This is but one ending in the SCUZZ collaborative adult CYOA project, which has a bunch of awesome stories by other tf authors! Check it out for free here -

https://ifeelodd.itch.io/scuzz

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On rifling through the bowl your hands graze past different packages of all shapes and colors. One in particular catches your interest, something towards the bottom. At first you’re a little scared you’ll be breaking that “take one” rule by grabbing it, since it feels so big, but on really getting in there and squishing it between your fingers you confirm that it is in fact just one very large strand of something wrapped in plastic casing. You squish part of it between two fingers and gingerly yank it free, watching the colorful segments rise from the surface of the pile like a magician's endless handkerchief trick. It just… keeps going…. until you’re holding an impressive two feet of coiled gummy worm thick as your arm. Just looking at it next to the bowl it came from raises questions to the logistics of this that will not be getting answered. But more importantly - fuck yeah, SCORE! This has to be the best thing in there, at least by square footage.

You position one end of the worm toward your mouth and tear free a little hole in the plastic with your teeth. Your hand goes in to stretch the hole a little wider, and the tip of the worm falls free into your palm like a lizard shedding its skin. There’s something vaguely phallic about the whole affair as you bring the tip to your mouth and take the biggest bite you can manage.

The taste is sweet and syrupy on your tongue, strangely thick given the consistency of the gummy when you bite it. The chunks dissolve into a treacle when you swallow. You spend a second just kind of strangely aware of your own throat, and your li[s tickle slightly towards the end of the whole thing. You aren’t really sure how you felt about the taste one way or another, honestly. But.. well, fuck, you have a lot of it left to go through. Maybe the next bite could clear things up?

Your lips tingle again as you swallow another mouthful of worm. All that sugar is starting to leave a greasy residue on your face. You raise an arm to wipe the gunk off on your sleeve, only to find the material has grown baggy at the end. You look at it with passing confusion. You.. your arm should be there, right? Your hand at least? You wiggle around against the fabric, confused by the strange amount of space it seems to have now. With each moment that passes it only seems to grow baggier. There’s definitely something in there, you can feel the fingers when you clasp them against the dwindling surface of your palm, but… it’s… sinking? Receding into itself, losing shape, like the wax of a melting candle. Some instinctive part of you is waiting for the tremendous pain to hit but it just… never does. Honestly you can’t even bring yourself to panic. Or… externally emote about it at all, really. All you can manage is a “hrrk… gll..” Before the words turn to spit in your drooly, uncoordinated maw- Mouth. Your mouth, you have a mouth, because you’re a person.

As you mull this all over your normal arm brings the tip of the giant gummy worm back up to your face. You take another hefty few bites. Chew, swallow. Your skin begins prickling all over.
Another bite, and that wetness in your face is spreading down to the fattening bands of your neck. You hold the worm in your teeth so as to free up a hand to feel the growth, finding something cool to the touch and sticky instead of your skin. Something bumpy, segmented, ridged… Your numbing jaw moves to take another greedy bite just as you feel your wriggling fingers shlorp into the surface of your torso. The weight redistributes, and your shoulders sink inward. It’s getting harder to move your head. Or… maybe it ‘s that your neck is growing? Maybe it’s both. When you try to step back to check yourself you stumble a bit over the massive clownshoes you could’ve sworn were a little tight this morning. You try to splay your toes for balance but they just feel like one squishy mass that folds inwards immediately as you thump down onto the pavement.

It should hurt, but it doesn't. All of you feel softer then it should and the impact just seems to make your insides wriggle against each other. You watch the gummy worm dangle there from your mouth with a detached sense of panic, like watching a video of someone else's computer getting bricked. You feel sympathetic for the theoretical person who's gulping down more desperate bites of the candy even as their genitals shrink away and their ass smooths out, never again fit for human pleasure, but obviously it isn’t happening to YOU. You know you would freak out more if you were permanently turning into a worm. You have a life! You’d find a way to stay a person no matter what. Call for help, get a friend, at least find someone to take care of you before you lose your ability to communicate. But since the thing swallowing down segment after segment of the worm without even stopping to notice their teeth are falling out isn't panicking, you know that it can’t be you. Because you know yourself and the things you wouldn’t do, right?

Quick question, what’s your name?

No, seriously. You can’t remember.

The thing in your mouth tastes good, but it’s far too big for you to keep your head up while you hold it. The weight sends you bending down towards the ground, segments pressing up against the cloth thing you’re surrounded by. You taste the sickly sweet fluid from where something with teeth had bitten it before and it makes your setae tingle. You squirm yourself forward as your legs fatten into a singular segmented tube, and you blink your sunken eyes. There's food here, in front of you. You have to keep eating.

As you continue to shrink and the candy in turn grows you burrow deep into its surface. The material is a good deal less grainy than what you think you should be eating, but you manage to chew your way in regardless. The taste is so much heavier now, too. God… the way it seeps into every sagging part of you, a constant thrum of pleasure through your simplifying cortex. You aren’t sure if you used that word right but you aren't sure what words are, or what right means, or how much of you is gonna be here by the time you finish eating. ‘Finish’ eating feels a bit wrong to think, though, doesn't it? You aren’t going to finish eating, that’s not what you do. Your body is a single tract designed to process, eating is one of your only constant functions. And sure enough, you find yourself further sinking into the candy, taking its sweetness inside yourself. You worry about what your friends might say if they knew you were a worm but you don’’t remember any of their faces anymore, so it feels like a moot point. The texture is nice. Your segments churn in simple pleasure at the fulfillment of a process. You’ve made your way further along, now, almost to the surface. You don’t normally leave the ground unless you get washed up by heavy rain but… but.. Why are you trying to leave, anyway? You could’ve sworn there was something you were doing. But that can’t be true, can it? What else would there be if not this.

You turn around, retreating back further into the gummy. That feels nice. That feels right. That’s where you're supposed to be. You’re a few inches tall and this is all you need, all you're made for, all you are. The world is delicious and you are to sample its flesh, and this is all you hope for.

Eventually, someone picks up the gummy worm from the floor. A group of kids staying up late all laughing at the size of the thing, at bite marks that taper off to a little symmetrical hole further in. One of them tips it over and shakes it. Out you fall through the dark onto his hands. He sees you, then, and you know for that moment he can see whatever remnants are left of your face. The kid screams and tosses you into a nearby heap of compost, flanked on either side by his jeering friends. You fly through the air and sink into the loamy soil. This is right. This tastes good. A gentle rain begins as you feel the pull of the earth. Your eyes close up and smooth over.

Silently, an earthworm disappears into the ground just a few feet away from a discarded pair of clothes.