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Harvey Visits Gurpreet's Bake Sale

Part 2 of reposting a collaborative story from cyoc.net. This first section was written by Tyranitar.

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Harvey tossed and turned in his bed as he tried to fall asleep but restlessly struggled with his sheets, trying to fall asleep. He felt warm, perhaps because it was the beginning of the semester, still basically summer, and there was no air conditioning in his dorm. He tried to focus on anything but the damn heat, trying to shut his mind off, but something was keeping him on the edge of alertness. Eventually, his body started to demand sleep, and Harvey was lying in his bed just on the edge of consciousness. He could feel some sort of sensation throughout his body, almost like he weighed a thousand pounds. Perhaps it was him trying to fall asleep? Whatever it was, it was uncomfortable.

He tried to force himself to stand, but felt like he couldn't control his own body in this restful state. It was like he was made of steel. He kept trying to pull up with his knees, to no avail. He kept trying to move, frantically, as he grew increasingly frightened of his sleep-paralyzed state. He suddenly felt his body jerk up, standing as he found himself suddenly able to control his body again. He frantically looked around, trying to make place of his surroundings. Wherever he was, was clearly not his room.

He felt a small shove from behind, and suddenly moved forward. He was in a crowd, of sorts. He could feel the carpet below his feet. He looked down to see that he was indeed shoeless and sockless. That made sense to Harvey, but he also saw that he was wearing jeans, which he certainly didn't go to bed in. But why would he be here if he had just went to bed? He looked at his arms and down his shirt and saw that he was wearing a simple long sleeved button up shirt as well. The crowd of people, moving forward, were similarly dressed, and they were all wearing some kind of head covering. Instinctively, Harvey reached up to his head and felt the familiar patka wrapped around his hair. He sighed in relief, not wanting to stick out among the crowd.

Seemingly suddenly, because Harvey wasn't paying a lot of attention, the people in front of him started to sit down on the carpet in almost a wave. As people near the front sat down, Harvey could see a grandiose setup at the front of the room, where a very large book sat under a shimmering gold canopy. "The Adi Granth" came to the forefront of his mind, identifying the book. Three elder Sikh men sat around the canopy, observing the crowd. Harvey sat down, putting his bare feet together and knees outwards, placing his hands in front of him.

After a few minutes as the crowd sat down and settled, one of the Sikh men started speaking. "Ga-orhee sukhmanee mehlaa 5. Salok. Ik-on kaar satgur parsaad." Harvey had no idea what he was saying, but glanced around the room subtly. Everyone was taking in what the elder was saying and bowing their heads to the floor. Harvey quickly followed suit, not wanting to commit a faux pas. The script continued as he tried to make sense of what was happening. "Parabh kai simran dusman tarai. Parabh simrat kachh bighan na laagai. Parabh kai simran an-din jaagai."

Whatever this prayer was, Harvey could feel its energy flowing through him. Maybe it was partially the atmosphere of the room, but he felt at peace, surrounded by this homely crowd in front of the elders and the Adi Granth. As the prayer continued, he started to speak the words under his breath. "Parabh kai simran sufal falaa. Say simrahi jin aap simraa-ay. Naanak taa kai laaga-o paa-ay." As he looked down at the ground, he could feel something in addition to the peaceful atmosphere, almost like there was a growing weight on his head. He opened his eyes, and saw some hairs at the bottom of his peripheral vision. It shocked him out of the peaceful place as he clued in that something wasn't right. He didn't have a beard, and this wasn't somewhere he'd ever go. What the hell was go-

Harvey jolted awake at the sound of his alarm clock. He stretched, and reached over to turn it off. He felt extremely tired still, blaming it on the restless sleep he'd had overnight. He remembered that his dream was strange, but couldn't for the life of him remember what it was about. He quickly threw on a muscle shirt that was sitting on his desk and made his way to the bathroom. Thankfully, his first class started at an odd time, so he didn't have to share the bathroom with many people. He went about his usual morning routine, brushing his teeth, and then looked in the mirror to see if anything was stuck in them.

When he saw himself he did a double take.

He knew he'd looked stubbly last night, but there was no way that what he was sporting would be described as anything short of a beard now. It wasn't long, but it was thick and looked well maintained. He took one of his hands and started rubbing his fingers through the bristles, feeling his face. As he did, he pondered on whether or not he actually wanted to shave. He had to admit to himself, he looked damn good. He made a couple of faces in the mirror, and made the decision that he was going to keep the hair, and then walked back to his dorm.

End of Tyranitar's section. The following by Roller62

Upon entering his dorm, Harvey was greeted by a familiar voice.

"Well hello there, Bearded Daddy. Have you seen my room mate, Harvey?" Harry said. Harry was Harvey's gay room mate, and if you ever needed proof of that, you could check the pride flags he pinned to the wall next to his bed. He would occasionally make flirtatious comments around Harvey, but they were all in good fun.

"I'm right here!" Harvey struck a pose, "Shocking I know. I guess I neglected shaving a bit. Hopefully the girls on campus like it as much as you do".

"I'm sure they'll love how it looks. Your personality on the other hand..." 

Harvey rolled his eyes and continued getting ready for class. He pulled on a plain white T-shirt and a pair of jeans, then filled his book bag with all the books and binders he would need for the day. "So what's on your agenda for the day?"

"It's looking pretty busy" Harry was rummaging through his wardrobe, trying to find the best outfit for his twinkish body. "Tomorrow is the semester's first meeting for the Queer Student Union, so I'll be preparing for that. You should come, it'll be a lot of fun".

"No thanks, Bro. I already have obligations to another club" Harvey was glad he had a legitimate excuse to miss that sausage fest.

"Really? Which club did you join?"

"You know that cultural studies class I'm taking? The professor made me join the Sikh club"

"Oh the Sikh Student Alliance? They seem like a fun group"

"Yeah, you know them or something?"

"Sure" Harry answered flatly, "A lot of the student organizations know each other because we do tabling events together. Actually, a few of their members are also in the Queer Student Alliance."

"Really? Who?" Harvey asked out of genuine curiosity.

"If you want to find out, you'll have to come tomorrow" Harry grinned, pulling out the clothes he thought would be perfect for the day.

"Whatever. I'll see you after class" Without putting any thought into it, Harvey tied his hair in a bun and wrapped the patka around his head. Since Harry was busy changing, he didn't see Harvey do this. Feeling ready for the day, Harvey left to his first class

Arriving at the designated classroom, Harvey did a double take when he saw Gurpreet inside. He surveyed the room to check if it was full of Punjabis, and was relieved to see that their was a healthy mix of students.

"Hi Harvey, come sit here!" Gurpreet was sitting in the first row. His large stomach was wedged between the chair and its conjoined desk. Harvey fulfilled the bearish man's request and plopped down in the seat next to him. "This is a welcome surprise, I didn't expect you to be taking a class like this, but I'm glad we'll be spending more time together" Gurpreet displayed his signature smile.

"What do you mean, why wouldn't I take this class?"

"Honestly, you didn't seem very excited about Sikh culture yesterday. You bolted as soon as the meeting ended. But now you're here, and you're even wearing the patka we gave you. You must be must be willing to learn lots!"

"What are you talking about?" Harvey reached up to his head and felt the familiar patka wrapped around his hair. He didn't remember putting this on! That thought was interrupted when and elderly Sikh man emerged from the classroom's door. Something about him was so familiar, and yet Harvey was sure he hadn't seen the man in person before. The mental image of a large book and a gold canopy came to mind, but Harvey couldn't place where that memory was coming from.

"Good morning, Students" the elderly man greeted, "I'm glad you all made it to our first lecture. Welcome to Religious Studies 372: Sikhism" he took a dry erase marker and wrote the course name on the whiteboard, then turned his attention back to the students.

"I'm in the wrong class!" Harvey whispered to himself quietly, but not too quiet for Gurpreet to hear.

"Really?" Gurpreet asked, "Can I see your schedule?" Harvey nodded and fished a print of his class schedule out of his binder. "Everything looks right, see? REL S with Professor Singh. The room number and time are the same too" Gurpreet stated, handing the schedule back to Harvey. Gurpreet was right! But Harvey didn't remember signing up for this class. Though come to think of it, Harvey couldn't recall what class he was suppose to be taking instead. Oh well, Harvey figured he may as well say as it would be rude to leave the class so abruptly. He'd have to clear this up with the Advisor Office later today.

"Now before I get started on today's lecture on the basics of Sikhism, do any of you have questions? Maybe some preconceived notions of the religion?" Professor Singh asked, then called on a student who raised their hand.

"I've heard the warrior identity is very important to Sikh people and that's why they are suppose to carry daggers with them all the time. How does that work in modern times?"

"Great question. The warrior identity embraced by Sikhs stems from a period of violent persecution against Sikh people, so of course they needed to defend themselves. Now, I'm sure I don't look like a mighty warrior to many of you, and though it is a requirement of the five K's, we modern Sikhs can not carry a kirpan with us everywhere... but I would like to propose this interpretation: A Sikh should be a warrior when people need defending. Likewise, if people are suffering in other ways, a Sikh should transform into the person they need. We'll get into the theory behind that later in the course."

Harvey chuckled at this notion. Sure Gurpreet was a big guy, but imagining a sweet guy like him as a warrior just didn't fit. The transformation part was interesting though. Could a Sikh really change so much just to help someone in need? That would be interesting to see. The rest of the lecture went on without a hitch, and Harvey did feel like he was learning more about the religion. Once class was done, Harvey and Gurpreet agreed that they should study together if Harvey decided to stay in the class, and the two parted ways.

With nothing better to do, Harvey decided to waste time at the Library Walkway. It was a large open space adjacent to the university's library, which was the center of the campus. Students frequently crossed this area on their way between classes, and it was complimented with benches and shady trees which made it a nice place to rest.

"Harvey? Hey Harvey, over here!" Harvey heard an accented voice call from behind him. He turned around to see Gurpreet again. What a coincidence. Harvey walked over to the waving Sikh bear. He had propped two tables in an "L" shape adjacent to the Library's wall, essentially creating a square with an opening at the side. With all the cooking utensils and devices that Gurpreet had brought with him, it looked like he was setting up some kind of food stand. "I could really use your help, Harvey. Can you set up this stand with me?" Normally Harvey would make some excuse to say no, but Gurpreet already saw Harvey's schedule, so he knew that Harvey had a large gap right now.

"Yeah, sure. I can help you out" Harvey admitted.

"Thank you! Here, come in" Gurpreet made room for Harvey to enter his table square. Gurpreet was hastily pulling materials out of a box labled "tabling supplies". "Here, lets lay down the table cloths." Gurpreet grabbed two orange table cloths with a white floral design and tossed one to Harvey. The table cloth landed on top of Harvey's head. Making contact with Harvey's patka, the table cloth folded and wrapped itself around Harvey's head, becoming a beautiful orange floral Gurmukhi Dastar turban. Harvey felt a wave of heat envelop him as his skin became a deep brown and all of his hair turned black. This was followed by a bloated feeling as Harvey watched his stomach grow. It was slow at first before exploding outward. Massive love handles wrapped around his body, swollen breasts sat atop his stomach, even his face was filling out with plump cheeks and a round chin. Then Harvey noticed he wasn't just getting fatter, he grew taller too. His new height rivaled Gurpreet's, and he was much fatter than the Sikh bear too! He wasn't just fat, he was massive. He thought he was going to explode out of his clothes, but strangely they were growing with him. His jeans were stretched tight by his thick thighs and the two globes in his rear. His shirt managed to stay loose despite his round belly hanging far in front of him. The shirt gained a graphic of a smiling milk carton wearing sunglasses, with the pun "'Sup Doodh" underneath. Harvey's mustache thickened, his beard grew thicker, wider than his face in a round shape and stretching below his neck. Finally, a pair of clear prescription aviator glasses appeared in front of Harvey's eyes, completing the transformation.

"Wha- what the? What's going on!?" Harvey exclaimed.

"We're running a bake sale as a fund raiser for the Sikh Student Coalition" Gurpreet answered, "but the guy who was suppose to do the actual cooking had to cancel. I'm so glad you were able to fill in at the last second, Harpinder. You're such a good cook" Gurpreet smiled and layed out his table cloth. "What a coincidence, your parna matches my table cloth! Hmm, no where did the other one go?"

"What are you talking about?" It seemed like Harvey's question had a completely different context in Gurpreet's mind. Did Gurpreet really not notice how Harvey had changed? "I'm not a chef, especially not with Punjabi food!"

"Don't be so modest, Harpinder" Gurpreet chuckled, "I've seen the lunches you've packed in your book bag. It seems you're an expect with even the most complicated dishes."

"Do you really not see anything wrong with me? I mean..." Harvey paused, looking down at his new form, "my stomach is huge"

"That's not wrong" Gurpreet patted his own belly, "A large stomach is proof you know what good food tastes like"

Gurpreet thought that Harvey was suppose to be like this, he even kept calling him "Harpinder". Harvey felt that he had to leave, he had to find a way to change back. He tried to exit, but he was currently sandwiched between the tables, the library, and Gurpreet. At his large size, he couldn't easily maneuver around Gurpreet, who was blocking the only exit. He tried, but ended up bumping his belly against Gurpreet's.

"Haha, easy there Harpinder. Here, allow me to pass you the ingredients." Gurpreet placed a few packages and utensils on Harvey's side of the table. It looked like escape wouldn't be possible unless Harvey could convince Gurpreet that he wasn't the person Gurpreet thought he was. Still, what was he suppose to do in he mean time? He didn't know how to make any of these dishes. And yet, Harvey's hands moved on auto pilot. Without needing to put any thought into it, he was creating a variety of delicious Punjabi treats. Once Gurpreet finished setting up the decor and collection bin, their stand was open for business.

Since the Library Walkway was a popular spot on campus, they had a steady flow of customers. It was mostly Indian students at first, but the stand's popularity quickly caught the eye of other students as well. Harvey kept busy, constantly making more treats to keep up with demand. Things were going so well, he was starting to forget he had been so troubled by his transformation earlier. He was even throwing out welcoming and thankful phrases such as "Aaooji aaooji" and "tuhada swagat hai" to people who stopped by their stand. 

When things eventually slowed down, a group of Punjabi women approach the stand. "Hi Gurpreet. Who's your friend?" the first one asked.

"Hi Rupi, this is Harpinder. He's a new member of the Sikh Student Coalition. He just joined yesterday."

"Ah, now that you mention it he does look familiar. He was at yesterday's meeting, right?" Rupi said.

"Wow, this food looks so good" a second girl added, "Harpinder, did you make all of this?"

"It was nothing, really" Harvey bashfully rubbed the back of his turban and smiled "Would you like some?"

"Yes, please" she replied. Harvey filled plates for all of the girls in the group.

"Thank you, Harpinder. How much do we owe you?" Rupi asked.

"Don't worry about it, it's on the house" Harvey winked "And my friends call me Harp." The girls blushed and giggled to each other, thanking Harpinder before taking off. Harvey was glad that he still had his signature charm.

Gurpreet grinned, "Look at you 'Harp', so popular already" the two shared a laugh "Thank you for all your help today. This is probably the most profitable bake sale the Sikh Student Coalition has ever had" Gurpreet patted the collection bin "and by putting our name out here, I'm sure we've also attracted a few new members. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Of course. It's just like Professor Singh said, a Sikh should always help those in need" The two hugged each other, their belllies squishing against each other.

"I'm going to finish cleaning up here, why don't you take some well deserved rest?" Gurpreet said as he made room for Harvey to exit.

Harvey nodded and leisurely walked to the a restroom to wash his hands. Looking in the mirror, his turban unwrapped itself from his head, becoming a table cloth again. He also reverted back to his original form, a white man with an average build wearing a patka.

He grabbed his head, feeling a bit woozy. "Did that really just happen?" Harvey asked himself. He remembered everything that happened at the bake sale, but it both felt like he was himself and wasn't himself at the same time. Harvey rationalize that he must of just imagined the transformation. He was just a regular white guy helping Gurpreet with his bake sale. As for the treats he was making... it must have been some simple american treat. There was no way he was making Punjabi food. Harvey placed the table cloth in his book bag so he could return it to Gurpreet later and exited the bathroom. He ended up passing by that same group of Punjabi women. "Hey Rupi" he said with a wink. The girls simply smiled and rolled their eyes.

"See you at the next meeting, Harv" Rupi said while they all walked away. That was odd, they all seemed so into him earlier. Why wasn't his charm working anymore? Oh well, Harvey looked at the time on his phone. He was trying to decide if he should head to class or if he still had time to go somewhere else.

Hey! Skinny white guy here wishing I was something more exciting!

I can sense you've been touched by the power of many transformations before, perhaps you are a master of transformation as well? Usually I'd be wary of using my power on those like you, in case it rebounded on me, but this request is too tempting to pass. Fine, I'll make you more interesting. You're sitting at home when to hear loud rock coming from outside. You open your front door to find yourself in a suburban neighborhood with a young South Asian man sitting on your doorstep with a speaker.

You want to ask him what he's doing here, but after noticing some angry glares from your neighbors, you think it's best to tell him to turn the music down first. "Turn it down?" He scoffs, "Man, you're the one always saying to turn it up. Listen to this!" He grabs you by the ear and pulls you closer to the speaker, as if standing across the street wouldn't still be a fine distance to hear the track. You curse when you feel a sharp pain where he grabbed your earlobe, but as the sound reverberates through your skull you find that pain turning to pleasure.

You nod your head to the booming drums as your ear lobes grow, craving more of that sound, then filling with large gauges. You tell him he's right, shit this good deserves to be played at max volume. "Hell yeah, especially when it speaks to taking down a broken system. That's what it's like for brown men in a white man's world." You're confused, is brown men referring to you too? You feel your body electrified like a guitar, your body warming up and your skin darkening in turn. Your hair stands on end until the blackened strands curl into a mess much like the man's, though you like your streaked red and sides shaved. You grin, looking at your fellow south asian with your deep brown eyes in newfound familiarity. You can't help but agree that there's nothing more punk than an immigrant.

After a few minutes of listening, your neighbor's annoyed stares become more obvious to both of you. "Man let's ditch these posers. Is it cool if I take this to Zayne's house?" You get excited, recognizing the name of another punk who lives a few blocks down. You agree, noting you're excited to listen there too. "What?" he chuckles, "no offense Man, but I don't think Zayne invites anyone your age to rock out." You wonder what he means by age before looking down at your arms, ever hairier than before. You think you're seeing things, adjusting your glasses out of habit without realizing you weren't wearing any before. Your facial scruff becoming a thick beard. Your clothes turning into a brown polo tucked into white khakis, baggy at first but stretched tighter as your time as a slim youth grows distant from years in a sedentary desk job. Your adjust your polo, trying to give your moobs more room while they jiggle along with your gut to the speaker. Despite your new clothes, you're still a punk in spirit, but a man needs to dress a certain way to work when he's got bills to pay.

you look at the man, now recognizing him as your son. You're a bit sad he keeps calling you "Man" instead of Dad, but a part of you swells with pride as a sign he's inherited some of the anti-authority spirit you grew up with. You sigh, allowing him to go rock out with his friend, but reminding him to come home before dinner and hoping you can jam with him after too.

"Ah kids" I say, stepping out of the house next to yours, looking like a typical suburban man "no matter how cool you are, they always choose their friends." You laugh deeply, clutching on to the bouncing polo that threatens to untuck from your khakis and reveal the furry carpet below. You say your son is probably just going through a rebellious phase. I laugh in kind, "With a rebel dad like you, I'm sure 'rebellious phase' is an understatement!" I'm unsure if you recognize me, or the request you made to me, but I am sure that this life is at the very least more exciting!