Unraveled, ch. 3 (Patreon)

Grant’s sleep was a blur of frantic, repeating nightmares.  He would be in the apartment with Wes, dressed in his regular clothes and not his recent, revealing outfit.  He’d be standing in his room when Wes would come by and pull a thread on his shirt.  The thread would keep going and going until his shirt was completely unwound, but it still didn’t stop.  His pants would go next, then his underwear, then his actual body.  He would scream and try to pull the thread out of Wes’s hand, but his roommate just kept smiling and pulling.  Grant would even try and run, but whenever he opened the door he saw several other guys being unwound like himself.  Slamming the door and running to the window, he saw countless miles of thread stretching up into a swirling, cloudy sky until his vision blurred and he was just a pile of thread on the floor.  

“UUUhhh!”  Grant’s eyes shot open.  His body was lit up with strange sensations.  There was a hand on his chest and he could feel a muscular body against his back, pumping a solid rod in and out of him.  In his confusion, it took a moment for him to remember where he was and who was behind him.  He tried to relax, but to his sleepy brain something felt off.  Despite the thrill of being in bed with Wes, his body felt wrong.  He thought it was just his dream at first and tried to focus instead on how good the other man was at this.  He was on the verge; ready to blow at any moment.  And that was the problem.  Reaching down, Grant let out a terrified gasp when he felt the still-soft cock between his legs. It was smaller than it should have been, and there didn’t seem to be any hair around it.  

The longer he was awake, the more he started to notice.  When Wes pounded, he felt his ass shake more than it should, and looking down, the other man’s hand seemed huge against his flat, shapeless chest.  Grant hadn’t been overly built, but what definition he’d had appeared to be gone entirely.  

“We...Wes…” he panted, squirming against the arm draped over him.  His loss of muscle wasn’t just for show; his friend’s arm felt like an iron bar holding him in place.  

“Good morning,” Wes grunted, giving Grant a quick peck on the top of his head.  

Grant was further horrified when he felt Wes’s soft lips on bare scalp.  “What...what’s happening…” 

“I’m just...about...done…” Wes hissed.  

So was Grant.  His friend’s suddenly harder pounding pushed him over the edge.  “OOOOHHHHHhhhhhhhhh!”  He tensed and spasmed, but his shrunken equipment didn’t so much as twitch or shed a drop of fluid.  

“There...we….gooouuuuuuhhhh….” The same couldn’t be said for Wes, who pumped out load after load before collapsing on top of the other man.  “Oh man,” he grinned, catching his breath.  “You were worth every penny.”  

Grant tried to process what he heard, but it was hard for him to focus on anything other than his altered body.  He almost screamed when he climbed out of bed and saw his reflection.  Instead of having a lean, toned build, he was soft and thin.  The only shape left to him was a round, bouncing rear and a set of wide thighs.  All of this was emphasized by a complete lack of hair.  Even his cheeks were free from any stubble, giving him a clear view of his puffier lips.  As he’d feared, all he saw between his legs was a soft, small nub with barely visible balls.  

“You okay buddy?”  

Grant started trembling when Wes rubbed his back as he stared at himself in shock.  His friend’s tone sounded like he was talking to a pet cat, but to Grant it might as well have been the voice of god.  If his feelings had been overwhelming the day before, now they were breathtaking.  He could barely bring himself to look at his friend.  

His voice shook.  “Ye...yeah...sorry,” he said, apologizing on reflex and looking down.  His stomach fluttered when Wes gave him another concerned look before his friend shrugged his broad shoulders and pulled him along into the shower.  

Grant’s body was on autopilot.  Scrubbing Wes down was an act of muscle memory; his friend’s firm body feeling just as familiar as his own.  As impossible as it was, it felt like he’d done this countless times.  While Wes stood sleepily under the stream, the weight of his softening cock and heavy balls felt entirely natural as Grant lathered between Wes’s thighs and back around to his solid globes.  When his friend scrubbed him down in turn, Grant was more turned on than he could ever remember being.  He was horrified at the soft, tiny nub that didn’t so much as twitch, but that terror was tinged with gratitude.  Part of his brain was telling him that he was very lucky to have a man like Wes taking care of him, despite feeling like a dog that was being scrubbed down by its owner.  

As soon as he was no longer dripping, Grant scurried around Wes’s room, pulling out clothes for him to wear before hurrying into the kitchen.  He kept catching sight of his altered reflection and he couldn’t ignore how much heavier everything felt, but he couldn’t stop to think about it.  Meeting Wes’s needs was a physical impulse.  Thinking about not doing them was like going without breathing, and soon he had his friend’s, now owner’s, breakfast laid out and lunch packed for the day.  

“Good job!” Wes said cheerfully as he came out of the bedroom.  The sight of the handsome, built man in his shirt, tie, and fitted slacks hit Grant like a physical force.  He didn’t even notice the small black bikinis in Wes’s hand until he set them on the counter next to a worn collar with an attached leash.  “You’re probably starving,” Wes said around mouthfuls of the egg sandwich Grant had just carefully prepared.  He opened the fridge and pulled out a long pouch filled with a yogurt like substance.  “Strawberry?”

Grant nodded without knowing why and took the tube once Wes had ripped the top off.  He slurped the thick fluid down, his head swimming with new memories.  He suddenly knew why he was so thin; this was all he ate.  One tube in the morning and one tube in the evening provided all the vitamins, nutrients and hydration he would need, with the added benefit of not producing any waste.  It made sense as it left him perpetually ready to take Wes whenever the other man wanted, and it ensured that there were no hygiene issues when they were out in public.  

Grant’s stomach sank at the thought.  His old self was beyond horrified at the thought of being paraded around on a leash in his current state, but the increasingly present new version of himself understood that it was all part of the rules.  The bikinis were the most he ever wore, and that was only when they were out in public.  Once they got home or to a more laid back establishment, off they went.  

“Alright, we’ve gotta scoot,” Wes said, slugging back his coffee.  He picked up the black bikinis and held them up for Grant to step into.  Just the thought of touching them sent an electric jolt of pain through Grant.  It was Wes who decided when he took them on or off.  

Grant was starting to panic when the collar was fastened in place.  The padding didn’t hurt, but he’d never been led around on a leash before.  He was helpless to do anything other than slip on a pair of tiny shoes and follow Wes out the door.  Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the elevator opened.  

“Hey Pete,” Wes said to the short, pudgy man in the elevator.  Next to him, similarly leashed, was Scott.  Grant gasped at the sight of the other man.  Scott should have been gorgeous.  Grant had just seen him the night before in his sculpted, hung glory.  Now, while Scott’s frame was still bigger than his overall, the other man was just as thin and shapeless as he was, complete with an almost non-existent lump in his tiny underwear.  “Hey Scotty,” Wes said, rubbing the other altered man’s bald head.  Scott grinned bashfully, never taking his infatuated, doe-eyes off his owner.  

Grant’s mind was racing.  The shock of seeing the other man cleared his head enough for him to think about what was happening.  Somehow his spell had spiraled completely out of control.  Not only had he condemned himself to a life of bizarre servitude, he’d apparently brought every other gay man with him.  The shop where this had all started was on the way to Wes’s office. If he could bring himself to speak, he might have a chance.  

“Ca...can we…” the words fell quiet and shaking out of Grant’s mouth.  “...wa..walk this..mo...morning...please…” He hated his mousy, stuttering tone.  

“He always that vocal,” Pete asked, sounding annoyed.  As much as he wanted to be angry, all Grant felt was the same kind of awe when he looked at the round little man.  

“What?  I like it when he talks,” Wes said, rubbing Grant between his shoulder blades.  The display of defensive affection caused Grant to melt.  

“Ugh, not me.  I want him quiet, right Scotty?”  Pete gave the leash a rough tug.  “I mean, there’s a reason they wound up this way, right?  It’s not like they’re doing this on their own.”  Grant didn’t like the implications of that. 

“Doesn’t mean you need to be a dick,” Wes said firmly.  He turned to Grant.  “Sure, we can walk.  It’s a nice morning,” he said pointedly, staring at the shorter man.  

“Whatever you wanna do, man,” Pete shrugged.  

Grant’s horror only grew as they walked and he saw numerous other men like himself.  In coffee shops, on busses, in cars, passing on the sidewalk; everywhere he turned he saw another captured soul.  It kept him from focusing on his own embarrassment, at least.  He didn’t have time to dwell on the way his soft, inflated cheeks bounced, or how small and powerless he felt in comparison to almost every straight guy they passed until they were in front of the small curio shop where he’d bought the candle.  

“Whoa!” Wes laughed when Grant put the brakes on and the leash went taut.  “You see something in there?”  Grant saw the woman through the shop window standing behind the counter.  She looked up, cocked her head momentarily, then sighed.  She wagged a bony finger and shook her head.  “Come on, we’re gonna be late,” Wes said, giving the leash a gentle tug.  

Grant couldn’t do anything but give her a last pleading look before he was pulled away.  

By the time they reached Wes’s office, he was slipping.  The slight hope, then crushing defeat, had left him drained.  When he saw the small padded cushion on the ground next to Wes’s desk, he couldn’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed.  He sank to it, trying not to think about anything in between completing menial tasks.  Wes would send him to get documents off the printer or to deliver files to other workers, and Grant could only do as he was told, wordlessly passing other men like himself along the way.  People would occasionally smile or sneer at him, but most ignored his presence entirely as the morning progressed.  Just as he was falling into a dull routine, Grant saw the full extent of the world he’d created.  

“Uh-oh, that’s not good,” Wes said quietly as a group of uniformed men came out of the elevator.  They made their way across the room and stood behind a young blonde man’s desk.  

“William Jefferies?”  One of them said in a deep, commanding voice.  The young blonde paled and nodded.  “You have been found guilty of two counts of fraud and theft.  You will now be taken to processing.”  

“No!  No, please!  I didn’t do anything!”  The young man struggled as two of the officers lifted him from his chair and a third stuck a needle gun against his neck.  “No!  Please!” His eyes went wide and he tensed briefly before his struggles stopped entirely.  The officers let go and the dazed man’s arms fell limply to his sides.  His blushing face made it clear that he was still aware of what was happening as the officers roughly stripped him down, ripping his shirt free and tearing his pants in the process until he stood naked in front of everyone.  

Grant felt a sense of familiar terror as he watched.  The young blonde was built, with a smattering of silky hairs across his toned pecs and down his solid abs, culminating in a trimmed bush at the base of a lengthy cock.  The man looked like he was trying to speak as a second needle was pressed against his neck.  His eyes were dishplates and his impressive chest was heaving as his cock abruptly twitched and stiffened.  A few seconds later it sprayed, the last time it ever would, Grant knew, and fell limp between the man’s muscular thighs.  

Grant knew it was only a matter of weeks before the man looked like himself.  His impressive muscles would fade, his package would shrink, and his thick blonde locks would disappear.  It was how they dealt with crime in this world.  It didn’t make sense for the states to pay to house criminals when they could be processed and sold into servitude like himself.  It happened to gay men automatically, but it had been weaponized as a way of dealing with straight criminals.  Men would then be sold to men, and women would be sold to other women.  Whatever property the man possessed would be seized by the state, making them even more money than the sale of the person did.  It was why people like Grant were paraded around.  They were a walking example of what could happen if you broke the law, and scenes like the one they’d just witnessed further kept people in line.  Knowing that you could be stripped down and humiliated in the middle of whatever you were doing sent a powerful message.  

Grant was shaking as he turned back to Wes.  He instinctively wanted the comfort of being near the other man, but something was clearly wrong.  Wes stood in place, his mouth open, as if he’d been frozen.  Looking around, Grant saw that everyone was similarly motionless.  

“I tried to warn you.”  

Grant jumped at the unexpected voice.  Weaving her way between the frozen employees was the old woman from the shop.  

“But you just wouldn’t listen,” she sighed.  

Grant suddenly felt like his old self.  “You!  Please!  You’ve gotta help me fix this!  I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!  Not that!” he pointed at the frozen shape of the naked man being led away.  

“I told you not to mess with other people.  I told you it could open a hole,” she said, sympathy mingling into her stern expression, “but you were reckless.”  

“If it’s that dangerous why did you sell it to me?!  I never would have done anything if I thought...this…” Grant motioned down at himself, “...was possible.”  

She sighed and shook her head.  “That’s not how the rules work.  The rules say I have to let you try.”  She raised a hand to stop Grant’s unspoken question.  “Don’t ask.  It’s beyond you.  Luckily I kept my eye on you and was able to keep this from spreading into your world.”  

“What...what do you mean?  Look around!  It totally spread into the world!”  

“Is that what you think?”  She laughed softly.  “Do you think you’re still on your world?”

Grant felt like he was punched in the stomach.  “What?  Where else would I be?”  

“You had a dream, right?  Where you were being unspooled?  Pulled into a pile of thread?”  Grant nodded.  “That was you being pulled into THIS world.  You’re lucky, too.  The alternative was YOU pulling this ENTIRE WORLD down on top of the other one.  That’s right,” she said at Grant’s stunned expression, “there are infinite worlds.  Unending variations on you and me.  Some people like myself are aware and can interact with them, but most people go about their days blissfully unaware.  Like him,” he pointed at the naked blonde.  “In another world he’s working away at his desk like always.  In another he’s a she.  In another he’s got an extra arm.  The point is that you almost pulled this specific world down on top of yourself.”  She waited for Grant to understand her point but grew impatient.  “Do you know what happens when two worlds try and occupy the same space?  It’s like anything else; they can’t!  The only alternative was to push you through the hole before that happened.”  

Grant was equal parts relieved and horrified.  He was relieved that he hadn’t, in fact, been responsible for turning every gay man into a subservient slave, but he was horrified at the prospect of being stuck.  “So can you send me back?”

She threw her head back in frustration.  “Were you listening at all?!  No.  The only thing keeping this world from spilling into your old one was shoving you in here.  If you go back, it’s like pulling a stopper out of a bottle.”  

“But...I can’t stay like this!”  

She put a cold, bony hand on his bare shoulder.  “In this world, you’ve been like this for quite some time.  Don’t worry...soon, you won’t even remember the other world.”

“No!  Please!  There has to be something you can do!”  

“If it’s any consolation, the old you is still in the world you came from living the life he always led.  It’s just your awareness that got shifted.  In time, it’ll catch up to the world around you.  It’s not a total loss,” her tone was chipper, “looks like you got your man.”  

“Wait!  No!  You ca...ca..can’t…” Grant stuttered as the world around him lurched back into motion.  The woman had vanished.  

“Can’t what?”  Wes asked, unaware of what just happened.  “Believe that?  Eh, Will always seemed like a dick.  Never did like that guy.”  He reached over and gave Grant’s ass a playful swat.  “But hey, maybe someone’ll be glad to have him like I am.”  

The suddenness of being thrust back into his timid new body caused the old Grant to lose his grip.  He felt himself slipping away under Wes’s bright, stunning gaze.  He smiled, feeling lucky to be with such a wonderful man.  

“Come on, it’s lunch time anyway.”  Grant rolled his neck against the collar, feeling more safe than confined as Wes picked up the leash.  He followed obediently behind, already forgetting about the conversation with the old woman.