A juicy trade story from the juiciest artist who draws the juiciest dudes,  win21x who also specializes in leaving people in chubby situations! Please show them some love, and remember to give them a watch if you're a chubby dude lover... Couldn't be me... HEY! Want to read the story in its original format? Click here...

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The flickering candlelight cast shadows across the cluttered study as Chester traced his fingers over the runes in his grimoire. Delayed casting and curses, or “past, present spells” were a fickle art, but he was determined to master it. With careful precision, he whispered the incantation, shaping the magic to take effect in two minutes, or so. He knew it would work. 

Magic had always fascinated him, this complex manipulation of time was a challenge unlike anything he had encountered before. The potential for mistakes was immense, but the rewards were worth it. Chester could feel his heart beat faster as he prepared himself.

Seconds passed. Then… nothing. Thirty seconds.

He frowned, glancing at the clock on the far wall. The minute hand had barely moved. He was doing this right, wasn’t he? He closed his eyes for a moment to refocus his concentration, willing the magic to come alive. His fingers tingled with anticipation.

Sixty seconds. 

Then, the world lurched.

There he was - as a student… studying in the halls of Magicka Associates, though it wasn’t the familiar study he had once known.  Chester had no idea where he was… or why he was. He tried to take in his surroundings, but everything felt too distant, as if he were seeing the world through a foggy window.

He had gone back in time. Somehow, inexplicably, he had been hurled into the past. The halls were buzzing with students, many of whom glanced at him as he shuffled by. A ripple of laughter followed in his wake. Chester's round belly jiggled with every step, the thin tail trailing behind him like a long, erratic whip. 

His red eyes darted around, but he couldn’t seem to find a place for himself in this strange, younger version of Magicka Associates. It was the same building, the same towering walls filled with the echoes of knowledge, but it felt foreign, like a dream that had slipped too far from reality.

And the laughter. The snickering. It stung. Humans. Gods, he hated them. 

“Look at that,” a voice called from a nearby group of students. Chester turned toward them, though his head felt heavy, the horns weighing down his thoughts. Two girls, barely older than he used to be, were giggling as they pointed at him. “Aren’t you a little... behind on your transformation, imp?”

Chester blinked, a slow, dull confusion settling in. He wasn’t sure how to respond, how to make sense of it. His fingers curled into the soft folds of his belly, the sensation of being mocked unfamiliar in this body. But something inside of him, it wasn’t quite anger, not quite shame…

There was a disconnection between what he used to feel and what he felt now. It was as though the humans around him had never been more distant. And yet, the sting of insults lingered. How dare they?

Another laugh broke through the air, sharper than the rest. “Imps can’t do magic,” a boy sneered, stepping out from the group with a swagger. His robes were adorned with symbols that Chester barely recognized. “Not like us. You’d need a miracle just to manage a simple spell, you know?”

The boy’s eyes sparkled with a sense of superiority as he crossed his arms, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing Chester. “Don’t you get it, imp? You’re a joke. You’ll never be one of us. Not in this form.” He paused, then sneered. “Magic is for real magicians. Not... you.”

The words hit Chester in a place he couldn’t quite reach, a place buried deep inside him, the remnants of the magician he had once been. He wanted to shout, to prove them wrong, to feel the magic flowing from him again… but nothing came. No spark, no flicker of arcane power. 

He looked down at his chubby, impish body. His round belly, the horns that twisted from his head, the tail that flicked nervously behind him, none of it felt right. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be the object of ridicule. Yet, in this moment, in this strange, distorted past, there he was. A failure. An imp.

Ninety seconds.

The world around Chester spun violently, the walls of Magicka Associates warping and distorting as though they were made of smoke. His vision blurred once more, and a familiar feeling of vertigo overtook him, heavier this time, as if the very air was pulling him apart.

His body jerked forward, and the floor seemed to rise up to meet him. The echo of laughter, the murmurs of the students… everything around him became distant, like a sound fading into the void.

He gasped, his heart pounding in his chest as the disorientation grew worse. A sudden rush of air, sharp and cold, whipped through him. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the floor. Everything spun, until…

Thud.

Chester’s hands slammed into the cold stone of the floor, the sensation of rough stone scraping against his palms as his body stilled. He blinked. The dizziness was still there, but not as overwhelming now. He pushed himself up, squinting at the surroundings.

The halls of Magicka Associates were gone, replaced by the familiar cluttered study of his own home. The old, worn wooden desk, stacks of books and scrolls, the scent of parchment, it was all back. But it wasn’t the same.

His vision blurred and swirled around him, the candlelight taking on a strange crimson hue. The ground seemed to shift beneath his feet, spinning wildly as a dull, overwhelming heat spread through his body, pooling in his belly and coiling up his limbs. His skin prickled, stretching as if he were shrinking, bending in strange directions.

The heart in his chest hammered louder, the rhythmic pulse beginning to resonate through his body with a strange energy. His ears rang with a high-pitched hum, as though the air itself was vibrating with something ancient and unstoppable.

Something was wrong.

Who was he?

Where was he?

Chester tried to speak, to call out, but no sound came. He could feel his body changing, his shape shifting… but it was like being trapped inside his own skin, unable to control the transformation. It wasn’t like anything he had practiced. This was... different. Much too different. His mind spun with panic, but then, like a distant memory pulling him under, the sensation began to slow, like the spell itself had decided to take control.

He looked down in confusion, his eyes widening as he watched his body begin to change. His once firm, lean stomach began to swell. At first, it was a small protrusion, the kind that might come from overeating at a feast, but it quickly grew, expanding outward with an alarming, unnatural speed. His belly bloated, pushing against the waistband of his robe, making it feel tighter and tighter. 

The flesh felt soft, spongy even, as though layers of fat were quickly accumulating just beneath his skin, rounding out the contours of his abdomen. A sharp breath escaped him as the weight seemed to settle there, like a heavy, unwanted burden. His once flat, toned stomach now sagged slightly over his waistband, a round, pudgy belly that pushed outward, jiggling slightly with each frantic movement he made. 

The skin stretched tighter, becoming smooth and taut, but soft to the touch, softer than it had ever been before. His sides flared out, bulging over the fabric of his robe as his torso grew thicker, fuller. He could feel the roundness of it, the way it hung from his frame, pulling his posture forward and making every breath feel deeper, heavier.

His limbs were next. His arms and legs, once slender, quickly began to fill out, gaining weight in a way that felt unnatural to Chester. His arms thickened, the muscle and bone beneath giving way to soft flesh. His hands, too, began to change, growing rounder and softer as his fingers filled with pudge, his knuckles disappearing beneath a thick layer of fat. 

He flexed them in confusion, but the pudgy fingers only seemed to get clumsier, less nimble than before. It was as if the very dexterity that had once made him a skilled magician was slipping away, replaced by an awkward, sluggish form that was becoming more and more foreign to him with every passing second.

His legs grew heavy, too. He could feel them thickening as his thighs grew wider and his calves expanded, bloated with the same soft, swollen flesh. His once firm, agile legs felt weighted down, like he was carrying a burden he couldn’t shed. As his knees bent, his entire lower body seemed to sag slightly, adding to the growing heaviness of his new form. His feet, too, seemed to swell, the fabric of his shoes tightening uncomfortably around his feet, stretching under the pressure as his toes thickened.

And then there were his eyes. Chester’s eyes… once bright, blue and full of life, turned a deep crimson, the pupils narrowing into slits that glowed faintly with an eerie light. His vision swam in and out of focus as the changes continued, the pressure in his head growing with each moment, until it felt as if his very brain was being altered. 

He could feel the horns starting to emerge from his skull, two sharp points that pushed their way through his hair, curling upward like those of an imp. The sensation was intense, almost painful, as the bones in his skull shifted, making space for the new, twisted growths.

The only thing different from the feeling of instant chubbiness, and the sleekness of his new skin, was the tail. He could feel it behind him, long, thin, and erratic, like a nervous twitch of an animal. It flicked and swished, the muscle beneath pulling at his lower back as the tail grew longer, stretching out like a whip, adding to the growing sense of disorientation that enveloped him.

And then once more, clarity.

One hundred and twenty seconds.

Chester blinked, slowly bringing his trembling hands to his face. The reflection in the dusty mirror across the room was not his own. His fingers, now thick and soft, no longer the nimble hands of a magician, touched unfamiliar features. Red eyes stared back at him, wide and startled, their color unnatural against the reflection of a face that was no longer his own.

He clutched at his soft belly, now fully aware of how much it had changed, how much he had changed. His body was no longer his own, and he could feel the panic begin to rise within him, a helplessness that mirrored the chaos unfolding in his mind. His big belly, his pudgy arms and legs, the way his movements had become sluggish and awkward, he was an imp now, in every way that mattered. 

Panic bubbled up in his throat, but only for a moment. The initial shock of the transformation quickly faded into something... calmer. It felt more natural now. The panic melted away, replaced by a strange sense of... detachment. His thoughts became disjointed, as if his mind, too, were reshaping itself along with his body. There was a strange, hollow feeling in his chest. Something was missing. Something important.

He frowned, struggling to recall something, anything. A flicker of a thought passed by: a home? A study? A purpose? But those thoughts scattered like birds, vanishing into his mind. He could no longer hold onto them, nor did he seem to care much about them. All that mattered was the strange, sluggish satisfaction of this new form, this new body.

Chester staggered forward, his movements clumsy and slow, struggling to find his footing in his transformed body. He reached out with his strange, thick fingers to grasp the door handle. The action felt foreign, as if he had never done something so simple before. The door creaked open with a groan, and he stumbled out into the night air, the cold biting into his soft skin.

His feet shuffled forward on their own, dragging his body along with them. The night was cold and quiet, but Chester didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t even register that he was no longer in the study, no longer in the home he had known. The world felt distant now, as if it were an afterthought, something that had little to do with him.

Where was he supposed to go?

The question lingered in his mind, but he had no answer. The thought dissipated as quickly as it had come, swallowed up by the swirling emptiness inside. The path before him stretched out in the dim moonlight, leading to somewhere he couldn’t quite comprehend. He could sense, though, that there was something to be done. Someone... someone might need him. Yes. Perhaps someone needed a servant. It felt right, that notion. As if it had always been his purpose.

With a slow, confused grunt, he waddled forward, each step heavy but determined. There was a vague pull in the back of his mind, urging him onward. He wasn’t sure where he was going. But wherever it was, he was certain he would find the answers eventually.

And if he didn’t? Well, that was fine too. It didn’t matter anymore.

In the study where it all began, the grimoire lay open on the desk, its ancient pages catching the candlelight. The magical aura that had once swirled around Chester’s body now settled into the stillness of the room.

Chester’s eyes, no longer fully capable of concentrating, had missed a key detail… one he could never have expected, nor understood until now.

“Delayed magic, when used on one’s own self, has far-reaching consequences.”

If Chester had taken the time to read, to truly study what lay before him, he might have realized that the spell was not just about delaying an effect. It was far more dangerous.

As Chester had cast the spell, he hadn’t just delayed its effects. He had bound himself to it, anchored his fate within the flow of time. The magic didn’t merely transform him physically… it had torn at the fabric of his existence itself, forcing his history to reshape in ways no human mind could comprehend. Chester had gone back in time.

The grimoire revealed the horrifying truth: in that single moment, the spell had followed him. It had unraveled his past as a human, rewriting his history as if he had never been the person he was. Chester had once been an aspiring magician, driven by ambition. But now, history had bent and twisted to accommodate the new timeline, one where he was a creature of instinct and purpose, not magic. An imp, a creature that had never been meant for greatness… and a fat one at that. 

Chester was no longer the man he had been. He was something else entirely, and the history he had once shaped had crumbled, a forgotten echo of a time that never truly was.

PROLOGUE

The cold air of the early morning seeped into Chester’s soft, sleek skin as he trudged through the darkened streets. His feet, heavy and uncoordinated, dragged with each step, and his mind, once filled with the sharp clarity of magical knowledge, now felt like a fog, indistinct and blurry. 

He had long since forgotten the name he once held, the identity he had clung to. His thoughts were reduced to simple desires, simple feelings. He rubbed his swollen belly absently, the warmth it provided now a comfort instead of a concern. He wasn’t sure why he did it… just that it felt… right. His fingers, thick and clumsy, felt the strange sensation of his soft skin, his stomach swelling with each awkward movement.

The world around him seemed distant and uninteresting, a blur of shapes and shadows. He wasn’t sure where he was going, only that he had to keep moving. The urge to serve, to be needed, filled him, a nagging pull he couldn’t ignore.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the darkened streets, a voice broke the eerie silence. "What do we have here?" The voice was young, curious, yet cautious.

Chester turned toward the sound, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. His thick fingers reached out in search of something, anything, to steady himself. He wasn’t sure why he was being addressed, but the voice, it felt… significant. The man before him, a young wizard no older than Chester had been, stood with a concerned look, his robe flapping slightly in the breeze.

The apprentice wizard's eyes widened as they took in the sight of Chester, his large belly, the strange horns jutting from his head, and the swishing tail.

Chester stared at the wizard for a long moment, his mind struggling to form the words he wanted to say. His speech had devolved with the transformation, his once clear and deliberate voice now reduced to guttural sounds, barely recognizable. His lips parted, but only a low, almost growling noise escaped, a mix of frustration and confusion.

"Yayhh- yaaau…" Chester muttered, his voice a rasp, thick and unintelligible, like he was struggling to recall how to speak. He rubbed his belly absentmindedly, the motion soothing, comforting.

The pull of servitude, that deep, insistent need to follow, overwhelmed him. His body seemed to react before his mind did. With an awkward grunt, Chester floated a few inches off the ground, his form shimmering as if the magic that had been in him before had started to reassert itself.

He swayed slightly in the air, his tail swishing behind him, and his eyes narrowed, gleaming red with a strange hunger, though not for food. It was the hunger of being needed, of being desired for something more than just his body.

The apprentice wizard recoiled slightly, but there was something in Chester’s expression that made him pause. He could sense the raw, untapped magic swirling around the imp… raw, dangerous magic that could be molded, shaped, perhaps even used.

"Looks like you’re not in the best shape," the wizard said, his eyes darting over Chester’s new form, half pitying, half intrigued. "You... can come with me. I can help you."

Chester nodded in a clumsy manner, not fully understanding, but feeling the need to obey, to follow. He floated just behind the apprentice wizard, waddling awkwardly as his new body swayed with each awkward, meandering step. The wizard began leading him through the town, each step taking them closer to his master’s tower.

And Chester… who had forgotten his name, who had forgotten his past, who had forgotten his purpose, followed. The remnants of the human he once was were fading, replaced by something else: a creature of instinct, of need. The imp floated behind the young wizard, his massive belly pushing out in front of him, rubbing it absently with one pudgy hand. 

He was no longer Chester, the ambitious student. He was no longer a magician. He was simply… the servant.