writer-ofstuff:

Trying something newish so hears a weight gain themed story.

This
maybe a series I start with the same OC in each one changing different
guys from different fandoms. If I do the series will be called Twisted
Fates.

Characters Oliver from Arrow, mentions of Slade, and an OC
—————————————–

“Good
that you’re awake now. It would be boring if I had to do this with you
still unconscious.” Oliver hears a deep accented voice say. He opens his
eyes, lifting his head up as his vision adjusts to the lighting of the
room he’s being kept in. Oliver first looks down, finding he can’t move,
but when he looks he doesn’t see any kind of ropes or restraints
holding him, it’s then he looks up in front of him seeing his capture.
The man in front of him is about his height, he’s wearing a rather
expensive looking suit, it showing off his muscular body fairly well.
The man looks to be in his early thirties. his black hair slicked back, a
neatly trimmed goatee surrounding the man’s mouth. “Who are you?”
Oliver croaks. His throat sore and dry, coughing to try and clear it.

“Sorry
about that mate. Magic can have that affect on you.” the man says.
Magic, so that explains how he was able to get the drop on Oliver, and
way Oliver can’t move. “As for who I am you can call me Warren.” he
says. “What do you want?” Olive grunts, trying to move his arms, hoping
he can break the magic hold on him like he’s down with Darkh before, but
fails in doing so this time, only feeling drained and exhausted. “Yeah I
wouldn’t try to fight my magic mate. It can wear you out.” Warren says
with a smug smirk, coming to step even closer to Oliver. “As for what I
want, I was sent to see you by an acquaintance of yours. You are
familiar with Mr. Slade Wilson no?” At the mention of the name Oliver’s
expression darkens. “Ah I’ll take that as a yes. Anyway he sent me to
pay a little visit to you, he was really adamant on getting some form of
revenge on you, thus why I’m here to help him with that. “Where is he?”
Oliver asks. Wondering how the hell Slade got off the island and if
he’s out there now hurting people.

“Rest assured Mr.
Queen, while Slade is off the island I can tell you he won’t be hurting
anyone.” Warren says, his tone of voice and expression makes it sound
like he knows for certain that Slade won’t, which doesn’t ease Oliver at
all. “Not then, shall we begin?” Warren asks, a bright grin on his
face. Oliver is about to ask him what does want with him if he took care
of Slade, why do what Slade wanted, but before he can Warren claps his
hands together, a green aura surrounding his hands, his brown eyes
turning green and the pupils turn into slits, his eyes looking cat like
rather than human in that moment, Olvier seeing a small set of horns
protrude from Warren’s forehead as Warren’s voice grows darker as he
casts a spell over Oliver.

Oliver regains movement with
his body when the spell drapes over him. Body shaking as Oliver
convulses, his eyes rolling in the back of his head as the magic begins
altering Oliver. Oliver’s muscles soften and deflate, biceps becoming
flabby, stomach rounding and hanging over his waistline into a round
belly. Oliver’s pecs soften and droop, his face becoming stocking,
cheeks rounder, developing a double chin as his stubble beard shaves
away, only leaving the stubble on his upper lip, the stubble there
growing thicker forming into a dense mustache. Oliver looking odd
wearing his now tight fitting Green Arrow suit with his newly gained
weight and the thick mustache he’s sporting on his face.

“W-what
the fuck did you do to me?!” Oliver yells, horrified as he can now move
and looks over his body. Feeling up his flabbier self with his larger
hands, trying to keep himself from freaking out fully, needing to stay
calm to try and defeat Warren some how and reverse this spell. “What’s
it look like Ollie?” Warren laughs, Oliver wants nothing more than to
sock this bastard, but he knows it would do no good with him like this.
He’s still processing what he should do when Warren speaks again. “I
don’t think we’re done with this wouldn’t you agree?” Warren waves his
hand this time only Oliver’s clothes change, his Green Arrow suit
turning black and reshapes till Oliver’s now wearing a police uniform
that only fits slightly better than his ruined Arrow suit did. Oliver
just stares, baffled at what this guys getting at, asking as much a few
moments later when he starts to crack up as he looks at what he’s done
to Oliver. “I get to play with and give new life to men is what I gain.
See back in my dimension it’s rather boring. So when I feel someone in
need of something. Like Slade’s desire for revenge against you, I appear
before them, have my fun with them before I go on to have more fun with
their ex, friend, family member, or in this case, arch nemesis. And let
me tell you Oliver it was a blast transforming you into this. Star
City’s mighty hero the Green Arrow now nothing more than some
stereotypical doughnut stuffing  buffoon of a cop.”

“That’s
not who I am. You may have made me look like this, but I will find a
way to reverse this, You’re not the only one who knows magic.” Oliver
says, advancing on Warren, who doesn’t look the least bit intimidated,
his smug smirk still on his face as Oliver’s large belly bumps against
Warren. Warren says nothing for a moment, as if he’s thinking about
something. “That’s true, you are friends with John Constantine after
all, but how can you get help from him if he you don’t remember him or
who you were?” Warren’s smirk grows into a full blown grin. The sinister
smile sending a dread feeling through Oliver. Before Oliver can react
Warren’s glowing hands come up, touching Oliver’s temples. Oliver
letting otu a yell that turns into a moan as he feels the magic invading
his mind, rewriting his memories and personality, No longer Oliver
Queen. Star City Mayor, and the Green Arrow, but know he’s just Owen
Kings, a cop who mainly man’s the desk work in the precinct, often seen
stuffing his face with a doughnut or some sugary treat. Owen also known
by some his fellow officers to be up for blowing them in the supply
closet or the precinct locker room, even going as far as to hooking up
with convicts kept in holding cells, sucking their dicks through the
cell bars when he’s on desk duty to watch them.

Owen blinks
awake once Warren pulls his hands away. “W-where am I?” Owen asks,
frowning in confusion. “Don’t worry about that bud, you’ll be back at
work soon.” Warren says, summoning a mirror and holding it up to Owen’s
face. Owen’s face frowns deeper in confusion before it morphs into a
look of realization. “Oh fuck.” Oliver whispers. “The final piece of my
spell is this. Whenever you look into a mirror long enough you’ll
remember this, remember what I did to you, unable to voice it to anyone
and will forget when you look away from your reflection, repeating the
process for ever.” Warren says in a pleased voice, watching the despair
on Oliver’s face when he hears he’s trapped in this new life. Taking the
mirror away, Oliver, now Owen once more relaxes, eyes closing as Warren
snaps his fingers, sending him to the police station. Owen opens his
eyes, looking around the office and wondering why he’s just standing
there. Moving to the back, he goes to hang out around the holding cells,
knowing they just booked a guy for shoplifting and waiting for him to
make bail, Owen thinking how hot the guy looked and how it’ll be even
hotter to suck the stud off before he leaves, paying no mind to the man
in the suit that passes him in the hallway, missing the way the man
grins at Owen’s back before the man suddenly disappears.

wesleybracken:

“Hello Officer Carson, I believe you arrested one of my daddies today.”

Carson looked up, and say the young man across his desk, staring at him. His eyes were chilling, somehow, and he quickly looked away, and back at the report he’d been writing. “You mean the faggot I caught blowing a guy behind a cafe? Who are you, his son?”

“Oh no–I’m his boy.”

Carson remembered the older man mentioning a boy before, when he demanded payment. “Well, whoever you are, we’re holding him at least overnight. You can bail him out tomorrow.”

“Oh no, I won’t be bailing him out, you’re going to take me to wherever he’s being held, release him, and let us go on our way.”

There was a force to the young man’s words, similar to the old man’s had had earlier. But before, when the man had spoken, he’d found his body compelled to act–this merely felt like a…strong suggestion. But whether it had something to do with him breaking free of the man’s control earlier, or simply because the boy hadn’t been as forceful as he could be, it wasn’t clear. One thing was certain–there was power there, and a latent threat, but while Carson might not understand how the boy’s power worked, he also didn’t think there was anything the boy could really do to him. “No–No, I won’t be doing that. Now why don’t you leave, and you can collect your perverted father tomorrow.”

“I never said he was my father–I said he was my daddy,” the boy said, perturbed, “and you would do well to do as I say. I can be rather…petulant, I’ve been told. There are worse things I could make you do, then get a nice blow job from one of my daddies.”

“I don’t know what sort of shit you have going on, or how any of that happened earlier,” Carson said, leaning close, “But that won’t ever be happening again. Now leave.” He met the boy’s eyes again, and this time, didn’t look away, no matter how icy they seemed. But a second later, when he couldn’t break the contact…he was no longer sure if he’d been the one to choose to meet his eyes or not, and a knot of fear started growing in his gut.

“You should have been afraid of me a minute ago, when I was willing to be a little patient. Besides, if you’re going to make me leave my home, and make one of my daddies drive me all the way into the city, just because you can’t enjoy yourself, well, then I can at least get something out of it, right?”

This wasn’t right–he wasn’t right. The eyes were no longer simply intense, they were boring into Carson’s mind. His vision was losing focus, and beginning to spin around the axis of the boy’s eyes, and soon, they were the only stable thing in a sea of color, even his body ceased to exist, and what remained of Carson, the boy…was putting a cramped little box, a partition of a mind, and the rest of him…the boy was making something else–someone else. The spinning began to slow down, and the world began to return, but it wasn’t the world Carson remembered–not quite. At last, he was able to yank his eyes away with a shuddering sob, and look down at himself–and if Carson had been able to, he would have screamed.

This wasn’t his body. These weren’t his clothes. He was still in a police uniform, but instead of being cleaned and starched, it was wrinkled and heavily stained, smelling like it hadn’t been washed in a week or more. He had a gut which stretched the shirt out enough that gaps were appearing between the buttons, displaying slivers of a filthy undershirt below, and his arms and chest had lost almost all of their definition, leaving him looking weak. He felt his age, more than his saw it–the aches, the dim, blurry vision, the difficulty hearing–but he did see the beard–the thick grey beard hanging down to his gut. He tried to figure out what had happened to him, tried to remember who he’d been, but that was when he discovered that not only was this not his body, it also wasn’t his mind.

Officer Carson was sixty years old, and would have retired had he not lost his retirement due to…poor life choices at a casino not far out of town. He was on desk duty all day long, and spent most of the day eating, and…and fantasizing about his fellow officers, thinking about pleasing them, about how good it would feel to have his ass or mouth stuffed full of their big cocks. Yeah, he was a slutty, fat, officer daddy, and…and he looked at the boy–no, he looked at his boy, and all he felt was love, and desire, and also complete and utter terror. He’d disobeyed his boy, a direct order from his boy–what in the world had he been thinking?

“Don’t get too comfortable, daddy. After all, we still need to go get Daddy Emil out of holding, right?”

“Yes boy, I’m…I’m sorry boy, right away…” Carson said, his voice raspy and quiet. He hauled himself up out of his chair, feeling how much he ached, and led the way away from his desk, towards the holding cells. He was nervous, each time he encountered a fellow officer, but while they all regarded him with utter disdain (which he rightfully deserved, of course) they did all recognize him. His old self–that officer no longer even existed. The only knowledge and evidence of his was locked away in a small corner of his mind, which was growing more and more distant by the minute. They were alone in the elevator a moment later, heading down, when he turned to his boy, “Am…Are you going to change me back? Please–I didn’t know…”

The boy just laughed. He was still laughing when the elevator stopped, and Carson’s heart sank even lower than he’d imagined it could, as they headed for the cells.