"I know just what you're going to do to shake things up a bit, Liam. I think that you're right, Walker sounds like he's always getting in your way and seems to be obsessed with you. I mean, if he's a pervert, everyone should know it, right?" Walker gulps silently, his adams apple quivering on his liver spotted neck. Liam shrugs in meek confusion. "You can speak, Liam." "I... I didn't mean any of that shit. I think that this has gone too fuckin' far. You might be a crazy fag, but you haven't done anything yet, and..." You hold up your hand and quiet the burly teen. You don't need him ruining your fun. "Walker has been an asshole my whole life, but today is just the final straw. He was ready to steal my literal manhood and the most valuable thing I've ever owned. He said he would beat the shit out of me if I didn't do what he wanted. I don't have much sympathy for him."
You clear your throat and get back on track. "Now Liam, I want you to think of a gross, old pervert. Maybe it's the mailman, or a high school teacher, a weird dude at the gym, whatever. But I want you to think of someone who just looks like a weird, fat, creep. Got someone in mind, Liam?" He nods gravely. "Yeah." "Who is it?," you ask with curiosity. Liam responds, unable to lie. "You reminded me when you said 'high school teacher'. That old fag Mister Piers." Oh yeah. You remember the guy from when you went to their high school years back. He was the history teacher and the leader of the drama club, with a big, drooping belly, often barely contained by an argyle vest or scratchy-looking sweater. He had a reputation for looking at the girls and guys alike with his trademark lecherous stare. He would tilt his head down, exposing his shiny bald spot, and adjust his thick glasses to get a better look. Maybe he was just a weirdo, but you always thought of the guy as a creep, too. "Now, Liam, you have to think of how fat Mister Piers is, and think of Walker too, then kiss the ring."
As soon as Liam's lips touch the ring, a ripple of energy bursts through the room -- and a ripple of fat bursts through Walker's undershirt. His whole body seemed to grow a layer of flab all at once. His former pecs, slightly drooped with his transition to his 50s, sag and balloon dramatically. They become man boobs that poke out of the sides of his cramped wifebeater. His exposed nipples like blotchy rounds of pepperoni. His laughably undersized top is bunched up over a belly dusted with silvery hairs, spilling out and covering his crotch. A fat neck and face are crowned by a horseshoe of gray-blonde hair, the rest having disappeared completely. He has less than half the hair he did a minute ago. His ex-jock muscles and thrown knee wobble trying to carry all the new weight. "You can sit down, Walker. You look like you need it. While you're there, take a look at yourself." Your cousin looks at you with pure hate as he lowers himself into your large recliner, flattening the fluffy cushions completely with his freshly fattened ass. You grin as you realize that he's completely unrecognizable from the jock he was this morning. To him, it's a nightmare, but to you, it's payback.
When you cousin looks down, his newly balding head, speckled with age spots, shines in the lamplight. The old professor has lost even more hair since he taught you, you muse. He raises his plump arms and pokes and prods at his fat, old body, watching as his finger makes imprints that bounce back into their flabby shape. His breathing is shallow and raspy. When you feel he's had a good enough look at himself, you speak again.
"Now, Walker, when I'm finished speaking, get yourself dressed in whatever you can. You're going to go pick up some supplies for yourself. Firstly, you have to get a new wardrobe. All of that money you got with the ring will buy you plenty of extra large sweaters and stretchy-waisted slacks. Maybe a trenchcoat or two to embrace the whole "pervert" thing. Be creative. And with that knee of yours, pick up a cane, too. Looks like you'll need it, cuz." You grin broadly, enjoying the future you're imagining for Walker. He's going to absolutely hate himself, but he has no choice but to do what you say. "And when you leave the house from now on, you're going to act like a pervert. No jerking off or flashing, of course, I wouldn't want my good old cousin to get thrown in jail, but lots of creepy looks and inappropriate comments will suffice. And at the end of the day, nothing will get you hornier than remembering all the people who were repulsed by you. And of course, you will now be turned on by men AND women. Don't want to discriminate."
Walker gets up and makes his preparations in silence. When he emerges, you have to laugh. He's wearing a bedsheet like a toga -- you suppose no clothes in the house will fit him. At least those drunken fraternity ragers were good for something, you think. Your cousin picks up his smart phone, and orders an Uber from your apartment to the nearest Walmart -- it's all that's open now. Good choice anyhow. Perverts don't shop at the expensive shops your cousin loves. Walker slides on the only clothing he has that still fits, his sandals. You glance at the clock as your cousin leaves, 9PM. "Be back right after you're finished! I have more plans for that ring. Oh, and you can talk while you're shopping if you need to, Walker."
Liam is still standing inert in your living room. Sure, you could do more with him, but part of you just wants to take a nap. Revenge is tiring. You eventually decide to...