Transforming Sweaters [Multi-TF/TG] (Patreon)

Tier Reward for Silver Ranze

Evan hates Christmas functions, especially themed ones. So when Susan throws an ugly Christmas sweater party, he hopes to get in and out as quickly as possible, but things take a turn when people start transforming, and Evan seems to be the only one who notices. 

~

 Every office has a Susan. 

Normally, a middle-aged woman who’s kids were now in the thoes of their teen years and wanted as much to do with her as a dirty tissue. And because of that, her colleagues at the office had to endure her relentless efforts to get everybody into the festive spirit. There were no more cute kids to dress up as Elves and decorate the tree with her, so she decorated the office instead and organised stupid Christmas office parties with stupid themes, like ugly Christmas sweaters. 

Evan knew that hating Christmas was about as cliché as liking it at this point. But as a young, single guy in his twenties, he could think of a million places he’d rather be on a Friday night rather than an office Christmas party. Susan could have at least just held a generic get-together at a bar after work, but no, she insisted the CEO let her throw a ‘real’ Christmas office party. With theming. Hence, the ugly sweaters.

Evan didn't own an ugly sweater, honestly, who did? So he’d just walked into the meeting room in his work clothes, hoping to sneak some free food and head home before anybody could comment. Of course, Susan had anticipated that. 

“I have spares!” She beamed, handing him a knitted nightmare. “One for everybody who forgot.”

“Yeah…forgot,” Evan said with a forced smile as he took the itchy wool in his hands. “Thanks.”

He reluctantly pulled the sweater over his head and grimaced down at it before yelping in surprise. He’d been expecting a snowman or something, not a weird, sexy reindeer. The antlers curved up to meet his shoulders, and the smiling, horrifying reindeer woman grinned out from his stomach. 

“Wha-”

“They are supposed to be ugly, remember?” Susan laughed, delighted. “It was my sister’s last Christmas. Sorry, it’s a bit stretched, she was expecting.”

“If it's supposed to be a woman, why does it have antlers!?”

“Female reindeer have antlers, actually.” 

“Yeah, I don’t care, give me another one.” Evan reached for her box only to find it empty.

“Sorry, Evan, last in, last served.” 

She didn’t look sorry at all, and Evan did his best to smile and not think about how badly he wanted to make her sorry. The office looked like someone had googled “holiday cheer” and then chosen the cheapest possible results. Tinsel drooped from the walls like it had given up halfway through trying to be festive, and a Bluetooth speaker wheezed generic Christmas songs from Susan’s phone. It was actually sad. 

Instead, he headed over to the table that had been shoved against one wall to get the only good thing about office parties: free food. He looked down at the offerings and sighed; cheap chips, dip and discount snacks. He nudged a pretzel with the corner of a paper plate and sighed. The one bright spot was the oatmeal bars, which were somehow both too dry and strangely addictive, like they contained a secret ingredient his brain refused to question.

Snack in hand. He drifted through the clusters of colleagues to do the bare minimum of mingling. Counting down the minutes until he could reasonably leave without seeming too rude. 

“Nice Rudolph,” called Max from accounting, raising his paper cup. He wore an elf sweater so aggressively green it could have served traffic-safety functions, complete with a pair of floppy felt ears drooping from the hood. 

“Thanks. I’m embracing humiliation as a lifestyle choice,” Evan said deadpan.

Max snorted. “A bold strategy. At least you’re better off than Tim.”

Tim was the office sad sack, a middle-aged man who peaked in high school, if he had ever peaked at all. Evan’s eyes found him as he stood by the wall, somehow looking even more miserable than Evan felt, having chosen the “Beach Santa” motif, complete with embroidered sunglasses and a tiny, crookedly sewn felt surfboard across his chest. A string of battery-powered fairy lights wrapped around his torso blinked with mild desperation. He'd always had a thing for Susan, despite the fact that she was married. If this was his way of impressing her, it was even sadder than usual.

“Hey man,” Tim said, fanning himself theatrically. “Pretty hot for the North Pole, huh?”

“You’re really committing to the bit.”

“Someone has to,” Tim sighed, nodding at the room. “Morale is… festive-adjacent at best.”

Evan sighed sadly and resisted the urge to say Tim already had the belly to be Santa. 

"You know she's married, right?"

Tim's round face went as red as the Santa hat on his chest. "Yeah. Of course I do. Why would that change anything? I'm just trying to get into the festive mood..."

Tim’s eyes lingered on Susan, who hadn’t spared him a glance yet and sighed. God, this was somehow making the cheap office party even sadder. Evan left Tim to his sad sack corner and wandered past the snack table again, grabbing another inexplicably compelling oatmeal bar. He stepped away, then quickly loaded up on three more. Maybe he could ask Susan where she bought them, it wasn't every day that healthy snacks actually tasted good. 

Little plate loaded with oatmeal snacks, he wandered back to the room. The whole office was here now, all in garish colours that made his eyes hurt. Only a small handful of them, Susan and the other women, seemed to be having fun. 

Finally, he spotted John. The one person in the office he actually liked, rather than tolerated. He was in a cable-knit sweater that must have been hand-made by a grandma who clearly had a favourite grandchild, and that child wasn't John. Uneven stitches,  clashing reds and greens, and one shoulder bulged ominously, as if the knitting itself were trying to escape.

John gave him a weary grin. “My grandmother made it,” he said before Evan could comment. “Apparently with love, spite and the world’s ichiest wool. I figured it might as well be useful.”

“It’s… memorable,” Evan chuckled. "I thought I had the worst one."

“Oh, it haunts all my family photographs since tenth grade,” she said, sipping from her cup. “You look like a disappointed reindeer who wanted to be home by now.”

“That obvious?”

“Only entirely.”

He laughed for the first time that evening. The speakers looped back to another overplayed carol, and for some reason, that made both the men laugh harder. Evan scratched at the front of his sweater, its knitted reindeer staring up at him with beady, judgmental eyes. He felt ridiculous wearing it, and despite the fact it had been baggy at first, it was getting oddly tight around his stomach. 

“Might want to lay off the snacks.” John chuckled, “You’re getting a bit of a food baby.”

Evan looked down and felt heat rush to his face. His stomach was looking a little rounder. Damn, maybe he needed to lay off the after-work beers…and the oatmeal bars. How many of those things had he eaten already? Weren’t ugly sweaters supposed to hide things like that? Without thinking, he leaned against the wall and took another bite of the bar. He’d finish this one and get out of this place. Office culture be damned. He would just put up with Susan bitching about him come the New Year. 

Then, when he noticed Max.

The green of his sweater seemed to deepen, the knit stretching upward, crawling along Max’s neck. Max laughed at something someone said, and his ears—his ears—lengthened, tapering into soft points that pushed through his thinning hair. Thinning hair that was steadily growing thicker right before Evan’s eyes. Max’s skin took on a faint, rosy hue, and his lips smoothed over. When he lifted his cup, his jaw was square, but when it lowered…it was round. 

Evan blinked hard and looked away, then back again. The ears remained.

“Max,” he said, “Your… your ears.”

Max tilted his head, the motion sharp and oddly precise. “What about them?” he asked, smiling. The smile looked a little too wide now, and his body shape was slowly shifting. 

“They’re…” He gestured vaguely. “Pointed.”

Max laughed, it sounded bright, musical and oddly feminine. “They’ve always been like this. You okay, mate?”

A couple of nearby coworkers nodded absently, as if this explanation made perfect sense. No one else seemed to notice anything wrong. Unease crept under Evan’s skin.

He retreated back to the food table, his appetite gone. Something crunched beneath his shoes, and he looked down to see…sand? He followed the trail and found a pair of flip flops attached to Tim’s feet. His trousers had faded into khaki shorts, his calves reddened as if sunburnt. A floral shirt hung open over his stomach, and when he lifted his cup, the smell of salt and sunscreen drifted faintly through the room.

Tim wiped his brow. “Bloody hot in here,” he muttered.

“There isn’t a beach in the office,” Evan said in disbelief. 

Tim stared at him, puzzled. “Sure, there is,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway. “Always has been.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up in Evan’s throat and died there. What the hell was going on? And why did nobody else seem to notice? All around him, people were starting to…become their sweaters. Max’s pants slowly morphed into a hemline, merging with his green sweater to form a short mini dress with a red frilly trim. His legs smoothed, hair disappearing entirely as a pair of matching green heels formed on his feet. Evan watched in horror as the man's sweater began to stretch across his chest and butt.

“Y-you’re…woman?” He choked out, too shocked to even be embarrassed that words were failing him. 

Max gave him a funny look. “Have you been drinking? I’ve always been a woman, Evan.”

The new, female Max giggled. 

“Or are you just now noticing?”

A group of them laughed, and behind him, one of the voices felt familiar and alien at once. Michael, in his ugly grandma sweater, was standing there, but as he laughed along with the others, his body too began to change. His shoulders rounded, his spine curving inward. Grey spread through his hair in thick, woolly curls, and his hands grew knotted and veined. When he sat down, it was in a high-backed chair that hadn’t been there before, wooden and worn smooth by age. Knitting needles clicked softly in his hands.

Yarn pooled at Michael’s sensible shoes, looping and twisting as his fingers worked with practised ease. He hummed to himself, a thin, tuneless sound.

“That’s… that’s Michael,” he whispered to Max.

She glanced over and smiled. “Oh, don’t be rude,” said Max. “She always brings his knitting.”

“But he’s…”

Michael, the grandmother, looked up at him over half-moon spectacles that hadn’t existed a moment earlier. Her eyes were sharp, knowing. 

“You’ll catch a chill standing there like that,” she said. “Have a mince pie.”

The room pressed in around him, bright and loud and utterly unconcerned. Music played. Someone started a game near the tree. Laughter swelled again, drowning out the click of needles, the imagined rush of surf, the faint jingle of tiny elf bells somewhere behind him.

He stood very still, clutching his paper plate, and wondered what the hell was going on. He stepped back against the wall and felt a pinprick of pain that made him jump.

“The hell?”

He twisted to look behind and was met with a sight that made no sense. A tail, a small cotton tail that stood to attention in fear the moment he laid eyes on it. Then, right before his eyes, his hips began to widen. The tail was pushed upwards slightly as his ass began to change shape, becoming peachy, then curvy and heavy-set. Evan groaned. He could feel the muscle and skin stretching, pushing his pants to their absolute limit. 

“W-what…?”

His black slacks turned brown, then seemed to change fabric as well, smooth, but also thick and thin at once, almost like…fur. Evan ran a hand over the curve of his hip and down his thickening thigh and shivered. He could feel the individual hairs being pushed as his pants turned skin tight, then just into the skin itself. The clothing melted into him, merging with him until there was no separation. His whole body was covered in tawny, brown fur that was soft to the touch. 

His sweater disappeared too, and for a moment, he was thankful; if it was gone, maybe this would stop. But that was wishful thinking. Because a moment later, his furry chest started to change as well. The skin tingles, it was suddenly oh so sensitive. Little pink nipples poked through the fur, and the skin began to stretch and pull as it swelled. Evan looked around, expecting people to gape or laugh, but nobody paid him any mind. As far as the rest of the office was concerned, this was normal. 

Evan could do nothing to stop it but stand and gasp for breath as his new breasts grew in, heavy and slightly sore. It felt like they were filled with something that made them tight. He pressed at the skin and found it taut; a tiny bud of white milk formed on the nipple as he did so.

“Already leaking?” Michael noted, “Don’t worry, deer, when the baby comes, they will take care of that.” 

“B-baby?” 

Michael reached out and ran a wrinkled hand over his furry belly. 

“Must be nice to forget once in a while,” She cackled, “When I had my first, that belly was all I could think about!”

Evan gripped his stomach, feeling it swell beneath his fingers. Tiny kicks coming from inside made his blood run cold. No, no, it had been a food baby, a food baby from too many of those oat bars. Those oddly tasty oat bars. 

Evan stumbled from the room. Maybe it was the party; if he got far enough away, maybe he would turn back! He started to run, as much as his overly curvy body would allow, but quickly gave up. His pregnant stomach was just too heavy to run, and his head was starting to pound. It felt like there was pressure building inside his skull. Evan stumbled, holding his head as he half fell into the elevator just in time for the pressure to reach a breaking point. Antlers pushed from his skull, and Evan groaned, watching in the mirrored elevator walls as they formed.

Thick, bone antlers grew taller as he descended. By the time he reached the ground floor, he had two types of impressive racks. One of his heads, the other on his chest. The doors opened, and Evan felt like a stranger crossing the lobby. Somehow, that ugly sweater had transformed him into an antro reindeer lady, a pregnant one to boot. He was in so much shock that he walked right into somebody as he exited out onto the street. 

“Whoa, you okay?”

Evan blinked. A man was in front of him. No, not a man, another reindeer. A male one with a broad, hairy chest and a set of antlers that made Evan’s body tingle for some reason. His little cotton tail shivered, sending tingles up his spine. 

“Um…I’m not sure.” Evan admitted that he was so confused, but the musk of this deer was invading his senses and made him feel oddly calm. 

“Why don’t I walk you home?” The deer man offered, “I just escaped an awful work Christmas party, and I would love to have an excuse on Monday.”

A Christmas party; were these transformations happening all over town then? Evan had no idea, and no way of knowing. But he let the other man take him by the hand, and used the other to support his heavy belly. Whatever was going on…he could wait until after Christmas to find out. 

~

Merry Christmas y'all! I sturggled a bit with this one, but I hop you enjoy something short and sweet for the holidays!