I thought about the dinner that my double had cooked the previous night and how it could use some improvement. I grabbed an apron from my closet, it was a gift from an old high school friend. After heading off to culinary school, he sent me this apron as a joke gift. He knew I couldn't cook.
"I'll transform you into the perfect Chef" I said as I tied the apron around my double while he wore the amulet. When the changes started, I noticed my double looked less like a chef version of myself and more like someone else. My first thought was that he was changing into my friend who had probably worn the apron before. He's always been bad about regifting. But as the changes continued I knew it must be someone I didn't know that went to culinary school with him.
Beginning with a small pudge in the stomach, my double was developing weight in all areas. The laces of the apron, which originally hung low, were magically retying themselves to allow space for my double's growth. His stomach jutted forward and did not sag, but stood proudly like a taut yoga ball. In the rear, the laces of the apron were digging into the fat between my double's love handles and ass, accenting his bulbous cheeks.
His arms and legs filled with fat proportionate to his swollen torso, including especially thick thighs. At this time his skin was turning shades darker. The changes moved up to his chest where a pair of round moobs sat atop his stomach, and then to his neck which fattend to the point of almost meeting the tip of his chin. His face became almost circular with the filling of his cheeks, meeting the ends of a beautiful white smile and pushing up on his eyelids. His skin rested at a caramel tone while his hair turned black, becoming a tapered comb over. It then spread own his face, becoming a thinly cut, yet full, beard.
To complete the transformation, a pair of thin framed glasses appeared on my double's face. It was only then that I realized I was looking at a man taller than me, and seeming like a chef who had sampled too much of his own food. He rubbed his stomach and chuckled in a noticeably deeper voice, "They say never trust a skinny chef, right? Looks like you're the little brother." He flexed his arm with a pose imitating Rosie the Riveter, "Let's see if these changes really improve tonight's dinner!"
I nodded and followed my now big brother into the kitchen, watching as his ass cheeks rose and fell, left and right, with each step...