excuses at first–that it wasnât exactly illegal but highly frowned upon, and that it had only been one course. Jerry had pressed the issue though, and offered him a good chunk of cash, and so Damon had relented–but the spell hadnât quite gone as Jerry had hoped.
âNow serving number 356.â
Heâd gotten bigger sure–but all of it had been fat, and there had been some other unfortunate side effects to go with it. He was so hairy now that he couldnât even see his skin in the places where it was most thick–across his chest, down his back and in his ass crack. His beard and hair would grow almost an inch a day, forcing him to shear them off nightly, and by morning heâd have a solid bread again no matter what he did. Heâd freaked out, of course, and Damon had promised to fix him, but it would take a couple of days to figure out. So Jerry was resigned to wait–until two days later, when some guys had knocked on Damonâs door and arrested him for using magic without a licence! Heâd never even gone to school for any of it, apparently–he was a fraud. Jerry had followed after them, huffing and wheezing, knees aching under almost 400 pounds of flab, and asked the wizards arresting him what to do. All theyâd done at first was laugh at him, Jerry dressed in some tight boxers since none of his clothes fit him, and nothing heâd ordered had shown up yet, standing in the apartment parking lot looking like a hairy beach ball. In the end, theyâd told him it would probably wear off in a few weeks–but if it didnât, heâd have to come here, to the department of magical corrections, where bad spells got sorted out by professionals.
âNow serving number 363.â
He scratched his hairy pit again, and tried to reposition himself on the metal chair. The clothes heâd bought online had ended up still being too small for him, but heâd refused to buy more, since heâd held out hope heâd be back to normal soon enough. But he hadnât gone back to normal. Heâd begged off work for a week, telling the office he was sick, but was too ashamed to tell them what was really happening. A coworker had come by to check on him, found him there, looking like a hairy, fat stranger, and freaked out–heâd gotten a call from his boss the next day that he was fired. So now he was also unemployed. Walking anywhere was exhausting, sweaty, and hurt his knees and back–and the stares. He hated the way people stared at him the most, like he was some sort of freak. The hunger too–he was hungry all the time, and while he tried to resist it the best he could, he was eating more these days than a small family–heâd weighed himself the other day and discovered he was even fatter. It wasnât going away on its own–and so, he was here. Waiting, and hoping, someone would fix him.
âNow serving number 367.â
That was him. Jerry hauled his ass up and went to see if someone could get him out of this mess.
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