Hi I Would Love If You Could Transform Me Into Your Stupid Foot Slave.

hi i would love if you could transform me into your stupid foot slave.

Clean Slate

“What do you want to be in life?” I ask you as we relax at my place at the end of our date. You give a rather non committal shrug as I peel off my socks and rest my feet on the living room table.

“Huh. No career ambitions? Artist, scientist…cleaner?” I smile at you as you approach and sit across from me, scrunching your nose slightly while the scent of my feet wafts over to you.

“N—no. I guess not.” You reply sheepishly, your eyes leaving mine as they lower to my large feet.

“I’m sure we can find your place in life. You probably have lots to give. Talented at many things. Such as…cleaning.” I sway my feet back and forth on the table as I watch your eyes follow them. “Just keep watching.”

“Huh?” Distracted, you don’t even look away. My feet and their movements were utterly fascinating. “I—I don’t…”

“Cleaning.” I repeat bluntly. “I bet you’re good at cleaning.” Your back bends as you naturally feel yourself lean forward, your head lowering slightly as my feet take up more of your vision. I hear you take a tentative sniff, your eyes glazing over.

Cleaning.

“Cl—cleeaning.” You slur as a bit of drool slides from your mouth. I give a little snicker as I witness you lick your lips. Your head begins to sway along with my hypnotic sweaty feet. Mirroring it’s motion. The smell at this point was incredibly overpowering, burning away your feeble inhibitions. My feet are fucking your mind, my toes pushing to the back of your skull. Reshaping your soft brain like playdoh. Back and forth. Back and forth…

“See, I’m not so much looking for a ‘boyfriend’. Too much maintenance. But I’m sure we can find a use for you. Cleaning clothes perhaps? Maybe bathroom cleaning? No. Cleaning…feet.” I look down and validate you with a smirk.

Cleaning. Feet.

“Foot cleaning. Yes, yes I think that’s your place in life. A mindless foot cleaner. Cleaning my rank feet. You’re very skilled at it.” I assert, placing my hand on your head and guiding you closer. “It’s okay. Some of us are meant to improve the world, some of us are meant to be productive members of society. And some of us, some of us are meant to lick the space between men’s toes.”

“I…no. Please.” You plead as your face enters my feet’s gravitational pull. The musk flowing up your nose and swimming around your emptied, foot fucked mind. They smelled just as you suspected they would, of feet. Your attention is captivated by a bead of sweat on my sole. It didn’t belong there, there on my perfect feet. You feel an impulse growing. A need. You needed to…needed to…

“Clean.” I answer for you. Making everything suddenly fall into place. It just made sense. “Clean my stinky feet.”

You shudder, any hint of resistance fading in an instant. Your mouth obediently opens and your tongue glides down the length of my sole, picking up all the sweat and grime that gathered from our long walk. The taste is sour and foul but for some shameful reason, that stirs your cock. You didn’t want this, but not wanting it made you so unbelievably hard. My feet had successfully hypnotised your mind, conditioning you to kneel at the mere sight of them. Seeing my sole was the only trigger needed for your mouth to water, for your thoughts to dissipate. For you to become no more than a rag to wipe my feet clean.

“Always glad to see someone enjoy their job so immensely.” I bend forward and pin a little badge to your shirt. The two words printed on it in basic typeface describe your entire existence ‘Foot Cleaner’. Now no one, including you would be confused about your role in life.

“Cweeann siiir.” You moan with a mouth full of my flavourful foot cheese.

I laugh above you, flexing my arms as you perform your job. “Good boy. Good foot cleaner. Lick every inch until they’re glistening with your saliva. Aren’t you happy I helped you find the height of your aspirations at the bottom of my feet. Dumb idiot.”

“Yusss, thank you sir.” You wanted to be a good obedient boy for master.

“Shut up and work.” I shove my feet into you, rubbing them across your face. “I expect my feet to be spotless slave. You will be here every evening from now on to fulfil your duty. And then you will pay me for the privilege like the pathetic foot slut that you are.”

Do I make myself clear?

Dumb boy~

Don't you know you're cursed?

The more you fight it, the more you'll grow~

Don't worry, you deserve it.

Flame On

Timothy was going to be something special. At least that’s what he’d always have dreamed of. Ever since he could remember, he always wanted to be a scientist. Whereas most people would’ve gone out of the astronaut or scientist or fireman stage in their teenage years, Tim found himself rather good at holding onto his dreams. Stubbornness and ambition had created the perfect cocktail of the unrelenting scientist, so much so that everything in his life took a step back compared to his work.

Even himself.

He didn’t mean to ‘lose’ himself, but when he was spending 50-60 hours in a lab every week and getting by on ready-male noodles and coffee, he wasn’t exactly healthy nor did he look it. A pale and gangly man in a white lab coat, he tended to get sick, deal with headaches and generally not look after himself. But all that didn’t matter when he stood in the heart of the bustling laboratory, surrounded by rows of advanced equipment and monitors displaying intricate data. His passion for science and technology drove him to push the boundaries of innovation, and today's experiment held the promise of a breakthrough that could revolutionise energy generation. It was years in the making, from even before he was born. But now he may have finally found the breakthrough to create infinite energy and practically save the planet, like some kind of superhero.

As he meticulously adjusted the settings on the console, preparing for the start of the experiment, he got more focused. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as he neared the culmination of his tireless efforts. However, within the controlled chaos of the lab, an unexpected anomaly emerged unbeknownst to Timothy in his tired state. He’d stayed up all night to do this experiment, he wasn’t going to let anything stop him now. 

“This is Timothy Hawkins, okay this is…9th August 2024…let’s see how this goes,” said Timothy out loud for the recording. “Testing our infinite generator, nicknamed Flame, converting heat into electricity…3…2…1…Flame on!” 

A sudden surge of energy coursed through the generator, causing lights to flicker erratically and the room to shake. Tim looked up and around, shocked as he felt himself almost losing his footing, having to grab one of the lab tables as his heart raced. Before he could do anything, he saw that the generator was  a blinding glow enveloped him. At first Tim thought it was an explosion. Maybe the generator overheated. Maybe one of the circuits malfunctioned. But he realised that if it truly was an explosion, then he was either very lucky or very wrong, because he shouldn’t have been able to even think or contemplate if his lab had just blown up.

He should’ve been gone, turned to dust. But he was still thinking, still standing, he opened his eyes as he glanced around confused. Instead a great heat washed over him in waves, tingling and pulsating through every fibre, every cell, something seeping so deep into him that Tim almost thought the heat was coming from within. 

“What on earth?” Timothy looked shocked at himself as he began to feel his muscles starting to grow, his pecs inflating and biceps thickening as suddenly there was a tight blue spandex beginning to form over his arms. “Oh fuck!” He continued to feel the spandex starting to form down his arms as they began to slither over his chest. Hairs began to grow on his chest, swirling on his growing inflating as his own two pecs were continuing to grow hairy and hotter, making him feel so much pleasure ricocheting through his system as his nipples grew perky as the spandex covered over them. 

It surged up and down, the source of the heat seemingly in his core, where it began to reshape and redefine his abdomen. He could feel his abs tightening, the muscles contracting as they started to grow and thicken. With each breath, the change became more pronounced — his once pudgy stomach from a lifetime of junk food and unhealthy eating was now developing deep grooves as his abdominal muscles swelled into a sculpted six-pack.  

“O-Oh my-” Timothy blushed as he couldn’t believe how good it felt, to feel the muscles growing, the heat from within his chest spreading all over his body as he looked down. The skin stretched taut over the firming muscles, revealing the chiselled contours beneath. Each ridge and valley of his abs became more pronounced, the deep blue spandex conforming to the newly developed muscles. “N-No I-” He moaned again as he could see his hands beginning to sweat and stretch, just as he was thinking of trying to press his fingerprint to the sensor and get out of the room. But try as he might, his fingers had changed too much that the sensor could only read:

FINGERPRINT NOT RECOGNISED.

O-Oh god what was the emergency code again?! He thought to himself as he tried that, but by then it was too late, his hands having grown, the spandex climbed over his arms and suddenly fitted his hands with dark leather gloves. 

They were so large and growing that as he tried to push in the code, he accidentally pressed two numbers at once and failed. Just as he was thinking of trying again…the pleasure got too much as his cock throbbed, starting to make him leak his memories and he realised…he couldn’t even remember the code anymore.

“Oh god I gotta- N-No!” Timothy moaned as he tried again but to no avail, the code was definitely wrong and he couldn’t remember. The spandex continued travelling down, trapping the heat in his body as his ass was the next to change, inflating into a perky bubble butt whilst more and more memories of being a scientist and the trip into space that gave them their powers in the first place. He moaned and staggered, gripping onto a table as he felt his ass continuing to grow out, inflating and enlarging whilst his thighs were the next to grow muscular.

Time seemed to stretch and part of Timothy wondered if it was something to do with his failed experiment, if there was some time dilation happening then and there. At least he was still thinking scientifically, but he couldn’t stop himself from the overwhelming surge of sensations as pleasure continued to ricochet through him. His entire body tingled with an electrifying current, as if his very cells were undergoing a metamorphosis, changing and warping as the DNA within him was changing. It was a sensation both exhilarating and unnerving.

The heat travelled around to his cock that began to thicken and lengthen, his crotch practically on fire as pubic hairs grew around his now eight inch cock.  His thighs thickened, the muscles expanding and pushing outward as they became more defined, bulging with strength. The deep blue spandex stretched tight over his growing quads, clinging to every curve and contour as his legs took on a more massive, muscular form. 

“Oh goooooodddddd-”

Timothy couldn’t even think straight as the intense heat pulsed downward, flowing into his feet. A tingling sensation began to spread from his toes, growing stronger with each passing moment. His shoes tore apart, the seams splitting apart as the toes lengthened. The soles continued to stretch, as if being pulled by invisible hands, sweating as brown hairs grew atop them. Before he knew it, the spandex material reached down over his feet and morphed into dark leather boots that hugged his muscular calves and large feet.

Gasping for breath, Timothy staggered backward, his mind reeling from the sheer intensity of the experience, still not able to think of ways to stop whatever was happening to him. The generator shouldn’t have been able to do anything like this. All the while his senses heightened, and a surge of vitality surged through his veins, rendering him acutely aware of every shift within his body, only for him to feel his intellect shifting. It wasn’t as if he was growing dumber but more like his memories were dissolving and turning into something else, making him grow more into astrophysics than anything to do with energy generation.

In that moment, he became acutely conscious of a subtle yet profound change. His clothes felt constricting against his shifting physique, the fabric straining over muscles that seemed to expand and ripple beneath his skin. He reached up to adjust his glasses out of habit, only to realise that…he didn’t have any glasses. Not anymore. And then with another blink, his memories shifted to make him realise he never had glasses. That he was always this tall. That the growing muscles and biceps of his were always there.

Timothy tried to move, but he was disoriented, the room moving about like he had vertigo and in any moment he’d fall onto the wall or drop onto the ceiling like gravity was reversed.

His face continued to shift and churn, almost as if the skin was boiling like the surface of some heated water, becoming malleable. His cheekbones grew higher, more apparent as the fat from his face melted away. His nose widened and lengthened slightly whilst his lips grew larger and fuller. In the blink of an eye, his irises turned to a dazzling baby blue. His unhealthy and thinning hair began to recede, becoming a buzzcut. All the while as he felt his face, he was too distracted and finally the vertigo got tohim, making him fall back. Tim’s jawline grew all the more chiselled and his cock continued to throb, again and again, the pleasure soaring to new levels as the heat in his crotch continued until finally.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna-” 

Cum rocketed out of Timothy’s inflated member, spraying the insides of his new spandex outfit as he writhed on the floor. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and shut tight as the pure bliss of orgasm was beginning to invade his mind and with it, he was losing all his old self as it began to drain out of his cock.

A surge of panic coursed through him, like he had woken up from a dream as Timothy suddenly sat up…He could still think…He could still…

Johnny examined his hands, watching in astonishment as wisps of flame flickered to life at his touch. The flames danced along his skin with a mesmerising yet controlled grace, casting an orange glow around him. 

It was an incredible sight, simultaneously beautiful and terrifying and scientifically impossible. 

Until now. 

His body was somehow conducting its own energy. He couldn’t believe what had happened, dregs of his old self still around as the heat trapped in his spandex and supernaturally warm body had already evaporated the mess he had left in his spandex. 

The last parts of Timothy caught his reflection in a nearby monitor, revealing a sight that defied all logic – he had transformed into Johnny Storm, the embodiment of the Human Torch from the pages of comic books and movies that had once been his refuge. 

Johnny’s breath caught in his throat, unable to comprehend his experiment that had somehow rewritten his very existence. But then again, there were weirder things in the universe, at least according to what Reed was always going on about. He grunted in surprise and felt like his voice was now deeper and with it, came a whole newfound charisma that made everything just so much more exciting and smoother coming out of his throat. Johnny started to blink as more and more of his memory and real self was finally coming to him, a cockiness and intrigue as he stopped looking so shocked in his reflection and instead was admiring himself in his spandex as he smirked.

“God damn…” Johnny murmured as he looked at his flaming hand and continued to watch it. “Just wait until Reed gets a load of this, that smart ass won’t know what hit him.”

For some reason there was still the dregs of doubt that came around, like Johnny was forgetting something. But he was sure if it was important, it’d come back to him. Right now  what he knew most was that he was one of the best heroes that there ever was.

“Flame on!” Johnny uttered as flames raced across his body and he began to feel power and pleasure ricochet throughout his entire body, ready to go out there and show the world the Human Torch. 

And of course he was smart enough to know just how he might be able to create the perfect conditions to make the rest of his team, starting with Reed.

To read more stories like this, then check them out here.

Cursed Pigs

Content Warning: Incest, Weigh Gain, Homophobia, Misogyny

Mason was about to go on a date with his girlfriend, he sent a snap to his story to show off his body. Mason was a sophomore in college, he loved to workout, he’s the type of man who could easily steal your girlfriend.

Mason was an arrogant asshole who didn’t care who he was mean to, he was as homophobic as it gets, genuinely being disgusted by gay men. If any girl he dated had a gay best friend he’d force her to drop him, and they’d always listen because he was extremely good in bed. He hated fat people the most, found fat women to be disgusting and fat men to be pathetic. He learned all of this from his father of course, who he was on his way to visit for Labor Day weekend. His father was a muscular daddy type, if Mason had been in his 40s they could be twins.

He couldn’t wait to meet his dad for Labor Day, he and his father and they were planning on going camping. Mason had gotten home and called out for his dad. “

“Dad! I’m home!” Mason walked into the living room where the tv was on and his dad was in his cushioned arm chair, but his dad looked different. His dad had become fat, his once muscular body had been covered in blubber. There was a thick musk in the room, and he was just in underwear that had been clearly stained with cum and piss.

“Dad what the fuck happened to you, when did you become a fatass?!” Masons dad said nothing, instead he let out a rank fart. Frrrrrbbbbttt. “Oh god dad that reeks!” Mason didn’t realize what was on the tv, it was playing a weird sound and as Mason looked closer there were fat fags feeding each other with junk food. “Dad what the fuck are you watching?? What’s wrong with you!” As Mason yelled his minds started to feel numb, he started watching the TV and taking his shirt off.

A drip of drool started to fall from Mason mouth as he watched the fat men stiff each other with doughnuts, cake and burgers. He watched as the fat men started getting fatter, he was feeling hungry. “D-dad… what’s happening?” His dad continued to stay silent as he rubs his stinky crotch. Masons body started to soften, all of the hard work he had put into his muscles was being wasted.

The softening of his body continued, a feeling that was foreign to Mason. “You’re started to look good, boy” Masons father finally said something, his voice had gained a southern twang, which made no sense since they were from Jersey. Mason had a hard time getting his words out, he tried really hard to protest, but his cock was starting to stiffen.

“Da- daddy please… what’s happening?” Mason’s belly started to hang over his waistband, his chest was quickly becoming plump moobs. His v-line has become a u-line. “I-I’m getting fat… daddy why am I talking l-like a fag-got…” Mason grabbed his fattening belly, causing him to moan.

Masons body began to become covered in body hair, where he use to shave regularly, now he looks like he’s never seen a razor. A piercing formed into his nipple, his dad got up and tugged on it. “Smell my musk, boy” Mason’s daddy groped his moobs and played his with sons growing belly. “Mmmm your cock is getting covered in fat, boy. Fat boys don’t get big cocks, you know that piggy.”

Mason reached down and felt that his once 8.5in cock shrunken down to a 3in nub. Fat was swallowing his body and Mason fought with the urge to run and the urge to worship his daddy’s smelly cock. Mason was starting to get smellier and smellier, BO and musk emanating from his body.

Masons transformation was almost over, as his daddy played with his fat belly his brain was becoming foggier and foggier. His cock a useless nub that he can’t use to fuck bitches anymore. The misogynistic muscle head was gone and was replaced by a slobby, stinky fat pig.

What Mason didn’t know was that his father had pissed off a fatass on twitter, and she cursed him and his jock son to be fatass faggots. Because of her, Mason and his daddy were closer than ever before… and they could no longer spew ignorance because they were too busy shoving food into their mouths.

I Don’t Want To Go Back

Bradley:

I’m sitting in the doctor’s office and I feel butterflies in my stomach. All I can is look down at my legs and feet— well I guess Luke’s legs and feet. They are his in the first place but I now control them.

I’m waiting on a response from the doctor who’s helping my big brother Luke and I with our situation. He’s with Luke right now in the other room who’s in my body.

From what I can understand, one of us gave the other some kind of sick that caused everything. All I know is that, one night I went to bed as me and the next morning I woke up as Luke.

That night, Luke was doing his workout when I walked in to his room. I was trying to ask him if he could help me out something.

“What do you want twerp? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Suh—sorry Luke! I just wanted to get some help with—”

Before I could even ask him anything he got all angry with me and pushed me out of his room.

Then the next morning happened…

I remember waking up and feeling strange, but it wasn’t until I sat up and saw Luke’s big feet and hairy legs that I knew I wasn’t myself.

The next thing I noticed was Luke’s morning wood, i learned quickly that morning that he does not go to bed in PJs.

I looked down at the hard wiener amazed by its size, I touched it and it sent sparks through me.

It took me a second to fully focus but I eventually got up and went to the bathroom.

That’s where I realized that I am now my brother Luke. 

Seeing Luke’s reflection in the mirror made me feel nervous and excited. I had so many questions.

But then I felt something for the first time, confident! I feel so confident in this body.

I stood in front of that mirror for awhile until I heard a loud voice hollering.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!”

I peak out of the bathroom door and saw my body rushing down the hallway angry.

But the second we made eye contact, he froze in one spot.

“Bradley… is that… are you me?,” he said to me.

“Yeah it’s me, are you Luke?” I asked him back.

I thought he was going to be nice to me for a second but nope!

Like charged down the hall and almost like he was going to lunge for me. Before he could get to the door, I quickly shut it which caused him to crash into it.

A locked the door, scared of what he was going to do. Then I remembered something, I’m the one with all of the strength now! I opened up the door and Luke was on the ground still trying to get back up.

“You little shit! You did this! I don’t know how but you did this!” he said to me.

All of the sudden, my dad came out of his room.

“Boys! What’s going on here?”

“Your son over here took my body!” said Luke.

“I didn’t take it Luke! I promise!! I’m just as confused as you,” I said crossing my now bigger arms.

“Can someone clue me in on what’s going on? And Luke can you please get some clothes on!”said my dad.

We sat down with him after I put on a pair of pants and explained what happened that morning.

He didn’t believe us at first but after a call with a speciality doctor, my dad’s eyes got wide and then he hung up.

“Boys, I’ve some good news and bad news.”

“What’s the good news?” said Luke.

“Well this is a rare situation to happen but you’re not the first ones ever. And you’re both physically fine other than uh… well.”

“Come on dad! What did they say? Are we stuck like this?”

“Well they want to run some test but that won’t happen until next week.”

“NEXT WEEK?!? BUT I GO ON MY BEACH TRIP NEXT WEEK!!”

“I’m sorry but you have to cancel Luke!”

“Fuuuuuuckkk this! I’m going upstairs!”

Luke stormed away from the table while I stayed back.

“Sorry bud that’s he’s so upset, you know it’s not directed at you right?”

“I guess so,” I said back.

“Do me a favor for right now, just stay clear of him for right now.”

“I promise I will!”

The next few days changed me a lot. It started out with Luke and I having to switch out all of our stuff. My dad wanted us to at least pretend to be each other for the time being so I got Luke’s room, clothes, even his cellphone (which made him the most mad).

I even learned a lot as well. Like how to work out, what being a 19 year old is like, my dad’s started to teach how to drive.

But what I find interesting is all of the things i like about my new self.

Like my new feet! I love the way they look, my dirty socks, the way they smell after a long workout— it makes me so hard!

I’ll take pictures of them and even put my face into them after a long day!

I also love my muscles! I feel so powerful with them!! Even my friends are into them.

Well once again, technically Luke’s friends. Specifically Seth, who I talk to everyday. We go back and forth sending pictures of ourselves. I think he likes me, a lot! I like him too, a lot lol.

He even told me last night.

Texts:

Seth: Dude, I wish you told me how you feel. I would have made a move a long time ago. But if you want to keep this on the DL, I’m cool with that. But as long as we have our fun on the beach trip.

Bradley: We are going to ALOT of fun on the trip I promise!

Seth: Well could you send me a little teaser? Maybe a body pic 😈

Bradley:

Seth: Hot!!🥵

Bradley: Do you like feet?

Seth: …

Seth: If I have to be honest, I’d never tell anyone else this but yes. I do indeed have a foot fetish.

Bradley: I took this one earlier 😎

Seth: Well since you’re showing off 😛

Bradley: You have really nice feet!

Seth: Oh do I? I’ll let you do anything with them on the trip.

Reading that text from Seth made me instantly hard!

I talked to him for a while and this morning but I’m so nervous to find out what’s going to happen!

Are they going to give me something that will put Luke and I back in our bodies? I can’t go to my body, not before I go on my trip with Seth!!

A knock was at the door.

“Bradley, can I come in?”

The doctor came in and I felt like I was about to puke!

“Hey, sorry that took a little bit. Your brother doesn’t seem that happy. How are you with all of this?”

“Me? Oh I’m good, just an adjustment.”

“Well you seem to be taking it better. You know this is very rare. Unfortunately, this is something so new even to us. I wish I could tell you things are going to be back to normal soon but…”

“Wait, are you saying this is forever?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say forever. I guess I’ll just go ahead and say it. This is a lab made disease that somehow got to either you or your brother. We don’t have a cure for it at this moment. So I’d highly advise you, your brother, and your father to try and make this your new normal for the time being.”

“Oh wow! I can’t believe it!”

“So you’re good to go—”

I hopped up and immediately went for the door. As I walk out, I see Luke with his head turned down.

“Hey, you okay?”

“No…”

“Well cheer up! That body isn’t so bad,” I say messing up my former hair.

“ Easy for you to say!”

“I’m sorry Luke but we are gong to have to accept this for now. Sides, I’ll be a good big brother to you. I promise.”

Luke looked up at me and for the first time in a while he had the tiniest smile.

Two Days Later:

“Flex on em Luke,” says Seth as he takes a picture of me.

I walk up to him and say, “You have the bigger muscles why don’t you show them off.”

He grins and says, “I only show them off for you.”

“Hey do you wanna sneak up real quick while none of the other boys notice?”

“I thought you would never ask!”

We run up the stairs and as soon as we’re out of eyesight Seth pulls me in and kisses me.

“Come on inside Luke, I’ll let you play with these piggies,” he says wiggling his toes in my face.

“Can you do that thing you did last night with them?”

“You want another foot job?”

“Yep!”

“Oh boy! You’re lucky you’re so cute!”

Just ignore it - 1

David is teaching a course on identifying and managing magical anomalies, and begins to suspect there may be a reality-warper in class. Largely because everyone's butt looks too good to believe.

2 (Next)

(btw this is inspired by one of my favorite TF stories)

“Now the point of these journals is to start recognizing energetic and temporal anomalies, better attuning yourselves to…”

I paused mid-sentence, feeling that something was off, taking a beat before I continued with the lecture. I was hoping to have some time to settle into the Fall semester before having to deal with an inevitable minor metaphysical crisis, but a reality warper a few weeks in was not what I saw coming.

Having a job that includes resolving paranormal wrinkles in spacetime seems exciting until you realize that somehow they’ve found a way to turn it into yet another 9 to 5. People often expect some sort of imposing mansion or gothic structure whenever they hear “Center of Supernatural Sciences,” but it’s actually a squat concrete block cobbled together by a regional college in the 70s. The scariest thing for visitors is figuring out how to connect to the WiFi, though if you’re rude to Seema at the front desk, she will put a hex on you and that’s just your own fault. It’s been a mainstay on this campus for decades, but for how much longer was unclear, as administration has been defunding us relentlessly for as long as I’ve been here. The university doesn’t see our value in light of its own investments in mass surveillance technology and a more ‘hard science’ study of spookiness, but the work we do is still important. Supernatural phenomena are much more common than a lot of people realize–it’s just a matter of actually paying attention–and our work is split between teaching, research, and service, addressing issues locally and regionally as they arise.

And no, we’re not magic cops. We’re not out to punish or control, fist bumping each other as we shoot silver bullets first and ask questions later. That’s archaic. We investigate, mitigate, and remediate, stepping in whenever the fabric of reality gets a little too bunched or frayed and mending as best we can.

I teach a class called “Investigating Supernatural Threats” almost every semester, which is a title that I absolutely despise–I think it’s an insult to our more than human neighbors–but the department is worried that if we change it we’ll end up losing funding to the criminal justice program, and it’s a hill I’m only willing to get bruised on. But it’s a survey of identifying and responding to paranormal, metaphysical, and magical shenanigans, so it tends to get all kinds. It’s usually a relatively small group, a smattering of grad students from occult history to crypto-zoology, museum curators and archivists needing a refresher on what to be cautious of, and often–which I’m personally delighted by–new forest rangers sent by the state’s Department of Natural Resources who are doing overnights for the first time.

But back to the issue at hand. It’s my job to stay observant across multiple temporal and dimensional planes, so I’m known for picking up on minor phenomena and patterns that at first glance may not seem significant. So around week 3, I couldn’t help but notice that most, if not all, of the men in the class had near perfect, juicy butts, yet all unique in their own ways. I was used to commanding attention with a round booty sitting pretty on my 6’1” frame, looking downright disproportionate against my lean swimmer’s build–a blessing and a curse, really–but some of them were giving me a run for my money. Which isn’t really an issue, squats are en vogue and there are plenty of male leg day enthusiasts thanks to social media trends, not that I’m complaining, but in week 4, I picked up on the fact that all of their pants fit so well. Too well. Like not just fitted but custom made for each of their unique and sizeable proportions, as if carefully crafted to emphasize and display their bubble butts. A telltale sign.

During class, I kept my extrasensory eyes and ears open, seeing if I could pick up on any novel energetic shifts. And I felt something odd. Something deep and subsonic, pressing tentatively against the borders of our reality, like a sperm whale floating up to a kayak without making a sound. I could feel an energy seeping into local space, something building to some sort of threshold, before, with a submerged *pop* that I could ‘hear’ elsewhere, it was gone. It was like nothing had happened. In fact, nothing had happened. I turned to the board to continue writing something that I had forgotten, only realizing after class had ended that I had been writing about two inches above where I had left off. I did a somatic check, quickly scanning my body from toes to head to fingertips. I felt fine, had all ten fingers, only two eyes, an ass that could stop traffic, still a strapping 6’3”. But had that been true an hour ago? Doubt was setting in.

As someone who teaches the detection and mitigation of magical fuckery, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with a potential situation like this. You’d be surprised how often some horny gay warlock has a little too much fun and needs to be reined in, or someone’s chaos magic manifests without them realizing–even worse, with them fully realizing. If you’ve ever had to neutralize an entire college dorm (and a frat house to boot) you would understand why we need more funding and support in magical education, but this isn’t the time for my soap box. A mystery’s afoot.

My most important piece of advice: Just ignore it. The thing is, a reality warper is a serious matter. If you call someone out, you better come correct and prepared for anything. Even just them knowing that you know–or that you’re on the hunt–can get real messy real fast. So you have to act casual. Don’t let them know you’re on to them, and don’t let them know that you know that something is seriously off. This is why I always introduce an extended project around tracking anomalies in the fabric of spacetime, having my students keep journals of anything weird, unusual, or metaphysically wobbly. Don’t react in real time, just on paper and in private, keeping a record of things as they happen. But it seemed like whoever this was was influencing the passage of time in very subtle ways and everyone’s memories, for the most part, were adjusting accordingly. Which is why no one in class has batted an eye at the fact that the asses in this room look like they were expertly morphed to near-comical proportions. After all, what else is new? So I took a different strategy and laid a trap.

The donk on my 6’4” frame (Hmm…) was a sight to behold. All muscle with a healthy layer of padding ballooning out from my otherwise lithe form. It was leaps and bounds my best feature, had been for as long as I could remember. I was used to men staring dumbfounded in public as my cheeks swished back and forth, including my own students whenever I turned to the blackboard, pushing it out ever so slightly as I leaned forward to write, the globes of my ass encased in one of many perfectly tailored pairs of tweed slacks. I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, seeing as any pants off the rack would either be way to loose in the waist or way too tight in the glutes, risking catastrophic failure. So I got my pants carefully fitted, but the thing was, so did everyone else. All the men in the class, from muscle butts to perky, round ones, to jiggly booties and wide hips, always had expertly fitted pants without fail. So we know what the focus of the shifts was, but it seemed like it was an expert reworking of time, and with that, memory. The phenomenon of unusually juicy asses in class pinged on my paranormal radar, but mine had always been this way. Right?

The thing is, the fit of everyone’s pants wasn’t just good, it was too good. Perfect, even. Yes, I had memories of having all my slacks tailored but they fit like they had been hand sewn on a lifelike model of my bulbous glutes with millimeter scale precision, not too little and not too much. So I found a pair that I didn’t much care for and took a razor to the back seam to weaken it just so. I squeezed into my form fitting pants and made my way to campus, careful not to stress the stitches too much and too fast, waddling into the room early and looking forward to this ordeal being over. Before anyone showed up, I cast a spell of detection around the space. Not detection of magical activities, which would’ve risked tripping any alarms that my possible warper may have already had in place, not to mention the possibility of interfering chaotically with their own spell whose function I was still unsure of. It was more of an emotional and energetic heat map, tipping me off to any sudden shifts in people’s auras.

Class began like normal as I offered some further thoughts inspired by the previous week’s discussion of AI programs as a potential tool of revealing and visualizing temporal anomalies. The discipline, in order to stay relevant, had been getting into the implications of digital technologies and new media for magical phenomena, so I figured we should spend a little more time on the topic. Also I was genuinely interested in hearing people’s thoughts, albeit distracted by the ticking time bomb of my basketball buns putting catastrophic pressure on my pants as I sometimes too excitedly paced across the front of the room. 

Per usual, I could feel the crescendo of strange, unfamiliar power rubbing almost playfully along the barrier between worlds, but everyone’s auras seemed fine. There was no corresponding wave of connected energy from any one person, beyond the general simmer of erotic activation (i.e. horniness) that spiked every time I turned my back to the class. I had become familiar with the exact threshold that this power would hit before it seemingly reset everything to a new, slightly more enhanced normal, and I was counting on the regularity of that threshold with the timing of this next move.

The previous, and now continuing discussion of new media had led me to realize that the enhanced asses in the room really did look like expertly done morphs and the perfect fit of every pair of pants, no matter the material, was simply improbable. Whoever this was, whatever this was, was operating along the edges of possibility, letting fantasy seep into what we generally regard as the real (or what we think is the real). So I figured, why not use one of my favorite tropes and see what happens.

My tweed slacks were impeccable but not indestructible and as the energetic threshold was reached I just happened to drop my chalk, quickly bending down to retrieve it. The spike in erotic attention from the view of my ballooning backside paled in comparison to what followed, as the seam of my pants finally gave way, my cheeks spilling into view along with a pair of pink and purple polka dotted bikini briefs that did nothing to cover the shelf of my ass.

I played it off with my expert acting skills (this wasn’t the first time I had to feign surprise from some magical mishap), performing a practiced mixture of embarrassment and humor that I assumed the reality-shifter would expect. From the men in class was a mix of nodding in understanding and whispers of It’s even bigger than I thought and How did those pants even fit. I felt a wave of erotic energy move through the room, but there was a spike of something else in the back corner. Something sharper, a tendril of fantastical power peeking into our dimension, concentrated around Logan, who I found staring directly at me with a look of surprise and mild confusion.

I knew of Logan, he was an archivist based in the college’s paranormal artifacts collection, and I think he had signed up for my class as a refresher for methods and safety when investigating and collecting potentially powerful and chaotic objects. He was skinny all around, topping out at no more than 5’7”, his thick, hexagonal rimmed glasses sitting below a mop of bouncy curls with an undercut. He usually came in wearing a pair of loose, flowy drop crotch pants, a surprisingly bohemian look with his otherwise reserved demeanor and sensible button downs. He was demur and unassuming, not seeming like the kind of person to cause this kind of trouble. But at this point he was the only dude in class that didn’t have an absolute dump truck.

The following week, I wondered why I had even hatched that plan in the first place, seeing as I always wear a skirt over tasteful leggings. I had given up on wearing pants years ago because it was just too much of a hassle, opting instead to let the globes of my ass bounce back and forth with more freeform bottomwear. Slacks were constricting enough in the back, but I was also tired of my donkey dick being suffocated in the crotch. A blessing and a curse. It looked like a couple of the guys in class had followed suit, perched on their round glutes as they let some thick bulges snake down leggings or compression shorts.

No wonder those pants ripped, I thought. I probably haven’t worn those in–

Ah ha. Another bread crumb. And an added wrinkle. Time hadn’t been totally rewritten and my memory hadn’t been totally wiped, just altered in the most efficient way in that moment. In fact, I was still mentally very much on the case and making progress. It wasn’t the sort of loose thread that a reality warper this competent would leave, and by now they must realize that I of all people would be on to them. I began to surmise that Logan wasn’t the one pulling the strings, but was actually some sort of conduit. Maybe for a bored trickster god playing an erotic prank–which, frankly, happens much more often than you’d think.

That week, through irony or serendipity, we actually were discussing strategies for navigating the psychological and emotional games that tricksters love to play, but as the supernatural energy began building on schedule, that previous playfulness had hints of… irritation? The power was a little discordant and I could feel it somatically in a way that I hadn’t before; it seemed everyone else could too. We continued on like normal as my leggings felt fuller and tighter in the glutes, my shoes feeling uncomfortably snug as more of my ankles revealed themselves, my dick inexorably snaking its way towards my hip while staying totally soft.

This was new.  And potentially a game changer. But I, along with my students, followed the central mantra of my profession: Note it. Track it. But until you have a plan in place, just ignore it.