Reversal (Patreon Commission for Joducus)

Jeremy held the sheet over the table, his hand trembling slightly as he looked the man in front of him in the eye and tried not to lose all of his composure. They said not to meet your idols, but he was finding the experience even more exhilarating than expected, quite the feat considering the amount of hype he’d built up for himself over the past several months. And the moment the artist took the piece of paper from his hands and gave it a once-over, nodding curtly and dropping it onto the work pile, Jeremy knew that the plane ride over there hadn’t been for nothing.

“It’s going to take a bit, so you should go ahead and enjoy the con while you’re here,” the man told him, smiling a warm smile, “come back in about… I’m gonna say three hours? Three hours should be enough!”

Jeremy nodded himself before turning around, having to stifle a very undignified squeal of excitement as the thought of his new reference sheet getting done by someone like him quickly became too much for him to handle. He could only hope that no one would look at it before it was finished; while he was certain that the instructions he left behind would make it absolutely perfect, there were so many ways someone could misrepresent a character called Thotty Buns that it left him on edge just thinking about the possibility of leaks. While a completely new character, the concept behind her was enticing enough to make him think it might just be the absolute best one to date, hence why he was holding that slip of paper the artist gave him to his chest as tightly as he would a precious golden coin.

In all honesty, whatever thoughts the name inspired were mostly entirely accurate representations of what the character herself was; though Jeremy insisted otherwise, there was very little depth to what Buns was going to be, beyond maybe a few sassy catchphrases and a penchant for hip-checking people whenever they weren’t looking. Deep down, it was simply another one of his attempts to explore a seldom-seen sexual side that he didn’t get to delve into in his everyday life, precisely because he knew it’d get him weird looks from just about everyone he knew. After all, his friend circles were all into, as they said, “normie” stuff, leaving him as the odd one out whenever he wanted to point out that yes, he did enjoy the idea of being used as a cheap fucktoy and then discarded just as quickly, using the money from whoring himself out to further modify their body into increasingly deeper pits of depravity. Hell, the one time he did say that he successfully got several people to leave the chat in disgust, only to be saved at the last second by all the remaining folks in the call thinking it was some kind of weird, long-winded joke; Jeremy saw no reason to tell them otherwise.

Three hours, at the very least. Three hours for him to appreciate and indulge in some high-quality furry art, both wholesome and otherwise, while chatting up whoever he recognized from social media, be it via their fursuits, badges, or just by waving at whoever he thought they were and hoping he got the right person. It was an absolute blast, honestly, which is why he didn’t start noticing something was off until it should have, by all means, been noticeable to other people.

For some time already his clothes had been feeling a lot looser on his body; judging from the ambient heat and the amount of people packed into the convention center, Jeremy would’ve guessed the exact opposite would be true, and yet every time he went to readjust his shirt or pants he’d find himself grabbing a lot more cloth than normal. While initially he chalked it up to some weird effect from all of the heat scrambling his brain, it got to a point where he couldn’t just ignore it; something terrible was going on with him and he had no idea what, prompting the young man to dive into the nearest bathroom, which, by some divine providence, was devoid of any kind of queue.

Inside, he stood in front of a mirror… and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was still in its place, his hair hadn’t magically changed colours and his limbs were still distinctly human. A quick look inside of his pants revealed lil’ Jeremy to still be there, safe and sound, but he still felt like something wasn’t quite right. He paced around the bathroom for a few minutes, running a personal inventory in his head, over and over and over again until finally, it hit him. Nothing had changed about him, per se, and the reason why he didn’t notice anything was wrong was, very simply, because nothing was technically wrong.

He’d just lost a good foot in height instead.

The realization hit him like a sack of empty soda cans wrapped up in barbed wire and raked through five pounds of mud, leaving Jeremy staring at himself again, dumbfounded as to how that could’ve happened. Seeking to disprove his initial conclusions, he desperately sought out anything he could compare himself to, eventually needing to settle for the stall doors themselves; though it could very well be his own panicked mind imagining things, he could swear the door handles were a lot closer to eye level than they used to be, and everything else looked to be taller as well; as soon as someone walked into the lavatories and politely waved at him, Jeremy, recognizing who that particular artist was, nearly screamed in terror. They were usually the butt of playful jokes about how short they were by the part of fellow creators, and the amazing shrinking man remembered seeing him while he was still touring about the convention center.

He was absolutely not the same height as them when the two first met. And yet Jeremy was now perfectly eye-level with them.

Ok. It was fine. It was fine. 

It was fine.

...

It was not fine.

Jeremy was half a second away from pulling his own hair out, avoiding it purely out of a primal fear that if he did, fur would come back out. This was the start of every single “transformation gone wrong” story ever and why did he have to invest in a reference sheet for Thotty Buns of all the characters he could pick? Soon enough he was going to be sprouting huge rabbit ears and massive breasts and a colossal ass a-

Wait.

There was one question that immediately popped up into his mind, just before it went wild with speculation about what might happen to him. He’d been meeting and speaking with people, in person, for at least an hour and a half, several of them he went back to at least three or four times. And yet, despite the obvious change in both his height and how his clothes looked on him, not a single one had said anything about it.

Could it be that he was just hallucinating? Maybe it was all the heat finally baking his brain inside of his thick skull, bringing up the first thing that came to it in its feverish state; obviously, out of everything he could be fantasizing about, it had to be himself transforming into his original character, because of course it was. Yeah, that had to be it. All of this was just his brain slowly cooking alive and all he needed to do was find some place cool and chill enough for him to have a bit of a sitdown, maybe nap for ten minutes, throw some cold water on himself and then go back to enjoy the rest of the convention. As long as he kept his wits about him, he should be fine; just no sucking off people for free.

Wait, what?

He didn’t just think that, did he? That… that wasn’t a thought that crossed his mind… was it?

Jeremy’s breathing grew laboured, faster and shallower, his body shaking as it tried to understand what its mind was trying to tell it. In a moment of simultaneous inspiration and despair, he convinced himself that it had to be the heat and bolted out of the bathroom, nearly tripping over his own pants when he failed to realize they had dropped down to the ground. Several con goers stared at him as he ran past them, only worsening Jeremy’s fears that he was transforming into some kind of freak. Rather than seek out the artist doing his reference sheet, however, the shorter man went straight for the nearest snack machine and bought himself three bottles of water, no longer caring for what he did to himself or how he looked to everyone else. All that mattered was getting something cold on him, because his entire body was on fire and he felt like he was about to faint from it.

Uncapping the damned things proved to be a lot harder than it should’ve, what with his hands shaking hard enough to make holding them a challenge to begin with. Still, the sudden impact of the cool liquid was enough to bring some measure of peace to Jeremy, who for all he knew was literally giving off steam from the sudden thermal shock. Of course, no such thing was happening; everyone around him was just confused why that shortstack had dumped three water bottles onto their exposed cleavage.

So delighted was he that he’d solved his problem that Jeremy failed to look down, assuming that all the stares he was getting arose purely from the odd sight of a man pulling the kind of stunt he did. It was only after he felt a lot more freedom around his legs that he thought to check out what was going on, only to see himself a lot more easily than before.

Somehow, somewhen, most of his clothing had vanished. Jeremy expected to see a soaked shirt and a pair of pants with a bunch of water sprinkled onto them, but instead was met with the sight of soft, hairless skin and the absence of any kind of clothes beyond a barely-there string bra and what amounted to a couple of triangles covering his shame between his legs. It was such an unexpected reveal that his brain took a few seconds to process just what exactly it was seeing. However, instead of the expected scream of terror or yelp of fright, what everyone got was a stifled gasp held halfway up his throat, because that wasn’t the only thing he saw!

Being so wrapped up in trying to understand where his clothes had vanished to, Jeremy failed to notice what was, perhaps, the most important detail of all: he had breasts. And not even small ones either, that he could pass off as just excess fat from his chronic lack of exercising, no, they were voluptuously large, enough that when he brought his hands to them, they each filled them completely, heavy and soft and begging to be groped by someone who knew what they were doing. Trying to see his feet was an impossibility, and for a moment Jeremy wondered just how he even saw his legs at all, much less be able to ascertain his pants were gone; he certainly couldn’t see his panties by just looking down, leaving him incredibly confused as to just when he developed those huge tits of his. Did they literally just sprout on him when he blinked?

The rest of his body wasn’t far behind in terms of changes either; when he went to scratch his back, finding it itched something fierce with the lack of his usual hairy carpet (oddly enough), his hand drifted just low enough that he felt it: the curve. Tracing his own contours, Jeremy ended up discovering that his ass had ballooned outwards as well, leaving him with such a colossal rear that he could practically sink a whole hand into a single cheek; and indeed, trying to walk let him hear those weighty things clapping loudly against one another, embarrassing him further.

But what really confused him was how nobody around him was reacting. He knew he left the bathroom as a male, albeit a very short one, but now not only did he flip biological sex, he was just barely covered up enough not to be considered naked. Jeremy expected everyone around him to respond accordingly, either by demanding he put something on to make himself decent or, in the best c-

Worst. Worst case scenario, drawing their phones to take pictures of a legitimate TF taking place in front of them. Instead, they all looked at him like he was the most normal thing in the world, with a few people even reacting poorly to his staring and telling him to do a whole bunch of things he found oddly arousing.

This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream. How, he didn’t know, considering he hadn’t set foot in his hotel room yet, but it couldn’t be real, could it?

Jeremy resolved to keep walking around the convention center, hoping to find someone who could break him out of his spell or, barring that, at least recognize what was going on. He needed a partner in his insanity, someone to prove to him that he wasn’t going completely crazy… but he wouldn’t need that for long.

Much as the folks back at the snack machine didn’t do much to help convince him he wasn’t nuts, the ones he ran into when aimlessly wandering around the scalding-hot convention center gave him a certain measure of peace of mind... just not in the best of ways. They’d approach him, unceremoniously and shamelessly slapping one of his asscheeks or grabbing one of his tits, catcalling and whooping, shouting obscenities and hidden desires and all sorts of horribly lewd things that made him want to hide and not think about them. A few even tried to tug on the fragile strings holding his outfit together, and it was nothing short of a miracle that none succeeded in removing what little remained between himself and complete nudity. It wouldn’t change much, all things considered, but it was something. And something was better than nothing.

Jeremy didn’t know what to do. Should he go back to the table and try to get the artist to stop working on Thotty’s reference sheet? Maybe if he put a stop to it, it’d all just go away, break whatever enchantment was forcing him to turn into his character and return him to his human form. It was certainly worth a shot, even if he had to cross through most of the convention center to try it out; somehow, his meandering had placed him squarely on the other side of the building from where the artist was, giving him one hell of a gauntlet to go through if he ever hoped to put an end to his transformation.

The soon-to-be-bun was even reticent to think about the fact they weren’t even furry yet, fearing that the moment the thought popped into their head, they would lose their humanity just as quickly as they’d lost everything else… and sure enough, there it was! Just a single slip of the mind and his hands were touching a fluffy bun tail protruding from the top of his rotund asscheeks, wiggling about without any sort of input from him, inviting anyone that watched to come have their fun with the transforming whore that was Thotty.

Jeremy had to fight back a lot of unwelcome thoughts as soon as he realized that he was cursed to turn into Buns. At least he could still do that, he mused to himself, rather than being entirely subsumed by the personality he gave her; the last thing he wanted was to turn into a crazed sex addict that couldn’t even begin to think about restraining herself, not somewhere full of people that would gladly take advantage of that the second they had that chance. They were already getting hit on by just about anyone that bothered to look their way, and even a few that didn’t; whatever it was that attracted everyone also ensured that a significant chunk of the con goers developed some kind of sixth sense as to where she was, because they didn’t even bother to gawk at her curves before slapping some of them.

Within minutes, most of Jeremy’s newly-furred body was covered in hand marks, either from heavy groping or the far-too-frequent spanking she was now a target of. The worst part about it was that it was starting to feel good; much as they wanted to hate it, be turned off by such blatant abuse of their body, some part of Thotty’s personality had begun to seep into their head, drawing out urges and wants that Jeremy had spent his entire life trying exceedingly hard to keep under wraps. At times, he wondered what it would be like to just cut loose and appreciate things for what they were, allowing whoever wanted to run wild with her body to… do that. It was a welcoming thought, and one that made her tremble with excitement at the mere prospect, but the “sane” part of himself won out in the end, keeping them on the straight and narrow, their face pointed at…

… wait, where was he?

Jeremy was sure he’d been walking towards the artist’s table, and yet after snapping back to reality from a fugue state he wasn’t even aware he’d been in, their surroundings were nothing like what he remembered. The door was still where it was meant to be, but the table disposition was all different, as were the people sitting behind them. Could it be that he somehow turned around again and ended up on the other end of the center, performing a full lap and, by some odd miracle, arriving from the other side of the door?

That had to be it, surely. There was no way his transformation was affecting space and time around him.

… surely.

The same couldn’t be said for his body. Though it approached the ideal image Jeremy had for Thotty Buns, there was still some work left, and in the time it took for him to make what he hoped was a lap, whatever forces had been busy transforming him into a pint-sized shortstack had made sure his new form matched Thotty’s perfectly. Perhaps a bit too perfectly, because now Jeremy could see that his creation would have a hell of a hard time walking around; with an ass so wide he could barely fit through any of the center’s entrances anymore, every step turned into a chore… and not just because of the motion itself.

It would be difficult enough if it was just that, what with needing to lift and move about what amounted to several hundred pounds of fat all focused into one half of his body, but no, Thotty’s design had far deeper implications than those. Somewhere between his head-smothering thighs, both of which had thickened enough that they could easily give a tree trunk a run for its money despite Jeremy’s short stature, his lower lips had been on the receiving end of a near-constant, torturous sequence of rubdowns, courtesy of the very same legs that kept them hidden from the outside world. Whenever Jeremy took a step, not only would both thighs squish against one another, but they’d also put so much pressure on their lower mound that it made them want to scream for someone to fill it. Not just moan, not just run their throat ragged, but specifically demand that the nearest cock-bearer show up and hilt themselves inside of her.

It was an urge he couldn’t deny, not now that he was so far into the transformation, leaving him with very little choice but to… hold still. There, in the middle of the convention center. It was either that or completely lose their mind, probably followed by dropping to their knees, ripping what amounted to a slightly larger-than-usual string off himself and begging for a couple of nice, thick cocks to be shoved into her holes. Maybe three, they did have a mouth.

Of course, such a shift in attitude was visible to everyone, though as usual, the con goers saw it less as an obscene display of whorish, slutty self-indulgence and more like business as usual; ask anyone who was in there and they’d tell you that of course Thotty was always a bun, always had an ass that wide and tits that big. She’d been heading around conventions for years at that point, constantly making a scene out of herself thanks to her ever-growing sizelust and demands for more; a few might even recall a distant day, a decade or more ago, when Buns was just a regular bunny girl with nothing special about her, before the life of easy money and easier pleasure took her over and transformed her into the hyper-proportioned creature everyone knew and loved.

For Jeremy, though, none of that would ever make sense. His life was no longer his own in the present, but he still held his past, along with a faint hope that if he just tried hard enough he could get it back and forget this whole dreadful business ever came to pass. There was nonetheless an increasingly larger part of him that wondered what it would be like if it didn’t; even that Jeremy wasn’t outright wishing for it to be permanent, but it was hard to deny that the sudden stares were doing wonders for his self-esteem, assuming it wasn’t Thotty attempting to impose herself onto his psyche again. So accustomed to being another faceless face in a crowd, Jeremy had to relish the sudden attention he was receiving, even if it was entirely based on how much of a hyper-porn star he looked like.

No sooner had the thought washed over him than something else did; much as every other transformation caught him by surprise, the latest thing to be added to their body appeared out of absolutely nowhere and left Jeremy wondering just why exactly he felt like he’d been dipped into a pool of water. It wouldn’t be until he looked down that he saw them: the stains.

They didn’t want to believe it at first; maybe they’d just bumped into something and didn’t notice, courtesy of their ass being as big as it was. Perhaps it was just all the groping; the people around him were occasionally carrying food or treats, so that could explain the sudden appearance of those splotches. Obviously, though, the only way to know for certain was to taste them, something that Jeremy was very confused as to why exactly they thought would ever work; nonetheless, their hands were acting of their own accord, and their first instinct took over. With a single motion, they drew a finger across their fur and brought a glob of that mystery fluid to their tongue, which positively identified it as exactly what he feared it was.

Now, the main question was: where exactly did he get cumstains all over himself?

He didn’t remember fucking anyone, nor getting fucked. Sudden bodily changes he could understand, but where exactly did those phantom forces get all their supply of seed from? It was all over her fur as well, staining it in large, irregular patches that oozed and gunked their way downward, pooling particularly badly on her cleavage and the top of their ass. Even worse, as soon as the bun thought it was over, the splotches were there again, while the accumulated fluids vanished to goodness knows where; their whole body had turned into an endless wellspring of fresh, musky, strong-smelling cum, producing it from nothing before it evaporated into the aether.

And, of course, that still wasn’t all.

The inside of his legs felt much the same as the rest of him did, but judging from what the rest of his journey had been like, Jeremy could only guess that it wasn’t anyone else’s fluids staining him there of all places. Sure enough, even though he nearly tripped doing so, a quick look down revealed that the darker patches of matted fur were that way thanks to their own, dried-up femcum, possibly left behind thanks to all the rubbing his lower lips were getting. Or not, really; anything seemed to go when it came to turning her into Thotty, so for all he knew that could very well just be phantom femcum that showed up because that’s exactly what he remembered he left in that goddamn reference sheet.

They needed to find that artist.

Moving from place to place became harder as the seconds ticked by, his brain no longer bothering with minutes as it succumbed to the very energies Jeremy had spent so long trying to hold down. The barrage of sensations was overwhelming to the point where they had no idea how to deal with them; if the constant pressure from the inside to buckle underneath the weight of their desires wasn’t enough, they had to contend with the endless flow of idiots and opportunists who saw her pass by and decided she’d earned a good smack. At some point, Jeremy expected someone to step in and stop people once they started getting genuinely frisky; the convention had security personnel who were meant to stop stuff like that, so why they weren’t doing anything when she was thrown onto her back and had her legs spread aside, they had no idea.

At the very least, being on the receiving end of a good lay put all her problems away, if only for a few brief minutes. It was in and out, just like Thotty was supposed to be, and her refractory period and stamina seemed to be the only parts that had been changed for the better; everyone that tried to ride her either gave in a few seconds after starting or lasted barely over a minute, ending up as panting messes on the floor while adding to the confusing mosaic of cum stains already turning her fur into a work of art. Yet throughout it all, Thotty herself never quite seemed to reach her limit; her climaxes came and went far more easily than anyone else’s of course, as was befitting a breeder bun such as herself, but no matter how many times she was driven over the edge, the rabbit was ready for more. This was more than a necessity in her profession: it was a requirement. And Thotty, being the best in the business, obviously had the chops to back it up; it was only right.

Somewhere in that whole mess, Jeremy’s mind struggled to keep up, being left further and further behind as his very self escaped from his grasp. Just minutes before he had been in control, the main force guiding that bun body of his; there were other competitors, obviously, but he had kept them in check. All it took was a moment of distraction, however, and everything came crashing down, leaving him, the sole remaining voice of reason, as the minority shareholder in what was now an establishment permanently open for business. All he could do was shout at the top of his voice and hope his body listened… which eventually, much to his surprise, it did.

No longer at the helm, all Jeremy could do was watch as his Thotty-self moved aimlessly through the crowd, occasionally stopping to entice the nearest hung fellow to come take a ride on her, only to look as dissatisfied as ever when they failed to live up to expectations before moving on to the next male over. Hours passed with this pattern repeating itself, leaving Jeremy increasingly frustrated and flustered at his inability to do much of anything at all. At least they were getting closer to where the artist was, or so he believed; on arriving at what he knew had to be the right place, he was dumbfounded to see that not only was he not there, neither was anyone else.

What had once been a corridor filled with tables and packed with eager customers wanting to get some stuff from their favourite artists was now a mostly-empty access path, cordoned off by metal bars and blocked by a single table manned by a security guard. Jeremy, safely stashed away inside of his own head, was left speechless at the sudden change, with no way of even beginning to understand, while Thotty, ever the resourceful whore she was, just kept walking until she could plop her fat tits in front of the poor man who just wanted to fill out some paperwork.

“Oh, Miss Buns, there you are,” he spoke up, addressing the bun with a far more jovial tone than her ‘owner’ expected, “we’ve been looking for you for hours, where’ve you been?”

“Oh, yaknow, here, there, having fuuuuuuun” - much as it pained him to admit it, Thotty’s voice was exactly how Jeremy wanted it to be. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing was still up in the air - “so, got the thing?”

“Yup, here you go ma’am. Stay safe!”

The security guard handed them an ID card, freshly printed and bearing absolutely none of Jeremy’s original information; in fact, the one he held beforehand had mysteriously vanished, leaving Thotty to take a good look at the new one before hanging it around her neck: a beautifully-lit picture capped a short series of identifying features, such as her name, age and, oddly enough, measurements. In that moment, Jeremy knew that he’d never be receiving his reference sheet, because there was no need for it. The transformation was complete and Jeremy had disappeared; wouldn’t be surprising for him if it turned out all of his lifetime information had been altered to match the new universal narrative. At least he got his money’s worth, in the end.

This was his reference sheet.