Jeff was pleased to see a dwarf on the Chronivac screen. Dwarves were always one of his favorite fantasy races, he loved their tough physique and matching personalities, full of lust for life and glory. Lost in those thoughts, it took him a bit to notice that his clothes had disappeared and he was gently drifting through the air above the village, naked. At first he tried to cover himself, but soon it seemed that even the villagers who happened to look up didn't notice him, so he relaxed and let himself settle down onto the ground right outside the village.
Suddenly, there was a feeling of dropping or shooting down and Jeff felt himself get shorter, but he didn't get any smaller. His whole body, bones, muscles, and all, had just gotten wider, broader, and thicker as he lost height. If anything he was getting bigger, swelling out (but not up) as everything became harder and tougher. It was more than all the muscle mass and definition he had gained, or his penis, which had indeed grown thicker, if not much longer, as it became erect. His whole body, his whole being felt like it had been carved from solid, rugged rock. And as a proud dwarf, he knew it was. What? How could he be a proud dwarf without a beard? Of course, a red beard did begin to sprout from his previously bare face, which was broadening, hardening, and flattening at the same time. The previously brown hair on his head receded and turned red to match his beard, and what remained grew longer and shaggier. Similarly colored hair grew out across his stout, muscular body, and he felt a surge of testosterone as his beard reached the end of its growth, reaching down to his big stomach in all its glory. He finally felt like a real man... like a real dwarf. Only one thing was missing now.
Jeff grinned as he felt the familiar weight of his war hammer appear in his beefy hand, as the rest of his body was weighed down by a full set of plate armor, though with his strong muscles he barely noticed the heavy load. He also didn't notice the linen underclothes keeping him comfortable. The hammer, though... the ornately decorated metal weapon was his pride and joy, along with his glorious beard, which had worked itself into a series of complicated braids full of deeply-felt meaning. It had been the same with his father, and his father, and all the men of his clan since his honored ancestor Dorruk the Forgemaster, who drove the orcs out of Korstone Fortress and founded the Hammerbeard clan... He blinked his thick eyelids, confused for a moment about how he knew all of this...
Of course he knew! He was as proud of his clan as any other dwarf, and his greatest goal in life was to gain honor and do great things himself for future generations to be proud of. Other details washed through his brain. Memories of training to use his hammer, among other life lessons bestowed by his esteemed elders in their home of Deephold, off in the distance there, culminating when he forged his hammer and got the first braid in his beard, the proudest day in his life so far. Memories of actually using his hammer, the manly rush he felt on mercenary jobs or on adventures with his trusted companions, bringing honor to himself and light to the world by striking down the enemies of good, and all the fun he would have afterwards when he would spend his winnings on hard drinks and soft women (by the Great Anvil, he wanted one of each right then). Memories of humans and elves mocking his height or the braids in his beard, and the poundings they subsequently received. It all felt wrong, somehow, like it was a life that belonged to someone else, but it also felt so right, because he knew it was his life and he had lived it as well as he could, and he decided not to think about the surge in his thick head. Thinking was overrated, a waste of time that could be spent actually doing, so he wouldn't be doing too much thinking in the future. That was what elves did. Besides, as a mighty Hammerbeard he would surely be able to do whatever he wanted.
If Jeffrim Hammerbeard had bothered to think about it, he would have recalled being a scrawny human boy in a mundane world instead of the powerful dwarven man he was in the real world, and he would have felt intrigued and excited if a little concerned at his change. What change? He didn't bother thinking about it, of course; he didn't need to think about anything that wouldn't bring him any glory or fun. Satisfied with his own resolve, Jeffrim gave a nod of his heavy, bearded head and continued what he had been doing.