Brandon Twice
patreon
Repackaged
🕑 Added 2021-12-07 19:00:01 +0000 UTC[6 word request: Badass MMAer to chubby office worker]
Elliot went back to the breakroom, hoping for at least one remaining donut. His heart leapt when he saw two, both Boston Cremes. His favorite. He gave a glance around and slipped them both in his lunch bag. He hustled back to his cubicle before anyone was aware how much he had eaten.
Later, Ruben stopped by. “Listen, Elliot, I just wanted to say, your work seems a little sloppy lately. You doing okay?”
Elliot nodded emphatically, feeling his chubby cheeks bounce as he did so. “Oh, yes, I’m fine, Ruben. Totally fine. And if I made any errors on my reports…”
Ruben was smirking at him, an eyebrow raised. “Uh, you got a little something…” Ruben plucked a tissue from the box on Elliot’s desk and handed it over. Elliot wiped frantically at the chocolate smear below his lip. “Y’know, Elliot, how we treat our bodies says a lot about how we feel about ourselves. And if we don’t respect ourselves, how can we expect to succeed in life?”
The question was rhetorical, and Elliot’s 22 year old manager wagged a finger and then sauntered away. Elliot stared at his the huge gut bulging in his shirt and sobbed. He still had half a donut left but now he didn’t want it. He wrapped up the paper bag and tossed it in the wastebasket.
Half an hour later he dug it out and shoved it in his mouth when nobody was looking.
Work ended at 5 PM. At 5:15, Elliot was at Michael’s Crafts giving himself some retail therapy. He absolutely couldn’t afford the new paint-by-numbers sets or decoupage art kits he put in his cart, but some days it helped just to pretend he was buying it. This was one of those days.
He ended up picking up some bedazzling beads and a Reese’s cup at the register. He had unwrapped and taken a bite before Carol, who was his favorite check-out woman, had rung it up. Her rock-hard bangs bobbed as she nodded, chomping on her gum as Elliot shared about his day.
“...and he just doesn’t seem to respect me, you know? It’s like I can’t do anything right when he’s around!” Elliot whined.
“But you have a crush on him, don’t you?” Carol said in her Southern drawl.
“NO! God, no. Ruben’s the worst…” Elliot said as he blushed, a sheen of sweat forming on his balding head as he imagined Ruben’s broad shoulders, and his butt in those well-tailored pants.
The new stockboy walked by in his red vest. Elliot’s eyes clung to the twenty-year old’s lanky limbs as he swaggered by. Carol clucked her tongue and put a hand on Elliot’s arm.
“Baby, it’s nice to dream and all, but sometimes we can’t find happiness if we don’t look in the mirror and REALLY look at who we are,” she said, shaking her head. “You can’t spend your whole life ogling guys who are thirty years younger, just pining away. Maybe think of finding someone your age? Have you thought of joining a dating site?”
Elliot gulped down the rest of his candy and stared at his uncomfortable shoes. He felt so old, so overweight… It felt like life had just gotten away from him. He took his bag of beads and headed for the door.
“Baby, if you’re lonely, just get a cat!” Carol added as the doors slid shut.
Elliot paused outside his Toyota as he fumbled with his keys. His shoes felt incredibly uncomfortable. He moaned as he felt like his toes were being crushed. He dropped his keys and his bag as he frantically pulled them off. He watched, horrified, as his feet expanded to several inches longer than he was used to.
“What’s happening…” he moaned. “Oh gosh, I need a doctor,” he said. Then he noticed dark lines appearing on his arm. “Oh god… Carol? CAROL!” he shrieked at the store as the lights in the sign shut off.
Elliot felt a pain in his chest that he was sure was the first signs of a heart attack. His joints ached. He felt pressure behind his eyes. He fumbled for his phone and froze as he watched his hands getting thicker.
Suddenly his panic faded. He took a long, deep breath in lungs that seemed twice their normal size. He watched calmly as his arms and legs lengthened, the bloat in his body dissipating as his skin tightened around hard, lean muscles. His vision went blurry, but he realized a moment later it was because of the thick glasses on his face. He slid them off and stood, gazing at his reflection in the mirror.
It was his face–not Elliot’s, of course, but his name wasn’t Elliot. It was Eli… Eli Page. He wasn’t a low-level office employee–he was an MMA fighting champion! His hands traced the hard lines of his face as he studied his reflection. He felt divided for a moment, his memories of life as Eli returning as he tried to reconcile the fading memories of his life as Elliot.
At 6’7” tall, Eli’s clothes were both far too short and far too wide for his body. He looked ridiculous, but he was grateful to be back in his body again. He ran his hands through his long mane of blonde hair and stroked his beard. All of the aches of his MMA career had returned, but so had his strength. His huge, tattooed body was just as it was supposed to be once again.
Eli clenched his fists. He could still taste the chocolate he’d just eaten. He recognized the beads he’d bought, remembered how badly he’d wanted them… but those were all the feelings of another man. He kicked the beads away and grabbed the keys–Elliot’s keys, of course, but he would be back in his own truck soon enough.
Eli had to slide the seat back all the way just to get into the little car, and even then he felt cramped. He pulled out his phone to call his boyfriend Brent–good god, how long had he been away? Eli’s face wouldn’t unlock Elliot’s phone, so he resorted to the password. The numbers spelled out, “S-O-P-H-I-A,” Elliot’s favorite Golden Girl. Eli gave himself a light punch in the face to distract from the sting of his shame.
“Fuck!” Eli roared as he realized he didn’t have any phone numbers except Elliot’s. He had to get home. He had to get to Brent.
“How fucking long have I been gone,” he asked aloud as he recalled his past month as Elliot: moving to town, applying to jobs, showing up late to the interview with Ruben… He actually felt excited when that smarmy little shit had hired him. He’d actually been attracted to that little pip-squeak! For three weeks he’d worked at that office as Elliot, humiliated, ashamed, dumpy and OLD. Every condescending comment from his coworkers, every degrading interaction with Ruben, every moment of corporate minutiae he’d been fully engaged in made him grit is teeth and clench the wheel tightly.
“I can’t fucking believe…” he said aloud. “I can’t believe I actually worried about that fucking job!” He remembered what it felt like to shower in that old, blubbery body… the frumpy clothes he’d worn… the way strangers disregarded or looked down on him… The massive, tough-as-nails fighter couldn’t believe that had been his life. How was that even possible?
“Okay,” he said as his memories as Eli seemed to come in more clearly. “Okay, I remember… the press conference before the fight with Terrence Walker…” He took a deep breath and struggled through the haze in his mind. Terrence had made a joke about fucking Eli’s boyfriend. The reporters actually laughed. Eli remembered how he lost it at that, taking a swing at Terrence before their agents and security burst in and tore them apart. He couldn’t wait to absolutely destroy Terrence.
That fight was a major event, the next stepping stone in Eli’s career as an MMA fighter. As he parked outside his house (with the awful feeling that he hadn’t been there in a long time), he pulled out his phone and did a quick search on his own name.
“MMA FIGHTER GOES MISSING, FORFEITS FIGHT”
Eli leapt from his car and sprinted for his house. Of course, he only had Elliot’s keys, but he grabbed the spare from under the mat and ran inside. “Brent? Babe? I”m home! Baby, I… I don’t know what happened… I…”
He froze when he got to the top of the stairs. His bedroom door was wide open and Terrence was lying on his bed shirtless.
“Well, fuck me,” Eli’s shaven-headed oppenent said. “Look who came home.”
“You… son of a…” Eli said, preparing to deliver the beatdown of a lifetime.
“Stop right fucking there, buddy,” Terrence said. He hopped to his feet. Terrence was two inches shorter than Eli but just as sturdily built. The two massive men approached each other, fists doubled. “Why the fuck are you dressed like that?” Terrence sneered through gritted teeth.
Eli paused, glancing down at his ridiculous attire. He still wore Elliot’s sweatervest and shirt, although it only hung past his chest, leaving his midriff bare, and the sleeves had burst around the shoulders. His pants hung low on his waist but only came down to the top of his calves, drooping in the back since Elliot’s fat ass wasn’t there to fill it.
“Why the fuck are you in my fucking HOUSE?” Eli roared, brushing off the issue of his attire.
“I’ve been comforting your boyfriend since you fucking vanished without a trace,” Terrence said. “Left the poor guy all alone here without even a note. You think he took that lightly?”
“Oh, am I supposed to believe he just hopped in bed with my mortal fucking enemy after only a month?”
Terrence shrugged. “Truth be told, big guy, things weren’t going that great with you two before. And he and I had already started talking before you up and took off. Where the fuck have you been, anyway?”
Eli shook his head. He had a sudden memory of singing “Happy Birthday” to a secretary named Helene with a cone party hat rubber banded to his head.
“Never fucking mind that,” Eli said. “You have one second to get out of my FUCKING house before I toss you through the fucking window.”
“You raise one fist to me now, big guy, and you’ll be Elliot forever.”
Eli froze. His blood went cold. “How the fuck… how…”
“I gotta say, I’m surprised the enchantment wore off so soon. I figured I’d have a full year without you before you popped back in. You must have a strong will to shake that off.”
“How the fuck…” Eli was floored by this news. He still hadn’t accepted that he’d been an obese fifty year old for a month… but somehow Terrence had done this to him?
“So here’s my deal, big man. Brent’s gone but he’ll be back soon. Truth is, things are over between you two. They have been for awhile. He’s mine now. So you scram, leave me and your ex- to our happy little lives, and I’ll let you stay how you are. You can probably even salvage your career, too, if you come up with a good story about where you’ve been for the past month. I wouldn’t try telling them that you were transformed into a middle-aged loser, though. Pretty sure they’ll lock you up and blame it on getting punched in the head too many times.”
“You… piece of…” Eli’s nostrils flared. He had had enough of this. He lunged forward, but just before his fist connected, Terrence had produced a purple gem from his pocket. He held it up, chanting something in another language. “Fuck… no…” Waves of energy were pouring from the gem; Eli couldn’t see them but he could feel them, pushing him back.
“I told you,” Terrence said. “I gave you the choice. I guess you just really want to be Elliot, don’t you.”
Eli fell to his knees. He belched loudly as he saw his abs suddenly distend. “No… no!” he cried as his hair began to recede and go grey. Terrence seemed to be growing taller, but in truth, Eli was getting shorter, his body compacting down more than a foot to Elliot’s 5’5” height.
“See, the trouble is, I buried your personality under Elliot’s,” Terrence said as Eli’s muscular face bloomed with a sudden paunch. “But you’re a fighter. You fought your way out again and undid the spell. So this time, what I”m gonna do is, I’ll leave you there. You’ll know you’re Eli, but it won’t make a fucking difference. Because I’m gonna call the cops and tell them some crazy old fucker is here. And who’s gonna believe who you are, Eli?”
Eli suddenly let out a long fart he hadn’t felt coming. His face reddened as he realized he’d shit his pants. “Oh, oh gosh,” he said, grabbing at his bulbous, sagging ass. “What… what did you do to me?”
“Just repackaged you, buddy,” Terrence said as he grabbed one of Elliot’s flabby manboobs and gave it a jiggle. The pudgy man weakly slapped the hand away.
Elliot stood on his two feet again, ready to fight, but the blows landed weakly. His hands wouldn’t stay fists; he was just slapping Terrence, making the much bigger man laugh as he easily swatted him away.
“That’s it, buddy,” Terrence said. “That’s the end of your time as Eli. I thought I gave you a cushy enough life, though. Could be worse. I could have made you homeless or something.”
The front door opened downstairs and Elliot turned around in a panic. “Brent…” he said weakly. His heart leapt at the thought of seeing his lover once again… until he looked down at his soft, sagging frame. He sobbed.
“You really want your boyfriend to see you looking like this… with shit in your pants? Or you want to head out the back door?”
Elliot whimpered as he turned away from Terrence, heading for the back staircase as he heard Brent approaching.
“You ever come back, I’ll make it a hundred times worse,” Terrence threatened as Elliot waddled away, blubbering. At his car, he gave one last look up at the house he had bought, realizing he was probably never going to see it again.
Comments
welan
To your point . I think it felt so real to us. Turning fat and miserable in a cubicle job. Is not that uncommon compare to let say being an midget bodybuilder with an bitch voice and clown feat.
Jock
I truly prefer stories that don't have 'happy' endings. At least: when changes are forced upon someone, their struggle with those changes is hot to me. When changes are 'accepted' by the person being changed, it turns into something less erotic to me. That said, I think the difference with this story, is you did a great job (maybe too good a job, B) of making the reader sympathetic to Elliot. Elliot is so pathetic in fact, that we feel really bad for him - instead of cheering that the bastard Eli got what he deserved. Of course, still awesomely well written, as always!!! :)
Scott Henze
that one made me really sad, good writing though
welan
More like you were particularly mean . Good story . Make me wonder if your boss denied you your day off however 😂. Did not turn him in a twink or a slut . Just . Someone bound to be miserable .
Brandon Twice
You mean in a bad way?
welan
That hurt . You okay Brandon ? You seamed in particularly bad mood when you wrote that one . :P
