Was it an invitation? It didn’t quite sound like one, somehow, as he said it. Herman got his coat, and the two of them went down and decided to go to a quiet restaurant a few blocks away from town, one where the students weren’t usually found crowding up the place. Burt found himself ordering several appetizers, and when they arrived, he happily tucked it, chatting with Herman, but noticing that his fellow professor seemed rather…preoccupied. “Come on now, Herman–feel free to tuck in,” he said, and started foisting food on him. Herman was…reluctant, but Burt almost enjoyed that aspect, bringing him around slowly, encouraging him to eat more than he was planning on. When it came time to order entrees, and Herman ordered something small for himself, Burt overrode him, ordered him steak and potatoes, and Herman went along with it.

More than once, Burt asked himself what he was doing. This seemed…so unlike him. Wouldn’t this be…irritating to Herman, having some man bossing him around, ordering food for him, and the like? But Herman didn’t seem annoyed–if anything, he appeared a bit embarrassed–or was he aroused? They were sitting at a table, and before their food came, Burt moved over to a seat beside him, allegedly because the restaurant was a loud–even though they’d had no trouble hearing one another up to that point. He slid a hand over onto Herman’s thigh, and then slid it down the inside of his thigh. Herman opened his legs slightly, enough to let Burt grope him gently through his slacks, while the two of them carried on discussing their classes and latest research, the only sign anything odd was happening at all was the flush of red in Herman’s cheeks.

He did like it. He liked all of it. Burt was certainly enjoying himself as well, his own cock bulging in his slacks, thinking again about that fantasy, about…ordering this older man around, forcing him to submit and bending him to his own will. The waitress returned with their food, and Herman tried to pull himself away from Burt’s groping hand, but he refused to remove it, the young woman not even noticing where Burt’s hand happened to be, as she set their plates down. Only once she’d left, did Burt remove his hand, pick up his silverware, and start eating, encouraging Herman to do the same. He would, on occasion, check to see how Herman was responding, and as far as he could tell the man’s cock didn’t lower once–and neither did Burt’s, in fact. Still, he kept it respectable. If any students had walked in, all they would have seen were two professors out to lunch.

Herman finished his plate, and Burt ordered dessert for them both. He looked a bit…full, but didn’t object. When the single dessert to share appeared, Burt insisted Herman eat most of it, and more than once fed him bites off his own fork. When they were finished, Burt picked up the check, and then they left, and went back to campus. Burt offered him a ride, since they’d driven over together, but Herman insisted that he’d rather walk. Burt tried to insist, but Herman said he had another errand to run on the way, and then he was gone down the sidewalk, leaving Burt horny and frustrated. He walked to his car, and sensed that the horniness he was feeling was a sign of the amulet building up in power again, and so he slipped his cock free of his slacks, found a few spare napkins to catch the mess, and started masturbating, thinking about how he should have been more insisting, and gotten Herman into his car with him.

How, once he was there in the passenger seat, how he could have rubbed his belly gently, feeling how…tight it was, after their meal, taking out his own cock, and then Herman’s, suggesting one last meal to top off his dinner, Herman licking his lips and leaning over, sucking on his cock under the steering wheel, gently and sweetly, until Burt filled his mouth with his cum. He shot as he reached orgasm in the fantasy, huffing and puffing slightly, his gut pushing out a bit further, but it was the hands on the steering wheel that he noticed first.

They looked…old. Weathered and wrinkled, with a few age spots on them. They ached slightly as well, more than they should have. He squinted at them, wondering why he was having such a difficult time picking out the details of them, until he felt the glasses in his breast pocket, pulled them free and put them on, and the world grew perfectly clear. He…he hadn’t needed glasses before, had he? No–perhaps his vision had been slightly blurred, but when he took them off again, he couldn’t even read the sign of the restaurant across the parking lot. He put them back on, feeling them rest in their usual, well worn spot on the bridge of his nose, and he reached over and turned the rearview mirror towards him.

White–his hair was…white, or at least mostly grey. There were a few streaks of color throughout, but he looked to be closer to fifty at this point, and maybe even slightly older than that. He had crows feet at the corners if his eyes, a wrinkled brow, and jowls hidden slightly by his trimmed beard. He was still dressed in a suit, but this one felt…more luxurious, somehow. Still, that wasn’t too surprising, he prefered expensive clothes, after all, custom tailored to his…particular physique. A man of his girth simply couldn’t find clothes off the rack that would fit correctly, not at five foot four and over 350 pounds.

He slipped away and went to the bathroom, among the throngs of students passing from class to class, but it was clear that this hard-on wasn’t going away–if anything, it was intensifying. The sensation was the same one he’d had in his dorm room the day before, when the necklace had changed him. Did that mean it was happening again? But why now? He hadn’t seen, or even really thought about Herman all day long! However, as he did that, his arousal intensified, and he found Herman centered in his thoughts, thought about them together, pressing their hairy guts together, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and forcing Herman to bend down to kiss him…

No–this wasn’t right. This fantasy felt strange, just like the last one had. He was himself, but he was also someone else–and he reached down his shirt to get the necklace off of him, but stopped. No–no, he needed to just let this happen. He had to trust that this was the right thing to do, that whoever that strange old man had been, he was doing this to help him. Besides…it did feel good, didn’t it? He pushed Herman up against a wall, in his fantasy, pinning him there, feeling his shudder with excitement, one hand up on Herman’s shoulder, pressing him down, feeling him collapse, slowly, under his guidance. He was on his knees now, worshiping Burt’s hefty gut, licking it, running his tongue through the hairy surface, and Burt gave a few huffing pants and shot his load inside one of the stalls, the cum splattering against one of the partitions and sliding down as he collected himself.

Did he…change again? Burt didn’t feel different, necessarily, but he also felt a bit out of sorts, all the same. He pulled up his khaki dress pants, tucked in his shirt and adjusted his tie–and then took a moment to wipe up his cumshot with some toilet paper and flush it. It was, perhaps, kind of sexy somehow, but best not to leave any evidence where, heaven forbid, a student might find it. Satisfied, he stepped out of the stall and went to the sinks to wash his hands, but when he saw himself in the mirror he stopped short, jaw agape at the sight of himself.

He most certainly had changed–and rather substantially at that. He was even larger than he’d been before–probably another fifty pounds heavier, and a few inches shorter which didn’t help his girth much. Still, that wasn’t the most apparent shift–it was his hair, that he noticed first. It was receding several inches now, and had quite a bit of grey streaked through it. The beard he had was fuller as well, a touch longer but well manicured, but had just as much early grey as his hair did. He looked like a man in his late thirties, or perhaps even his early forties. Still…it suited him, as did the clothes he was wearing. He’d dressed in his usual casual dress for class as a TA this morning, but what he was wearing now was closer to a suit–dress pants, a button down shirt, tie, and jacket. He looked…authoritative and distinguished, and even if the rest of the changes had him a bit uneasy, he found himself enjoying it, in some twisted fashion. The necklace was still resting outside his shirt, and he considered taking it off–but didn’t. He tucked it back in, next to his hairy chest. Whatever this magic was, it was clear that it was by no means finished. He was going to see this through, whatever it was, and if he needed to change for Herman to love him…then so be it. He would be whoever Herman needed him to be–whoever he wanted him to be, if it meant he would love him.

Memories were slowly falling into place, as he became more comfortable with his appearance. He was older now–forty-three, to be precise–and an newish professor within Herman’s department, not yet with tenure, but certainly heading in that direction. It was, he realized, about time for lunch–and with that light breakfast earlier, he was famished! He left the bathroom and headed for his office, planning on picking up a bit of work to pass the lunch hour with, when he saw that Herman’s door was open, and he was sitting at his desk. The amulet–it wanted him to do something, but he wasn’t quite sure what. Not…not what he’d seen in that fantasy, no, he realized now that as much as he might want that, it was too…forward for someone of Herman’s sensibilities, especially here at the school. He needed to take it a bit slower, lure him in–and then he’d get what he wanted, soon enough.

“Care to grab some lunch, Herman?” Burt asked, surprised, and at the same time, pleased by his deeper voice.

The professor looked up when Burt spoke, and he saw in Herman’s eyes something he’d been desperate to see for weeks on end–Herman wanted him. Herman wanted him, and Burt knew it, and Herman knew that Burt knew it, but neither of them had yet made a move beyond a cordial friendship. “Oh, uh sure! I can come along, I suppose. I’m not that hungry though.”

“Nonsense,” Burt said, “every man needs three big meals a day!” he laughed, slapping his gut, noticing how Herman’s eyes were locked on it, forcing him to tear them away after a moment. “Or you can always just watch me eat, I suppose.”

It wasn’t very bright at all, like a candle seen at some distance. He turned off the lights in the room, and in the evening winter gloom, he could see it better–but what could it possibly mean? Could it glow brighter? Was there…more? He thought about putting it on, just to see what might happen…but tucked it back into his pocket. Answers first, he told himself. He needed to find that old man, and figure out what he did to him.

He trekked back to downtown and retraced his steps as best he could, but had no luck. The streets were too narrow, and the shops to clustered in the night for him to find the shopfront from before–if it had even existed. He remembered how massive the store had felt, on the inside. Maybe it hadn’t really existed at all, not like he existed, at least. Frustrated, cold, and lonely, he made the trek back to campus, his hand gripping the necklace tight, the light giving a bit of warmth on his way home, to his dorm–but the small single just felt even colder and more lonely than the world outside. He took out the necklace again, and looked at it, at the little flicker of fire in the stone, and wondered what might happen if he put it on again.

It…seemed like that’s what it wanted, but is it what he wanted? Looking around the room, and down at himself…he wasn’t so sure anymore. After all, if the necklace had done this to him after just a couple of minutes of wearing it, who knew what it might do if he kept it on any longer than that. Still, it had changed how Herman saw him–how he felt about him. Not enough, but it had been a little taste of what Burt was craving. It wasn’t enough to satisfy him. If anything, this just felt worse, knowing he would be working with the man he loved, but knowing it would never be able to go further than this…awkward moment. There had to be more, and if he had to change to make it happen, all he could hope was that it would be worth it, in the end.

He slipped the necklace over his head again, and let the pendant rest against his chest, down between his two chubby moobs, and took a deep breath, waiting for something to happen. After all, when he’d put it on the first time, he’d been almost overwhelmed with desire–but this time he didn’t feel anything at all. Well, nothing more than he was feeling usually, he supposed. Wondering if he just needed to focus, he thought about Herman, about that kiss earlier, and while that was more than enough to get him aroused, it didn’t feel the same. The intensity wasn’t there. It didn’t have direction. He jacked off anyway, going through the motions, hoping it would just work, but he was left with cum in his hand on the edge of his bed, the same chubby young man he’d been, the necklace still against his chest, the gem giving off the same dim light as before.

Was it broken? Did he have to do something else? Is this…all that he was going to get? Maybe he hadn’t loved him enough. Maybe Herman was right, maybe he was just young and foolish, and all of this was going to go away, in time. Maybe it had all been for nothing. But he could still see the wonder in the eyes of that old man, how he’d spoken about his love as this beautiful thing–who would he give him something that would take him one step closer, and then no further? Then again, maybe it was up to him. Maybe this is all he needed–maybe Herman could love him like this, but it was up to Burt to…show him. Or maybe…maybe he’d ruined it. Maybe it would have kept working, if he hadn’t taken it off like that. Maybe he’d doubted himself, and his love, and he’d never get another chance.

There was no immediate answer, and he was tired, and hungry. He got dressed and went to a nearby restaurant to eat, came back and graded some papers before retiring for the night. He never took the necklace off, even if it felt a bit silly to keep wearing it when it wasn’t doing anything for him. Still…it felt comfortable, against his skin, and by the time he got undressed for bed, he wasn’t even noticing it, and he slept with it on.

The next morning, everything felt…normal. That old life of his, when he was a skinny undergraduate, felt even further away than it had before, and this new one, the life of an overworked graduate student, was feeling more real than he would have liked. He got up a bit late, collected his things, got himself breakfast at the dining hall (more than he would have ever usually ate, but his head was telling him this was, in fact, a light breakfast) and then off to teach his first class of the day. He was nervous, feeling like this was the first time he’d ever been up in front of students–who he still couldn’t help but feel were his peers–but it turned out to be easier than he was expecting. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it. There was a certain authority that he had, and seeing all of those younger men and women looking up at him for guidance and teaching…well, he had one of the more uncomfortable boners of his life, after class.