Funny Snapchat Filter (Patreon)

Jacob was barely holding his phone. The beer was already starting to cloud his thoughts, but he still stared at the screen, trying to make sense of something strange in the Snapchat filter. Dan stood next to him, laughing as usual.

“Look, dude! A black chick!” Dan poked at the screen, laughing even harder.

Jacob grimaced. In the filter, he looked like a black woman with huge breasts and curls. Normally, he would’ve turned this crap off right away, but the beer and the adrenaline from his team’s recent victory had relaxed him. He was just laughing along with Dan.

“What the hell,” he muttered, bringing the phone closer to his face and looking at his new reflection in Snapchat. The smile quickly disappeared when he noticed a strange button: “Try in Real Life.”

“Hey, Dan, what the hell is this?” Jacob tapped the button without much thought.

And suddenly everything got weird. Inside his body, something chilled, and his skin began to itch, as if it were being doused with ice-cold water. He shook his head, hoping it was just an alcohol-fueled illusion, but then he felt his chest getting heavier.

“Hey, what the hell?” Jacob’s voice trembled as he touched his chest. It wasn’t like before. It had become soft… and big.

“Dan,” he wanted to call out to his friend, but Dan was nowhere to be seen. The bar around him seemed to start blurring, faces and sounds dissolving into a sticky haze. Everything got quieter, and he could feel his body changing. His favorite shirt with the logo of his beloved football team suddenly began to shrink, as if someone was deliberately making it smaller. It stretched across his chest, and the fabric felt as foreign as this new body.

“What the…” his voice changed again, becoming higher. Too feminine. Jacob started breathing heavily, trying to cope with the unexpected pressure that was literally squeezing his chest. He yanked at the collar of his shirt, but the buttons barely held on. The shirt now looked like a woman’s blouse, with an open neckline, exposing his growing breasts, and it was still shifting, changing.

His hand slid down to his waist, and that’s when he felt his jeans changing, too. They tightened, turning into skin-tight leggings, and something resembling a skirt began to appear where his waistband used to be. His sneakers felt tighter and more uncomfortable, and some straps seemed to wrap snugly around his feet.

“No, no-no-no…” he struggled to stand, holding onto the wall, feeling that he was now clearly wearing women’s shoes with high heels. Everything that had been clear before was now blurred, and it was obviously not just the effect of the alcohol. Everything around him was changing, not just him and his clothes.

He felt his new, long curls brushing his shoulders, causing a strange tickling sensation on his neck. His lips were swelling, as if someone was inflating them from the inside. “Oh, shit!” Jacob said in a now high, feminine voice and collapsed back onto the couch.

The surroundings began to shift. The bar’s walls disappeared, and the lighting grew dim, muted, as if he had fallen into another reality. Jacob blinked a few times, but with each passing second, his surroundings transformed even more. The couch beneath him became leather and slippery, like in a cheap motel. On the table next to him lay cheap makeup, cigarettes, and everything looked like it was a room for meeting clients.

“Oh, shit… Where am I?” Jacob tried to get to his feet, barely maintaining his balance on the high heels. With each step, he felt the skirt tightening more and more around his new hips, highlighting every curve. The heels clicked on the floor, and his breasts, tightly pressed into the low-cut top, now bounced with every movement he made.

The door creaked open unexpectedly. He flinched and turned around only to see some man standing in the doorway.

“Well, hello, baby,” the man rasped as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His eyes roamed over Jacob’s body, and he smirked.

“What the…” Jacob backed away, feeling his new body betray him with every movement. “This is a mistake, I’m not…”

“Oh, don’t play coy. I’ve paid,” the man came closer, sitting down next to Jacob on the couch.

“I… I’m not who you think I…” Jacob began, but the man put a hand on his waist, and Jacob shuddered at the touch.

“Come on, don’t be shy, baby,” the man smirked even wider, kissing the girl’s neck and starting to remove his jacket. “Let’s get started, yeah?”

Jacob tried to resist, realizing that he was no longer Jacob Miller, the football fan and crude racist, and that getting out of this situation was going to be difficult, especially since he was still just as drunk.