Hot day (Patreon)

The day was scorching hot. Engines roared, and the air hung heavy with the stench of burning oil and gasoline. Tommy, a burly man with a rough beard, was elbow-deep in yet another battered pickup truck in the back-alley garage where he worked. The clients here were a special breed—illegal racers, drifters, and those with nothing left to lose. Tommy liked it that way. A simple life: his motorcycle, cold beer, and loud rock music.

Everything went sideways when he accidentally knocked over a canister of some strange bluish liquid that had been sitting in the corner of the shop. The acrid smell hit him instantly, but Tommy just wrinkled his nose, muttered a couple of curses at the spill, and figured the cleanup could wait. His workday was over, and he hopped onto his bike. The familiar growl of the engine soothed him a little, but an odd feeling started to creep in—a slight tingling in his fingers and a faint pressure in his chest. Gritting his teeth, he twisted the throttle harder. Just get home, and it’ll pass.

When he finally pulled up to his trailer, that strange sensation slammed into him like a freight train. The wind that had been tousling his hair now felt like ice. Tommy climbed off his bike unsteadily, gripping the handlebars to keep from toppling over. His head spun. He set the motorcycle on its stand, took a shaky step onto the cracked asphalt, and stopped, frowning.

His arms crossed over his chest on their own, as if trying to shield him from the growing heat inside. He shut his eyes, his breathing quickened. And then it began.

The first jolt came like a knife stabbing into his spine, as if someone was reshaping it from the inside. Tommy reflexively arched forward, his knees buckling, but he managed to stay upright. He felt the muscles in his arms deflating, shrinking. His once-proud biceps, which bulged proudly under his worn sleeves, began to soften and lose their definition. His rough, scarred hands grew slender and delicate. What the hell?! he thought, but the voice in his head already sounded higher, unfamiliar.

He opened his eyes and stared at his hands. They were unrecognizable—smooth, unlined, with long, almost elegant fingers.

– "What’s happening?!" – he exclaimed, but his voice came out melodic, too high-pitched, far from the deep rumble he was used to.

His abdomen tensed, and he suddenly felt an upward pull in his chest. Desperately, he clutched at himself, hoping to stop whatever nightmare this was, but his fingers quickly encountered something new. His chest. It was growing. Right before his eyes, under his old, oil-stained shirt, rounded shapes began to form.

What the hell kind of liquid was that?! he screamed internally, feeling his hips start to widen, his jeans pulling tight enough to strain the seams. His stomach burned fiercely, and he was sure something impossible was happening to him. When his hands brushed his midsection, they found it rounding out as well.

The pain ended as abruptly as it had started. Tommy was left gasping, crouched on the ground. When he finally managed to stand, he felt the shift in his balance—the weight of his stomach pulling him forward, forcing him to arch his back. He staggered, cursing under his breath, and grabbed onto the handlebars of his bike for support. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion. He glanced down at his body, now alien to him. His swollen belly pushed so far out that his old shirt barely covered it. Running his hands over his stomach, he felt the taut, stretched skin beneath his fingers. And then something inside moved.

– "No… no… no…" – he whispered. His voice, high and trembling, sounded like a stranger’s, but it was undeniably his. Panicked, Tommy clutched his stomach with both hands, his heart pounding wildly. He tried to take a step toward his trailer, but his legs felt weak, struggling to carry the unfamiliar weight. His thighs and calves ached, and his feet burned as if he’d walked miles barefoot on hot asphalt. Every step was clumsy, the heavy pull in his lower abdomen making movement awkward and slow.

– "How the hell do I walk with this… and what the fuck just happened to me?" – he muttered, leaning heavily against the door of his trailer. It felt like his body was betraying him at every turn. Each movement was a battle—his legs throbbed, his back ached, and panic buzzed in his head like a swarm of bees. He just wanted to collapse inside, figure this out. But footsteps behind him froze him in place.

– "Hey, you Tommy’s new girl?" – A mocking voice rang out, stopping Tommy in his tracks like a deer caught in headlights. Slowly, he turned, bracing himself against the doorframe with one hand and cradling his stomach with the other. Billy, his obnoxious neighbor, stood there smirking. The same Billy who never missed an opportunity to hit on women at the park. His gaze was bold and far too familiar as it roamed over Tommy, completely oblivious.

– "What?" – Tommy managed to choke out. His new melodic voice lacked any of the menace he intended, and Billy’s grin only widened.

– "Wow," – Billy chuckled, his smirk turning into a full-blown leer as his eyes landed on Tommy’s swollen belly. – "Didn’t know Tommy was into… well, moms-to-be. Where is he anyway? Or are you filling in for him?"

Tommy swallowed hard, anger bubbling up as Billy strutted closer.

– "Back off, Billy!" – Tommy snapped, retreating to the door, one hand protectively cradling his stomach, the other balling into a fist. His voice quivered with both fury and panic, but the high-pitched tone made it sound more frightened than threatening.

Billy didn’t take the hint. If anything, his grin grew cockier.

– "Come on, sweetheart. Why so jumpy? I just wanna get to know you," – he said, shamelessly letting his eyes wander over Tommy’s figure again. – "Though, judging by the looks of it, we’re already pretty familiar, huh? You Tommy’s sister or something? Damn, should’ve said so from the start."

– "For fuck’s sake, Billy, can’t you see something’s wrong with me?!" – Tommy shouted, his voice breaking into a pitch that only seemed to amuse Billy further.

Billy just smirked, stepping closer.

– "Relax, gorgeous," – he chuckled, tilting his head. – "Tommy didn’t tell me he had such a hot… sister."

Tommy straightened as much as he could, fury and confusion churning in his gut, but Billy loomed larger than life.

– "I’m not Tommy’s girl, or his sister," – Tommy blurted out, trying to sound assertive. But his melodic tone came out too soft, too shaky to scare anyone. He instinctively held out a hand, trying to create some space between him and the smug idiot. – "I am Tommy, Billy!"

Billy froze for a moment, then barked out a laugh.

– "Yeah, sure, babe," – he said, dismissively waving a hand. – "Tell Tommy I stopped by. But while you’re here…"

Before Tommy could react, Billy stepped forward and wrapped him in a sudden, boisterous hug. Tommy stiffened, completely caught off guard as Billy’s arms locked around his altered body.

– "Welcome to the neighborhood, sweetheart!" – Billy laughed, squeezing so tight it knocked the breath out of Tommy. The stench of alcohol on Billy’s breath was overwhelming, making Tommy gag.

He tried to protest, but Billy, drunk and overly confident, leaned in and pressed his lips against Tommy’s in a kiss that felt as invasive as it was shocking. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Tommy was paralyzed, unable to process what was happening. Then Billy’s hand slid down to his hip, squeezing his now-rounded backside, while the other arm stayed firm around his waist.

With a burst of adrenaline, Tommy shoved Billy away as hard as he could, his newfound strength barely enough to put distance between them.

– "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" – he shouted, his melodic voice rising to a shrill pitch. His cheeks burned with humiliation and rage as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to erase the violation.

Billy stumbled back, swaying on his feet but not looking the least bit ashamed. Instead, he laughed, that same cocky grin plastered on his face.

– "Damn, girl, you’re fiery! Don’t be mad; that’s just how we say hello around here. Didn’t Tommy tell you?" – he slurred, his eyes gleaming with mischief. – "Relax, baby. Nice ass, by the way."

– "Go to hell, Billy!" – Tommy snapped, his fury boiling over. He practically slammed into the trailer door, grabbing the handle to keep himself steady. His breathing was ragged, his voice high but now carrying an edge of real danger. – "I said, get the fuck out of here!"

Billy blinked, finally catching on that something wasn’t right. He ran a hand through his hair, giving an awkward chuckle as he stepped back.

– "Alright, alright, chill out," – he muttered, shrugging as if this was all just a joke. – "Tell Tommy I stopped by."

With that, he staggered away, leaving Tommy frozen in place, trembling with anger and shame. Watching Billy’s retreating figure, Tommy clenched his teeth, fury coursing through him. He wanted to chase him down, grab him by the collar, and make him understand who he was dealing with. But as he took a step, the weight of his stomach pulled him off balance, forcing him to stop.

– "Goddammit," – Tommy muttered, gripping the door for support. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he tried to steady himself. Nothing about this made sense, but deep down, he knew the answer lay back at the garage—with that strange, cursed liquid.