The Remote (yes Another One)

Chapter 1

[seems like anyone that writes this type of fiction will eventually write a "remote transformation story," i just thought it was a fun idea 😅. also join the chat, i know its buggy sometimes but its fun :3 if you see me say hai!]



I pressed the power button on the remote and watched my body appear on the tiny LCD screen, rendered in clean white wireframe lines that rotated slowly in three dimensions, and I knew immediately that I was holding something impossible.

The estate sale had been a last-minute detour on my way to work that morning, one of those cluttered suburban garage affairs with folding tables covered in dusty electronics and kitchen appliances no one wanted. id only stopped because I was early and bored, killing time before another Thursday of spreadsheets and conference calls. The remote had been buried in a cardboard box labeled "misc cables $5 whole box," wedged between a tangle of VHS cords and a cracked universal remote. It looked ordinary enough, matte black plastic, slightly larger than a TV remote, with an array of unlabeled buttons surrounding the small screen. id almost put it back. Then id turned it over and seen the single word etched into the battery compartment: MODIFY.

Now I sat in my car in the office parking lot, engine off, staring at the screen. The wireframe figure moved when I moved. When I raised my left hand, it raised its left hand. When I tilted my head, it tilted its head. The display showed stats in a clean sans-serif font: Height 5'11". Weight 230 lbs. Age 34. Body fat 28%. And beneath that, a menu with options that made my mouth go dry. Muscle mass. Bone density. Metabolism. Fat distribution. Hair color. Eye color. Skin tone. The list went on, scrolling down further than I could see.

I sat there for ten minutes, scrolling through menus, my heart pounding, my hands starting to sweat. Every option seemed to lead to sub-menus, granular controls that would let me adjust individual muscle groups or add fat to specific body parts or change the texture of my skin. It was insane. It had to be a joke, some kind of elaborate prop or prototype for a video game. But the wireframe moved with perfect accuracy, tracking every shift of my weight in the driver's seat, every breath that expanded my chest.

I powered it off and shoved it into my messenger bag, then sat gripping the steering wheel, trying to calm down. I was already fifteen minutes late. I needed to get inside, log in, pretend this was a normal day. But my hands were shaking and I couldnt stop thinking about the menu options, the impossible promise of that single word. Modify.

The morning crawl by in a haze of distraction. I sat at my desk in the corner of the open office, surrounded by the familiar hum of productivity, keyboards clicking, phones ringing, the coffee maker gurgling in the break room, and I couldnt focus on anything except the remote in my bag. I was a project coordinator at a mid-sized marketing firm, the kind of job that required just enough attention to be tedious but not enough to be engaging. I had reports to file and timelines to update and emails to answer, and I did none of it. I just sat there, cursor blinking in an empty spreadsheet cell, thinking about what I could do.

By two in the afternoon id convinced myself it had to be real. The wireframe had been too accurate, too responsive. And if it was real, if I actually held a device that could rewrite my body with the press of a button, then I had to test it. I had to know.

I glanced around the office. Most of my coworkers were deep in their own work, heads down, headphones on. My manager had left an hour ago for a dentist appointment. The intern, Marcus, sat three desks away, nodding along to whatever music pulsed through his earbuds. My desk was partially shielded by a filing cabinet, tucked into a corner where I had at least the illusion of privacy.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the remote, keeping it low, below the edge of the desk. My pulse hammered in my ears. This was stupid. This was reckless. If anyone saw me, if anyone asked what I was doing, I had no explanation that would make sense. But I powered it on anyway, watching the screen glow softly, the wireframe appearing and rotating, waiting for input.

I scrolled to "body composition" and then to "fat distribution." My thumb hovered over the controls. I could add a little weight, just a modest amount, just enough to feel the difference. Nothing anyone would necessarily notice if I kept my bag in front of me on the way out. Just a test. Just to know if this thing actually worked.

I selected "abdominal" and nudged the slider up. The number changed on screen. 230 lbs became 235, then 240, then 245. I stopped there and pressed confirm.

The change hit me like a wave of warm pressure spreading through my core. I felt my stomach swell outward, a sensation like being inflated from the inside, a fullness that grew and grew until it pressed against the waistband of my khakis. My button-down shirt tightened across my midsection, the fabric pulling taut between the buttons. I looked down and saw my belly rounding out, pushing forward into my lap, straining against my belt. The pressure was incredible, not painful but insistent, a constant reminder of new weight that hadn't existed thirty seconds ago.

I put my hand on my stomach and felt it yield under my palm, soft and warm and undeniably real. My khakis dug into my waist, the button straining, the zipper pulling tight. I shifted in my chair and felt the weight move with me, jiggling slightly, settling heavily in my lap. My shirt had ridden up a little, and I could see a sliver of pale skin where my belly pushed out over my belt.

"Holy shit," I whispered. My voice came out shaky, breathless. I was hard, suddenly and completely, my erection trapped uncomfortably beneath the new overhang of my gut. The remote had worked. It had actually worked. id added fifteen pounds to my body in an instant, all concentrated in my stomach, and it felt better than anything id imagined.

I sat there for a moment, just breathing, feeling the weight of my new belly, the tightness of my clothes, the thrill of having done something impossible in the middle of an ordinary workday. No one knew. No one had seen. I could change myself back right now, erase the evidence, go back to normal. Or I could sit with it a little longer. Enjoy it. Feel what it was like to be heavier, softer, changed.

I was still staring down at my transformed body when I heard footsteps approaching.

"Hey David, you got a second?"

My head snapped up. Marcus stood at the edge of my cubicle, tablet in hand, headphones around his neck. The intern was twenty-three, eager, always asking questions about timelines and deliverables. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

I grabbed my messenger bag and pulled it onto my lap, covering my midsection. The movement made my belly jiggle, and I felt a fresh spike of panic mixed with arousal. "Yeah," I said, trying to sound normal. "What's up?"

"Im finalizing the asset list for the Brennan campaign, but I can't find the updated logo files. Did those come through on your end?"

"Right, yeah." I turned slightly toward my monitor, keeping the bag pressed against my stomach. My shirt felt like it might pop a button. I could feel sweat prickling at my hairline, my heart hammering. Every breath reminded me of the weight pressing against my belt, the impossible change I was hiding in plain sight. "Let me check."

I clicked through folders with one hand, the other keeping the bag in place. My new belly pressed against the underside of my desk. I had to sit up straighter to make room for it, and the shift made my khakis dig even harder into my waist. I found the folder and shared it, my hands shaking slightly on the mouse.

"Perfect, thanks." Marcus glanced at his tablet, then back at me. "You feeling okay? You look kind of flushed."

"Fine," I said quickly. "Just warm. You know how the AC gets."

Marcus nodded, already distracted. "Yeah, it's always either freezing or boiling in here. Anyway, thanks for the files. Have a good night."

"You too."

I watched him walk away, then let out a long, shaky breath. That had been too close. If he'd come around the desk, if he'd seen my belly pushing out over my belt, if he'd asked why I suddenly looked heavier, I would have had no explanation. None. I grabbed the remote and quickly reversed the change, selecting the abdominal slider and dragging it back down. The sensation was just as strange in reverse, my belly deflating, my clothes loosening, the weight disappearing like it had never existed. Within seconds I was back to normal. 230 pounds. The same body id had that morning.

I sat very still, my heart still pounding, my erection still straining against my khakis. The remote sat on my lap, screen glowing softly, waiting. id done it. id actually changed my body, right here in the office, and no one had known. The risk of it, the sheer stupidity of testing this thing at work, should have scared me. Should have made me want to throw the remote away and forget the whole thing.

Instead, I was more turned on than id ever been in my life.

I packed up my desk with trembling hands, shut down my computer, slung my bag over my shoulder. The office had mostly emptied out by now, just a few stragglers finishing up emails or chatting by the coffee maker. I waved to them, kept my expression neutral, walked to the elevator like it was any other Thursday. But my mind was racing, already planning, already imagining what I was going to do tonight.

My hands were still shaking as I started the engine. The remote sat in the passenger seat, screen dark, waiting. I pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the McGoober's on the way home, my pulse thrumming with anticipation.

The drive-through line stretched around the building. When I finally pulled up to the speaker, I ordered two double quarter pounder meals, both large, both with Coke. The girl at the window handed me bags so heavy I had to brace them with both hands, the smell of beef and grease and salt overwhelming in the small space of my car.

I pulled into a parking spot at the far edge of the lot and unwrapped the first burger. The taste exploded across my tongue, salt and fat and char, and I ate fast, barely pausing between bites. The second burger went down almost as quickly. I worked through the fries, the nuggets, washing it all down with long pulls of Coke. My stomach started to feel tight, pressing against my belt, a constant pressure that made me shift in my seat. I undid my belt and popped the button on my khakis, and my belly pushed forward into the space id created.

By the time I finished, I was breathing hard, both hands on my swollen stomach. I felt stuffed, genuinely painfully full, my belly a hard dome pushing out over my open fly. Every bump in the road on the drive home made it jiggle, made me aware of the sheer volume of food packed into my gut.

I pulled into my driveway and grabbed the remote, leaving the empty McGoober's bags and cups in the car where id eaten them. Grace wouldn't be home for another few hours, she'd texted earlier that she was going out with coworkers. I had time. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, the house quiet and empty around me.

I stood in the living room and pulled out the remote, my thumb hovering over the screen. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. I navigated to the weight setting and stared at the number: 230. I took a breath and started typing. 550.

The confirmation prompt appeared. I hit yes.

The sensation start immediately, a warmth spreading through my entire body, starting in my core and radiating outward. It wasnt painful, not exactly, but it was intense, overwhelming, a feeling of pressure and expansion that made me gasp. My stomach, already full and distended from the food, began to swell further. I watched as it pushed outward, rounding, softening, the pale skin stretching as fat accumulated beneath it. My shirt rode up, exposing more and more of my growing belly, the fabric straining across my widening torso.

The weight spread quickly. My chest thickened, pecs softening into breasts that hung heavy against my ribs. My arms grew heavier, biceps and forearms padding out with soft fat that jiggled when I moved. My thighs pressed together, filling my khakis until the fabric was skin tight, the seams straining. I could feel my ass expanding behind me, pushing outward, making my stance wider.

My face felt different, fuller, my cheeks rounding, a second chin forming beneath my jaw. I reached up with one hand and felt the softness there, the way my neck had thickened, the way everything felt heavier, denser. My breathing was harder now, my lungs working against the weight pressing down on my chest.

The transformation continued, relentless. My belly hung lower now, a massive apron of fat that obscured my belt, my fly, everything below. I could feel it swaying as I shifted my weight, heavy and pendulous. My love handles had become thick rolls that wrapped around my sides, merging with the fat on my back. My shirt had ridden up completely, unable to contain the mass of my torso, and I grabbed the hem and pulled it off, tossing it aside. The cool air hit my exposed skin, and I looked down at myself, at the expanse of pale flesh, the deep creases where fat folded over fat.

My khakis were in serious trouble. The button had already popped off, and now the zipper was straining, the teeth separating as my thighs and belly pushed against the fabric. I heard a ripping sound and felt the seam give way along my inner thigh. The waistband dug painfully into my sides, and I fumbled with shaking hands to undo the zipper completely, letting my pants fall open. My underwear was stretched tight across my ass and thighs, the elastic cutting into soft flesh.

I took a step and nearly lost my balance. My center of gravity had shifted dramatically, all that new weight pulling me forward, making me waddle. My thighs rubbed together with each movement, a constant friction that was both strange and arousing. I could feel everything jiggling, bouncing, swaying with each step. My belly led the way, hanging heavy and low, and I had to adjust how I walked to accommodate it.

The remote was still in my hand, screen showing my new weight: 550 pounds. Three hundred and twenty pounds heavier than id been just minutes ago. I looked down at myself, at the massive body I now inhabited, and felt a rush of exhilaration so intense it made me dizzy. This was real. This was happening. I was huge, soft, impossibly fat, and I could feel every pound of it.

I waddled toward the bedroom, each step an effort, my breathing labored. I wanted to see myself in the full-length mirror, wanted to take in the complete picture of what id become. My body felt alien and familiar at the same time, heavy and cumbersome but also deeply, undeniably mine. I reached the bedroom doorway and had to turn slightly sideways to fit through, my belly and hips brushing the frame.

That's when I heard the front door open.

"David?" Grace's voice called from the entryway. "You home?"

My heart stopped. I froze in the bedroom doorway, my massive belly pressed against the frame, the remote still clutched in one sweaty hand. I heard her keys hit the bowl on the hall table, heard her footsteps coming closer.

"Yeah," I managed, my voice coming out strained. "Im, uh, Im in here."

The footsteps stops. There was a long pause, and then Grace appeared at the end of the hallway. She was still in her work clothes, a navy blouse and gray slacks, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes went wide when she saw me.

"Holy shit," she breathed.

I stood there, unable to move, my face burning with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal so intense I thought I might pass out. My belly hung low, my breasts sagged against my ribs, my thighs pressed together, everything soft and exposed and impossibly huge. Grace's gaze traveled slowly down my body, taking in every detail, and I watched her expression shift from shock to something else, something hungry and fascinated.

"David, what the fuck happened to you?" She took a step closer, her eyes never leaving my body. "You're, you're enormous."

"I know," I said, my voice shaking. "I, Grace, I need to tell you something."

She was right in front of me now, close enough that I could smell her perfume. Her hand reached out tentatively and pressed against my belly, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. I gasped at the contact, my whole body shuddering.

"You're so soft," she murmured, almost to herself. Then her eyes snapped up to mine. "How did this happen? Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"Im fine," I said quickly. "Better than fine. Grace, I, this is going to sound insane, but I found this remote." I held it up, the screen still glowing. "It can change things. Change people. I used it on myself."

Grace stared at the remote, then back at me, her expression shifting between disbelief and dawning understanding. "You're serious."

"Completely serious. I tested it at work, just a little, and then I came home and I, I did this." I gestured helplessly at my body. "I made myself 550 pounds."

Grace's breath hitched. Her hand was still on my belly, and now she pressed harder, watching the way my flesh yielded under her touch. "You made yourself this fat on purpose."

"Yes." The word came out as barely more than a whisper.

"Because you wanted to." Her voice was low, intense. "Because we've talked about this. Because you've fantasized about being huge and soft and, and fuck, David, you actually did it."

I nodded, unable to speak. Grace's eyes were dark now, her pupils dilated, and I could see the flush spreading across her cheeks. She'd always listened when id confessed my fantasies late at night, always encouraged me, always told me how much the idea turned her on. But id never thought id actually be able to make it real.