Milton--his name was Milton? He shook his head, trying to remember who he’d been, but there was nothing. Just
his new memories of living in the small, dingy room of Mr. O’Brien’s house. While he did his best to digest
this, Madame Ilusia came forward once more. “Well, Milton here has a new name to go with his new body,
however, we still need a job for him to do. After all, Mr. O’Brien can’t have him living in his house rent
free! Who has a job that they think Milton will be capable of doing, that they would like to give him? He
doesn’t have much left to exchange for it, but I’m sure he has a few more things he can give up.”
“Well, I might have a job for him,” a man said, stepping forward. He was clad in a set of filthy overalls and
rubber boots, and Milton could smell the stench of manure hanging around him in a cloud. “I been mucking out
the stables at Mr. Wellington’s pig farm fer years now. However, I’m tired of working in piles of shit all
day, ‘n I’d like to try my luck in the big city. I’ll give Milton here my job, in exchange for thirty points
of his IQ, and his cleanliness. See, I’m none too bright, and always dirty. No one in the city would hire me
like this.”
“Yes, that much is true. What do you say, Milton? I think our friend here deserves a shot at city life, don’t
you? Wouldn’t you be willing to help him out? Besides, looking like this, I doubt anyone in the city would
hire you either.”
Milton fought against the compulsion, but the words came out anyway. “Alright, it’s a deal.”
The headache that followed only last a few seconds, but it was excruciatingly painful. Milton hadn’t been
nearly as smart as his brother, but with an IQ of 100 dropping to 70, when the pain receded, his head just
felt...empty, his mouth open and drooling a bit into his new beard. The stench of shit which had floated
around the man now swam around Milton, and his body was crusted with dirt and grime. His hair and beard had
grown out into a thick bush around his head, and with his tongue, he felt that half his teeth had rotted out
of his head. The Madame took a few steps away from him, waving away his powerful musk with a sneer, making the
audience laugh and jeer at him, but Milton didn’t know what was wrong. He had a hard time trying to follow
what was going on, and he was wishing everyone would speak slower, so he could understand what they were
saying. “I no...understand, what goin’ on...” he said, mostly to himself.
“Oh don’t worry Milton, we’re almost done. Last call--is there anyone else who has something for Milton here?
It’s slim pickings at this point, get something now, or get nothing at all.”
“I have something else for him, and I know what I want for it too,” another man said, lumbering forward. “See,
workin’ in a barn, shoveling pig shit, he’s liable to get real cold doing that kind of work, especially if
he’s naked and it’s almost winter. Well, I happen to have some insulation for you, if you want it, Milton.”
the man said, jiggling his belly, and looking around at the laughing audience.
Milton didn’t quite know what the man was saying, but he didn’t want to be cold. “Uh, ok...I no want tah be
cold.”
“Well hold on Milton, this isn’t a charity. You have to give this nice gentleman something as well.”
“I know what I want from him already,” the man said, “I want his youth. I want to be slim and young again, so
give me your youth, and you can have all of this padding for the cold winter.”
“That sound good to you Milton?”
“I...I guess so.”
“Then it’s a deal!” the Madame exclaimed, and the audience watched as Milton began to inflate up on stage. The
man had to be close to 400 pounds, and all of it melted away in the course of a minute, leaving him amazingly
trim, and even a bit muscled, the clothes he’d been wearing now tented around him. Milton, for his part, was
soon finding it difficult to stand with the extra weight, and he had to splay his legs out a bit, to make room
for his massive, sagging gut falling down over his groin. His beard now grew wider, obscuring his triple
chins, and his brown eyes were buried in in his fat cheeks. Still, he was warm, though the sweat accumulating
in his fat rolls did nothing to make him smell better. Finally, he felt close to thirty years pile on him, his
hair and beard becoming almost entirely grey, the hair receding far back, revealing the scalp of his head,
face full of wrinkles, his eyesight becoming even worse than it had been, but he didn’t need to see much in
order to shovel shit around. The previously fat man looked down at his young body and let out a hoot and a
holler. He might have cartwheeled out of the tent if his clothes had fit him.
Anything else?” the Madame asked of the audience.
“We have a couple of requests to make,” a young man said, one pulling the second behind him. We want to help
keep Milton warm too.”
“Oh, well I think Milton already has enough to keep him warm, boy,” the Madame said.
“Oh, well, he can’t just be goin’ around naked, can he? He has to be covered by something. Well, my brother
and I, we’re both the hairiest guys we know. We’ll give him all of our body hair, in exchange for two things.
I want five inches off Milton’s cock there, because we don’t want him flashing everybody with it, and my
brother here, well, it’s real bad see. He’s a mute, and I want him to have a voice. Milton can have our hair,
if I get his cock, and my brother gets his voice.”
“Ah, well those are both good arguments, I suppose. How about it Milton, do you want to make one more switch?”
Honestly, he didn’t, but he didn’t have much choice. “Yes Madame, I take the deal.”
“Good boy,” she said.
Looking down, Milton saw that his entire body was filling in with light brown, curly hairs, enough so that
barely any of his skin was visible. As far as he might be concerned, he would be plenty clothed for the rest
of his life. His cock shrank up into his fat so far that he’d never be able to reach it. He tried to say
something, anything, but all that came out were some strange, animalistic grunts. He looked like an animal,
and now he spoke like one too.
“I can...I can speak?” the mute said, and his brother pulled his close, both of them ecstatic.
“Well, I think Milton here has given away pretty much taken everything he can hold from all of you in the
audience. Alright Mr. O’Brien, he’s all yours. Take your new boarder home, so he can get to bed--he has to be
at work early tomorrow!” The Madame said, and the room laughed, well, everyone except for Mr. O’Brien.
“What? I don’ want this filthy animal stinking up mah house!” Mr. O’Brien said.
“But that was the deal, Mr. O’Brien,” the Madame said, the room falling silent, sensing the tension in the
air, “And I can’t let you back out of a fair deal. Think of the life this beast gave your son, in the city. He
gave him his name--name’s are very important, after all--they can change a lot in a person.”
“Well yeah, he ain’t my son no more for one thing, since he don’ even have my name!” Mr. O’Brien said, “I
don’t want this monster livin’ with me, and I’m not takin’ him.”
The tent was silent, as the Madame fumed a bit. “Come up on stage, Mr. O’Brien.”
Mr. O’Brien realized then that he shouldn’t have spoken up, as his feet walked him up onto the stage. This
close to Milton, he could smell the stench wafting off of him, and it was even ranker than he’d imagined, and
he started to retch a bit.
“Now Mr. O’Brien, relax. After all, you must be used to your son’s stench by now, after living with him all
these years,” Madame Ilusia said.
“He’s not my son, what are you talking about?”
“Well, it occurred to me that Milton here doesn’t have a last name. He needs a family, doesn’t he? And you no
longer have a son, so I think Milton here would gladly fill that role, isn’t that right?” She asked, turning
to Milton, and the fat, hairy brute nodded dumbly, unable to disagree.
“Well, he ain’t my kin, he doesn’t even have my blood.”
“That much, I suppose is true. The two of you don’t look very much alike, but surely there’s something we can
do about that, right Mr. O’Brien? Like son like father, after all.”
“That’s not...it’s the other way around.”
“Oh, I think not. After all, Milton’s hair is far too thick to not be some hereditary trait, I think. And
surely he would have had to pick up all of those bad habits, the lack of hygiene, the overeating, from
someone. And seeing as you’re the only family he has, I must assume that he got all of it from you!”
O’Brien felt the wave of magic the Madame had been building up crash over him with the Madame’s final
pronouncement, and he looked down at himself, watching his body begin to swell up with fat, stretching the
limits of his clothing in a matter of moments. His entire body itched, and he could feel his beard and hair
pulling themselves out of his body, growing longer, but also filthier. With several loud rips, the clothes he
was wearing were nothing more than rags, and to the audience there was no question that the two men on stage
must be related. However, where Milton’s middle aged body was covered with brown hairs tinged grey, Mr.
O’Brien’s new pelt was nearly white, the only bald spot on his whole body being the complete crown of his
head. “No...No, what have you done to me?” Mr. O’Brien said, running his dirty hands over his furry body.
“Now, now, don’t fret. Tell me, do you have any problem taking your son home with you now? Look at him there.
Smell him. Doesn’t he smell good? Aren’t you proud of your son, that he can hold down a job, and that he can
come home smelling like work? That makes you happy, doesn’t it?”
Mr O’Brien did his best to fight Madame’s words, but the wormed their way into them with a sinister logic. He
was proud of Milton, sure. It wasn’t easy looking like they did, and also getting by in the world. But he
didn’t actually like how he smelled, did he? I mean, the boy stank of manure, and yet...there was something
appealing about it, and considering his own horrible hygiene, why shouldn’t he enjoy his son’s musk as much as
he enjoyed his own? Yeah, he did like it, and there was no shame in that, no shame at all. He loved how his
son came home stinking of barns and manure and sweat. It was a measure of his manliness.
“Now go on, show your son some affection. Show him how proud you are of him. It’s natural for men to be
attracted to their sons, after all, especially when they bear all of their best qualities. You love Milton,
don’t you? Don’t you want to show your son how much you love him? How proud you are of him? Don’t you want him
to feel good?”
Mr. O’Brien felt his feet start to move his massively fat frame closer to his son’s. He did love him, he loved
him so much, and he was so very proud of the big man he’d grown up to become, just like his father. They
embraced, and before Mr. O’Brien could stop himself, he was kissing his son, their foul breath mixing, and he
didn’t mind. In fact...he was enjoying it. He could feel his cock, just an inch long, like his boy’s, start to
harden and leak a bit of cum, matting the fur on the underside of his gut. Milton was just as excited, his
hands groping under neath his father’s gut, looking for his cock. They couldn’t reach their own after all, so
the pair had grown accustomed to getting each other off, and had been doing it for so long they loved it, and
each other, all the more deeply. Still, in what remained of Mr. O’Brien’s mind, he knew that this wasn’t the
place for such a display, and so, reluctantly, he pulled away. “Alright son, let’s go home--ya gotta get tah
work in a few hours.”
Milton nodded, and the two of them left the stage, their stench cutting a path through the crowd, which had
imagined they were safe, but no one renegaded on a deal with the Madame--no one.
“Now then, do we have another volunteer?” the Madame said, sweet as sugar, but the audience could sense that
she was just getting started, and that none of them were safe from her bargains, deals and swindles.