Rusty and Lenny shifted and changed, fat melting off their bodies and a rather large part of Troy sincerely missed it. All that hard work of eating down the drain. He shook off the thoughts that intruded without his permission. They didn’t sound like him, really. Almost like someone with a voice synthesizer tuned to his subconscious was whispering in his ear.
Lenny’s big bear apron pulled up and solidified into a proper muscle-gut, his flabby arms and legs melting away, revealing slabs of hard muscle, covered in only a light layer of chub. Rusty himself was the biggest change-fat sliding away, muscle resurfacing, beard falling out. Troy gave a small sigh of relief. Now to get the Book to him.
Troy walked in. Rusty glanced up and gave a hard look from the Book to him. Troy nodded and gestured to Rusty to come outside. Rusty excused himself and met Troy at the door.
“What did you change?” Rusty whispered.
“Reality cascade from when you changed me. We turned into fat nerds.” Troy whispered back and handed him the book. “Now fix me before I lose myself and we all get fucked.”
Rusty nodded. “Erm, sorry babe, but, what did you look like before?”
“Athletic, less muscular than you, with a great ass. A muscular one. You can tone it down a bit, though. Last time you managed to give me a ridiculous keister.”
“So…bubble-butt. Got it.” Rusty nodded. “Hurry, I think you’re actually getting fatter.”
Troy nodded and hurried inside, turning up the volume of the stereo as he did. He walked over to where Lenny sat. Lenny hurriedly pitched the game he and Rusty had been playing to him. Rusty had no way to actually hear Lenny over the stereo, but judging by his excited gestures and tone, he got the gist of it. He’d known him for years, in this reality anyways. But it was time to get back to business because snacks were appearing on the table next to Troy and he was visibly swelling with every pawful of chips.
“Alright, one twunk coming up.” Rusty whispered, concentrating on Troy. “Half.”
Troy slimmed down almost immediately. Rusty frowned. Typically, changing someone couldn’t actually change their body fat percentage. Troy wasn’t even sporting his usual potbelly. This was the Book of Beasts, not Body. Something fucky was afoot. As Troy’s wobbly ass firmed and shrunk, Rusty dismissed his concern. He didn’t know the how’s or why’s of the Book, but this seemed to be working.
“Alright, now to go in an turn the damn music down.” Rusty grumbled to himself. His stomach growled. He patted it in response and…
It shook. He glanced down at the burgeoning beer gut in horror. “Ah, fuck.”
And it truly was a beer-gut. He and his bros loved to game and party and all those empty calories had to go somewhere after all. His beer-gut wobbled in response to Rusty’s altering memories and swelled even larger, untucking his shirt. It re-sized, and the plain white tee he’d sported to show off his muscles began to shift to green with a mushroom logo on it. That was the 1-up icon from the game with the plumbers, totally old-school. His breasts swelled and sagged with fat onto the rather hefty gut he sported.
Rusty desperately stopped thinking, shutting his eyes. Why was he getting fatter? They’d altered reality back and fixed the problem. This was worse. Faster. Last time he’d changed it had taken literal hours.
A *pop* behind him made his heart freeze, he slowly turned around and opened his eyes. Where once stood Rusty’s Bustang and Lenny’s Dualie flatbed was parked a beat-up old van. He could see the wrappers from fast food trips piled up on the dash. Cold horror dawned on him then. They’d lost their police jobs in this new reality. Somehow, he’d made everything worse!
“Oh God, I’m poor now?” Rusty whimpered. As if in response the rust on the van spread visibly and a small crack ripped across the windshield. Rusty grimaced. There really was someone listening.
“Please, I know you can hear me. Stop….I…I’m sorry for calling Lenny fat. How do I fix this?” Rusty begged, growing jowls wobbling.
His phone-no longer the top of the line smartphone, just an old flip phone-fell out of his holster as his belly jiggled and swelled, shirt pulling itself up and exposing his billowing gut, dense fur running like a treasure trail up it. Dimly, Rusty wondered how it had fallen out, and realized he no longer wore pants with a belt, just a pair of black mesh nylon basketball shorts that smelled like musk that did nothing to hide his love handles and the fat ass that stretched them wide behind him. He was growing so fast reality wasn’t able to shift-his shirt re-sized as he thought of it, but didn’t quite reach all the way past his gut, leaving a good inch of hair and fat exposed. He tried to pull it down but his belly grew even more. This was like a punishment.
As he struggled with his ill-fitting outfit, he noticed the phone had flipped open and saw the photo it displayed there.
It was the photo of RK he’d secretly taken a day ago, at the party. He’d had his suspicions about him and ran him through the database and found he-he-
Rusty paused.
His mind was running into a brick wall as he struggled to remember what he’d found, because he no longer ever worked as a police officer. He glanced through the window and grimaced. Troy and Lenny were groping each other’s growing fat, fondling each other and frotting. Garbage was piled around them-empty takeout cartons, pizza boxes, empty ice cream containers. The futon was folded out and Lenny’s stuff was laid out on it. Lenny lived with them, in this reality.
Desperate, he picked up the phone and speed dialed the number RK had left them. He really hadn’t wanted to do it but desperate times called for desperate measures and all that.
“I knew you’d call, Rusty. How’s it hanging these days butterball, or should I say, porker?” The voice on the other end of the line was cheery.
Porker?
Rusty looked at his paws. Or rather, his hooflets. He snorted in surprise and looked in the window. Lenny and Troy had shifted again. Troy’s feline face had shed most of his beautiful fur, leaving behind bristles and an upturned snout. Lenny was almost fully a boar, tusks curling out the bottom of his mouth as they continued to grope each other’s flab and oink. It made his own penis stiffen and unfurl.
Wait, unfurl? He snorted and shook the thoughts away, suddenly aware of his own growing tusks. Not just fat nerds. Pigs. Boarmen.
“Are you doing this?” Rusty grunted, snout snuffling.
“Nope, read the future. I’m afraid this is what happens when you fuck with reality. He fucks back.”
“He? Tho there’th really thomeone.” He paused, wiped the drool away, tried to find away to work his muzzle around his jutting tusks. “Wait, no, I don’t care right now. How do I make it thtop?”
Rusty tried desperately not to think about his clothes pulling tighter on his fattening form, now always just a size too small. His tail, his wonderful waggy tail, shrunk and twisted and bristled as it warped into a boar’s tail. He could see his own reflection in the window and the sight of the bristly, ugly pigman staring back terrified him. Although he was fond of the new Mohawk he was sporting, it made him look kinda tough despite the fat…
“Hey, focus!” RK snapped. “That’s the Auditor whispering in your ear. Ignore him.”
Rusty nodded and tried to concentrate, ignore his growing contentedness with his new form. It was feeling less horrifying and more…natural. Even his overly tight clothes made him feel a little hot under the collar, like it was his choice. He wore the weight well, why not show off a little?
That thought, he realized, hadn’t come from him. The voice hadn't stopped, if anything, its whispers grew more urgent. How happy he'd be just sucking and fucking with his nerdy bros and eating whatever he wanted. He loved cooking after all, he'd gone to culinary school. Multiple *pops* sounded from the kitchen and a chef's coat, covered in food stains, appeared there. New utensils and a sous vide machine appeared on his counters. Even the garbage and some of the dirty laundry disappeared and the cartons and pizza boxes were replaced with plates heaped with food he'd cooked, the new reality shifts making it much more tolerable and appealing.
Rusty's mouth watered, jowls quivering as his memories as a professional chef filled in. He really did love food. At that unspoken declaration, his fur shed and bristled across his body, his gut surged forward a bit more, now almost to his knees. The van behind him shifted, cleaning up, becoming more like a food delivery service, one that brought hot plates of food to workers in offices across the city. The voice kept whispering, promising him that he wouldn't need to worry about the Book, it would take it and give it to someone else, he'd never worry about anything again, he could just have fun and relax into his hedonist lifestyle.
Rusty almost broke then, his curly cock pulsing pre into his shorts as images of him and his bros just hanging out and relaxing all day after he got home from work, endless days of video games and BattleAnvil dancing in his head. He knew he was close to the end, his body wobbling with layers of swelling chub, and his chin bristling into a short beard that didn't hide the prominent swell of fat dangling below it.
He looked into the window, seeing his best friends rolling dice and having a good time. They were happy. And he could be too, if he just gave up. Rusty’s hoof reached for the door.
“Rusty?” Rk’s voice cut in. “You still there?”
“Thorry, I quit.”
“Good luck big boar.” RK sounded..not disappointed.
The handsome hefty boar closed his phone, RK’s details deleting themselves off it. Rusty waddled happily back inside, taking his turn. He and his bros laughed and chugged a few beers. The Book shifted into a Limited Edition version of the BattleAnvil core rules. By the end of the night, while they were jerking each other off on the couch, the thought of the Book had erased itself from his mind.