Patterns (vignette) (Patreon)

Something was off, but Blake couldn’t quite put his finger on what bothered him.  He’d felt it the moment he’d opened his eyes that morning, a vague sense of disorientation that wouldn’t quit.  It wasn’t the bright sunlight beating against his eyelids or the warm, summer morning breeze blowing in through the open window, though Blake thought he’d slept in later than he should have.  Nor was it the broad, comfortable bed he’d awoken to find himself stretched out on, despite the fact that neither it nor the room around him were immediately familiar.  After a confused moment he of course recognized the setting as his bedroom, but if that was true then it raised the question as to why Vince slumbered contentedly next to him.  His immediate thought was that they didn’t live together, and even if his friend had spent the night he would have done it on the couch, not in bed with him.

And then there was the matter of Vince’s appearance.  The dark-haired man had always been athletically built, with a broad upper body offset by sturdy arms that tapered to a tight waist before flowing down to a set of perky cheeks and toned thighs.  He was fit and built; he’d never been huge like he suddenly was that morning.  Instead of taking up roughly the same amount of space on the bed as himself given what should have been their equal heights and similar builds, Vince loomed like an anchor.  In his groggy confusion Blake wondered for a moment if he’d in fact gotten smaller, but the way Vince’s paddle-like feet threatened to hang off the foot of the bed, and the way the olive-skinned stud’s wide shoulders pushed the smaller brunette to a third of the mattress instead of an even half, made it clear that there had been no reduction, only expansion.

Mostly.  As Blake gazed at his prone, slumbering friend, his eyes eventually drifted south to the meager tent poking up beneath Vince’s still-tapering, if a bit thicker, midsection.  With only a thin sheet covering both of them, Blake knew his friend’s rigid cock should have been a wide, seven-inch club, but at the moment it appeared to be no more than half that size.  It would have looked small on the more modest body that Blake kept picturing his friend as possessing; at his current hulking proportions it was absolutely tiny.

And cute.  Blake didn’t know where that thought came from anymore than he understood why his stomach fluttered as he rolled over onto his side and reached out to place a hand on Vince’s prominent slab.  His fingers were brushing through the scrubby, wiry dusting that covered the other man’s chest, the same color as the raven stubble that coated his friend’s lantern jaw, before he even realized he was doing it.  He wasn’t trying to wake the other man up; he’d just wanted the contact.  It was a reflex, a motion that had felt as confusingly natural as the sensation of the meaty mounds against his palm.  As he’d looked at his own sculpted arm draped across his friend’s beefy torso he’d been once again reassured that he still possessed his own fit, leanly muscled frame, and his smooth, tanned skin seemed to be exactly as it should be, but his attention was pulled back to the stirring giant when Vince blinked and yawned.

The fluttering in Blake’s stomach intensified as he’d watched Vince’s piston arms stretch overhead, emphasizing the other man’s confoundingly new size, before his friend rolled onto his side to face him.  “Mornin’,” the dark-haired giant had grinned sleepily, his voice, like his body, sounding bigger than it should.  “How’d you sleep?”

Before Blake had a chance to answer, one of Vince’s massive hands reached out to gently cup the back of his head, making him feel smaller than ever as he was pulled in for a quick kiss.  The addled brunette had returned the gesture on instinct, the warmth and taste of his friend’s morning breath feeling as natural as Vince’s tongue while both filled his mouth.  It only added to his confusion.  While they’d jokingly flirted in the past and had jerked off together a few times, Blake felt like neither of them should have actually been attracted to each other, let alone to the degrees of passion he’d felt welling within him.

He’d just blinked in stunned silence for a moment when Vince broke off the kiss.  “Good,” he’d finally said, realizing in that moment just how true the statement was.  Other than his lingering confusion, Blake felt fantastic.  At twenty-seven he wasn’t exactly used to waking up with the aches and pains of age, but the groggy hunk felt refreshed in a way he rarely experienced.  “I feel weirdly great this morning.”

Vince had flashed a smug, stubble-covered smile as he raised an eyebrow, his meaty paw tracing the line between Blake’s chiseled pecs and down the brunette’s firm abs.  “Oh yeah,” Vince had purred, his hand resting at the top of the smaller man’s chestnut bush.  It was the first time Blake recognized his own nudity, but all he’d been able to focus on was the growing sense of excited anticipation.  “Bet I know what’ll make it better.”

The burly beefcake’s actions provoked the opposite response, at least at first.  When Blake felt a pair of thick, firm fingers slip into the unfamiliar orifice where his cock should have been, his initial reaction had been horror.  It suddenly occurred to him in a flash of panic that while his stomach had been fluttering and he’d felt his confusing yearnings, he hadn’t noticed the lack of a rigid throb where his cock should have been.  The stout organ and hefty balls had never been as large as Vince’s, or as large as Blake thought Vince’s should have been, but at least they’d been present.  At least there’d be a solid cock for Vince to tug on, regardless of its size, instead of a warm, aching slit for the bigger man to root around inside of.

But then Blake felt the first waves of ecstasy those fingers caused.  He’d heard himself whimper, his hand feeling small as it reflexively clutched Vince’s widened forearm to keep the blissful digits in place while they exchanged an alternating series of quick and prolonged kisses.  The shock had been great enough that he’d almost been able to ask Vince what was happening, but before he could finally muster the words the disorientation settled once more.  When he pulled away from a kiss Blake suddenly found himself wondering why he’d been about to question any of it.  When Vince finally pulled his hand free and threw the sheet aside, the sight of his fit, jock frame, complete with throbbing pussy between his sturdy thighs, struck him as entirely normal.  The same went for his first unobstructed view of Vince’s mountainous muscle.  Instead of immediately thinking of the other man as tight and tapering, Blake accepted the ample, defined bulk as the way things were.  Of course Vince stood six inches taller than his own six-foot frame.  Of course Vince carried around a set of clapping melons that perfectly matched his tree-trunk thighs.  And of course Vince could use his petite poker with surgical precision.

When the brawny bull rolled over and thrust himself inside, Blake had moved with practiced ease.  They fell into the kind of synchronous, rolling rhythm that only came from repetition, coupled with back-arching waves of muscle-melting ecstasy that only came from knowledge of each others’ bodies and how they worked.  Though Vince’s cock had become a pint-sized replica, the inflated stud knew how to use it in such a way as to light Blake up from the inside out, his smug smile and hungry eyes never looking away from the now-smaller man.  For his part, Blake had thrashed and whimpered and moaned until his friend’s superior stamina pushed him over the edge and he felt his whole body begin to melt.  As with everything else that hazy morning the sensation had been at once foreign and familiar, a pattern that repeated itself a few moments later when Vince’s tiny cock erupted inside him.  Blake had moved with the same strange muscle memories as soon as he’d felt it, pressing his mouth against Vince’s and rolling them both over so that he was draped across his friend’s granite slab of a body.

They’d lingered in each others’ arms after that, lazily pawing at one another while trading kisses until Vince shifted Blake off his torso with surprising ease and pulled them both upright.  They’d sauntered hand-in-hand into a spacious bathroom that was just as (un)familiar as the bedroom, taking their time scrubbing each other down in the giant shower that overlooked a sprawling estate.  Blake kept thinking that he should have had a small condo, not an apparent mansion, but he’d had a hard time thinking about it at all while Vince towered over him.  Upright and out of bed, the strapping brunette could fully appreciate just how huge the other man was, and how wonderful it made him feel.

Now, freshly fucked, showered and dried, Blake’s eyes kept darting back and forth between the dresser drawer full of bright panties and his friend’s bare bulk, once again trying to determine why their wardrobe options struck him as odd.  While he had plenty of underwear, lingerie, teddies, and other more exotic outfits, Blake couldn’t find anything that remotely resembled regular clothing.  There were no shorts or t-shirts, or jeans or sweats.  He didn’t have any gym gear that he could see, nor did he have any of his usual work clothes.  The same went for Vince, whose drawers only seemed to contain a similar array of jocks, thongs, briefs, and posers.

“What’s wrong,” Vince asked after catching Blake’s addled expression.  The naked brunette grinned when a huge hand reached over and tousled his damp hair, his newly-acquired orifice throbbing on contact.  “You keep giving me weird looks.”

“Do I?  You’re just so…big,” he said, leaning into the other man’s hand.  “And hot.  Really, really hot.  Have you…have we…I mean is this how things always…are,” Blake stammered, looking down at his flattened crotch while thrusting his hips forward.

“The hell kinda question is that,” Vince laughed, folding his beefy pistons across his chest.  “Did I fuck those pretty little brains out this morning?”

“Fuck you,” Blake grinned, wincing and pulling away when Vince began tousling his hair again.  It was the first time he felt like they’d fallen into their previous dynamic, which, while reassuring, only furthered his confusion.  “At least you know which of us is the pretty one.”

“Never a question about that, babe,” Vince said, giving Blake’s bare bubble a loud swat.  It shattered the tenuous illusion about their previous dynamic, but sent a thrill through the smaller man at the same time.  “Now what do you want me to wear?”

Blake raised an eyebrow.  “I get to pick?”  He blinked and shook his head at Vince’s look of confusion, smiling bashfully.  “Duh…of course I do.  How about we match?”  Without fully understanding how he knew exactly where it would be, Blake pulled open a drawer and retrieved a small red pouch, giving the underside of Vince’s tiny balls a tickle as he slipped it over the bottom-heavy bruiser’s petite package.  It only served to accentuate just how small the handsome, dark-haired hunk’s equipment had become, but instead of looking embarrassed Vince just beamed as Blake pulled out a matching crimson thong and slipped it on.  The lean jock felt a momentary rush of humiliation himself as he looked at his reflection, specifically the way the red string disappeared between his firm, perky cheeks, only to reemerge again as a flat panel instead of a stuffed pouch.  He looked good, there was no denying the way the ruddy bottoms highlighted his defined obliques and tight waist, but he couldn’t shake the featureless front.

“Food time!” Vince cheered when they’d “dressed” themselves.  “I’m fuckin’ starving this morning.”

“And every morning,” Blake added, his hand glued to the bigger man’s bare, bouncing bottom as they stepped out of the room and began walking down a spacious hallway.  His urge to question the events had faded again, and it wasn’t until he smelled the food cooking and heard the pair of familiar voices that he felt rattled again.  “Wait…is that Reed and Travis?”

“Who else,” Vince shrugged, his meaty pecs bouncing with the motion.  “One body but still two stomachs…dudes are always first in the kitchen, you know that.”

Blake didn’t actually know that, nor did he know what Vince meant by the odd description.  Their friends Travis and Reed were two very distinct individuals.  Travis was a tall, dark-skinned Adonis, his 6’2”, sculpted perfection standing several inches taller than, and in sharp contrast to, Reed’s pale, wiry, 5’10” ginger frame.  Despite their physical differences they’d always been inseparable as friends, much like Blake and Vince, but nothing could have prepared the panty-clad brunette for how literal that statement had become as he rounded a corner and saw the duo standing in front of the stove.

“Bro, I’m not taking it ALL out.  I know you like your bacon when it’s charcoal…I just don’t want it all to burn.  I want mine crispy, not crunchy,” Travis said, leaning over to give Reed a quick peck on the cheek as he reached down with his free hand to squeeze the redhead’s modest rear.  The behavior would have been strange enough on its own, but when coupled with his friends’ appearance it was almost more than Blake could process.  His first thought was that Travis and Reed simply stood extra close to each other the way he and Vince did, but that wouldn’t explain why they stood the same height, seeming to have met in the middle with Reed shooting up a few inches while Travis went down a pair.  Nor would it explain why, just at the small of their backs, their contrasting torsos appeared to merge while above the navel appearing as distinct entities.  From the waist up Reed was every bit as freckled, toned and scrappy as always, and Travis was every bit as burly, bulging and chiseled, but from the waist down they became a shared being.  Like their height, the third leg that supported them seemed to be a meeting of the thinner man’s toned thighs and the bigger hunk’s meaty trunks, just like the third cheek they shared.

“Sorry baby, I’m just hangry,” Reed sighed, wiping a hand on his apron.  Like Blake and Vince the conjoined duo wasn’t clad in much beyond their aprons, having on only a pair of small, pink, custom-tailored briefs.

Travis responded by reaching down and pulling Reed in for an even closer embrace, his hand slipping around beneath the apron and into the front of the underwear.  “I just don’t know why, after all this time together, you STILL don’t trust me with the cooking.  You know I got us,” he said.

“Okay, okay,” Reed laughed, putting his hands up in surrender.  “I just wish there was something I could do other than stand here while you cook.  I can’t exactly go make the coffee or set the table.”

“You can look cute though,” Travis said, giving Reed’s smaller cock a squeeze before pulling his hand free.

The wiry ginger responded by slipping one of his hands into the back of Travis’s side of the briefs, noticing the other two as he leaned back.  “Hey!  Mornin’ fellas.”

“Don’t worry,” Travis added, his attention focused on the stove.  “We made enough for everyone.”

“Never doubted it for a second,” Vince said, stepping forward to wrap his arms around the pair’s shared waist and give them each a quick peck on the cheek.

Blake could only gasp as he watched, his head spinning at the flood of memories.  Now that his three friends were together in one place it was as if a plug had been removed, letting an unfamiliar life drain directly into his overloaded brain.  The handsome brunette’s altered loins ached when he suddenly saw himself being tag-teamed, alternating between Travis’s thick club and Reed’s slender pole.  He had flashes of himself with Vince as well, now understanding exactly why their morning had seemed so routine.  It was.  He started nearly every day with a vigorous pounding from the beefy stud and ended those same days in the bigger man’s arms.

The time in between, though, was reserved mostly for others.  Blake couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he began to recall a revolving door of his friends coming by to visit, each and every one of them just as warped in their own unique way as the trio with him in the kitchen. They’d spend their days lounging, traipsing, and fucking their way around the suburb-sized estate, spending their time exploring the grounds or floating in the pool or working out in one of several gyms that peppered the property.

As the images rushed in it occurred to Blake that none of them involved any activities outside the sprawling estate, a jarring enough revelation to knock loose his existing memories.  For just an instant he saw himself and his friends as they should have been in crystal clear detail.  He knew exactly how mortified the usually-modest Vince would have been to be parading his bloated, bottom-heavy bulk and button cock for everyone, just as he knew Reed and Travis would have been horrified by their current, connected predicament.  He knew they should all be living in affordable apartments or condos, and that they should be going to work and the gym and the bar and the grocery store and countless other forgettable destinations throughout the day, not stuck in a luxurious, lustful prison.

One word from his frantic thoughts stood out, and Blake tried his best to cling to it.  Work.  He vaguely remembered an office, a tech company, and spending his days in a department working on a project to download a person’s brain patterns.  He remembered a faceless coworker, and the mysterious person being furious with him for something, but the details were frustratingly absent.  Still, it was enough.  Blake also remembered other words, like “customizable,” and “simulation,” and “watching,” and as the new memories began to fully overwrite the old, he understood exactly why everything had felt off that morning.  He couldn’t remember what happened to his physical body after the patterns were downloaded, and whether or not it was still up and about and walking around in another world, just like he didn’t know if these versions of his friends were the actual people who’d been sucked in, or were simply figments plucked from his memories.  But either way, he felt a punch of guilt at the thought that, at the very least, someone was using his memories of his friends in intimate states without their knowledge.  All those countless hours in locker rooms and dorm rooms, all the groping and horsing around, had just been weaponized and warped.  He knew that someone, or someones, were always watching, and that none of their actions, no matter how debasing or mundane, ever occurred in private.  They weren’t in a luxurious mansion; they were in a digital fishbowl.  And it wasn’t clear if “they” were even a “they” at all, just like it wasn’t clear if their actions were driven by their own wants and needs, or if they were merely characters in a warped video game, being commanded by the push of a button.  On the one hand it could be viewed as a dream come true, a life of perpetual indulgence and no responsibility with people he loved, even if those emotions and desires had been twisted.  On the other it was a waking nightmare, an endless loop from which he could never escape.

The sensation of a firm hand on his bare ass shook Blake out of his reverie, jettisoning the barely-held awareness in the process.  His first thought was that the strong, calloused mitt belonged to Vince, but the burly giant still stood by Reed and Travis.

“Earth to Blake…you with us, bud?”  The dazed brunette blinked and shook his head again, a fresh throb pulsing through him at Mike’s squeaky voice.  He turned and looked down at the golden-haired beauty, having only a phantom suggestion of the gorgeous hunk at his previous, more average height instead of his current, barely three-foot build.  Of all of his friends, Mike was the perpetual pretty-boy, the one with the perfect face and perfect muscle and perfect cock who got laid like the rest of them breathed.  And while that still appeared to mostly be the case in miniature, the stunning blonde’s envious face and envious muscle were still present and glistening with sweat from the workout he’d just finished, his ten-inch cock was now a heaping monster by comparison.  It looked as overly large spilling out of his little jockstrap as Vince’s tiny nub looked poking out the miniscule sleeve.  Blake tried to remember what he’d just been thinking about, what he’d so desperately wanted to say to the others, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Eh, ignore him,” Vince said, lumbering over to put a hand on the small of the brunette’s back.  “He’s been out of it all morning.”

“What?  Didn’t you give him a proper wake up?  Do we need to prime the pump?”  Without another word, Mike reached out, pulled the sleeve from Vince’s nub, and swallowed the mouth-level micro-dick.  Blake’s head spun again with images of the petite powerhouse hammering into Vince’s pillowy new rear, reducing the giant stud to a pile of groaning whimpers, just as he recalled his own eyes rolling back in his head as Mike pushed him over the edge again and again.  There was a part of him that stopped to wonder about how Mike would feel at the thought of his lovely face bobbing in and out between Vince’s thighs while he worked the other man’s tiny cock, but then he felt ridiculous.  He didn’t need to wonder when he could see the blonde’s obvious enthusiasm throbbing out of the ill-fitting jockstrap.

Vince sighed when Mike pulled his face away a few moments later.  The little hunk hadn’t worked him to completion, but just enough to get him ready and aching again.  “You’re such a dick teasing me like that,” he said, his thick arms moving with deceptive speed as he reached down and scooped the smaller man into the air, throwing him over a broad shoulder.  “I mean, how would you like it if I just made you hang out like this,” he grinned, a pair of fingers finding their way to the min muscleman’s exposed hole.

“I…I wouldn’t complain…” Mike sputtered as he was fingered for the group.

“I bet you wouldn’t,” Vince laughed before pulling his fingers free and depositing the small blonde on the counter.  He bent and swallowed as much of Mike’s exposed club as he could, giving a few bobbing licks before walking away.

“Hey!  You’re just going to leave me up here,” Mike cried, kicking his short legs as they dangled over the edge.

Finishing up at the stove, Reed shrugged.  “We’ve still got a few minutes before breakfast is ready.  Pretend it’s a bar and give us a show.”

As he watched Mike scramble to his feet and start gyrating, Blake let out a relieved sigh.  Like a switch being flipped, or a setting being toggled, the strange anxiety he’d been feeling all morning began to fade.  He was with his friends, happy watching them have fun, and he was just being ridiculous to think that someone else was watching at the same time.