When my TV turned on by itself, showing a cartoon world, I was a little confused. I could see a desk, and some windows showing views of carnival rides, rollercoasters zipping past outside the window. It was a benign image, almost accidental in its framing, like the camera wasn't "meant" to be where it was sitting. Nothing exciting was happening on screen, no colourful characters gambolling about, doing silly things. Just a view of a world and nothing more.

When thumbing the off button on the remote didn't do anything, my confusion increased, and as I approached the TV, trying to turn it off via the button, frustration set in. I was thinking about pulling out the plug when by my hand passed in front of the screen - and it fluttered. The glass separating the image on screen and the world around me seemed to bend, fold away as my hand approached, and invite me in.

I could hardly refuse, could I?

I expected to meet resistance, for my hand to hit glass, and this possibility to remain just a mere dream. The wonder in my heart increased as it passed effortlessly through, as I saw new hands attached to the ends of my arms. Thick, burly paws coloured a deep emerald green, with three fingers instead of four. Still mine, still responding to my commands, but so deliciously different to the hands I had come to know.

There was no way I was stopping here. I gripped the edges of the screen, and dove through the fourth wall.

The change was instant the moment I crossed the boundary. My face now green, fat and flabby, with mean yellow eyes, a smoking cigar already chomped between my sharp, fanged teeth. My chest and stomach ballooned with fat, round and sensual, already dressed to the nines in a snazzy burgundy jacket. I kept pushing, my upper body strength much more powerful now, powered by a kind of physics that defied what I had come to know. I needed more, I needed to--

My lust to be on the other side was halted, as my body was caught. I looked behind me, and couldn't help a grin filling my face as a I saw the rotund cause of the blockage, too fat to fit through without a little elbow grease. I must have looked a sight - I could still feel my thin human legs dangling on the other side. I removed the cigar from my thick lips. "Now that's what I call a caboose!" I quipped, my voice coming out as a gravelly New Jersey accent that rumbled in my chest. I would've kept my thoughts to myself before. Not now, not here. I put the cigar back in my mouth and redoubled my efforts, pushing harder, squeezing through. What a problem to have - an ass so fat it doesn't fit.

The rest of my transition was somewhat less graceful - once my big butt squeezed past the frame, my weight pulled the rest of my body through, and I tumbled over on to the other side, landing with a visible WHUMP! I was dazed for a moment - stars, tweety birds, the whole shebang, but a rapid shake of my head cleared it. I was here. I was on the other side, the cartoon world, and seamlessly fitting in like I'd always been here. Like I was always meant to be here.

I stood up on my legs, thick as marble pillars, green alien feet dressed in stylish flip flops. Already, I could feel it, a swell of emotions so effortless and confident that there was no questioning them. Here, I was happy. I was someone I liked, someone I could easily love being. Someone who took up space unapologetically, someone who others respected and feared. No anxieties, no fears, no painful troubles. Just hedonism and satisfaction. Here, I was ruler, I was king, I was...a businessman.

And there?

I turned back to the screen that had let me come here, dwarfing it where it had once dwarfed me. I could still see my old room through it, discarded clothes, a messy bed, unclean carpets. What was waiting for me there? Powerlessness? Sadness? Pain and frustration? What did it have to offer that this place couldn't do better 20 times over? There were some people I might miss...but I could always invite them through at a later date. The choice was simple.

I raised my fat fist, a leering grin filling my face, and crashed it down onto the top of the screen, breaking it. The glass shattered, and the screen went black, as smoke rose from the destroyed television. That kid is gone now. Mr. Swackhammer is right where he needs to be, and all's right with the world.

---

i am all about isekai TF at the moment for reasons that are super healthy. i kept having a dream pretty much exactly like the one i described above, although the exact characters i became would change, and the conclusion might be different depending on who i became. it was swackhammer most often, though. the vision of my butt getting stuck on the frame as i tried to push through was to hot to ignore

so i commissioned  Zeydaan Isabella to depict it, and they did a really wonderful (and very quick!) job with it. the background really adds to the feeling, but i also love the cartoonish heft of swackhammer's body here. hoop style TF was something that i found compelling but for a long time didn't think i'd really like since i am very much into mid transition appearances, but the way this came out i'm very satisfied with, and i might get more of this ilk at some point