Orc Tf - Tumblr Posts

Working Like a Thrall Chapter 2

Here’s the second chapter, folks. Just click this link.

One of my followers said he was getting bored of the usual dumbing down tfs that I’d been doing, so I thought I’d mix it up with this one and plant it in my Omnistore universe. Hope you all enjoy.

Going Medieval

Trent looked over the simple worn garment and sighed. The shopkeeper had promised the item would be properly authentic, but the thing was far too large. He’d be swallowed by it, if he tried to wear it. The thing would barely hold to the edge of his shoulders.

“Just try it. I find my costumes fit my clients just right in the end,” the owner had said with a smirk that looked very much like a sneer as the teeth on the dark fox head revealed themselves.

How this enigmatic Ronoc had managed to create such a detailed and realistic costume, Trent would never know, but he was willing to do practically anything to look good for the party.

He sighed as he pulled the simple pants from the hangar and drew them up his legs. The extra material pooled on the ground in a rippling puddle of cloth as he cinched up a leather belt with an intricate metal skull that grinned out at the changing room mirror. Then came the shirt. As he suspected, the material felt worn, and draped heavily over his frame. It felt more like a night gown than it did a medieval garment. The lack of sleeves certainly didn’t help that image. At most, this shirt could have been deemed a summer garment for a peasant.

“It’s too big,” he called through the door.

“Just give it a moment to sink in,” Ronoc’s voice called back. Trust me, you’ll feel right at home in it soon enough.”

“Clearly, you and I have different ideas of a proper form-fitting costume,” Trent said as he reached for the clasp on the belt. “I’m taking it off.” He’d just seized the clasp when his whole body spasmed and his hands jerked away from the metal. “What the hell?” he gasped. “It shocked me!” He reached over and probed the belt experimentally. The metal felt cold as ice, but no jolt shook his frame this time. His breathing came faster as his cheeks flushed. The colder the buckle felt, the warmer the room seemed to become.

“Patience is very important in my services, you know,” Ronoc’s voice carried over the door. “It simply wouldn’t do for you to take off the costume before it’s finished its work.”

“W-work? What work?” Trent’s voice cracked as he asked.

“You’ll see. Phase one should be underway by now. Go ahead and watch. It’s quite the enjoyable experience for those who seek power, or so I’ve been told.”

Trent leaned against the wall of the room as the dizziness took him. His skin tingled along his scalp, ears, cheeks, and face. He huffed, then whipped around. He could’ve sworn he felt someone touching him, but no one was there. Again the sensation arose, more like a gentle caress than the teasing he’d received in school.

“What the hell...?”

“It’s perfectly natural to feel certain pleasurable sensations as you change. I recommend you allow them to come,” Ronoc said calmly. “The sooner you enjoy them, the sooner we can move forward with finishing your costume.”

“What are you--?” Trent gasped as he felt a warmth building in his crotch, followed by a swelling between his legs. He groaned as he spread his legs apart to make room for the impossibility he knew was happening down there. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as the mysterious specter went back to work with a vengeance. Knots were kneaded, flesh rubbed down, all while the heat spread and the pleasure rose. His shoulders slumped as his jaw went slack.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Ronoc asked teasingly.

Trent could only groan again as he heard the undeniable scrape of stubble grate in his ears while he felt the surface of the hairs being pulled by his mysterious masseuse. He barely even heard the snap and crack as his jaw realigned and his shoulders expanded. The sensation of his feet growing longer and thicker left him swaying unsteadily. He huffed as he leaned against the side of the mirror and watched in a drunken haze as his chest broadened and his torso rose. There was muscle there, and proper tone. His skin darkened to a healthy tan, while the edges of his hair bleached to a suntouched blond with darker tones beneath.

He felt the surge of pressure as his Adam's apple jutted forward and his neck’s muscles expanded with his now significantly broader shoulders. He barely heard the rustle of the fabric as it rose from the floor, though he recognized the gentle pull against his skin as the shirt rubbed his torso.

Finally, the endless assault of pleasure and heat stopped. Trent panted to catch his breath and center himself. Then he stared into the mirror and gaped.

“Is that ... me?” he asked. His clutched at his throat as he heard his new deeper voice for the first time. His square face and chiseled jaw jutted with masculine edges under the light. A shadow was cast over his dark eyes from his brow, giving him an attractive smolder that many a girl would swoon over. His beard had grown in sufficiently to cover and accentuate his chin and cheeks as he puckered and spread his lips to get a proper look at his changes.

“I told you my costumes fit their hosts well,” Ronoc said with a wicked chortle.

“I’m ... big,” Trent marveled.

“Oh, we’re not finished yet,” Ronoc purred. Trent could practically hear the sneer behind the words.

“Not finished? What’re you--?” Fire burned in his veins as his hands clenched and unclenched. The appendages swelled to twice their size as his veins stood out against his skin. He roared as he felt that familiar tingle that seeped into his skin and deep to the bone. His jaw snapped again as two sharp teeth jutted out from his lower lip to rise on either side of his face. The blond faded as the darker hair beneath consumed it, darkening from sunny to sandy to brown to black. It lengthened down to his shoulders as taut skin strained against the rapid pace of his swelling muscles. The healthy tan gradually darkened to a murky brown with hints of swamp green. Finally, the green overtook it as the fire drove itself into his eyes and he watched the iris bleed into a glowing ruby. His brow jutted forward into a shelf that left his face with a perpetual menacing appearance about it.

He ground his new stronger teeth together as he bore the pain. The shirt now strained against his titanic form, and the pants clung tightly to the muscles beneath. He heard the swish of cloth and looked down in surprise to see the belt buckle had expanded into a far larger and hideous skull that held a loin cloth in place over the pants. Its eyes also glowed red as he felt the burning anger surge through him. Rage at the ones who had dealt so dishonorably with him, bloodlust for revenge, and an overpowering urge to fight, control, conquer.

The new orc roared, and the skull’s mouth opened in a terrible pantomime. Its maw gaped hungrily as the war cry died off, and Trent’s shoulders heaved against the now paper-thin material of his shirt. His new sharp ears jutted out to ether side of him, peeking through the veil of his black hair. He turned, and the hair whipped wildly behind him as he slammed the door open to stalk up to the store provider. He towered over the puny creature now, yet the creature remained the picture of calm. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Part of him was outraged. Part of him wanted to laugh. Part of him felt respect for the lack of fear. He wasn’t sure which part he wanted to listen to yet.

“Well now, Durog, you certainly do look fantastic. I told you my costumes worked well.”

Trent furrowed his heavy brow. “Durog?”

“Well, you couldn’t well keep calling yourself Trent. That’s a human name.”

A wave of involuntary disgust rose in the new orc, and his face contorted in distaste.

“I see you agree with me. And yet you’re confused by that agreement.” Ronoc shrugged. “It is how it is. You get the form, you get the instincts that go with it. Just accept the new name. Trust me, it’ll feel better for you, if you do.”

The belt’s eyes flashed. Durog’s eyes flashed. “I’ll need armor,” he growled.

“Naturally,” Ronoc agreed. “A warrior should always be ready for battle.”

“On that, we are agreed.”

“And a chief should always be ready to lead.” Ronoc sneered as he brushed the belt. “You won’t be the only orc walking the streets tonight, if you play your cards right. Just let Durog do the driving. The belt will take care of the rest.”

Durog sneered. “I believe I’ve decided I like you after all, Ronoc.”

Ronoc sneered back. “I thought you might. Just do your best not to forget Trent. Do that and, well, you might well be stuck as Durog forever.”

Durog smirked as a Minotaur tossed him a wicked battleaxe. It carved through the air with a familiar weight that made him grin.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

Going Green

"Microtransactions!"

Charles looked around the board members.

"Micro. Transactions. Have you ever heard of that? Anyone?"

Slowly, heads nodded.

"Oh, good! So, you *have* heard of them. Does anyone care to explain to me then why our games barely have any? In fact, I have yet to see *any* microtransaction revenue from our latest release."

"But Sir, 'Orcs and Morcs' is a single player game - and not for a mobile platform, too. It doesn't even have an online connection. It would be highly unusual."

Charles M. Anderson cut the engineer up with a gesture. He didn't even know the other man's name, which wasn't too unusual. Even though he was the CEO of GreenGames for six months now, he didn't bother to learn his subordinates names until they proved useful. And this unnamed engineer could be happy if he still had a job after this meeting.

"I don't care about your techno-babble. Microtransactions is where the money is, so I want them in our products. *All* our products. And make sure to make them mandatory for any progress, too."

Charles usually talked about "Releases" and "Products". To him, video games were just a product like any other. Of course *he* didn't play any of those silly games, games were for children and losers. He only cared for the numbers, the graphs and revenues.

"What about the backlash? I mean, I understand that you want to generate more revenue, but GreenGames is known for providing high quality games that *don't* try to rip their customers off."

"So?"

"So, this could be bad publicity for us. Really bad."

Charles looked around the table and noticed most of the other board members nodding.

"Listen up, everyone. I think there is some misunderstanding here. You think that I care about our customers. I really don't, as long as they continue to buy our products. There is no such thing as bad publicity. So, I don't tell you how to draw your silly ogres and you don't try to meddle in the business aspect of the company, okay?"

Even though the inflection suggested a question, it was perfectly clear that it was neither a question nor a request. Again, heads nodded and tried to avoid eye contact. Good. Respect was very important for a leader.

One woman spoke up. Charles suspected her to be some lead writer or something.

"It's orcs, Sir."

Charles blinked. "What are you trying to say?"

"You said ogres, but our games are about orcs. That is our thing, we make games about orcs."

"There is no difference between orcs, ogres, unicorns and all that whimsy stuff. Leave me alone with your fantasy crap."

"But there is another thing. You are responsible for the story of our products?"

The woman agreed with a careful: "Yes, Sir?"

Charles looked her straight in the eye. "It has come to my attention that there are certain woke elements in our products. As a story writer, I expect you to take care of that."

"What... do you mean by woke? And by taking care of that?"

Charles sighed. Why was everyone so incompetent?

"Apparently, there is same-sex smut in our products, some even have pronouns. That crap needs to disappear asap. It is 'go woke go broke', after all."

The writer woman looked at Charles incredulously. "But Sir! Same-Sex romances are a well-accepted part of the industry for *decades* now. And it's not like the player has to engage in that, too. It's just an option - an option we actually received much praise for in the past. And about the pronouns... It's just a setting that influences some dialogues on how the player character is referred to. Again, it is perfectly possible to play as a straight green cis male if that's what you want to do."

Charles shook his head, his voice now dangerously low. "One more word of that, miss, and you can start looking for a new job. 84% of our customer base is male, and male customers want to see boobs, that's a fact. I won't tolerate wasting company resources on pacifying some noisy minority and alienating our main audience."

"But sir!" the writer woman objected.

Charles' look silenced her.

"One more word and you're out. We'll find another writer. Someone who does the job and keeps their mouth shut. This meeting is over. I expect results end of next week."

Nobody dared to speak up when everybody left the meeting room, and Charles returned to his office. What a productive meeting.

Just as he turned to his computer to check today's KPIs, he noticed a new email.

From: Employee Council

To: Charles M. Anderson

Subject: Going Green

Body:

Dear Mr. Anderson,

we here at GreenGames would like to take the opportunity to point out some concerns about your leadership role.

We have noticed a disturbing development since your takeover and would like to remind you of the values we stand for at GreenGames. We like creating games, and we identify with the work we do. Our players are important to us, and we strife to be open and accessible for everyone. Just like the protagonists in our games, we have honor and use our strengths to better the world. You in particular should be the living embodiment of this ideal. Please take this chance to re-think your methods and decisions and "go green" for real.

Sincerely,

The Employee Council.

Charles was outraged. How dared those subordinates criticizing him? He reached for his phone, ready to phone his secretary to find out who this "Employee Council" was but was interrupted by a ripping sound.

The right arm of his expensive suit jacket had ripped at the shoulder, which was unusual. He would have to have a stern talk with the tailor. Charles stood up and took off his jacket - or at least, he tried to. It was like the piece of clothing was way too small all of a sudden. He finally managed to get out of it, but only with several more rips in the fabric. Charles loosened his tie. He was sweating like mad, and when he looked down on himself, he was in utter disarray. His shirt looked like it was several numbers too small and as he was watching, one button after the other flew off with an audible "pling", exposing his torso underneath.

But was it really his torso? Not only was it *bigger*, it also looked way *hairier*. Charles had never been a man with much body hair, but now, he looked down on a stomach that was showing visible abs covered with a dense treasure trail of dark hairs. They continued upwards where they met with a true forest of curly dark hair that covered the slabs of pecs that were still growing as Charles watched.

He had to loosen his tie again before taking it off entirely. All of his clothes felt constricting, so, he peeled himself out of his shirt, too. His expensive watch was interrupting his growth painfully, but Charles was too occupied to notice, let alone care. With a dull cracking noise, the leather strap broke, and the watch flew across the room, hitting the opposite wall.

As Charles continued to grow, the chair underneath him creaked, but, again, he had other things to worry about. His lower body was still covered by his dress pants and shoes, but that was getting tight, too. His shoes especially were getting painful, and it was a relief when the front broke, exposing large muscular feet and toes. His pants were filled to the brim with heavy, muscled legs now, but there was another region where the capacity had been reached. His groin formed an obscene bulge. That alone would have probably fit - barely - but it was accompanied by an unusual feeling. Charles didn't *mind* his extreme change. In fact, the hyper masculine body turned him on, even. He watched as a dick print became clearly visible outlined against his groin, as his cock grew hard. It pulsed, once, and Charles felt a spurt of precum soak into his boxer shorts. A wet patch became apparent as the liquid seeped through his pants - all from a single spurt. His dick pulsed again, and Charles' head began to swim. The air in the room was thick with sweat and testosterone by now, and Charles groaned from arousal. Man, what would he give for a nice firm manly ass right now, giving him a lap dance.

Wait, what? Manly ass?

But it was true! Every time, Charles tried to think about sexy girls, but all that came to mind were men. Burly, hairy men, twinkish shaved men, green-skinned ogre-man. No, not ogres, he corrected himself. Orcs.

As he thought this word, his dick pulsed again and made Charles almost cry out from arousal. He couldn't restrain himself anymore. He *ripped* apart his dress pants and lowered his boxer shorts that looked like a pair of briefs on his massive body now, releasing a gigantic stiff rod and a matching set of heavy balls - along with a whole cloud of manly, musky smell that made Charles even hornier than before.

He closed his gigantic hand around his shaft and moved it up and down, in a slow, barely constrained motion. He had almost come by that one stroke, so horny was his mind. Fascinatedly, he watched as his cock and balls took on a deep, green color. It looked almost like a cucumber, or the penis of the incredible hulk. Or... an orc. As he moved his strong hand up and down again, the green started to spread in all directions.

Yes! There was no doubt: He was becoming a big, strong, sexy orc! Charles let all restraints fall away and started pumping in earnest now. With each stroke, the green spread, until his entire torso was of a rich green color. His head felt a pressure as his facial structure reformed, and his ears grew long and pointy. His hair lost darkened and grew out into a wild mohawk-like hairstyle. At the same time, a black beard sprouted around his entire jaw, underlining his masculinity.

Meanwhile, the green had swept across his arms and legs, quickly eliminating any leftover pink spots. The green color looked incredibly hot under the coat of dense, manly hair, and Charles felt himself getting closer. He grunted with each stroke like an animal and where his muscular green body touched the furniture or his executive chair, it left a film of manly sweat. Finally, he felt a short bit of pain on his ears and nipples, as small metal piercings appeared there: Short studs in his ears and small rings in his nipples.

That sent him over the edge. With a final bellow, he came, mightily. His large green balls contracted and his massive cock spew cum everywhere: All over his stomach, his chest, his furniture, even his face!

Charr panted in the afterglow of his orgasm. He was the epitome of virility and although he had just cummed all over his office, his mind kept creeping back to sexy guys again. He would be able to go again, soon - but that had to wait a bit. He used the remains of his suit to clean up a bit (although it was still clearly visible and smellable what happened here), stuffed his mighty tool into the cum-stained underwear and reached for the phone.

"Please send the board to my office, I want to issue an honorable apology, and announce our new strategy." He rumbled with his new, low voice. After a moment of consideration, he added: "And please send someone to install our games on my PC."

He rubbed his hands. This would usher in a whole new era for GreenGames - with the greenest possible CEO.

I have the feeling that a lot of companies could benefit greatly from a bit of a greener leadership!

The very second Derek walked into the cramped, dimly lit room, he struggled to maintain his composure. His eyes landing on the nerdy game board that rested on the tiny table in the center of the cramped room. Around the table stood three skinny guys along with Stiles, all of them dressed up in geeky cosplay— Stiles wore rubber elf ears.

Trying his best not to irk his boyfriend, Derek forced a smile on his face as he headed closer. “You almost done?” he asked Stiles, putting an arm around the human’s small shoulders.

Stiles, pursing his lips, shook his head. “I’m stuck at an obstacle and I don’t quite know how to defeat it,” he muttered, his eyes laser-focused on the tiny plastic figurines on the board.

Derek had never played Dungeons and Dragons before, so he was totally lost and didn’t really have much to offer his boyfriend in the way of advice. “That sucks,” he finally said, growing antsy and wanting to leave.

It was due to a combination of not having any interest whatsoever in Stiles’s fantasy game, and also because of the creepy stare he was garnering from some nerd dressed up in Halloween wizard clothes.

In fact, Derek couldn’t help but notice that the scrawny wizard’s stare was a little too intense for his liking, seeing the corners of his mouth slightly pull up to form a mischievous smirk.

“Stiles the Great,” a nerd who was dressed up in cat ears chimed, adding a fake accent to her voice, “doth thou desire’th to employ the usage of thine trusty steed?” She nodded at Derek, making him grimace.

Stiles, unfortunately, gasped loudly, indicating that he thought the nerd’s idea was a good one.

Derek’s broad shoulders fell and he knew that they’d be stuck in the cramped room for longer than he’d initially wanted.

“I run across my boyfriend, Derek the Hotness, and he uses his skills to defeat the aboleth—”

“Hold it!” the wizard interrupted, narrowing his gaze at Derek. “You can’t just add in another character midway without giving us his backstory!”

The others around the table murmured in agreement, making Stiles blush.

“Um,” he stalled as he tried to think up a backstory for Derek the Hotness, which Derek promised he’d bring up later that night, “Derek has twenty strength and—”

“What is he?” the wizard cut off again, making Derek swell down a growl.

Again, Stiles took a moment as he searched his mind for an answer, his eyes darting all over the board as he looked for an idea.

The wizard’s smirk grew even larger. “Why don’t you roll for it?” he suggested, reaching into his pockets and placing a ruby red die on the board. It shimmered under the faint light of the room, and the numbers on it had a glittery quality to it.

Stiles eagerly snatched the die off the board and shook it in his hand, even blowing on it for luck. “Fine!” he agreed. “With this die, I declare that Derek the Hotness is…” He tossed the die onto the board, letting it clatter around until it landed.

Eight.

The wizard cocked his head to the side, his smirk fully formed now. “It looks like Derek the Hotness is an orc,” he mused, snapping his fingers playfully.

At first, Derek cocked his eyebrow in wonder at the odd actions from the nerd. However, he was soon alerted to the tingling sensation that ran all over his body. His boyfriend gasped again, and Derek then noticed something terrible happening.

Holding his hands up in front of his face, Derek’s eyes widened when he saw his skin steadily darken to a greenish hue. Before he could further react, Derek tensed up as his body underwent further changes.

He couldn’t exactly see it firsthand, but all of Derek’s muscles began to inflate to obscene proportions. His arms packed on pounds of muscle, bulging with power. His chest grew to crazy proportions, tearing his shirt to shreds and further exposing his green muscles. His thighs widened and caused him to reposition his feet, his legs pushing against each other so much that his walk would now resemble something closer to a waddle. All of Derek’s muscles had pumped up, but they appeared more so for strength as opposed to aesthetic, as was evident by their rotundness and the lack of abs. Instead, his stomach had a powerlifter belly that hung over his tattered pants. Speaking of pants, the bulge in the front of them inflated and a large beer can-width snake crept down his pant leg. To top everything off, Derek’s lower jaw widened and dimples, looking large and cartoonish. His brow pushed forward, giving the hunk a brutish appearance. Finally, his lower canine teeth elongated and protruded out of his mouth, effectively giving Derek the appearance of a muscled up, dim-witted orc.

Stiles’s jaw hung low in silent shock as Derek swayed slightly to and fro.

Not understanding exactly what had just occurred, Derek shook his head and rubbed at his temples. “Uh,” he groaned, noting the much, much deeper quality to his voice, “Derek feel funny.” His eyes widened to the size of saucers, having intended to say that he felt weird, unsure as to why he’d sounded all slow and had spoken in the third person. Derek cleared his throat and tried again. “Why Derek talk funny?”

Finally, Stiles stomped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Derek’s green bicep. “Turn him back!” he ordered, narrowing his eyes at the wizard.

Derek shook his head, trying to clear it of the fog that seemed to be creeping up in it. He knew that something had definitely happened to him. However, he couldn’t stop but admire how cute his boyfriend looked and how perky his butt looked in his tight pants.

Without thinking, Derek wrapped both of his large arms around Stiles, grinding his enlarged cock against the tiny human. In his haze, Derek noticed something else. “Stiles…” he grunted in his baritone, “Stiles smaller?”

Stiles bit down on his lower lip, looking completely adorable as he did so, making Derek grind his hard cock into him even more.

The wizard continued to smirk. “Sorry Stiles the Great,” he mock-frowned, “the only way to turn him back is if you defeat the aboleth.” He gestured back down at the die.

“Fine!” Stiles shouted, snatching it back up off the board. “But let me warn you, once he’s back to regular self, I will personally kick your ass!”

[Fifteen Minutes Later]

“Yeah, sorry, I thought that I could win,” Stiles muttered, his head hanging low as he and Derek walked out of the house and towards the Jeep.

Derek lumbered as best as he could, trying hard to get the hang of waddling with his extra large, green muscles. His thighs kept rolling over one another, and his chest was so heavy that he had to arch his back in order to support his huge pecs. His muscle gut jiggled slightly with every step he took. However, his hard footlong cock waved tantalizingly in front of him, oozing precum at the sight of Stiles walking in front of him. Derek’s slowed mind struggled to piece everything together. He knew deep down that something had happened to him, but his brain was full of such lust for his tiny-looking boyfriend that it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

“Stiles cute,” he gushed in his deep voice.

“Yeah thanks, but focus, Derek!” Stiles said as soon as they reached the Jeep. “We need to go to Deaton to see if he can fix this!” He hopped into the driver’s seat and looked at his orc boyfriend expectantly.

Derek struggled to get inside the Jeep, trying to get the hang of moving his muscled body. His broadened shoulders kept banging against the sides of the door, preventing him from getting in head on. His lower IQ prevented him from immediately turning to the side until Stiles coaxed him into it. Once he was inside, his massive arms and pecs kept getting the way of him fastening his seat belt, leaving the orc struggling with the tiny strap.

Derek cocked his eyebrow in wonder as he stared down at his inflated, green pecs. “Derek has big muscles!” he gasped, his eyes widening in shock. The surprise disappeared as soon as Derek looked over at Stiles. “Stiles cute.” His hard cock bobbed in front of him in the air, twitching with want.

“Well…” Stiles mused, “maybe we can go to Deaton in the morning.”

More recent sketches. A wardrobe malfunction, a swarm of gloves looking for participants in a fantasy roleplay, a mysterious face swap, and Swatcherlele.

Self Portrait

I was terrible at making art; forever I have tried my hand at it, but no matter how much time I spend, I can't draw anything remotely decent. One day I mentioned my lack of skill to a friend who was going for an art degree at the local college, and he told me about this old technique and special paper that they used to use back in ancient times and how he'd look into getting some for me.

So I waited for what felt like years until a package arrived at my door. It was a simple brown box with my name and nothing else on it. After bringing it inside, I was compelled to open it, excited to see what this "ancient secret" was, but all I saw inside was what looked like furs, green paint, tusks, and a large piece of canvas. I let out a sigh: "Really?" "Dude decided to play a joke on me, but an entire Orc costume?"

Days later, it was late Friday night, and I decided to see what his "technique" could really do, so I took the costume into my bathroom and stripped down, making sure to read the label on the glass jar that held the paint. I noticed that half of it was written in Latin, really dedicated to the bit I see. After almost an hour, I had my entire body covered in the paint; it seemed like the jar had just enough to cover everywhere, and it seemed to dry almost instantly. I put on the fur coverings and tusks before stepping outside and reading the instructions that were in the box: "For best results, place the canvas on the floor; stand in the middle of said canvas while closing your eyes and counting to 10." With nothing else going on, I decided to go along with it. After setting up everything, I began to count "1..2..3..4..5" and so on until I reached 10, and then I felt as though the world fell away, and I swear I heard a voice, like mine but deeper and more twisted.

I fell for what felt like hours; I must've blacked out from the paint fumes or something, because my head hurt. As I tried to get up, I realized I couldn't move, and then I heard a voice, my voice: "Ah, good to see you're finally coming too; honestly, it took you long enough to try it out; I've been waiting for your friend to give me this body for ages, and damn, does it feel good?" The figure speaking was me, but different in an almost imperceptible way, and it took me a second, but I finally realized I was on the canvas!

After hours of him, the imposter, going on and on about how great and powerful he was, I had decided to give up. I tried and tried, but nothing I did could help me leave this painting. I gave in and accepted my fate. Looking at the bright side, however, I finally was able to make a decent bit of art.