From the Archives: Unraveled (Patreon)

*** Going way, way back again.  This one's from 2017 and was originally posted in 3 parts, but I'm putting the whole thing up instead of only the first chapter.  ***

Grant’s hand shook as he lit the final candle.  The woman who’d sold him the spell told him it was dangerous, and though he hadn’t paid her much attention at the time, now he was starting to doubt.

He forced the thoughts from his mind and focused instead on Wes.  He was doing it for his friend. Or, more appropriately, he was doing it to his friend.  That’s where the danger came in.  According to the old woman, a person could go about changing themselves as much as they wanted.  Once you brought someone else into the mix, things got sticky.

“To change yourself pulls a tiny thread in the veil,” she’d said stoically.  “It’s not without risk, oh no,” she laughed, a glint in her yellow eyes. “It's a tiny tear. Easy to close.  To change another,” she made a tut-tut sound and shook her wrinkled head, “pulls a larger thread. Once it starts unraveling it doesn’t always stop where you want it to.”

Grant had nodded politely and pretended to listen, but his mind was already made up.  He’d been wrestling with these feelings for years and he wasn’t going to be warned off when he was so close.

Wes was everything he wanted: smart, kind, gorgeous, and with a body that would make a greek sculptor weep.  The only thing his friend lacked was a penchant for guys.  Grant had been introduced to Wes in college and they’d hit it off immediately.  They liked the same sports, the same music, the same video games, the same clothes.

Everyone knew Grant was gay and they always joked that the two were the perfect couple.  He even acted as the perfect wingman to get Wes laid all the time.  Grant was good looking and non-threatening in his own right, so he could open the door for his friend in a way that none of Wes’s straight buddies could.  Grant laughed all this off, but deep down he wished for nothing more than the jokes to be true.

While he watched woman after woman come and go from Wes’s bedroom, the most he ever got to see of his friend was the occasional towel-clad walk from the shower to his bedroom.  Grant replayed even those few moments over and over in his head; Wes’s sculpted, hairy pecs glistening with beads of water that ran down his flat stomach.  The way the towel bulged out at the back over his firm globes while the outline of his thick cock would press out the front.  Grant would always hope that the towel would slip from one of the barely revealed thighs, but it never did, leaving it always up to his imagination while he jerked off later to the memory.  He didn’t know if Wes was aware of how he felt, but for the most part his roommate never left his room without being fully clothed.  Instead of hanging out in his underwear like he knew his straight buddies did, Wes acted as if he was living with a female roommate and kept himself frustratingly covered most of the time.

Grant hoped the spell would make a difference. He’d followed the old woman’s instructions and had been as careful as he could with his incantations and inscriptions.  He didn’t want to screw up and make Wes flamingly gay.  He liked that his roommate was so straight.  Wes gave off a confident, commanding masculinity that drove Grant crazy.  He didn’t want to change that.  If he wasn’t careful, he could strip away those muscles and that trimmed beard that turned him on so much.  He didn’t want a gay version of Wes, he just wanted a chance to be with his friend the way he’d always longed for.

Grant checked the sigils one more time and lit the candle, hoping for the best.  He’d find out one way or the other in the morning.

*****

Grant had almost forgotten about the spell entirely as he stumbled sleepily out of his bedroom.  He had on his usual gym shorts and tank top as he stood at the kitchen counter making coffee.  He was glad he wasn’t holding a mug when he turned around.

“Mornin’,” Wes yawned, scratching his hairy abs as he stumbled out of the bedroom.  Usually his friend was similarly clad, but this morning all he had on was a pair of the light grey briefs that Grant always drooled over whenever he saw them in the laundry basket.

Grant didn’t know what to look at first: the semi-hard bulge, the firm, hairy quads, the tight round bubble, or his friend’s sleepy, bearded grin. “Uh, good morning,” he said, clearing his throat.  He couldn’t look away from Wes’s wide, rippling back and round cheeks as the other man casually opened a cabinet and grabbed a mug.

“Coffee ready yet,” Wes asked, his solid arm flexing as he raised a fist to cover a yawn.

“Just...just about,” Grant stammered, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked at his friend’s messy bed-head above his bare, broad shoulders.

Wes gave him a confused look.  “You alright?  You’re acting weird this morning.”  He followed Grant’s eyes down to his chubby bulge.  “Oohhh, this is what you want,” he grinned, grabbing his meaty package.  “We can probably make that happen.”

Grant didn’t know what to say.  As crazy as it seemed, it looked like the spell worked.  He didn’t question it. He leaned in to finally kiss the lips he’d thought about for so long.

“Whoa!  Whoa!” Wes pulled back, laughing.  “You’re the gay one, man.  This,” he waved his hand in a circle in front of his face, “is a lips free zone.  You know that,” he chided.  “The rest is fair game,” he winked.

“Sorry,” Grant stammered, somewhat taken aback.  It was clear things hadn’t gone exactly as he’d planned, but he still wasn’t going to pass up an invitation like the one he had.  Instead of aiming for Wes’s lips, Grant dropped his mouth to his friend’s neck and ran his tongue down the gulf formed between the large, round pecs while his hands traveled up and down the other man’s solid back.  He heard Wes take a deep breath and felt him lean against the counter as he worked his mouth down the solid abs, inching closer and closer to the fully-tented briefs.

Grant’s own cock was solid and oozing in his shorts.  He couldn’t believe any of this was really happening when he dropped to his knees and pulled Wes’s briefs down, letting the long, solid cock spring free.  It was everything he’d hoped it would be, as were the round, squeezable globes his hands had a death grip on.

“MMMmmm…” Wes moaned softly when Grant started giving his large, hairy balls a tongue bath.  “You are...so...good at this…” he panted as the kneeling man swallowed the length of his pulsing member.

Grant was in heaven.  His hands gripped and kneaded Wes’s surprisingly yielding cheeks while his nimble tongue wrapped around the wonderful rod in his mouth.  He felt like he could start crying when Wes’s strong fingers started stroking his hair.

“Seriously man...you...do this better...than any girl...I’ve met…” Wes grunted and pumped his hips, trying to hold back.  Grant had no idea what his friend was talking about.  Wes was acting like this happened all the time.  Grant certainly hoped it would.  “Oh fuck...I’m gonna...nnngggggguuuhhhh….” Wes let out a deep grunt as his impressive rod exploded.  Grant sucked the salty liquid down like it was expensive champagne, not wanting to waste a drop.  He kept sucking until Wes started softening in his mouth.  “Whew…” Wes stretched his beefy arms above his head and beamed down at Grant.  “Thanks, man,” he said, tousling the kneeling man’s hair.  “When we moved in together I had no idea the kinda deal I was getting.”  He casually stepped out of his briefs and grabbed his coffee mug, sauntering towards the bathroom naked.  “Can you just add those to my laundry for me?”  Grant was too busy staring at Wes’s shifting, bouncing rear to respond.

*****

Grant stared blankly at the monitor on his desk.  He hadn’t been able to get any work done all morning.  He kept replaying the scene in the kitchen over and over.  Clearly his spell had done something, he just wasn’t entirely sure what.  He’d finally gotten a crack at his friend, and Wes certainly didn’t seem to mind exposing himself now.  His friend casually went about naked all morning until Grant had to leave, but they weren’t the couple that Grant hoped for.  They were obviously still good friends, but while Grant could touch Wes, the straight man wasn’t interested at all in touching him.  Wes had even walked in on him without warning while Grant had been jerking off in the shower, but the only thing he did was give his roommate an amused grin while he kept right on fixing his hair as though Grant’s privacy wasn’t a concern.

Some kind of boundary had shifted in their relationship.  Grant chalked it up to what happened that morning, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Wes.  He usually thought about his friend often throughout the day, but this was different.  His heart started racing and his stomach fluttered, as if his existing feelings had been magnified tenfold.

“Yo, Grant!”

Grant started in his chair and spun to see his coworker Derek sticking his head in the door of his cubicle.  Grant couldn't stand him. He was on the sales team and was the walking embodiment of every sleazy salesman stereotype: fake smile, fake kindness, and fake promises.  “Oh, uh, hey Derek,” he said, shaking his head.

“Hard at work, huh?”  The blonde man flashed his bright smile.  Grant usually saw right through it, but he felt his heart start to beat quicker.

“Can’t seem to focus on much this morning,” he said, having to fight to keep his voice from shaking.  He never paid any attention to Derek  one way or the other, yet all of a sudden the other man was intimidating.

“Well since you’ve got time, can you put my monthly report together for me?”  The blonde man stepped into the cubicle and dropped a stack of papers on Grant’s desk.

Grant wanted to say no.  He wanted to tell Derek to fuck right off for even asking.  It would take hours to put the report together.  And it wasn’t even remotely close to being his job to do it. “I…” he hesitated. All of a sudden Grant couldn’t look away from Derek’s trim waist and cute bubble in the back of his slacks.  He’d never noticed the other man was so built before.  For someone who had a few years on him, he was still great looking.Grant felt his cock twitch.

Derek clearly noticed.  He let a hand drift down to the front of his pants and he squeezed, letting Grant get a look at his prominent bulge.  “So you’ll do the report?”

“Yeah, sure,” Grant said, nodding emphatically.  Derek didn’t even say thank you; he just turned and walked out with a smug grin.

*****

“What the fuck is with this day,” Grant sighed, opening the door to his apartment.  He hadn’t gotten out of work until almost two hours after he was supposed to.  After Derek, two more guys from the sales team came over and for some reason he’d said yes to them too.  Now he was behind on his own work and still had one of their reports to do in the morning.

On top of that, instead of going to the gym like he wanted, he found himself hurrying to the grocery store so he could get home and cook dinner for Wes.  He flitted around the kitchen hurriedly, trying to get as much of it cooked before his friend got home from the gym as possible.  Wes still got to go; just not Grant.

“Smells good in here!”

Grant felt his heart soar at the sight of his friend’s smiling, sweaty body walking through the door.  It felt like he hadn’t seen him in years.  “Hey!” He chirped. “Should be done soon.”  Grant watched Wes’s smile fade into a confused expression as the other man looked him up and down.

“What are you wearing,” he asked flatly.

Grant looked down at his work clothes, unsure why Wes was asking.  “My….work clothes?”

Wes nodded.  “Uh-huh.  And what are you SUPPOSED to be wearing,” he asked sternly, as if he was disciplining a rebellious teenager.

“I don’t…” Grant felt a rush of fear like a kick to the gut as he looked at himself.  Somehow, he knew he wasn’t supposed to be dressed like this.  Wes got to wear the clothes in the apartment.  He had his own uniform.  “Oh, oh man, Wes, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I…” he started stammering.

Wes’s easy grin came back.  “It’s cool man, just fix it.”

Grant practically ran from the room, frantically unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off like it was covered in ants.  His fumbling hands pushed his pants down and he tripped onto his bed as they caught at his ankles.  Grant squirmed out of his boxer briefs and lay naked on the bed, panting and confused.  He didn’t know why he was doing this or what was happening, but his body was on autopilot.

He climbed off his bed and opened a dresser drawer to see it filled with unfamiliar underwear.  It was nothing but right thongs and tiny bikinis, none of which he’d ever owned.  That didn’t stop him from grabbing a glittery pink thong and pulling it on.  “There we go,” he sighed as it settled into place.

There was a rush of embarrassment when he caught sight of himself in his mirror.  Grant had a toned, trim body, but it was nowhere near Wes’s athletic build.  Nor was the glittery pouch of the thong filled half as much as his friend’s briefs. But It wasn't that he looked bad in the tiny underwear that sent the rush of humiliation through him, it was what it represented. Though he was gay, Grant was, like Wes, a basic boxer briefs and jeans kind of guy. He didn't act or dress overly gay, but seeing himself in the glittery pouch, he felt far from masculine.

The thought was oddly comforting. Grant couldn't help but suddenly think that it all seemed right. Wes was the straight one. Grant didn't know what he'd even been thinking walking around the apartment dressed as he had been. Boxer briefs? Briefs? Wes wore those, not him.

“That’s better!”  Wes looked Grant up and down when the nearly-naked man came back out in the tiny, glittering underwear. Part of Grant felt like Wes’s expectant reaction was odd, but he didn't know why.

“I don’t know what I was thinking…” Grant said, his knees going weak at the sight of his friend. Wes had stripped out of his sweaty tank top, leaving his eye-catching torso on display. His powerful rear bubbled out the back of his gym shorts while a large lump bulged out the front. Above the low-riding waist, a tantalizing strip of his boxer briefs poked out against his tight abs. Grant felt all the more small and insignificant as he stared at the shirtless hunk. If his feelings had been intense before, now they were overwhelming. Wes was perfect. He was everything. Grant knew he was lucky just to be near him.

“It's all good,” Wes smiled, patting Grant on a bare shoulder as he walked into the other room and dropped down onto the couch. “Just bring me my dinner out here when it's ready,” he called. It wasn't a request, it was a command.

Grant stood in place for a moment, his head spinning. He was torn in two between all of this feeling totally right and totally wrong at the same time.

The beeping alarm on the oven put his internal debate on hold as he scurried over to finish Wes’s dinner.

*****

Grant’s head was still spinning as he stood at the sink cleaning up the dishes.  Other than his outfit, he and Wes had hung out like usual while they’d ate, but there was a creeping tone of condescension in the way Wes was speaking to him and ordering him around.  Things weren’t a request; they were an expectation.  And Grant jumped at it.  If Wes needed more water, he was up and getting it.  If Wes wanted more, he was filling the plate.  After they were done, it wasn’t even a question that Grant would clean up the dishes while Wes sat in front of the TV.

Through it all, Grant still had on nothing but his tiny, bright underwear.  He couldn’t remember purchasing it or ever owning anything like it, but it felt perfectly normal.  On the contrary, the thought of dressing like Wes in gym shorts and boxer briefs, the way part of his brain was telling him he should, made his stomach drop.  He was still in growing awe of the other man, his original feelings continuing to magnify exponentially.

He heard the shower hiss to life and turned to see Wes stripping down and stepping in with the bathroom door open.  His glittery pouch twitched as he stared at his friend’s sculpted muscles glistening under the streaming water.  The thick cock that he’d had in his mouth that morning hung invitingly long and heavy, bouncing as Wes lathered up and rinsed off.

Grant felt a reflexive twinge of embarrassment when Wes slid the door open and saw him hard and staring, but the other man just grinned and toweled off, not bothered in the slightest.  “You can add these to the laundry,” he said, tossing Grant his sweaty, musky shorts and underwear.

“Okay!” Grant chirped, his solid pole leading the way as he followed Wes into his bedroom and added the clothes to his hamper.  There was no reason his friend couldn’t have done it himself, but he knew it was his job.  Just as he closed the lid, there was a knock at the door.

Grant didn’t think about his lack of clothing or his rigid cock until he’d opened the door and saw Wes’s friend Bill.    “I’m happy to see you too,” Bill laughed, tousling Grant’s hair with a meaty paw as he brushed past into the apartment.

Grant shivered at Bill’s touch.  He’d never particularly cared for the burly man.  He was loud and crass and as stereotypical a “bro” as you could get.  He never had on anything but baggy basketball shorts, a tanktop, and a backwards baseball hat.  Ordinarily Grant did his best to avoid him, but now the other man’s presence hit him like a wave.  Bill wasn’t particularly attractive, with a round face that complemented his beefy, barrel chest and stocky build.  He had powerful arms, sturdy legs, and a coating of wiry hairs that spread over everything from the neck down.  Grant knew there were plenty of guys that would have found his bearish build attractive; he just wasn’t one of them.  Or at least he didn’t use to be.  Now, staring at the other man in his shorts and tanktop while he stood in just his pink thong, he felt his stomach flutter.

“Hey man,” Wes said as he came out of the bedroom.  He’d put on a fresh pair of mesh shorts, but from the bouncing outline underneath, Grant could tell that was all.

He was then promptly ignored while Wes and Bill talked.  They usually at least made a token effort to include him if he was around, but it was clear in this case that he might as well have been invisible.  Still, there was part of his brain that made him hover at the edges in case one of them would need something.

“You want a beer or anything,” Wes asked, as if on cue.

“Sure,” Bill said, settling back into the couch, his meaty thighs spread wide.  They didn’t need to ask.  Grant scampered over to the fridge and came back with one in hand for each of them.  He turned to leave again but stopped when he felt Bill’s rough hand on one of his bare cheeks.  “Is it cool if I use him tonight,” he asked Wes, as if Grant didn’t get a say.

Wes just shrugged his broad shoulders and sipped from his beer.  “Fine by me.  I mean, look at him.  He’s been hard all night,” Wes laughed.  “He doesn’t mind, do you?”

Grant felt a stab of betrayal at Wes’s casual mocking, but he shook his head and quickly stammered, “no, I don’t mind at all!”

“Thanks man,” Bill said, again to Wes, as if he’d just been loaned a piece of equipment.

That’s exactly what Grant felt like as he sat next to Bill, his heart racing as the other man’s beefy arm draped behind him on the back of the couch.  While the big man sipped his beer and kept talking to Wes, Grant slid a hand into the baggy shorts and began working the heavy bulge he felt lurking underneath.  When Bill was solid and throbbing, the stout man lifted himself up just enough to let Grant tug his shorts and underwear down, his fat rod springing free.  He stroked the other man’s short, wide cock methodically, feeling smaller and more insignificant with each pump.

This was more than just his feelings for Wes coming into play.  He knew something had gone wrong with the spell.  The two straight men were like golden adonises.  He was already infatuated with his friend, but any thoughts of Bill as annoying fled under an overwhelming desire to prostrate himself before both of them.  He’d felt it earlier at work, too.  Instead of being irritated with the sales team when they’d asked him to do their work, he’d practically jumped at the chance.  Part of Grant wanted to get up, to put real clothes on and figure out what was happening, but the most he could muster was an idle thought that didn’t come close to action.  There was even a tiny part of his brain that was furious at Wes for the way he was treating him, but it was like a shout in a hurricane.

He kept working Bill, a shudder running through him when the man’s stubby fingers started stroking his hair.  It was less romantic and more like Bill was petting a dog.  Grant tried to focus on the part of himself that realized what was happening when he finally leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the wide, oozing rod.  There was a stutter in Bill’s conversation with Wes as he groaned and continued to casually stroke Grant’s hair.

“Isn’t he great at that,” Wes asked, laughing at the big man’s increasing grunts.

“He...sure...fuckin’...is…” he sighed.  Grant felt his face burn.  He was mortified not just at what Wes said, but how good it made him feel.  “I’m gonna...have...to get...one of….my own…”

Grant barely had time to register what Bill just said before the throbbing organ in his mouth exploded.  He greedily sucked it down, not wasting a drop.  Something in his brain told him he needed to get it all.

“OOOohhhhh man,” Bill sighed deeply, dropping his head against the back of the couch.  “Good job buddy,” he said condescendingly, giving Grant’s ass a quick swat and tousling his hair.

“Th..thank you…” Grant stammered, barely able to look at the other two.  It was like trying to stare into the sun.

“Now’s a good time to go put that laundry in,” Wes said.  “Don’t want the other guys to take all the machines before you get there.”

Grant just nodded.  He was out the door and halfway down the hall before he realized he was still hard in just the glittery thong.  He wanted to turn around, but that would mean disobeying Wes, which wasn’t an option.  He bit down on his embarrassment and kept going.

“Oh...oh god…” Grant dropped the hamper as soon as he walked into the laundry room, feeling like someone punched him in the gut.  There were half a dozen other men in there, all clad like he was.  He recognized some from passing them in the building.  A few he’d known for sure were gay, and his suspicions on the others had just been confirmed.  The sight made him nauseous with guilt.  This meant that his spell had spread to affect more than just himself.

“Hey Grant,” a sculpted brunette waved from a nearby machine.

“Uh...hey...Scott…” Grant stammered.  Scott was gorgeous.  He was built like Wes and normally oozed the same appealing masculinity.  He’d actually hooked up with him a few times before and was already familiar with the huge bulge barely concealed by the powder blue thong.  But looking at the gym-built hunk now, he felt nothing.  Not even the slightest bit of attraction.  That went for all of the other guys.

“Wes keepin’ you busy,” Scott asked, grinning down at Grant’s tented thong.

“Uh, no, his friend Bill, actually…” Grant watched Scott carefully fold a small pile of boxers.  The other men were doing the same to clothes that clearly weren’t theirs.  He joined them, making small talk with Scott who wouldn’t stop talking about someone named Pete.  Grant had no idea who that was since the last he’d heard Scott lived alone, but the other man was clearly smitten.  As Scott talked, he had a flash of the other man with someone else; a short, pudgy lump of flesh that was nowhere near Scott’s league.  Somehow he knew this was the Pete that Scott was so in love with.

Ordinarily once the machine was loaded he’d leave and head back to the apartment, but Grant found himself lingering.  It was like he couldn’t leave until it was done.  His head spun as he was sucked into conversation after conversation about the straight men that all of them were taking care of.  He wanted to scream when he heard himself talking about Wes like a schoolgirl with a crush and how important it was to keep him happy.  They compared notes on blowjob techniques and bottoming positions like they were trading recipes, which they also ended up doing since they all cooked for their respective men.

By the time the laundry was done, all Grant wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide until he could figure out a way to fix this.  That plan only lasted as long as it took to shut the door behind him.

“Got an open machine?”  Wes asked from his prone position on the couch.

Grant nodded feeling a lump form in his throat at the sight of Wes’s stretched out body.  “Yeah, last one.  Did Bill leave?”

Wes stretched and yawned, shutting off the TV as he stood.  “Yeah, just a few minutes ago.”  He scratched his abs and smiled at Grant.  “He couldn’t stop talking about what a good job you did.”

Grant was hit with a humiliating surge of pride.  “I try…”

“Since it’s just us tonight how about you sleep in here with me,” Wes said, telling more than asking.  “You know I hate an empty bed.”

Grant’s heart leapt.  Despite everything that was happening, the thought of finally sleeping in bed next to Wes made his knees weak.  “Okay!”  He practically ran into his friend’s bedroom while Wes shut off the lights in the rest of the apartment.

“You can put that stuff away tomorrow.”  Grant turned from Wes’s dresser in time to see the other man strip out his shorts.  The sight of the stud’s naked body hit him like a physical force.

He was trembling as he climbed into bed and felt Wes scoot against him before he could roll over onto his back.  He gasped at the feeling of the other man’s solid body pressed against him.  The wiry hairs on Wes’s solid pecs tickled his back while the other man reached over and gently rubbed his chest.  Grant’s eyes started to close as Wes did the same to his back, the hand drifting lower and lower until his friend was sliding the back of the thong aside.

“OOHH!”  Grant yelped when Wes abruptly worked several fingers inside.  The hand on his chest held him tight while he squirmed and his body lit up with pleasure while his hole was worked.  He whimpered while Wes fingered him, feeling the other man’s long cock hardening against him in preparation.  He was hungry for it.  Desperate, even.  When Wes pulled his fingers free, Grant pushed himself back roughly onto the waiting rod.  Wes’s quiet grunt drove him wild.  The feeling of the other man’s large cock inside him was pure bliss.  It was nirvana.  Grant felt the satisfied contentment that came with knowing that one was fulfilling one’s purpose in life.

“Uunn...seriously...how did...I get so...lucky…” Wes said, leaning his head into Grant’s neck.

Grant couldn’t respond.  All he could manage was to gasp wordlessly, relishing Wes’s hot and heavy breath on his shoulder.  Even without the added effects of the spell, Wes was very good at what he was doing.  He would alternate between slow and methodical, and quick and rough.  He brought Grant to the edge and back over and over, but more than that, Grant could tell Wes was taking his time for himself.  Grant knew the other man was essentially using his ass to jerk off, but he didn’t care.  Even after he’d soaked his thong and Wes was still pumping away he was perfectly content to lay there and let the other man take his time.  When Wes finally came, he was actually disappointed that it was over.

He’d gotten up to clean himself and take off the soaked thong at Wes’s command and he stood next to the bed gazing down at the slumbering man.  It was everything he’d wanted, but nowhere near HOW he’d wanted it.  Worse, the effects were somehow spreading.  Was it just the building?  The block?  The world?  He knew he should leave and try to figure out a way to fix what was happening, but instead he gently crawled into bed, melting when Wes instinctively wrapped a meaty arm around him.

He could figure it out in the morning.

*****

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.