Brandon Twice
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RICHIE WINS
🕑 Added 2019-11-02 22:24:58 +0000 UTCRICHIE WINS
Chet took a moment to stare into the mirror before putting his shirt back on. “Take a last look baby,” he said to Janie, who lay back in bed, tapping lazily at her phone. “If all goes to plan, this may the last time you get to see this body like this.”
Janie sighed. “Unless I cheat on you with Richie in that body,” she said. Chet spun around angrily. “I’m kidding!” she said. “Chill out. Head downstairs so we can get this going. He’s in the kitchen I think.”
Chet pulled his shirt on and rolled his eyes at Janie’s “humor.” They’d been planning this for months. Richie found the amulet just as they wanted him to. Now it was up to them to get hiim to trigger it. Then he’d have Richie’s house, his truck, all his NFL money, and his wife, and Richie could have all Chet’s debt and Chet’s shitty apartment.
Chet ran his fingers down his abs one last time as he headed for the door. “Richie is one big fat fuck,” he thought. Sure, he was muscle and brawn as well, but how did a guy that size buy clothes? Chet imagined Richie crashing through chairs accidentally on the regular; most furniture wasn’t built for a big meatslab like that. His joints probably ached all the time. Chet had been too nervous to ask Janie what kind of cock RIchie had. From Chet’s experience, big bohunks like Richie were usually packing size on their frame to make up for a lack of size down below. Chet gave his packed groin a squeeze as he considered for the first time what it might be like to walk around with a little finger of a dick between his legs.
“Guy Richie’s size,” Chet thought as he headed down the stairs, “I bet every man feels nervous when a beast like that walks in the room.” Chet had been good-looking his whole life. Other men looked at him as a threat, instantly, and since he’d never been very big, it had been all he could do his whole life to save his pretty face from the fists flying at it. “Nobody’s gonna fuck with me when I’m big Richie Incognito.”
The plan was: swap bodies, kick little Richie out, then retire from football. He had some investment strategies for Richie’s money that would have he and Janie set for life. All he had to do was come face to face with the big man waiting to squash him to a pulp in the kitchen--and get him to activate the amulet.
“Hold up, bro,” the big dope said as Chet came down the stairs. “Let’s have a chat.”
“Look,” Chet said, prepared to defend himself, but Richie seemed surprisingly calm. Was that a good sign? Chet wondered. Richie probably saw Chet, ⅓ the bodymass of big bulky Richie, and wasn’t threatened one bit. “Just wait, big fella, until the tables are turned,” he thought.
“What’s your name?” Richie asked as he headed to the fridge. He offered Chet a Budweiser, which Chet accepted.
“Chet,” Chet said. Of course, Chet thought, this fatass drinks Bud Heavies. Normally Chet would avoid all the carbs, but he wouldn’t be in this body much longer anyway.
“Cool,” Richie said. God damn, this fucker was big, Chet said. He couldn’t avoid looking at how small the Budweiser bottle looked in Richie’s big meaty paw. Chet couldn’t wait to find out what those big powerful hands were capable of. “You know I’ve got video of you fucking my wife?”
Where the fuck was the amulet? Chet wondered. Richie was wearing a t-shirt and loose-fitting basketball shorts. “His boxers could probably cover a queen-sized mattress,” Chet thought, resisting the urge to smirk. Had the big dummy figured out what the amulet was? Maybe he just tossed it in the trash. Chet wondered if they’d overestimated the gigantic athlete’s dim brain.
“Okay, you caught me,” Chet said, wondering if he should provoke Richie or wait for him to make his move. Richie seemed so damned calm it was starting to get creepy. Chet’s eyes fell to that big barrel gut. It looked solid, like it would break a man’s hand resisting a punch, but damn, what kind of lower back muscles did it take to carry around a keg like that?
“Damn, you’re so damned pretty I think I might want to fuck you!” Richie said in a threatening tone.
Just wait, Chet thought. In a second all this pretty will be yours to deal with.
“Just kidding. I’m not a fag. But you’re making me look like one, fucking my wife like this.”
Who did this guy think he was? According to Janie, Richie always climbed into bed drunk as hell, pumped away a few times and then passed out. The big lineman probably never made a girl cum. He probably thought being a big football ogre made him irresistible or something.
“She approached me,” Chet said, playing along. “At first I didn’t even know…” Chet started to worry that Richie didn’t have the amulet, and that he had just walked into the ass-kicking of his life. He could probably make it to the door if he needed to, but football players, even guys as big as Richie, were always faster than they looked.
“Bullshit,” Richie said. “Trust me, buddy. You’re making this easy. Janie isn’t getting shit from the divorce. I hope you got money, bro, because that bitch runs on cash. Once she has a bill she needs to pay she’ll be running off to somebody who can help her out.”
“You know I don’t have money,” Chet thought, “but soon you’re going to find out just how fucking broke I am! Good luck trying to buy McDonald’s later you tubby fuck.”
Time to push this asshole’s buttons. Amulet or not, Chet didn’t want to sit here chatting all night. “We’re in love,” Chet said. Your move, tubby.
Richie smashed a beer bottle on the floor behind him. The move actually shocked Chet. He leapt from his seat, considering the sprint to the door. “Keep cool, Chet,” he thought. “In a little bit this overgrown asshole won’t be intimidating anybody.”
“In love?” Richie roared. “You think that bitch is capable of LOVE?” Richie said as he leapt to his feet, all 325 pounds of him flexing and pulsing with sudden rage. Then he clenched his fists, smoothed his shirt down and took a deep breath. “I guess I’m just shocked she was into someone like…” Richie gestured at Chet and rolled his eyes. “I’m an NFL lineman. If you’re under 200 pounds, you’re a fucking chick. You should sit down to pee and get fucked in the ass.”
“Wow,” Chet thought. Imagine being so huge you could stomp your feet and get whatever you wanted. Chet was desperate to swap now. He couldn’t wait to have all Richie’s power, no matter how much fat came along in the deal. People were going to stand at attention when he was big. He watched Richie flex his big torso and his mouth actually started watering. He wanted that torso to be his own.
“What are you going to do? Beat me up?” Chet taunted. Worst case, if Richie did throw a blow, he could probably sue for some cash. Not exactly plan A, but he could live with it. “You’re twice the size of me. You’ve already got a bad reputation. Imagine how the press is going to latch onto you smashing a guy who’s not even as big as your dinners, from the look of it.”
“Eventually I’ll get to kicking the shit out of you,” Richie said. “But I want to make sure Janie sees it. I want her to see what a little tulip you are. Maybe we should go upstairs and wake her from her Zanax coma and have her watch as I reach down your throat and grab you by the dick.”
Chet saw something heavy in Richie’s pocket. It was the amulet; it had to be. “Keep barking, you fucking ape,” Chet thought. “Keep talking about how small and fragile I am. We’ll put that theory to the test when it’s me swinging those big fists!” First he had to get Richie to say the chant. He just needed a nudge in the right directions.
“There’s something you don’t know about,” Chet said, folding his arms and smiling with as much arrogance as he could muster.
Finally Richie pulled out the amulet. “You talking about that?” Richie said as he held it up. “The fuck is this thing anyway?”
“You’re about to find out,” Chet thought. But he had to get Richie to read the chant--if a caveman like him even could read! Chet pretended to reach for the amulet and Richie jerked it back, shoving Chet away. Chet hated how effortlessly Richie had forced him away. Never in his life had he ever felt so small next to another man--but not for long.
“You don’t even know what that is!” Chet shouted. He had no idea what kind of arcane power he held in his thick mitts, but he didn’t need to. That’s why he had the chant printed out and taped to the back. Read the chant, dammit!
“So what’s this on the back?” Richie said, and Chet’s heart leapt. It was about to happen. “You had some words taped on here. What happens if I read them? Some hoo-doo magic? You trying to put a curse on me, little shit?”
“Sure am,” Chet thought, “and pretty soon YOU’LL be the little shit.” What the fuck was Richie waiting for? Getting this dope to cooperate was like herding an elephant.
“Please!” Chet play-acted fear. “Don’t! You don’t know what you’re messing with! Just… let me go. I’ll never be back. Keep the amulet. Just never read those words!” And since Richie was pretty much just a child in a monstrous adult body, he would absolutely do the opposite of what Chet was begging.
Chet’s heart leapt as Richie took a deep breath, studying the back of the amulet. Then a grin crossed his thick blocky face. “Y’know, back in college I had this girl I used to fuck on the side. Jet black pigtails, super pale, freakiest chick I ever fucked. I’d never want to be seen with her in public, but the shit she could do in the dark… man!”
Chet clenched his fists. The anticipation was killing him. He imagined this must be what Janie had experienced all these years, desperately waiting for Richie to make her cum without success.
“She used to read all these weird old books, paint these creepy symbols on the ground… One time she killed a rat and did a thing with my jockstrap. I had the best season of my life after that. So when I found this amulet, I gave her a little call. Turns out she knew exactly what this thing was. She told me some interesting shit. You wouldn’t believe it.”
Chet’s eyes narrowed. The fuck was he talking about?
Then Richie spoke the words on the back of the amulet: “Morphos… T’karasai… Rigoro… Transpa!”
Those weren’t the words, but what Richie spoke had some sort of power. The amulet’s jeweled eyes glinted. Suddenly the air felt heavy, like they were underwater. Chet tried to move but his body barely cooperated.
“So you want to take my body, hunh Chet?” Richie said. He stepped forward. Somehow he could move, even though Chet couldn’t. Even his tongue felt useless in his mouth. “Let’s see what you were going to leave me with. Strip, Chet.”
Chet’s body moved on its own. He unbuttoned his shirt and set it on the floor, then pulled down his pants. He reached for his silk briefs but Richie stopped him. “Man, fancy undies, you little bitch. I bet you like that silky feel on that little bubble butt, hunh?” Richie walked a circle around Chet, inspecting his nearly nude body. He wrapped his big hand around Chet’s lean, rippling arms and poked him in his tight pecs. He ran his hands down Chet’s abs and grabbed a handful of Chet’s silk-clad junk--making him yelp.
“Honestly, I take shits bigger than you,” Richie said as he appraised Chet’s body. “You’re built like a bird but you do have some muscles on there. I bet ladies like that lean shredded shit. I’m more into size myself. Men were built to be big and strong. That’s what I’m all about.”
Chet’s eyes darted around the room. He was helpless now. He wanted to scream for Janie’s help but he couldn’t make a sound without Richie’s permission.
“No biggie. You want to be lean, I want to be big. So maybe I’ll just relieve you of all that muscle so you can be the pretty little bitch you’ve always wanted to be.”
Chet suddenly felt exhausted. He wanted to sleep for a day. He felt overcome with nausea. His body felt tight and sore, and then it felt lighter.
All the muscles on Chet’s rippling, muscular frame suddenly melted away. In seconds, two decades of hard work at the gym and meticulous dieting, all working to create a body that would turn women’s heads, was gone. He looked down at himself and saw an even smaller body. Every bit of him was scrawny and bony. He went white as he saw his thin legs and stick-like arms. The silk briefs, no longer tight as his ass dwindled away to nothing, slid down his scarecrow limbs and pooled on the floor.
Meanwhile, Richie’s already huge body seems to swell even bigger. The t-shirt was now stretched to his limit as muscle poured onto Richie’s frame. His shoulders swelled up, pecs rose to nice mounds, his lats spreading wider over a waist that didn’t change size. As a lineman, Richie’s body had been all about heft and mass, but now muscle was starting to overtake fat. He looked like an oversized powerlifter now, even more intimidating in his size than before.
“I’ll take that cock, too,” Richie said, and Chet wanted to scream as his big dick seemed to retract into itself. His big heavy balls, looking even bigger against his thin legs, shriveled as well. When it was done, Chet had a little acorn above two raisins. “Shit,” Richie said. “With liittle balls like that I bet your testosterone is gonna dry up too! Tough break, buddy.” Richie yanked down his shorts (which looked tighter on his even beefier legs and bulked up ass) and showed a cock that was seven inches soft, thick as a wrist, over two balls the size of peaches. “Jesus!” Richie said, playing with his now massive junk. “Looks like I’m gonna have an even harder time finding pants.”
Richie grabbed his t-shirt at the neck and tore it in half, revealing his unbelievably huge body. His gut now looked like a turtle shell as his thick abdominal muscles rose through the layers of belly fat beneath. “I’m a fucking clydesdale!” RIchie roared, giving his new body a huge flex. “Imagine if I were leaner?” he said.
Chet wished this were a dream, wished he were anywhere else, but he was helpless to what was going on.
“Well, I can make one more change, and since you wanted my bulk so much… it’s all yours, buddy!”
Richie’s body suddenly shrink-wrapped around its muscle. Every trace of fat melted away, leaving Richie in the shape of a professional bodybuilder. Still nearly 300 pounds, but now veiny and shredded, every muscle on his body was developed beyond belief. He was an overgrown anatomy chart. Veins snaked along his skin as the last of his chub dissolved. He could step on any bodybuilding stage now and take first place.
But all that fat had to go somewhere.
Chet whimpered as he watched his skinny body bloat out with all of Richie’s fat. For the first time in his life he jiggled, and he watched every part of him swell and sag, folding over itself. He felt so heavy. He would be winded just from walking up stairs now. His weak legs wobbled under his sudden weight.
Richie, now an unbelievable specimen of masculinity, pulled out a seat for Chet. “Looks like you need a seat buddy. Get comfy. Don’t worry, the spell’s wearing off. I can’t change you anymore, unless we use the amulet again.” Richie dropped it on the ground and stomped on it. Chet’s heart sank as he watched its pieces scatter across the floor.
“You hungry? You look famished,” Richie said, sticking out his tongue and making his vascular pecs bounce. “Jesus Christ, my tits are so big now I can’t even see the floor!” Richie said, bouncing each alternately. “Same for you!” He reached out and squeezed Chet’s soft manboob, then lifted it and let it flop down. “I think I have some ice cream in here,” he said. Every muscle in his body rippled as he walked, enormous and naked, to the freezer.
“Here’s a spoon,” Richie said, setting the ice cream in front of Chet. “Have at it, buddy! I’m gonna get my slut soon-to-be-ex-wife down here to see the guy she cheated on me with. Think she’ll still want to fuck you now? Think anyone will?”
Chet wanted to run for the door but he could barely muster the strength to stand. He couldn’t wrap his head around his own size now. He was a mound of turgid flesh, jiggling at the slightest movement. His face felt like it was drowning in flab, and every time he lifted his heavy arm to spoon out more ice cream, he felt all of it wobbling.
Somewhere beneath all that flab was a tiny, useless dick. “Have some respect!” Chet thought. “Stop eating!” But Richie was right: his testosterone was nearly all gone now. He wanted nothing more than to eat food and cry.
“Hope you’re happy now, you fat fuck,” Richie said as he reached out with his incredibly musclebound arm and helped feed Chet more ice cream.
