Something for Something (Part 1)

Commissioned by Anonymous

“Alright, miss, here we are–and feel free to call anytime you need a lift,” Miles said, as he pulled up next to the curb.

“Thanks again, sir,” the girl in the backseat of the car said, grabbed her backpack and climbed out of the campus security car, which had picked her up at the library and dropped her off in front of the house. In the front seat, Miles and Ed watched to make sure she got into her house, and then set off back to campus a few blocks away. Miles had pulled away and reached the end of the block before Ed started to giggle in the seat next to him.

“Shut up, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Ha, she called you ‘sir’! I always knew this day would come,” Ed said, laughing openly now, “I can’t believe it, my little security bumpkin has finally become a man.”

Miles scowled as he turned down a sidestreet and skulked a bit in the driver’s seat. He was at most six or seven years older than the college girl he’d just dropped off, but apparently he was already out of touch enough to warrant a “sir.” He didn’t want to be a “sir,” and he was sick and tired of working this damn security job. He’d been assigned to work with security services while he was attending school as a Freshman, and that’s when he’d first met Ed. Ed was an old timer–he’d worked for the school for close to forty years now, and as much as Miles liked the old guy, he didn’t want to be him, and yet it seemed like everything in his life had conspired to trap him here, in this faux squad car, dropping off girls that never seemed to age at the same houses off campus, and he gave a heavy sigh.

“Aww, hey, cheer up–you’re only as old as you feel.”

“And what does that make you, eighty?”

“Oh don’t get snappy with me, boy, we still have five hours on this shift, and I don’t want you getting all pissy and morose. It’s annoying. This is my last semester after all–maybe be a little happy that at least it only took close to half a century for me to escape.”

“Don’t remind me. I don’t want to be stuck doing this for the rest of my life. I had plans man, I had…gah…” Miles stopped himself before he rehashed the same old sob story for Ed to hear once again. The old guard was way more tolerant of his bullshit than he had any right to be, but Miles still didn’t want to push him away with a plea for pity. “Sorry, I won’t get into it.”

“Trust me, I understand better than most, kid.”

They got back to campus, and parked in a lot outside close to the library, ready for the next person who wanted to be ferried from safe haven to safe haven, and neither of them said anything for a while. Ed was either sleeping or pretending to sleep, and Miles was thinking back to all of those failed applications to grad school, how all of that work had been for nothing, all because his thesis’ conclusions had contradicted those of Dr. Taylor, the head of the chemistry department on campus, and his big money donors. Miles had been the most gifted student the department had ever seen, but thanks to Dr. Taylor’s insistence or writing him a personal recommendation, not a single school would accept him for graduate study. Effectively blacklisted and muzzled, he’d managed to receive a full time position on the security staff at campus, and here he was still. He could see the science building from where he was parked, and there were a few offices still lit, and he realized with a start that Dr. Taylor’s light was on. “That fucker…” Miles said under his breath.

“Who, your Goliath?”

“Yeah, shut the fuck up.”

“Hey, I’m sympathetic kid, but academia is a monster. You were too much of an idealist–you wanted to be right, more than you wanted to be successful. Life’s full of tradeoffs–you can’t get something for nothing.”

“What would I have to give up for a chance at revenge?”

Ed was quiet for a moment, “Is that what you’d really want?”

Miles thought for a moment, and then nodded, “Yeah, actually. What the hell, I don’t have anything waiting for me now–no girlfriend, no decent jobs, just one long slog to the grave, in the rut you so nicely ran down for me.”

“Well, a long slog can be fun,” Ed said, but saw that Miles was serious. He looked at him, wondering if it was worth it. It might not even work–sometimes it didn’t, but hey, if that’s want Miles wanted–what he really wanted–then it couldn’t hurt to try. Ed picked up the radio and said, “Hey Melissa, we’re gonna leave the car for a bit, gonna look into something in the science building.”

He didn’t bother to wait for confirmation, he just climbed out of the car, and Miles, wondering what was up, climbed out after him. “Where are you going Ed?”

“You’ll see–come on. I want to try something.”

Miles just hurried to catch up to the old guy as he crossed campus, matching his pace as they walked up to the science building and let themselves into the building. “Ed what the fuck are we doing?” Miles whispered, but Ed just started climbing stairs up to the chemistry department’s floor, and then they walked down the hall to the employee offices, Mile’s heart beating faster all the while, but he was actually curious about what Ed was doing. He’d almost expected them to go to Dr. Taylor’s office and tell him off or something, but they went in the other direction instead, until Ed came to an empty office which was set aside for the occasional visiting professor, or overflow instructors, and let himself in, waiting for Miles to follow before shutting the door behind them both. “Ok Ed, what the fuck is up?”

“Listen for a second, alright? Were you serious back in the car, about wanting revenge?”

Miles was a bit taken aback, and something in the older man’s creased face told him not to lie, and so he thought for a moment, not entirely sure himself. But at the end of the day, he was serious. He did want revenge, but he just felt powerless. Still, if he had the chance, he would have loved to discredit Dr. Taylor’s bullshit research, he would love to know that fucker down a few pegs. “Yeah, I was, and I am.”

“And you understand that in order to get something, you have to give something up, right? It might be things you weren’t even imagining, it might not even be worth it at the end of the day. Revenge is a costly thing–it can be worth it, but it’s costly. It wounds your soul in ways that you can’t understand until afterwards.”

“Ed, you’re freaking me out, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Ed just stared at him, knowing that if he tried to explain the whole story, they would lose their chance, and so he decided to wing it, he waved his hands in a momentary, complex pattern, and then laid them both on Mile’s chest, and after a single heartbeat, Miles was shoved back against the door by some invisible force.

“What the fuck was that?” he said, looking at Ed, but the older man was just looking at him, and smiling the oddest smile. “What was that Ed–could you give me an answer please?”

“It was magic.”

“Magic?”

“Let’s just say you might get what you wished for. I did warn you though–it can come with some…penalties.”

“I don’t–” Miles said, but gave a lurch, as one of his legs suddenly shortened substantially, his body standing cockeyed for a moment before the second one caught up, and dropped him down to a few inches under five feet. “What…the fuck…?” Miles said, looking down at his shorter stature, and then up at Ed. “You fucker.”

“I warned you…”

“What the fuck did you do to me, I’m fucking short!” Miles was craning his head up to look at Ed, and found the new perspective disconcerting. Nothing looked right–it was like somehow the entire room and everything in it had been grabbed and stretched upward away from him.

“It’s not going to stop there. Here maybe I should…hmm…yeah,” Ed said, and then wiggled his fingers at the wall and the entire surface shimmered before warping into a seamless mirror, and Miles looked at himself, looked at them both, and couldn’t believe how small he was. He didn’t want to be small! The sudden flash of anger that shot through him felt surprisingly good–it felt…justified, in some strange way, but as soon as it faded, he watched as his uniform started to bloat.

Part of the reason Miles had managed to get a work study job with the school in the first place was because he was one of the few incoming students who could pass the physical test required to be employed there. He’d always taken good care of his body, and one of the perks of working for the school was that he could use the athletic facilities for free, and he’d spent the last few years honing and perfecting his body, but as he watched, his six pack abs bloated outward, and then sagged down into a comical gut. He grabbed it by the sides, not quite able to believe it was attached to him, but he could feel it jiggle as he shook it, and then as he watched in the mirror, other parts of his body started to expand, and his gut only grew larger, the buttons of his shirt popping off, the zipper of his pants bursting open, the seat ripping out a second later. He just gawked at himself. He wasn’t just short–he was a blob. It only highlighted the fact that he was short, making him appear almost as wide as he was tall. “Oh…oh my god…what is happening. Please, Ed, you have to change me back, you have to, I can’t–”

“There’s nothing I can do for now, but don’t worry,” Ed said, “Just ride it out, and then we’ll talk.”

“You mean it’s not done?” Miles said, but as the words left his lips, he felt a strange itch spread all over his body, and the skin he could see started filling in with a copious amount of body hair, spreading in large whirls all over his belly, matching his dark hair, and he even felt it crawling up over his shoulders and down his back, making him shiver and itch for a few moments, before running his hands over it in surprise. Before he could even process it however, he noticed that the hairs weren’t staying dark for long–in fact, they all seemed to slowly be fading from black to grey, and then to white.

“No…No no no…” Miles said, and looked up at the mirror, watching his young face begin to crack and crease with thick, deep wrinkles, his cheeks sagging into jowls, A bushy white beard erupted across his face, crawling down his neck to meld with the white hair there, and his eyes turned grey and bloodshot, before blurring, making him squint to try and make out his image in the mirror. Thankfully, a moment later, a pair of half moon spectacles appeared, perched on his now bulbous nose, and he could make out his face again, not that he really wanted to. He looked almost as old as Ed, if not a bit older, and the clothes on his body started to shimmer and take on a life of their own, wrapping themselves up around him, contorting and twisting against his flabby body, reconstituting into a three piece suit, and if he hadn’t known it was him inside, he would have assumed he had become someone else entirely, and he just kind of gaped at his reflection for a few moments, trying desperately to understand how the short, fat old man looking back at him could possibly be himself.

“Hmm…are you done?” Ed said, walking up to him, “Weird, you usually get a tool…let me see…” the older man squatted down next to Miles, making him feel absurdly short, and Miles tried to back away from Ed as he gave him a strange pat down, and when Ed tested Mile’s new breast pocket on the inside of his suitcoat, he let out an “Aha!” and pulled out a full bent, very large pipe. “Here we are–your tool, sir.”

He extended the pipe to Miles, who looked at him, a bit terrified, but also curious. It looked small in his old mentor’s hands, a bit like a toy, but when he reached out and took it from him, he realized that was only because it was made for his own hands, with palms half the size of Ed’s. The pipe felt like it belonged there though, and he took a moment to examine it. The wood and the briar were almost impossibly black, and even though the surface was as smooth as the mirror, the wooden stem only gave of the slenderest reflection of light, indicating it’s roundness. The briar, in contrast, was very rough, almost like it would scrape off his skin if he rubbed it too hard. He’d admired it for a few moments, when he noticed a puff of smoke pop out of the bowl, and looking in it, he saw that somehow the pipe had filled and lit itself while he was holding it, and he looked up at Ed, wondering what he should do, but Ed didn’t seem interested in giving him direction. He looked at his reflection again, and figured he probably didn’t have much else to lose, stuck the stem of the pipe in his mouth and took what he’d intended to be a shallow draw, but as soon as he’d opened the airway to his lungs, the smoke shot through the stem of the pipe, burning its’ way down his throat and filling his lungs with high heat, making him wonder for a moment whether he was dying, but the heat was joining with something else, it was searching for something. He could feel it working out from his lungs, reaching for his heart, for that ball of hatred and resentment and anger he kept there for Dr. Taylor, for the man who had ruined his future, and the heat grasped it, and fertilized it, and Miles felt it suddenly burgen and blossom in him as righteous fury, the same anger he’d felt for that brief moment in his transformation, and it invigorated him.

He took a deeper draw off the pipe, feeling it settle deep within him and start changing him, but his heart this time–his spirit. It was warping him, but more than that, it was freeing him, freeing all of the cruelties he’d ever imagined, freeing all of the hate fueled fantasies of what he would do to that man, and using them. Beneath the fat, he could feel some of his musculature return, and even though he was short, he found his posture shifting into something more rigid and proud. His mouth curled up into a sneer, and then he felt the fear. What was he doing? What was he feeling? He shouldn’t be feeling this, he shouldn’t be wanting this to happen, this was wrong and immoral but he didn’t care, he did want it, he wanted it so bad, and he embraced it, he he pulled it deeper, feeling the anger flow down into his groin, the heat in his balls and cock unbearable for a moment, making him lean against the mirrored wall for support as he felt his cock grow and bulge in his pants, snaking it’s way down his leg, becoming a nine inch monstrous beast as thick as a pop can, his balls filling and churning with cum, bulging out the crotch of his pants beneath his gut, heavy and full of need and desire.

“Oh fuck…Oh fuck, I need to fuck something…” Miles growled, his voice gruff with smoke, and an octave deeper than moments before, “and I know just who I need to fuck, I think.” Miles grinned, he felt so free–it was like all of the burdens, all of the limitations on him had suddenly disappeared.

“Hold your horses, we need to talk for a second,” Ed said.

“There’s nothing to talk about, I have a date with the bastard down the hall.”

“You do, I know. But hear me out first,” Ed said, “Look, revenge is sweet and all that. But it does have a cost, as you can see. The spell I cast…the tool you have. It wants the spell to be completed, it wants you to take the revenge as much as you want it. But you can turn away. If you take your revenge, this is who you will be for the rest of your life. Think about that Miles–don’t throw away your youth on a whim. If revenge is what you want–if you’re willing to take this in exchange for it, then walk down that hall and take it. But if you can, I…just…think about it, alright?”

Miles had turned away already as Ed trailed off, shaking his head, and reached up for the handle awkwardly before flinging open the door and was marching down the hall. He wasn’t going to be denied this anymore. He wanted this. He wanted it so badly, he’d never realized how much he’d wanted it. He’d stayed on campus out of spite, he hadn’t seen it that way, but it was true. He’d wanted a chance like this, and now it was his, and then he passed the intersection which led out of the building and his stride faltered and he came to a stop, and he thought.

He looked down at himself, he felt the gut barely confined by the suit, the heavy arms and fatty thighs, looked at his small hands and wiggled the toes of his petite feet in his shoes. He felt the sensation of his hairy body, of his beard on his wrinkled hands. He felt the heat of the pipe, the tool urging him onward, to finish the spell, to take what he deserved and what he wanted. He looked up, and realized he would be looking up for the rest of his life, his life that was suddenly going to be much, much shorter in more ways than one, and he asked himself if this is what he really wanted. He could leave. He could turn away from all of this, and yet the power coursing through him, the desire and the drive, he’d never felt so alive! For the first time in years, it felt like he had direction, a goal, a purpose, a righteous purpose, something that was worth doing, and he realized that revenge was more than him, it was making sure that bastard never had a chance to ruin another student’s career. It was making sure that no injustice got away unpunished, and he renewed his stride, his short legs making quick strides down the hall, a cruel sneer curling his mouth, and he turned the handle on Dr. Taylor’s office door, and shoved the door so it slammed into the wall, making the professor jump at his computer, and he turned towards the sound, and saw the old, short man standing in his doorway, the pipe in his old mouth churning out a thick chimney of smoke, and the man said, “Dr. Taylor, I believe that you and I have some unfinished business.”

To be Concluded

When he moved to a new city, Nate was happy to discover a gym was within running distance. He’d always loved lifting, but usually hated working out at big gyms, because there were too many amateurs fucking around while he wanted to get his workouts finished. This gym was independently owned though, and looked like it was made for serious guys looking for serious workouts. He joined up the next day, but the more he went, well, the more he just felt kind of out of place. He’d always been able to resist sizing himself up against his fellow gymrats, but the guys here were…well…massive. They must have been on steroids or something, but he never dared ask–not that he had a chance. The place was one giant clique, and he was on the outside of it, the other lifters always looking at him and laughing, which just made him feel self conscious.

It didn’t help that the lifters all looked like they had popped out of the same mold. Shaved heads, furry bodies, tattoos all over, usually working out shirtless. Nate wasn’t ashamed of his body, but he just didn’t fit in. Still, the owner of the gym was nice enough, and so one day he broached the topic.

“Hey,” Nate asked, “What’s the deal with all those guys?”

“Oh, they’re all Gold members is all–they take themselves pretty seriously.”

“Gold membership?”

“Oh, for serious lifters–you have to be sponsored by two other Gold members though to qualify,” the owner said, and then left, and Nate shrugged and went to leave, but then thought better of it, and walked over to the Gold members and decided to try and make some friends. Much to his surprise, they weren’t too mean at all, and they invited him out for drinks that evening. Of course, when the roofied him, and he woke up tied to a bed with a dildo up his ass, he realized they had other plans.

“So you want to be a Gold member?” the owner said, looming over him and laughing, “We don’t have any openings except for one–our club sex pig. Still you got everyone to sponsor you, so congrats! How about we start with the fattening, boys?”

The guys cheered and hooked the tube up to Nate’s mouth, and his new training regimen started. Still, he was a great success–he was a permanent fixture in the Gold Member’s Locker Room three months later, ready to serve.

The Professor’s Club Part 4

Commissioned by Anonymous

Peter knocked on the front door of the massive mansion again, and then checked his invitation to make sure he’d gotten the address right. He adjusted his tie nervously and waited for someone to come let him in, but no one came. He’s been standing out here for several minutes now–could no one hear him? He looked around the front yard and then behind him, and when he turned around again, he discovered that the front door was now open wide, but he didn’t see anyone who could have opened it. “Hello?” he said, stepping inside, “Professor Sullivan, I’m…I’m here for the club meeting…”

He shut the door behind him with a bit of uncertainty, and then paused to check himself in the mirror. The shirt–his best–which he’s carefully ironed before leaving was already showing some sign of sweat stains, and he blushed. He’d dressed too heavy for the weather again–it was cool out, but the summer sun was still out and warm. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and hoped no one would notice, not that anyone had noticed him yet–which was annoying him more than anything.

Peter was a business student, and a bit of a nerd. Still, he was smart, and far more pragmatic than a visionary like Luis. He knew that getting a personal invitation from a professor could open up all sorts of opportunities, but he hadn’t wanted to seem like he’d been desperate for attention by showing up early. He’d opted for the “fashionably late” option, but apparently twenty minutes was a bit too late. Still, he had a good idea where everyone probably was–he could smell something delicious cooking nearby. Food, really, was Peter’s one weakness, and he was quite a bit overweight. He worked out semi-regularly, which helped keep it under control, but he was still large. He followed his nose and his growling stomach anyway, and ventured deeper into the house.

Down a few hallways and past several rooms, Peter stumbled his way into a massive dining room with a long table decked out with an enormous amount of food–enough for fifteen people or more, but with only a single chair at the head of it. Given the amount of food, which should have required the hands of dozens of people to make, Peter was amazed to find the room absolutely silent, and resisting the urge to dig in, he made his way around the room to the kitchen, which he found perfectly clean–as though no one had cooked a thing. In fact, if he hadn’t know it to be impossible, he would have assumed that the food had appeared there on the table fully formed–no cooking involved.

It smelled delicious though–ghost food or not–and he was starving. He hadn’t eaten much all day–he was trying to diet at the moment, but it wasn’t very effective. Circling back around the table, he made his way to the lone chair at the table, wondering why there weren’t more. He hadn’t been the only one invited tonight, had he? Even then, shouldn’t there be two chairs–one for him and one for the professor? Maybe he had come on the wrong day, but if so, the professor was a big guy, but not big enough to eat this much food…right? No one person could eat all of this.

He wiped one sleeve across his mouth, looked down and saw it was soaking wet–he’d been drooling this whole time, and hadn’t even noticed it dribbling down onto his shirt. He knew he should get cleaned up, but he couldn’t leave without a taste. Sure, it would be polite to wait, but there was so much food, would anyone really notice if he started a bit early? He grabbed the plate in front of the chair and circled the table once like a buffet, taking a bit of everything that caught his eye, and surprised himself when he sat down, and he realized how much he’d piled on. It was more than he could eat, surely, and if he managed, his diet would be out the window. Still, he could just call it a cheat day right? And so he dug in, clearing his plate in a matter of minutes, before letting out a belch, standing up, and circling for another pass, heaping his plate again and digging in once more.

After three passes, Peter lost patience and he just dug in, standing next to the table and shoving as much food into his mouth as he could at a time, working his way around as soon as a dish lost his interest–or completely disappeared. At first he used his fork and knife, but they were becoming harder to operate for some reason. He switched to serving utensils, but he could only hold those clumsily too. Stopping for a moment, and realizing that something might be wrong, took a moment to stop eating, looked down at his hands, and let out a scream which was closer to a squeal than anything else.

His hands weren’t…hands. Or at least, not the hands he’d had before. His fingers had fused together in pairs, leaving him with two thick, hard black trotters and a third large thumb. He could kind of grip things, but they were far too hard to operate easily. Looking down, he saw that his dress shirt was stretched tight against his fattening body, large gaps forming between the buttons, and when he stepped back from the table, his deformed, partially trottered feet stepped out of his burst dress shoes, he lost his balance and fell back, buttons flying from the sudden pressure.

It took him a couple of minutes to stand up again, but it already felt more natural, and he looked down at his feet, getting a better look as his mostly human feet, but with three large trotters where his nails had been. He was still growing, but not as quickly, but his pants burst open as he got back up, and he just tore the rest of his clothes off clumsily before they could constrict him further. He was obese, fat falling off of him is huge rolls, but he was still so…hungry. Now that he’d stopped eating, his gut was churning and groaning with need, slobber dripping from his mouth, which had started pushing out into a snout, and his nose–he could smell all of it, it was so strong he couldn’t resist for long. Snorting and grunting now, he stumbled into the table, first using his trotters to shovel food into his mouth, but then just shoving his face into the platters and bowls, ripping the flesh off the two roast turkeys with the thick tusks that shoved their way out of his lower jaw.

As he ate, he kept growing at a massive rate, topping 500 pounds by the time he stopped growing–at about the same time he ran out of food. Peter, now mostly pig, his body almost entirely smooth aside from some coarse hair along his back and belly, flopped down on his back, the table giving a groan as he did. He must have climbed up onto it at some point, he realized, trying to sort out what had just happened, but there was something more important pressing up into his gut at the moment. He fumbled around under his heavy gut until he found his cock, but his hands were a bit too awkward to jack himself off. He ended up just bucking his stubby pig cock into his fat for a few minutes until with a final crack the table gave way underneath him, sending him crashing to the floor, where he gave a grunt of pain, and crawled out of the wreckage, before heaving himself upright with the help of a wall.

What had happened to him? He was some sort of massive pigman, completely naked in some deserted mansion, and all he could think about was how horny he was, and how…hungry he was too. He could eat another meal just as big as that one, he realized, he just wanted to eat and fuck and eat and fuck…

The sun was starting to set in the garden as Luis and Kevin, now human again, came back into the house, and Luis said, “Thanks–again, I’m sorry I sprayed you like that, I was just so horny…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kevin said, “I’m just glad it wore off after I came. I still kind of stink though–we’re gonna have to stock up on some tomato juice or something.”

Luis blushed. He liked how he smelled now, actually–he’d always been musky, but now, even human, his musk just barely tolerable. His frame was still relatively slender, but his body had a heavy dusting of oily, black hairs that he ran his hands through as he walked into the house, and he snuck another glance at Kevin, admiring him from the side. “Heh, well, I wouldn’t mind…you know…playing some more sometime, if you want.”

Kevin blushed too, “I…kind of liked it actually, to be honest.”

“Heh, I could tell.”

“Yeah, I bet you–” Kevin stopped speaking as they turned into the dining room, and saw that the table was destroyed, a massively obese pig standing at the wall, supporting himself with one hand and humping his fat, oblivious to them.

“Professor!” Kevin called out, “I think Peter arrived while we were…occupied.”

Luis, meanwhile, was staring the pig down and licking his lips–he loved dirty guys, and he kind of wanted to know what the food covered pig tasted like. He could probably give him something better to eat.

“What?” a distant voice called out, “Hold on, Derrick and I are on our way down!”

A few moments later the professor, human, walked into the room followed by Derrick, who had tried his best to squeeze his way back into his clothes, but they looked almost comical on him. Of all the three, he’d packed on the most hair, but also several inches of height and quite a bit of muscle. He saw Kevin and Luis and blushed, not sure what to say.

The professor walked over to the pig and got his attention. “Peter, glad to see that you made it and…have made yourself at home. Did you enjoy the meal?”

Peter just stared at them all, a bit terrified, unsure of what was going on. He wanted to apologize for eating all of the food, and for breaking the table, but he didn’t know what to say–he didn’t even know how to describe what had happened to him. Still, the professor reassured him, and talked him down, and he too returned to his human form–although there was no chance he’d ever fit back into his clothes. He had packed on close to a hundred pounds, and his nose remained pushed up and piggish even when he was human. “S…sorry professor. I…” he said, and then realized he was naked, and covered himself up.

“Don’t worry about it Peter–Kevin broke a coffee table earlier, trying to fly.”

“Wait, you can fly?” Luis asked, “That’s not fair!”

Kevin blushed, not sure what to say, but his stomach let out a growl and he realized he was starving. “So…is there no dinner then?”

“I’m sure the house can fix something up for us,” the professor said, “and I’m sure we can find someway to occupy ourselves in the meantime.” He tweaked Peter’s nipple, and leaned in and kissed him, both of them starting to shift, but Luis walked over and injected himself. “Sorry professor, but I really want to see how dirty this piggy can get–do you mind?” he said. Peter gagged a bit from the stench of Luis, but it was also making him a bit horny, and chuckling, the professor backed off.

“Sure thing Luis, just…maybe go into the kitchen where it’s tiled? It’ll be easier to clean up, I think.”

Luis chuckled, and already shifting into his skunk form, pulled Peter after him through the doorway into the large kitchen, and Peter tried to protest, until Luis sprayed him, and then Peter was perfectly amenable to whatever the skunk wanted to do him. Kevin, smiling, went over and introduced himself to Derrick, and before too long the two of them were locked in a rough embrace as well, and the Professor looked over his new, strange pack, and gave a sigh. He wasn’t alone anymore at least, which was good, and he had a feeling that his new club was off to a grand old start.

Look, I did my best to be a good kid, but even good kids can get up to some mischief now and then. My uncle, I’d always thought, was a really cool guy. Hell, I picked up playing rugby after going with him to see a few club games, although to be honest, he always seemed more interested in the players than the game–though that particular observation wasn’t clear as a kid–I just knew I really loved my uncle. He was warm, unlike my father, and his gluttony, heavy drinking and cigar smoking always seemed to me like he was mocking my healthy, straight laced father. He could never understand why I always wanted to stay over with my uncle, but he allowed me to do so regardless. Sometimes I wished he’d have kept me at home.

One thing my uncle was strict about was that I was to never drink or smoke his cigars. It always made me a bit angry, because I felt like he was depriving me of something he enjoyed, and had a lot of fun doing. Still, I respected my uncle enough until I was seventeen. It was the summer before my senior year, and I was feeling adventurous, so while my uncle was out on an errand that would take him several hours, I popped open a bottle of beer, and lit up one of his cigars–just to try it out.

I didn’t notice the changes until I was onto the second cigar, and maybe the sixth or seventh beer. I just couldn’t stop, once I started, and when I got up, I noticed that my clothes had disappeared, aside from my briefs, and that I’d put on close to a hundred pounds of fat, and looked to be about ten years older. Even worse, I just couldn’t stop drinking and smoking, and when my uncle finally returned, instead of me there, he found a fat, naked pig in the living room, drunk and high, but it was almost like he’d expected it, and he grinned, walked over and started making out with me.

He fucked me hard, and I couldn’t resist oinking and grunting like a pig, and when he’d finished, he got me all dressed up in some leather gear, with a collar and leash, and strutted me around a gay bar, letting all of his friends fuck his fat, horny pig. The next morning I was back to normal, but my uncle started tempting me with the cigars and beer again, and by the end of the day, I’d given in. Back as his pig, I begged him to fuck and fist me again, and he happily complied, telling me he’d waited years for me to finally give in and try a few of his vices. Well, I managed to get through my senior year, but never went off to college. I’m my uncle’s permanent pig now, chain smoking cigars and drinking beer from dawn to dusk–a lifestyle of addiction I know I’ll never manage to break.

(Partial sequel to this caption)

Of course, these mirror spirits weren’t always interested in justice or anything high minded like that–they simply enjoyed the opportunity to twist and manipulate the lives of the beings who dictated their every movement on the other side of the glass. They were envious of our free will, and as soon as they discovered that they could wreak a little havoc in return, they simply couldn’t stop.

Derek was proud of the fact that after six months of job hunting, he’d finally managed to land a decent job at a tech firm downtown. He was dressed to impress, and very excited for his first day on the job, and feeling happy with himself, decided that he might as well document the occasion with a quick selfie in the mirror. However, the image that popped up on the camera a second later couldn’t be right…he was wearing a harley davidson tank top which could barely contain his gut, a old faded tattoos running up his arms, and his hair and beard looked like they’d been grown out unattended for years.

However, when Derek looked up from the camera in into the mirror in front of him, he watched that same man’s jaw drop–it was him! But that’s not possible. He looked down, feeling his grimy body, and realized he couldn’t go to work like this–he couldn’t even leave the house looking like this…but something else was wrong. In the mirror, he saw the room around him start twisting and contorting until he was looking at the reflection of a rundown, filthy trailer, not the inside of his apartment. “No!” he shouted, clawing at the mirror, “Change it back! Change it back!” but all he could hear was the echoed titter of something on the other side of the polished glass, laughing at him. The spirits knew that he would try to fight it, but that before too long, Derek would be just like his reflection, an alcoholic, unemployed piece of trailer trash–just what he’d never wanted to be.

As the self-proclaimed cool guy of the group, Marcus was always trying to stand out. He did his best to impress the ladies with his tattoos and long goatee, and always made a point of mentioning how amazing it was to work as a skydiving instructor, usually inviting girls up in the plane for a free lesson–he’d be holding onto them tight the whole way down of course. Well, while his friends liked the fact that Marcus wanted to be the cool guy, his endless preening did have a way of getting on their nerves, especially when he did it every night they went out for drinks.

It was just supposed to be an April Fool’s joke. They’d bought the six pack from some curio stand on the street corner, promising the perfect pranks for anyone, and really, how could they resist something called “Boring Beer” which promised to make even the biggest partier into the lamest wallflower? It was perfect. They surprised him with the six pack before they went to hit the bars, and insisted he drink one so they could get a photo of it, and then went out. However, Marcus just wasn’t that into it for some reason, and ditched them at ten, claiming he was tired and wanted to get to bed early.

From that day on, the group didn’t see much of Marcus. They discovered that he’d put his two weeks notice in at the sky diving tours, and it was a month later when one of them finally caught him leaving his apartment, looking very different from the Marcus they’d known and loved. He’d cut his beard off and was growing his hair back in, but he was balding severely, looking more like he was in his mid 40’s than his late 20’s, and had packed on quite the gut. Even stranger, all of his tattoos and piercings had simply vanished, and when pressed, Marcus denied ever having tattoos, saying he’d always been too chicken to even consider it. He had become a total bore, and flummoxed, his friends left and didn’t see him again.

In fact, there was only one aspect in his life where Marcus wasn’t a total bore–he’d turned into quite the pervy faggot. He spent all of his free time jacking off it seemed like, and the only thing that could get him off was humiliating himself in front of some cool young guy, who’d chat with him, taunting him, tell him he was too much of a bore to ever go to bed with someone cool like them.

Leon wanted to be big. Ever since he was young, he’d wanted to work out, and when he was a teenager, all he asked for for Christmas and birthdays was weight–lots and lots of weight. He converted the shed into a workout room, and would spend hours out there, doing all he could to become as big as he had always wanted to be, but he just couldn’t get to where he wanted. And so, after graduating from high school, he decided to turn to the internet.

He found his way through forums, looking at the various drug cocktails guys promised would do the trick, but the honest truth was that he didn’t want to get big that way–he wanted to get big by himself. However, he befriended someone on a forum who recommended a research group working on a way to build mass. He’d participated in one of the last studies, and promised Leon that it was everything he’d been looking for–he’d be more massive than he’d thought possible.

At the laboratory, he didn’t understand why they needed to restrain him. And when they’d put the mask over his nose and mouth, he fought them for the few seconds of consciousness he had before he blacked out entirely. The next thing he knew, he was back in the hotel room he’d been staying in while the research study was going on–and when he saw himself in the mirror, he let out a squeal of joy. He was big! He was so damn big, just like he’d always wanted to be!

He jiggled his massive apron and admired his triple chin. He cupped his moobs and tweaked his nipples and let out a soft moan. He admired his huge, wide ass, and shivered as his cock hardened up through his gunt. Gunt–he had gunt. He’d always wanted gunt, for as long as he could remember. The rest of the night he spent jacking off on the bed, reveling in his flabby body, becoming familiar with it in every way, and then he got the call from the clinic. He’d been so receptive to the treatment, they wanted to know if he’d be willing to sign up for another dose. He said yes–after all, he was big. But what if he could get even bigger?

Nothing but distant memories now, more like stories that happened to friends of friends. How I used to be different. Slimmer–no, not just slimmer–muscular. Yeah, I used to work out, the stories say. I chuckle as the captain’s hands reach around and pull me closer, gripping my fat, and I moan. So far away now, so far away it might as well have never happened, and as far as the captain is concerned, it never did. “How are you feeling slave? Good?” he whispers into my ear, and I shiver.

A captain, a guide, a navigator. A man who helps people who are lost in their lives. A captain. He’d claimed to be all of these things, when I’d met him. All I’d claimed to need was directions, but he’d known better, he’d brought be here, he’d redirected and rerouted my entire life to this moment, but we still weren’t at the destination. Close though–so close. “Are we there yet?” I ask anyway.

“Not yet slave, we still have a few changes to make in your route. Are you ready for one last trip?” the captain said into my ear.

I nod eagerly, but it’s already happening, he’s already guiding me through my life again. As we pass them, I can see some of the detours and intersections I had been down before. Briefly, I glimpse the moment I’d first decided to work out, when I was twelve, but I can’t go down that path anymore–instead, I fell in love with my fat, obese uncle, and decided to be as big as him when I grow up. Much of the new changes are subtle ones now–the radical changes are all behind me, the captain is only fine tuning my directions now. I’m bullied much more through school, and become a loner, engrossed with the conversations I have with older men online, about how much I want to serve them. I grow to dislike myself, I find myself worthless, and crave service as a way to make myself useful to someone. This in turn leads me into deep masochism, and by the time we reach the present time, I can already feel the changes ricocheting through me, and I pull away from his embrace–I’m not worthy of it.

Instead, I get down and clean his boots, showing the captain that I know my place–I understand where I belong in the world now. I’m not lost anymore–I’m just a boot worshiping, obese piece of scum, barely worthy of serving my betters. There is a sharp pain on my chest where the captain’s mark appears on me, naming me his slave and property, and I am honored that he has given me the privilege of serving him. I have found my place now, and I know in my heart that I will never leave this new path.

On the Inside – Part 3

So here I am, sitting in the airport. I just finished my accelerated MBA, and I’m about to start my new job as a hedge fund manager at a New York company. I can’t wait, to be honest–finally, I’ll be around people of my own class! Over the last two years, Master has been tweaking my voice, giving me an upper class accent that makes me sound like a total snob, just like I always wanted to have. To anyone looking at me, I look normal, just another rich business man on the outside, mundane and unthreatening, but I feel my cock wriggle in my cage, knowing the truth underneath.

Because under the suit, when this shell is stripped away, I know what I really am. I’m just a nasty, redneck pig. Just a slob, just a disgusting whore for cock. I can’t get enough of it, I was born to serve men as their sex slave, it’s what I was designed for. It started slowly, Master wanted me to feel it happen slowly, but now, whenever I’m in my leather gear, kneeling and begging for him to abuse me, I sound like my old redneck self, but even harsher and stupider than before, and it makes me so horny, hearing myself talk like that, knowing that in the morning, I’ll put on a suit, this whole persona, and walk around as a complete fraud.

This suit is so itchy today, and I long for my harness, which is safely checked in my bag. Instead, a rock gently on my buttplug and grunt softly, making sure no one can hear me, and the pain of my cock trying to get hard in my chastity cage makes me even hornier, and I can’t wait to meet my new owner. The CEO of my new employer is said to be vicious, but I can take it. I love pain, I crave humiliation. This is what I’ve been trained for. High power businessman by day, disgusting, perverse redneck pig by night–everything that I’d ever wanted to be, and I’m so excited, I cum in my pants through my cage, and leave it there, hoping someone will notice the growing stain. Hoping someone will see me for the pig I truly am, on the inside.

On the Inside – Part 2

I gotta say, Bellmon University wasn’t precisely where I wanted to go, but when I got there, I realized why Mr. Burroughs wanted me to go there–it was because he had a house and a practice right next to campus! I was thrilled that I’d be able to keep seeing him while I was attending school there, and he even told me that I’d be able to live with him in his house, and I was thrilled, naturally.

Still, I gotta say, college didn’t quite go how I expected. I was excited for the opportunity to meet some new people, and learn new things, but Mr. Burroughs, well he convinced me to head in a different direction. First, he gave me a bit of a makeover, and required me to wear a suit to all of my classes. They were always tailored a bit big on me too, for reasons I soon discovered–Mr Burroughs wanted me bigger. He started feeding me these huge meals every day, and before long, the freshman fifteen became the freshman forty, and then the sophomore fifty after that. Still, he loved my fat ass, and he told me how much he loved it every night as he fucked me, and then started training me to take his fists as well.

At school, I’m pretty sure everyone hated me. I was always aloof with them, acting like a bit of a jerk, because Mr. Burroughs wanted me to act that way–he told me I would go farther in life. I’d entered college ready to major in English or Psychology, but he immediately made me switch my registration of business and economics, and the only people I could get to know were people Mr. Burroughs personally approved–usually professors who would want me to come by weekly for their “special” office hours.

It was in my Junior year that Mr. Burroughs started taking me to the tattoo parlor. First it was just a bearclaw on my left moob, but before long the artists were working on sleeves down to my wrists, covering my chest, gut and back with crude words and images of nasty, hot sex. By the time I was halfway through my last year, every inch of me that my suits covered during the day was tattooed, and when I was at home, I hung up my suit and wore a collar, leather harness and butt plug while I serviced Master Burroughs, and applied for MBA programs. I was ready for the next step in my life, and my future had never looked brighter.

To be Concluded…