Bruno and Sebastian (Patreon)

[weight gain/personality rewrite]

[a powerful curse sabotages a champion bodybuilder by turning him into an obese man]

Sebastian slurped meat off the last of the wings and washed it down with the final swallow of chocolate milkshake in his glass. Wiping some froth from his beard, he grinned widely at Bruno, his big boyfriend across the table, and let out a long, slow belch. Bruno, who was wiping his plate with a forkful of his meatloaf stack, smirked back.

“That was fuckin’ hot,” Bruno grunted, swallowing his meatloaf as he adjusted his junk in his sweatpants below the table. The two men shifted their focus between their food and each other. It was clear that satisfying their mammoth hungers only served to stoke the fires of their other carnal desires.

Bruno wasn’t averse to a little PDA in a restaurant, but he reached his foot up to stroke Sebastian’s crotch but his reach fell short thanks to the distance their swollen bellies put between them and the table. Unable to tend to his boyfriend’s no-doubt needy junk, Bruno responded with a belch of his own. The whole table vibrated.

“How was everything?” the exhausted waitress said with a sigh, their check in her hand. “Anything else I can get for you?”

“Dessert?” Bruno suggested, stroking his beard with one hand, the rolls of his gut with the other.

Sebastian shook his head. “No,” he said, licking his lips. “I think we need to sample that pasta section I noticed on the menu.” Bruno’s eyes lit up at the idea. Their waitress rolled her eyes and glanced back at the kitchen.

“Okay, uh… let me make sure we’re still serving food,” she said, stomping away, their check in a death grip.

“She hates us,” Bruno said with a smirk.

“She hated us when she saw us,” Sebastian said. He let out another belch, then blushed as he heard a high-pitched fart squeak out beneath him. He glanced around to make sure none of the surrounding tables had noticed; either they hadn’t, or they’d gotten used to blocking out the sight of the couple of 400 pound men eating a dinner for six between them.

Bruno shrugged. “Skinny little girl like that probably thinks guys our size are gross,” Bruno said, patting his full belly.

“Everybody thinks guys our size are gross,” Sebastian said casually. “The looks we’ve been getting this whole meal have been pretty absurd.”

“I like the looks,” Bruno said. “Makes me feel like a real man. So manly people can’t handle it.”

“HELL yeah,” Sebastian said, licking his lips. Buffalo sauce had stained the edges of his white beard a dark orange.

“I’m fucking horny,” Bruno said in a voice loud enough that surrounding restaurant patrons could hear.

“Me too,” Sebastian said, “but I’m still so fucking hungry…”

“Let’s get food to go,” Bruno offered. Let’s get fettuccine alfredo AND cheesecake…”

“A WHOLE cheesecake,” Sebastian added.

“Hell yeah. Let’s make a mess in the hotel room.”

“Fuck yes,” Sebastian said, wiggling his hips, the friction of his cock, crowded against his bulging fatpad, making his nipples tingle.

When they finally left, the waitress did nothing to mask her relief (or her disdain at the 10% tip the two men left). There was no “dining and dashing” for these two men; Bruno used a cane to get around while Sebastian relied on his motorized scooter.

“Damn ubers are so expensive!” Bruno cursed as they waited on the sidewalk, his phone in one hand, Sebastian’s thick fingers intertwined in the other.

“It’s because of this,” Sebastian said wistfully, patting his scooter. “It’s because of me.”

“None of that,” Bruno said with a gentle pat on Sebastian’s round cheek. “I’d pay any amount as long as it means having you with me. Plus, I don’t think this big ass of mine is very ‘uber friendly’ either. That’s why we pay for the vans!”

Sebastian gazed down at the bags of to-go food hanging from the handlebars of his scooter. He had a flash of memory; the styrofoam containers made him think of blue tupperware, stacked in his fridge.

In fact, he suddenly realized he ONLY owned blue tupperware. There wasn’t a single plate in their entire kitchen.

Bruno noticed Sebastian’s distracted silence and squeezed his hand. “You okay?”

“Honey, we have plates at home, right?” Sebastian said, unable to shake the image in his mind. He pictured chicken and rice, broccoli… lean steak… BORING meals Bruno would never have allowed him to eat (even if he’d wanted them). Sebastian could clearly remember eating them.

“Plates?” Bruno asked. “You mean like, at the gym? Like 45 pound plates?”

Sebastian blinked at the question. “No, I meant, like… dishes. Why would you think of the gym?”

It was Bruno’s turn to be distracted. “I… I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Of course we have plates. Why wouldn’t we?”

Their van arrived and the two waited for the ramp to descend. As Bruno guided Sebastian’s scooter, the seated man quietly asked, “Hon… how did you know those things weigh 45 pounds?”

Bruno’s voice shook when he responded: “Babe, I’ve been sitting here asking myself that same question since I said it…”

***

Sebastian dreamt of getting his back waxed.

He woke to found Bruno’s bodyheat behind him, his lover’s expansive belly spilling up against him like an extra blanket. Bruno’s hand lay gently on his shoulder. Their CPAP machines groaned, a soothing kind of “white noise” the two had learned to love as they slept.

The dream didn’t fade. In the dream, Sebastian was getting his back waxed by a woman–a woman he knew well. “You’re like, my favorite customer!” she said. She was flirting with him. He couldn’t help shake the idea that she was touching his body more than she did with her other customers.

She called him champ every time she peeled a strip away.

Sebastian couldn’t reach his own back, but he knew what it looked like, covered with thick, soft brown hair. Bruno loved it. “My big furry grizzly,” he commented. But it felt wrong… for some reason.

“Babe,” Sebastian said, pulling off the mask pumping air into his sinuses and shaking Bruno awake. He did his usual struggle to get upright–wobbling himself across the bed until he got a leg on the floor–and glanced at the clock. It was 9:30. Why did he have the feeling he was supposed to be somewhere?

Bruno suddenly sat up with a start. “TWO MORE!” he shouted, then looked around, baffled. He looked at his hands like he was seeing them for the first time.

“Babe, are you okay?” Sebastian asked. Their bed was saturated in their sweat, the air ripe with the thick musk of their love-making along with the thick aroma their large bodies gave off naturally no matter how often they showered.

Bruno slid his own mask up over his head. “I was dreaming… that I was at the gym.”

Sebastian bit his lip.

“You were there,” Bruno added.

“I was?”

“But you were… different…”

Sebastian ran his hands over his stomach. He could only form one word: “Abs.”

“Yeah… abs… I’ve never had abs…”

“But it’s like… we’re supposed to have them, right?” Sebastian struggled to stand, using the side of the bed to brace himself. “Babe, why are we here?”

“I dunno,” Bruno replied. “I guess cuz we had bad dreams…”

“No, why are we in this hotel room?” Sebastian asked. “Why did we travel here?”

“We’re… we’re here to… we’re on…” Bruno seemed to have as much difficulty with the question as Sebastian was. Everything prior to the previous day–prior to their waking up in bed that morning–was foggy. The answers seemed just out of reach, evaporating moments before he could grasp them.

“Wait… who’s… Joey?” Sebastian’s voice shook at the final word, but hearing it made Bruno’s eyes go wide.

“Fuck… fuck… Joey… that’s… my name!” Bruno said. “And you’re Greg!”

“Bodybuilding…” Sebastian–no, Greg!--said, looking down at himself. He touched his large body as if it were the first time he’d been in it. “I’m supposed to compete at Nationals… what the fuck happened to us?”

Bruno–or rather, Joey–squeezed his eyes shut and stumbled backwards. He opened his mouth to speak but only a loud belch escaped him. At the same time, an eruption of gas escaped Greg’s ample rear. He could only lean forward and moan as the pressure escaped him.

The two portly men’s bodies deflated in an instant, their oversized pants falling to the ground as their large shirts hung loose over their compact bodies. Each of them patted their faces, grateful to feel the smooth skin they were used to, while Joey rubbed his head, happy to feel his thick blond curls and not the wispy scalp he’d had as “Bruno.”

“What… what the fuck…” Joey said, immediately stripping off his shirt. “Fuck, dude… we were… huge!”

Greg was busy taking stock off his body beneath the sweat-soaked 6XL shirt, feeling his large, powerful pecs, his rippling arms, and the vein-covered 8-pack of his abdomen. He let out a sigh of a relief, happy to be back in his own body. He was 6’2 again, his body rock-solid and dense with power, shredded down to 260 pounds of pure sinew after 14 weeks of dieting. People would still stare at him when he left the hotel room, but for a very different reason than when he’d relied on a scooter for transport.

Joey was similarly built, large and bulging with powerful muscles, but looked fuller and more pillowy than his competition-ready boyfriend. “Do we… do we still have time to get to the show, you think?” Joey asked as he looked at the deep indents their heavier bodies had left in the hotel bed.

“I’ll grab my shit. You call the Uber.”

* * *

“Man, you boys lift weights or something?” the driver asked. Greg and Joey sat in the back of his compact car, their well-built delts squeezed against each other and the sides of the car. The two bodybuilders barely had room to take a full breath.

“Nah, we just do a lot of steroids,” Joey joked. “Hey man, there’s a 5-star review and a twenty dollar tip if you stay quiet the rest of the drive.”

The driver smirked. “You got it!”

Greg held his duffel bag close to him, running through his posing routine in his head. Even if he was a little late, the superheavyweights wouldn’t be going on stage until last, so there was still time.

“Dude, it’s weird,” Joey suddenly said. “I don’t think any of my other stuff ever changed, just the clothes we were wearing. If I’d just gone through my bags, or even looked at my wallet, I would have figured out what was up way earlier.”

Greg sighed. He needed to focus on the competition, not the bizarre 36 hours they’d spent in the bodies of 400 pound obese men. Maybe discussing it, he thought, might get it out of his system. “We were too busy eating the whole time to notice.”

“And fucking,” Joey said.

“Yeah, that too,” Greg said, shaking his head.

“I hate to say it,” Joey added, “but fucking all big and fat like that… I mean, it was better sex than we’d had in years.”

“If anything, we should be embarrassed now that we’re back to normal,” Greg sighed. “We’re 260 pound muscular studs who had to put on a couple hundred extra pounds just to fall back in love with each other.”

Joey smiled at the statement. His hand moved from his own knee to Greg’s, giving it a squeeze. Greg accepted the affection, despite everything else on his mind. For a moment, he thought of the fight they’d had the morning they’d arrived in town. It was the last thing he could remember before becoming Sebastian.

“It was almost easier, though,” Joey said as the car pulled up to the event center. “No gym, no diet, just… enjoying each other. I mean, I didn’t care about anything in the world but you. And dinner, too. Lots and lots of dinner…”

“Enough, babe,” Greg said, throwing up a hand. “I gotta focus.”

“Right, right,” Joey said. “It’s just… aren’t you curious why that happened? The most fucked up thing in the world, no one would ever believe us… but how did it happen?”

“I don’t know,” Greg said as he hopped out of the car. “I’ve got a show to win, though.”

“But do you think someone, like, did that to us?”

“Babe!” Greg barked.

“All right, all right,” Joey said, throwing his hands up. “You want me backstage with you?”

Greg shook his head. “I think the less distractions, the better, after what we just went through.”

“And after the show,” Joey called as Greg headed through the crowd of athletes and fans toward the registration booth, “we figure out what the fuck happened to us!”

Greg waved back at him. Joey sighed and turned away.

* * *

Pre-judging went incredibly well for Greg. Once the massive superheavyweights–the monsters of the competition–lumbered out on the stage, the judges seemed immediately impressed by him. Even amongst the biggest of the competitors that day, Greg seemed like a giant, proudly flaunting his genetic gifts as well as the careful sculpting he’d achieved with his physique. The only one of the gigantic men who seemed to be a threat to Greg was a guy named Marcus Samuels. The enormous black man stood an inch taller than Greg and outweighed him by twenty pounds. However, what Greg lacked in size against Jonas, he more than made up for with conditioning and experience.

“80% of it is knowing HOW to show off your body,” Joey mumbled to himself from the audience as he watched the judges yet again calling Greg and Marcus out to the center stage to match poses. Greg presented himself confidently; Marcus seemed almost clumsy in comparison. The bigger man’s size seemed to be working against him, seeming almost oafish next to Greg’s pristine aesthetics and conditioning, like a superhero come to life.

After the big men left the stage, Joey left the auditorium seating, fishing out his phone. There was a two hour break between the morning prejudging and the later posing routines, after which the winner would be announced. “What’s your plan for the break period?” he texted his boyfriend. “Rest and focus? Maybe grab something to eat?” He paused as a naughty idea flashed in his mind. “Quick fuck to get the jitters out?” He followed it up with a horned smirking purple emoji before clicking send.

Joey leaned his beefy shoulder into the door to the men’s room, taking a post at the furthest urinal from the door. As much as he tried to stay focused on the competition–which, if it went correctly, would mean a revolutionary upturn for Greg’s bodybuilding career, and perhaps both of their lives–he couldn’t help but think of being Bruno. For over a day he had walked with a cane, guided his aged lover around on a scooter, traveling from meal to meal to piggy sexual escapade in their hotel room… and he had loved it!

Certainly he was glad to be walking on his own again, as well as having his big, powerful muscles back. The gawking stares he got as Joey were mostly of admiration, while the glares he’d received as Bruno had been mostly borne of pity or disgust. But still, there was something about his life as that bigger man–caring about nothing more than getting fed and being with his man–that appealed to him. He still wasn’t sure where he stood with Greg, if they would resume the argument that had been interrupted by their transformation or if they would move past it.

Before he was finished peeing, someone took the urinal immediately to his left. Of fucking course, Joey thought, trying hard not to acknowledge the stranger.

“I saw you cheering for that big guy,” the man said as Joey shook himself off and zipped up. “You a friend of his?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Joey said, eager to escape the conversation. He immediately regretted not being more forthright about their relationship, but then again, his lack of discretion about their romantic life had started the fight with Greg before they’d plumped up–that, and the 500 mg of tren and masterone in Greg’s system, of course. Maybe, Joey considered, the fact that they were together was enough. Maybe he didn’t need the whole world to know that they were dating. Joey washed his hands, cringing when the stranger–a thin but athletic man who looked to be in his fifties–joined him at the next sink.

“You think he’s gonna win?” the man asked. He presented a recently-washed, still-wet hand. “Toby Gwynn,” he said. Joey reluctantly shook back.

“Who knows?” Joey said. “It’s up to the judges now.”

“Maybe not,” Toby said. “See, Marcus Samuels is my client. Today’s going to be a big day for him.”

“Maybe,” Joey said. He wasn’t really listening. All of a sudden, it struck him that Toby looked incredibly familiar somehow.

“No, definitely,” Toby said. “Because it looks like my little spell lost its juice. No biggie. There’s still time.”

“Still time for–” Joey suddenly gasped. He shivered, taking a step backward. He had a sudden flash of memory–of opening his hotel room door and seeing Toby standing there with that same focused look he had in the bathroom at that moment. Joey’s legs felt weak. He stumbled backward… and used his cane to keep himself up.

“You okay, big guy?” Toby asked as Bruno wiped the sweat from his brow. The portly man looked confused as he looked around the restroom. “You seem lost.”

“No, I just…” He wheezed as he took a step. His ample belly loudly grumbled. His pits had begun to sweat heavily through his 6XL shirt. “I just… I think I… Took a wrong turn…”

“I’ve seen a lot of big guys today, but nobody as big as you!” Toby said.

The comment stung. Bruno blushed as he became suddenly aware of his size before such a trim and fit man. He caned over to the door, panicking as he realized he would have to squeeze himself through the doorway to get out.

Outside the restroom was even worse. Musclemen and athletes were all around! Normally Bruno didn’t give a fuck what other people looked like–he was who he was and he loved it–but his wide body, the labored waddle he used to get around, his rolls and sagging man-boobs… seeing all of these beefy weightlifters made him desperate to get out. He caned toward the door as quickly as he could move, wondering where Sebastian was.

* * *

Greg spent the two hours between shows backstage, meditating and carbing up for the night show. He visited the spray-tan tent for a touch-up, then did some pumping up with an orange band, getting his arms, chest and shoulders full of blood for the evening performance. He had turned his phone off, something he did every show. No doubt Joey would want to spend time together in the downtime, but Greg had to stay focused on the prize, and nothing else, if he was going to take things to the next level. This would be his biggest win, a career-defining moment, and he couldn’t let anything distract him.

Something made me fat. Something turned me into a fat old man.

He couldn’t think of it. It was too much to comprehend, that he had been transformed, body and mind, for over a day and never noticed. When he did notice, he transformed back. If there wasn’t a logical explanation, did that mean magic was fucking real?! And that was just the how of what happened; the why gave him chills.

Maybe the fight with Joey had done it; something to do with true love or something. Maybe Joey had wished it on the two of them, so desperate for them to be a happy couple but nonspecific about exactly what that would look like.

Somehow Greg managed to pass the time until he was due out on stage once again. He couldn't wait until the show was over. If he won, he’d ask Joey to marry him. It was long overdue, and maybe their shift to alter egos had something to do with the universe forcing that upon them. And if he didn’t win… well, that kind of thinking wasn’t something a champion did.

Marcus’ posing routine was first. Greg chuckled as he watched the big man’s exquisitely choreographed routine–not because it wasn’t good, but because it was absolutely amazing, and yet Greg knew for sure he was going to win. As the big man passed him in the wings offstage, the two nodded at each other–Marcus in his purple posing trunks, Greg wearing orange. He heard the music begin, took one step toward the stage…

…and let out a massive, rumbling belch.

He was confused the moment he took a step forward. He waved his big, flabby arms wildly as he realized he was out without his scooter. The fact that he was in front of a massive crowd of people, gasping and taking pictures of him, was the most horrifying realization Sebastian could imagine. Then he realized he was practically naked, wearing only a huge set of orange underpants. He didn’t have far to fall, his big butt hitting the stage as he tumbled back. But once he was down, he realized he couldn’t get up.

It was like something out of a nightmare, only he wouldn’t wake up. He just snapped his eyes shut and prayed for it to be over as large, muscular men came out to help him to his feet, escorting him toward the door. His agitation hit a fever pitch when a pair of police officers approached him. Of course he couldn’t answer any of their questions, nor could he produce ID–the orange underpants weren’t even his, and he had no idea where his clothes were.

Just as they discussed calling an ambulance and getting him psychiatric treatment, a man with a ponytail approached with a blanket to cover him up, offering to get him a cab ride back to his hotel room. The man even fetched a scooter for Sebastian to ride in! After all that had happened, Sebastian was so grateful for the kindness of that one man in the midst of such a strange day.

* * *

Back in their hotel room, Sebastian and Bruno opened up the two extra large pizza boxes that had just arrived. The steam, and the cheesy aroma, filled the room.

“I think we must have been drugged,” Bruno said. “I mean, how else did we get there?”

“Did we have alcohol with breakfast?” Sebastian asked, thinking back. “I don’t even remember having breakfast, now that I think about it.”

“Oh my gosh, did we get drunk?” Bruno folded a slice of meat-lover’s in half and took a bite. As he chomped, he stared off in the distance. “It’s strange… we usually don’t drink… do we?”

“Babe, that was so HUMILIATING. We can’t drink like that… ever again!”

The two fed each other slices of pizza slathered with ranch before making love for hours, passing out in the sweet exhaustion, gently petting each other to maintain contact as they drifted off to sleep. Sebastian woke up hours later, desperately thirsty, but as he shimmied to the edge of the bed, he saw his phone on the bedside table light up.

It was a number he didn’t recognize. He glanced back at Bruno, who slept with a smile on his face. Something in Sebastian’s brain told him he should answer.

“Have you recovered from this evening’s public humiliation?” asked the voice.

“Who is–”

“You’re Greg again, in mind only,” spoke the voice. In a blink, Greg found himself in a body hundreds of pounds too heavy and decades too old. He groaned at the weight of himself, felt the years weighing on him. He almost dropped the phone, but a memory of the moments just before his championship was stolen from him steeled his resolve.

“You… you fucking did this to me!” he said, clenching his fist–although the sight of the unfamiliar hand took the fire out of his rage.

“I certainly did,” the man on the other end said. “And my client will be moving on to a successful career he most definitely deserves.”

“I should’ve won!” Greg said. He tried to stand, but couldn’t, his underdeveloped muscles unable to move his bulk. He collapsed, feeling trapped in his own body.

“But you didn’t. Everyone thinks you abandoned the competition. Some people are saying nervous breakdown, others are saying lover’s squabble.”

Greg cringed at the last statement.

“But I’m sure your career will recover,” the man continued. “And the spell that keeps you in the body of ‘Sebastian’ will fade, returning you to your former state. However, I have to warn you, if you ever find yourself in a competition with Marcus, Sebastian will re-emerge. In fact, if you ever find yourself in the same room as Marcus, you’ll become Sebastian again. That means if Marcus ever shows up at your gym, it would do you well to leave immediately, or face the public embarrassment you endured today.”

“You fucker…”

“If I were you, I’d stay off the internet. Pictures of your obese form at a bodybuilding show are going quite viral.”

Greg started to grasp what this meant for his career. How could his aspirations continue if he was never able to share space with Marcus again?

“At least… at least turn Joey back,” Greg said, glancing over at his sleeping lover, blissfully asleep as Bruno.

“I have an offer for you,” the man said.

“Fuck your offer!”

“The curse stands as it is, from now on,” the man said, his voice suddenly grim. “But if you wish, I can make it so that Greg no longer exists. You’ll vanish, Sebastian will be your new life, and you can spend the rest of your days making passionate love to your dear, sweet Bruno, with all of the pressures of your bodybuilding career vanishing like a bad dream.”

“Fuck you,” Greg said, gritting his teeth, his free hand casually passing over his unfamiliar body, shocked at just how much space he took up.

“Your career is finished either way,” the man said. “I’m offering you the chance to be truly in love, truly fulfilled, or you can struggle as Greg and live under a curse forever. Your choice.”

Greg felt his heart sink. He glanced behind him. Bruno had just woken up, a smile on his bearded face. He reached out and touched Greg–no, Sebastian’s hand.

“Who’s on the phone, babe?” he asked.