The candles were out and the room was completely dark, only the sounds of heavy breathing filled the room. You sit in the dark for a few seconds, panting, recovering quickly. Not being a middle-aged dude helped with that. You can hear your Uncle Jack grumble to himself and stomp towards the light switch.
You were about to be in deep shit. Sam had smack-talked his way into a violent fucking and the way Jack had reacted to being called a pushover? Nah, even if you didn’t know what you were getting into, this was going to end badly. Plus you could only imagine the awkwardness having to live with Jack now, after he’d fucked your ass, would be.
The suit! You could use it again…but would it work? Sam was long gone, no reality ghost was inhabiting it. Was he a glitch, a wandering spirit, and the suit would be fine? Wait, if that was how fitting in felt with a ghost feeding off the enchantment as a parasite, how powerful was it without? You had trouble handling it as it was...if you used it at full force...
You can hear Jack fumbling with the light switch, cursing.
“I want to fit in.” You whisper, hoping the suit still has power despite not being possessed anymore.
The lights flicked on.
“Man, that was good!” Jack turned, revealing a nice pair of soft pecs and a small, hairy beer belly. Husky was a good word to describe your best friend. Thick bod and a thick cock, flaccid and drooling precum on the tile floor of the backroom. Jack rubbed his balding head and smiled handsomely. “And we got that ghost out of you, John.”
You sigh, having averted catastrophe, and lay back, your head feeling oddly cold on the cool desk. You reached back with one hairy arm and rubbed the bald spot on the back of your head. There was a moment of sheer panic as you tried frantically to find your hair.
Then you remembered. You’d started going bald last year and with how quickly it was going in the back and the receding hairline in the front, your days of having hair were soon going to be long behind you. On your head, at least-your hair seemed to have migrated to the rest of your body and back.
"Checking out your horseshoe?" Jack chuckled.
The remaining hair on the top of your head tickles. You reach up and accidentally brush away the last wisps of hair on top of your head. In a panic you run your fingers over the smooth pate of your scalp. You'd fully succumbed to male-pattern baldness.
As quickly as your panic had overtaken you, it receded as fast as your hairline. In a way, you were glad your hair was gone and not slowly receding. It made you look more mature and dignified.
"You had us in a right tizzy, John!" Willy said. "You're rather robust, huh?"
"Robust?" You asked, then looked down at yourself and felt another shock.
You had a paunch and your pecs were looking flabby. This wasn't right. You'd wanted to fit in, not be fat!
"Don't feel bad, John. Middle aged spread happens to all of us, John." Jack patted his own beer belly, only slightly bigger than your own. "Especially when they drink as much as you."
At his words, your small beer belly swelled. There was a pressure in your gut and as your belly grew more and more pronounced, stretching your shirt around it like you were smuggling a bowling ball. It felt like something was bubbling side of it, something that made you feel a little drunk. The pressure increased as memories of drinking filled your head. Your belly lopped over your belt, sagging into a a beer gut. The pressure reached a crescendo. You burped, tasting beer, and your belly button popped out. You sagged against the table, feeling oddly relieved. With a shaking hand, you felt your taut belly.
"I'm fat?" You whimper.
"You're the second fattest guy in the group." Boris chuckled, rubbing your protuberant beer belly.
"I-I'm not that fat." You whisper, staring at the massively obese man's apron of a gut, turning red.
"You're practically smuggling a beachball under that shirt." Boris said, not unkindly, a blush forming on his face.
"What?" You said in horror, already feeling the warmth and pressure resume.
"Yeah big guy," Boris whispered, face red, hand still rubbing your gut. "You're a tub of lard."
The warmth quickly welled into heat that flowed through your entire body, quickly followed by a strange sense of profound fullness. The hand touching your gut was forced further and further away from your belly, the rubs growing wider and wider as your body filled with fat. Boris' fingers kneaded and squeezed your swelling blubber. You glanced at the mirror on the wall and your jaw dropped.
Long gone was the swimmer's build of your youth. In its place was the body of someone who had retired and lived the rest of their life on the beach, bloated like a beached whale.
Your cheeks were chubby and thick, sagging like jowls. Your chin had softened and developed into a doublechin that drooped over your thick neck. Two moobs with silver-dollar sized nipples sagged onto your enormous gut. The star of the show was your belly. Boris hadn't been wrong about it being beachball-sized. A sack of blubber and lard had wrapped around your middle and sagged down over your crotch. The huge swell of fat obscured your view of your cock, which was cozily swallowed by the rest of your fat. Beneath your sagging belly were a pair of thick thighs that descended down to calves thick from carrying all your weight and cankles that bloated into wide, meaty feet.
"I'm fat." You said, no longer questioning it.
"Yeah. Big guy like you must love it." Boris leaned over and whispered, his breath tickling your ear. His hand grabbed a love handle and shook it. "Being so soft and warm and pliable."
You moaned, cock spurting pre. It did feel good to be fat.
“Feeling better John?” Boris rumbled, slapping a hand on your big furry belly and drumming on it, sending ripples through your overweight body and jiggling your soft hairy moobs. "You love when I play with your fat, don't you?"
You wanted to tell him no, that he was perverted, but your protest died in your throat, overcome by how nice your flab being jiggled felt. Your cock was erect, the ripples of the fatty cage around it rubbing it. You relaxed back onto the table with a happy sigh, hand patting your gut, giving your flab a shake. This hairy beach-ball of yours was made of nice meals and lots of beers and wallowing on the sands of your beach-side villa. The wobbling of your fat belly brought a satisfied burp to your lips that tasted like beer and Boris’ ass.
“Yup.” You close your eyes and lick your lips, still tasting his meaty ass, your slightly curved, thick-headed dick hardening again.
For a brief moment you thought your dick was much smaller and modest, but a quick squeeze confirmed it being the same shape it always had. Your heavy balls hung a bit lower than you thought they did…but you never did much ball play so…meh?
“Looks like someone’s ready to go again.” Willy smirked. He was a handsome little fireplug, even with that gnarled cock of his.
You gasped, a wave of lust nearly overwhelming your sense, penis at full mast. Where had that lust came from?
“Bah, John’s always horny,” Boris chuckled, hand moving from rubbing your belly to fondling your throbbing rod. "What with his bull balls and all."
You moaned lustily, enjoying Boris’s tender ministrations, his fingers rubbing the angry head of your glans. Your balls tensed, pulsed lightly, then grew heavy and large, more testosterone flooding your system. Your face itched as stubble grew into a rough beard.
You open your eyes and See Jack and Willy embracing each other, ready to go again. Boris snorts and you look up at the huge, obese man as he rubs his gunt with one hand and pats your gut with his other, setting his fat, hairy body wobbling. He notices you staring.
“You like me, huh?” Boris grinned and turned, showing off his flabby ass. “I knew when you ate my ass. The other guys think I’m too big without glamour. You’ve been hiding it for years, huh?”
“I-” You shake your head as strange memories start intruding, of shooting him looks when the others weren’t looking, afraid of their taunts. They aren’t real, but it’s hard to get rid them, as Boris hasn’t stopped stroking you. Agreeing with him just seems easier.
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Boris kept stroking your turgid cock, each stroke feeling like it was massaging your mind, making it easier to accept his suggestions. “You like eating my ass, playing with my gunt, my body. You like me.”
“Yeah.” You can’t help but agree. The gentle strokes were making your head tingle.
“I know you like the beach,” The big Russian bear looked down at him, soft honey-brown eyes crinkling. “But I know you’ll like the mountains. No need to worry about a beach bod. Just you and me in front of a crackling fireplace in my log cabin.”
You find yourself nodding.
Boris hefted his massive gut and you found yourself buried beneath it in his humid groin. The cloying stench of sex and sweat clung to his pubes, which dripped with cold semen from your last escapades. You give the depression where his cock is a cautious lick. The taste and smell are stomach turning and you find yourself recoiling in disgust.
“You like it in there, don’t you? The taste of my cock and the smell of my pubes.” Boris kept rubbing your cock.
The pleasure of the gentle rubs rippled through your brain and as quickly as you recoiled, you found yourself salivating at the stench of his gunt. You never questioned it when suddenly, instead of finding delving under his belly disgusting, you found it erotic.
You moan and relax, enjoying the warmth moistness of Boris’ undercarriage, the smell of his cock, the pressure of his massive underbelly on your head. Boris’ hand reaches down and rubs the back of your bald head firmly. You inhale despite yourself, enjoying his heady scents, and bury your face in his fat pad, licking and suckling his throbbing sweaty nub.
“Damn, third time today me and you got together. Gah! That mouth of yours is amazing. You’ve got great technique.” Boris rumbled happily, still rubbing the head of your cock and the bald patch on the back of your head. Both heads were tingling in unison, strange and wonderful, like your brains were about to have an orgasm.
Boris gasped and wheezed, his rubs gentle, insistent, slowly milking you, your bearded head bobbing in his dense pubes, licking and suckling his gunt with gusto. It wasn’t long before Boris gripped the back of your head and shoved you deep into his gunt and unloaded a fresh batch of seed into your mouth.
You swished his cum around in your mouth, enjoying the earthy taste, and swallowed it dutifully.
“You love swallowing my loads cause you love me, huh?” Boris wheezed and smiled, still rubbing your heads as the ripples and tingles reached a crescendo. “I love you too John.”
You weren’t in love with him, you wanted to protest, but then the warm, happy ripples tingled in your brain and you could feel yourself staring up into the loving eyes of the man you’d had a crush on for years now and you were gonna…
You were gonna…
Gonna…
You looked down past your own furry, heaving gut, but couldn’t see over it. Your heavy balls tensed, drew up, and a white flash of pleasure tore through your mind. All you felt was your cock jerking and jolting in Boris’s big, thick hand, hot bursts of cum used as lubricant as your fat Russian lover milked you.
You moaned, mind settling into your new life. Boris hadn't stopped working your cock.
“Boris!” Jack said sharply.
Boris blinks and looks up. You dazedly turn your own head, idly lapping cum from Boris’ gunt. Jack and Willy had stopped making out and were staring at you both. Willy was frowning and Jack looked furious.
“No hypnotizing people!” Jack pointed at you. “Look at him! Completely zonked. We do NOT do that to each other. Those were the rules.”
Boris looked down at you, realizing that the glazed look on your face was not that of someone love-struck. His rubs on your cockhead slowed. You blinked, confused. Something was happening.
“I am sorry, ignore what I said.” Boris said hastily, backing away from you. “I-I do not know my own strength sometimes Jack.”
“I didn’t see him use any magic, Jack.” Willy said, still frowning. “I thought I saw a magical working on John, but it’s gone now, whatever it was. He’s fine.”
“John, are you okay?” Jack asked softly.
You nod and scratch your beard lazily. “Just tuckered out is all. I think Boris and I are moving in together. For a little while.”
“You two?” Willy smirked. “Aw, you shoulda told us you fuckers! You had us all thinking you were being hypnotized. How long?”
“A while. Ten years or so.” Boris bit his lip. “I think.”
“More like 9.” You nod. “But, yeah.”
“So that’s what those looks were about for all these years! You dirty dog!” Jack grinned and gave Boris a bear hug. “Finally got him, huh? Good for you!”
You stared at Willy and Jack, confused.
“We kinda guessed.” Willy explained, catching your confused expression. “Jack just wanted to make sure it was all copacetic. You do look pretty zonked, though.”
“I got a hammock out back, take a nap John. We’ll call you in when we need to start the ritual.” John said.
Boris smiled and nodded down at you. “Go on, I can wait for a little longer.”
You heft yourself up off the table, Willy giving you a hand, and come heavily to your feet, gut bouncing. Hefting the big gut around felt odd-new and old. You let your gut jut forward and and leaned back, letting it sway in front of you, big bellied and proud. John handed you a huge shirt and chinos. You rolled the polo over your gut and pulled your chinos on one leg at a time.
“Easy there big guy, looking wobbly!” Jack said, steadying you when you almost fell over.
He leads out the back door-the entire magic shop was a confusing, jumbled maze-and you found yourself out in the freshly mowed back law. Stretched between two trees was a nice linen hammock with a pillow. He helped heft your corpuscular form into it and left you there.
You close your eyes and fall asleep in the gentle sway and soft breeze of Jack’s backyard. When you do, the magic of the clothing finished its work, altering your memories in your deep, restful sleep. The suit covering your body fades into just another layer of chub. By the time you wake up, John the nephew is gone and fat, middle aged best friend John is all that’s left.
You smile, stretch your hairy arms, and roll your fat body out of the hammock, ready to start the yearly ritual. Then you could go home and pack, no more lonely days on the beach, just heavy nights of sweat and passion with Boris. You were the newer guy in the cabal, but it turns out you fit in perfectly.