The Locket (vignette) (Patreon)

Looking back, I really should have known better.  It’s a cliche for a reason: if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.  Or at least there’s a hell of a catch.  But I was so desperate.  I’d been in love with Nick for so long and I was so tired of always being the one chasing after a guy who was chasing after a girl.  I should have accepted that my friend was straight and we’d never be anything more than just friends.  I just couldn’t let it go.  

He was so smart and charming, on top of being gorgeous.  His short chestnut hair, dark brown eyes and sharp, wolfish features were captivating.  Put them on top of his massive, muscled frame and he was irresistible.  

Nick wasn’t like most meatheads.  He was an artist by trade and had the sensitive personality that came with that, laced with just enough of an arrogant jock streak to make him a walking contradiction.  The three hundred pounds of muscle on his 6’4” frame certainly gave the impression of an athlete, but there were layers underneath all that flesh.  

The only time he ever really had a tendency to “bro out” was when talking about women or his sexual exploits, always a conversation that left me feeling jealous.  Given his good looks and impressive body, it was a topic that came up often. 

Despite his bulky body, Nick was quick to lament his small equipment. He always talked about how he envied the other guys in the locker room, while at the same time bragging about how well he could use his tiny rod. I’d heard from female friends fortunate enough to experience it firsthand that while he topped out at just over a stout five inches, he wasn’t merely boasting about his skills.  

I certainly didn’t care how big or small it was, I just longed to be near him.  At a tall, lanky 6’2” it wasn’t often that I met guys bigger than myself, which only added fuel to the fire.  My build was average at best, nowhere near his excessive muscle, leaving me feeling small by comparison despite our similar height.  I dreamed about having his thick, heavy arms wrapped around me and what it would feel like to fall asleep with my head on those plump, round pecs of his time and time again.  

It’s no surprise that he was the first person I thought of when I found the locket.  Supposedly, it had the power to make someone fall in love with the wearer.  All I had to do was put my picture on one side and his on the other, and the magic would make me the object of his affection. Simple, right? Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would actually work.  I’d found it at a truck stop along with a bunch of other junk while gassing up on a road trip.  There was a whole rack of them.  The packaging had the smiling faces of a man and a woman, but I figured if it worked for them, it would work for me.  

At least I would have thought that had I actually expected it to work, which I didn’t.  It was cheap junk from a gas station, not some ancient relic or magic lamp. I paid the five dollars for a fun fantasy to occupy my time while I drove the several hours back home and nothing more.  

It was all so easy in my head.  Nick was currently single and he’d been lamenting how he couldn’t find a girl to settle down with.  Despite hooking up with a revolving door of gorgeous women, he could never make it work long term.  We were both in our mid-thirties and he was starting to fear that he’d never find someone.  

Enter me and the locket, solving both of our problems. Sure, I’d technically be forcing things, but it wasn’t like we didn’t already care for each other.  And it’s not like I was breaking up a happy home.  I was just opening a door for him so that he’d be happy.  What could be the harm in that?  When I got home I cut out pictures of each of us, filled the locket, and jerked off thinking about what could be.  I never thought it would go past that.  

When I heard from him the next day I didn’t think anything of it.  We usually hung out at least weekly at one of our places for a movie night, so him calling and inviting me over didn’t raise any red flags.  When I showed up at his apartment nothing seemed out of place.  He greeted me in his usual outfit of baggy basketball shorts and a loose-fitting muscle shirt.  As always, my eyes pored over the exposed skin on his beefy torso, tracing along the crest of his pecs and down his broad, round shoulders.  Trailing behind him on the way in, I loved the way the bottom of his shirt rested on the granite mounds of his rear that formed a round, shifting shelf in the back of his shorts.  

I didn’t start feeling off until we’d made contact.  Our hands brushed together as he handed me a drink and almost immediately I became lightheaded.  I did my best to ignore it, thinking I’d just picked up a bug on the road, but the longer we sat the more the room started to spin.  I made to head for the bathroom so I could splash some water on my face when everything changed.  

As soon as I slid off the couch, I was heading for the ground.  My feet didn’t plant the way I’d expected, almost like there was a drop before they touched.  I went sprawling, face-first onto the floor in a pile.  Nick started laughing almost immediately and I could feel the floor of his apartment shake under his weight as he stood and lumbered over.  When I picked myself up off the floor I found myself looking around from a new perspective.  

My shorts, now far too large, landed in a heap at my feet while my t-shirt draped past my waist.  I remember standing and staring down at them, unable to comprehend what happened.  When I looked up and found myself staring squarely into the bottom of Nick’s prominent pecs instead of his face, I just started laughing along with him.  With his burly build, Nick always felt like he towered over me, but now he literally did.  

He asked me if I was okay, gently tousling my auburn hair while he grinned down at me.  His rough, strong hand on my head felt wonderful, but I remember being surprised that he wasn’t as freaked out as I was.  I’d just lost at least a foot of height and he was acting as if I’d simply tripped over my own feet.  I’d shrunk enough that my clothes were literally falling off me and motioned towards them, only to discover that the shorts at my feet were gone.  More than that, I saw that I was no longer wearing one of my t-shirts, but one of his.  The worn, black cotton was a familiar sight, only I was more used to seeing it stretched across his plentiful muscle as opposed to hanging loose off my shoulders.  

I had no idea what was happening and I quickly learned that it whatever it was, it wasn’t done with me yet.  Nick’s large hand still running through my hair, a strange tingling started in my legs.  I reached down on instinct, my hand arriving just in time to feel my modest ass start inflating.  I felt my cheeks pushing outwards and becoming soft against my fingers as they grew and grew.  In a matter of moments I’d sprouted a large set of gravity defying, supple globes that seemed all that much larger given my sudden loss of height.  

That was the last piece of the puzzle I needed.  Somehow, the locket was actually working.  I could see it in the way Nick was staring down at me with hunger in his eyes.  It was a look I’d seen him give women before, and it confirmed what I was frantically thinking.  I may have gotten what I wanted, but there was indeed a catch.  Nick always went for short, bottom-heavy girls, and it was looking like the cost for me to get what I wanted was for him to get the same.  Or at least close to it.  

I started to panic, fearing that I was on my way to womanhood.  Though I may have envied the girls that Nick took to bed, I never pictured myself literally becoming one of them.  I’d already lost the height and gained the ass, and I was desperately trying to remember what else he liked.  I knew he liked girls who were fit.  Not built like himself, but toned and defined.  

Almost as soon as I had the thought I felt a shudder, followed by every one of my muscles cramping at once.  The pain was blessedly brief, and once it had passed I could immediately feel the difference.  I’d had an average body at best, with a bit of a spare tire, but now my prodding fingers felt nothing but firm, solid muscle.  Though I couldn’t see it yet underneath the draping shirt, there wasn’t the slightest give or jiggle to my midsection when I moved. It was jarring to say the least, but I was just grateful that I wasn’t staring down at a set of tits.  

The tightening of my body was followed by a tightening in my underwear as my cock suddenly throbbed and I was hit by a wave of arousal like I’d never felt before.  It was painful.  I reached up and clutched Nick’s huge hand with my much smaller one and let out a groan.  I could hear the higher, softer tone to my voice but I couldn't focus on it.  My body was wracked with need, like I hadn’t cum in months.  Nick always did talk about his own insatiable appetites and how he liked girls who could keep up.  

I lunged forward, wrapping my shrunken arms around his broad torso as best I could.  His chest rumbled against my face as he laughed and let me paw at him, his own hands dropping to squeeze my plump new rear.  I marveled at how much larger he felt as my hands explored up under his shirt and down the back of his shorts.  He wasn’t trying to stop me in the least.  I could feel his muscles flexing as he puffed his chest out proudly in response to my obvious lust.  

When he did push me away, it was only long enough to let him pull my oversized shirt free.  My eyes nearly shot out of my skull when I saw the ripped definition covering my reduced frame.  I now had a pair of small, solid pecs above a washboard stomach and tiny waist.  My arms were thin but strong, leaving most of my bulk from the waist down.  My thighs were firm but round beneath the bouncing globes that hung, lifted and exposed, out the back of a lavender jockstrap.  

The change to my clothes was almost as jarring as the changes to my body in what it implied.  Like Nick, I was a boxer brief guy.  I’d definitely never owned a low riding, stuffed jockstrap like the one I somehow had on.  And stuffed it was.  I didn’t know if it was just the reduction in overall size, or if my average package had grown, but the light purple fabric was filled to capacity by my twitching hose.  

I was back in his arms before I could examine anything further.  I didn’t even have time to get my hands back in place before he reached down and slipped one of his squat, strong fingers between my accentuated cheeks.  I clutched at his chest as he slipped it inside, going up on my toes and letting out a long, embarrassing moan.  All I could do was gasp and squirm against his iron frame, remembering how he would brag about his dexterous fingers.  The whole time he beamed down at me with a smug grin that I’d always dreamed of seeing.  

I couldn’t take it anymore.  I needed to get his clothes off him.  His digits still inside, I tugged his shorts and boxer briefs down, grinding my tented pouch against his bare thigh.  My hands immediately dropped to his rigid pole, and with their shrunken size his stout five inches filled them perfectly.  

I was left disappointingly empty when he finally pulled his hand free so that he could strip out of his muscle shirt.  It was better than I’d ever hoped.  I’d fantasized about his naked body for years, but those mental images paled in comparison to the real thing, especially from my new perspective.  Nick was a beefy giant, a landscape of burly muscle that was mine for the conquering.  This time it was his deep voice hissing out in a low moan when I leaned in and attacked one of his tiny nipples, still working his mighty little rod.  

After wanting it for so long, I took my time.  I explored every inch, front and back, as my mouth drifted lower.  My small hands spread his muscled cheeks and I dove in, hungrily lapping at the musky valley and working my way down and around to the underside of his hairy balls.  

This was new.  I was fairly vanilla when it came to sex, but then I remembered Nick talking about one girl in particular who’d “opened up” whole new avenues for him.  With his fat, short rod filling my mouth, I almost came just thinking about all the things I’d get to do to the hulking stud.  When he whimpered ecstatically after I pressed a few fingers against his own tight hole, the remaining size of my equipment suddenly made sense.  

I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard him desperately begging.  He wasn’t telling or commanding, he was asking if I’d please fuck him.  To my surprise, I said no.  Or at least not yet.  First I made him drop to his knees and use his mouth to pull my jock free.  I loved the prickling of his trim beard against my stomach as he yanked on the elastic, exposing my now-blonde bush in the process.  I wasn’t shocked; he’d always gone for blonde girls.  

I was actually shocked by the intensity with which he went at my aching cock.  His soft, full lips sealed like a vacuum and he worked his tongue like he’d been born for this.  With his broad body for perspective, I could see that I actually had grown.  I’d been an average six inches when all this started, but now I looked closer to eight.  Nick swallowed every inch, burying his face against my lightened crotch while his hands held me in place like a vice.  

Only after he’d used his mouth to make me good and slick did I push him away and onto the couch.  He flopped onto his back and pulled his legs to his chest with a desperate look, his short cock and tight balls wedging against his muscled stomach.  I didn’t waste any time.  I crawled back up, put my hands on his slab of a chest for support, and plunged in.  If it weren’t for my altered stamina, the look of blissful pain on his face and the high, wavering moan that shot out of his mouth would have made me cum on the spot.  

I took him on his back, on his side, and on his stomach.  We fucked on the couch, on the floor, and in his bed.  He bucked like a wild bronco, his wide back a sea of flexing muscle as I held on, pumping in and out until he finally came.  His small cock shot like a geyser as he spasmed and gasped wordlessly.  

Seeing that I hadn’t cum yet, he wasted no time in wrapping me in his arms, pressing our lips together and picking up where he left off with his fingers.  I squirmed and writhed on his lap while we kissed, feeling safe in his huge arms until he brought me to the edge and I soaked both of us.  That was the first night that I got my wish of drifting off to sleep with my head on his chest.  

It’s been a few months, and it’s happened every night since.  As far as the world is concerned, I’ve always been a short, thick little twink.  The tall, average version of me was erased as soon as I put our pictures in the locket.  Even Nick has no memory of me being any other way.  

Looking back, it’s clear I lucked out.  The locket apparently couldn’t change genders, it could only warp my male body as close to Nick’s desires as possible.  I never imagined myself ending up as a horny little male version of the girls he liked, but it could be worse.  At least Nick liked them smart.  

And the big guy really is happy.  In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him more content than these past few months.  Instead of just friends, we’ve been partners for years.  We live together now, but otherwise our day-to-day existence isn’t much different.  It’s been an adjustment getting used to my new body, and the way Nick likes me to display it, but I’m getting there.  

The jockstrap was just the tip of the iceberg.  Nick likes me to wear tight, revealing clothes, something he’d always enjoyed with women, and when we’re at home his tastes are even more exotic.  Corsets, lingerie, lace, vinyl; it’s embarrassing, but the things he does to me afterwards makes the humiliation worthwhile.  

It also gives me the chance to make the same demands.  I’ll never forget the first time I tied his powerful body to the bed while he had on nothing but stockings, heels, and lace panties.  I was initially surprised by his unspoken kinks, but then it made sense.  Someone who fucks as much as him is bound to get bored after a while.  

I’m still unsure whether or not I’d do this all over again if I had the chance. There’s a weight that comes with my awareness. To Nick this is how things have always been, but not to me. I still feel like I’m two people, stuck between my old life and this new one. 

Sometimes it seems like this is still all a fantasy. Or maybe I crashed my car out on the interstate and none of this is happening. Maybe I’m in a coma in a hospital somewhere and this is all a dream. Or maybe I really did find a piece of magic out on the road. All I know for sure is that from now on I’m not going to mess with things that seem too good to be true. And if you see a rusty spinner rack covered with cheap lockets sitting on a counter by a gas station cash register, think about what I told you.