What if one day, everything someone said about you became true? Everything someone says to your face, whether lie, sarcasm, joke, hyperbole… would change you. 18 year old campus douche Nick learns this the hard way, faced with a curse after he led on the wrong girl. How will he get rid of the curse, and more importantly… just how much will he change in the meantime?
“Come on, kiddo!” he shouted. “You don’t wanna be late for school again. Deal with your mornin’ wood and join me for breakfast.”
I didn’t have wood that morning. But the moment he said that off-hand joke I’ve come to expect from him, I heard that ding again and felt my dick instantly start getting rock hard.
Riiight, I thought, trying to adjust my sudden erection. This is something I have to deal with now. I still hadn’t processed exactly what had happened but in the grogginess of the morning I didn’t have the energy to freak out about it. What I knew, or at least, what it seemed like, was that when someone talks to me, and they say something false related to me… that false statement becomes reality. So far, that meant I was gay, I woke up with morning wood today, and…
I thought back to the night before, the other time I heard that ding. Oh, right. My best friends are in love with me. I shook my head and I stepped into my shower. (Rubbing one out to an imaginary man, for the first time.) When I was done I got out and stepped in front of the mirror, looking at myself. I was really just… an average looking kid, for the most part. I ran my hand through my hair, short and black. Shaved whatever I had of a mustache, looking down at my chest… I forgot how hairy I was getting (my dad’s genes.) I had a regular old, average build. Not bony, not really muscular or fat, just a filled out body. How did an average kid like me… end up mixed up with these kinda kids? Why wasn’t I one of the undesirables like Madeline?
I knew the answer, of course, but I didn’t want to say it.
I sighed as I started to get dressed. I needed to go find her, apologize, do whatever it takes to fix this before it gets out of control. But first… I need to understand how this works. I walked out towards the kitchen and saw my dad already sitting there, breakfast ready. I figured he’d probably end up being the perfect person to test this with. After my mom died, and my brother left for college, me and him had a relationship more like two friends than father and son. I knew he wasn’t gonna be afraid to make weird jokes, exaggerate, say bizarre things. The exact thing that would change reality.
I didn’t want to push it. I didn’t want him to say something that’d screw me up too bad. But hopefully just talking to him he’d give me something to work with to find out what I want. Now that I’m an adult, he’d joke with me about shit like sex, drinking… as if I wasn’t his son.
I sat down at the table across from him. “What’s up dad?”
My dad cocked an eyebrow. “What’s up with you? Must’ve been partying for hours last night. How’d it go?”
“Um… it was okay, I guess. I dunno, I feel a bit weird after last night.”
“I think that’s called a hangover,” he chuckled. “You know, you really gotta lay off the beer. You’ve practically got a full blown beer belly at this point!”
Ding. Jesus fucking christ. That was the first thing he had to say? I looked down, almost hoping nothing would happen. It did, of course. I instantly felt my abdomen start to extrude. It felt like any bit of pillowing I had compressed into itself and then exploded outward. It pushed my shirt up past my bellybutton as it grew, exposing my skin to the cold air. My chest grew thicker too, and as I grabbed and shook one tit with my right hand my entire torso jiggled. I felt horrified. I had nightmares about this exact kind of thing where getting older made me fill into a whale-sized dad bod. I just didn’t expect my dad to be the one giving me the bod.
I figured now would be my only chance to ask something before I tried getting him to set it back. “U-uh,” I started, “how long have I been this big?”
“Oh man, you started getting bigger a year and a half ago. I dunno why you chose to wear one of your old shirts though. Do you want the whole school seeing your uh… navel?”
Okay, I thought. Now I know three things. It’s not instant for me, it seems to change everyone’s memories… and “practically have” means “do have”. Now how do I get him to put me back to normal? It’s not like I can just tell him what’s going on, he thinks I’ve been like this for a year… he’d think I’m crazy. I gotta try to herd him.
“Um, don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” I asked. “I wouldn’t say I have a… full blown beer belly, would you?”
He smiled. “No, I think beer belly is going easy on you. You look more like you have a whole-cake-every-day-for-three-years-belly.”
Ding. My dad and his goddamn hyperboles. I felt myself start growing again. Suddenly the hard, round belly lost all structure, flopping over my barely holding together waistband. I could feel my love handles spill out of my jeans like a muffin being baked. I had no idea what a whole cake every day for three years would really do to my body, but I didn’t want to sit around and find out. I spoke while I was still growing.
“C-come on, at least lie to make me feel better.”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed, as if I wasn’t blob-ifying right in front of him. “You have a… moderately sized beer belly. Happy?”
Ding. The growing stopped, and like a stretched spring, shank back down to a lot closer to its original size. It’s weird; I could feel all of this happen, even though these feelings by all means should be impossible to experience. It felt almost as if all the fat under my skin was reeling back in somewhere, like a tape measurer coiling back into nothingness. By the time I was done shrinking, I was maybe ten or fifteen pounds heavier than I had been yesterday. It wasn’t perfect… but it was probably the best I was going to do after that ordeal.
I shook myself off and stood up, my Dad handing me my backpack as I walked towards the door. I… didn’t want to risk something else like that happening again, but at the same time… I needed to figure out if I could get him to revert something else. Maybe if I didn’t come out as gay, I could get someone else to offhandedly say I’m straight.
“Hey dad,” I asked, nervously. “Did I ever um… come out to you?”
He shot me a confused glance. “Son, why would you have to come out to me? You talk about your sex life all the time. I already know you like guys.”
I cursed. He was right. I had talked to him about my sex life… I had talked to most people about my sex life. I guess now those memories just contain men instead of women…
“Unless,” he started joking. Oh no. I started walking towards the door. Maybe I could slip out before I heard him say something. “Unless you want to come out as something else?”
“No, dad,” I nervously said, fiddling with the lock.
“Come on,” he chuckled, “you know I won’t judge any of your weird sodomite fantasies.” I knew he wasn’t serious. It was just his dark humor, like he always had. Just now was… not the time. “What is it?” he asked. “Beastiality? Bondage? Something with feet?”
I got the door open and slid out as fast as I could. “Dad, seriously, now is not the time,” I said, starting to close it.
He laughed again. God I hoped he would stop laughing. “Okay, okay, I get it. You can tell me all about how you want to fuck your dad when you get home.”
The door finally closed. Ding. For fuck’s sake.