Vignettes - I'm Back

Yes, I'm back. I've had a major case of writer's block. So to shake it off, I've written a few shorter stories. I can't say it's majorly helped, but I'd like to think (and hope!) that you'll hear from me again much sooner than this last gap!

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"Alright, so the clients want this wall here t' be opened up a little with an archway that leads into the dining room. Simple as. I've already marked out what we want to remove, and now we just wanna prepare the area for demo."

"Hell yeah!"

"I appreciate the enthusiasm, but don't get too cocky, kid." Mick sighed, shaking his head at his hammer-wielding trainee. "We gotta be real delicate-like so's we don't tear down more than we need. So we're cutting into the wall, not smashing."

"Right, right. So the buzzsaw, right?" Jonesy tossed the hammer aside a bit too casually, straight onto a tube of sealant. It landed with full force, popping off the lid, and splattering all over Mick from shoulder to crotch.

"Oi, careful!" Y'can't be tossing yer tools about all willy nilly!" He growled as he tugged on his messed-up clothes. "C'mon, man... I love this shirt..."

While Jonesey felt bad about the situation, he couldn't help but appreciate the moment. His boss was a bearish piece of dad-bod man-meat. He tried not to gawk as the old man pulled his shirt off, but he couldn't help himself. He'd always liked his men on the mature side. He was satisfied to see that brawny build he often admired came with a silvery pelt to match his manliness. Then he turned to the sink to put his shirt in soak, Jonesy got a lot more than he bargained for.

"Oh my God..."

"What is it now?"

"Sorry," he replied with an embarrassed stammer. "It's just... I never took you for a tattoo guy."

Mick froze at the words. "Well, we all make mistakes when we're young."

"That's a big mistake..."

"Would ya lay off?" The two men stood silently for a moment before Mick sighed, and said, "I was a teen who thought he was a tough guy. Thought a tattoo would make 'im look tougher. So's I found a guy who didn't ask questions, and persuaded him to do it."

"Wow, that must have taken a lot of time..."

"You don't know the half of it," he grumbled through clenched teeth. "It practically grew on me."

"Grew?"

"You know, a lotta sessions. A lotta work. I added to it over the years, but I think it's big enough, wouldn't you agree?"

"It does take up most of your back..."

"Exactly. Pray it don't get any bigger." He shoved his damp, mostly stain-ridden shirt in the guy's chest, and growled. "Now make yourself useful, and get the other stuff from the truck. I keep a spare shirt in the back."

Mick kept his steely gaze on his lackey until the man left the room, before letting out the heaviest of sighs. How could he keep living like this?

He may have told a few white lies, but the truth was much wilder. He was a teenager who thought himself tough, he did get a tattoo from a shifty character. But it wasn't years back, it was mere months ago that it happened.

Mick thought he was being soooo cool by getting a tattoo, even if it was the tiniest speck. A small seed on the small of his back. Anyone who saw it might mistake it for a blemish, or a birthmark. But he knew it was ink, and that was enough.

Then the weird things started to happen. He grew half a foot overnight. Small hairs seemed to spring up across his chest and down his belly. His peach fuzz was hardening into manly stubble. But he was in the throes of puberty. That sort of thing happened. What was scary, however, was the germinating seed on his back. He noticed it after getting out of the shower one day. His tattoo was sprouting, for lack of a better word. Even worse, it was growing.

Day by day, he would see the growth of that seed as it rooted into his back, sprouting into a small plant that only grew larger and more extravagant. Within a month, it had become a small tree. At the same time, Mick himself had undergone his own metamorphosis. His body hair was coming in thick and fast, growing all over his skin. His stubble was now a proper beard that crowned his rectangular jaw with its dark growth. 

People were treating him as an adult, and the world seemed to change around him to accept this new Mick. He even left school as everyone assumed he was old enough to get a job. He quickly found an apprenticeship in house renovation, with Jonesy as his fellow trainee. He was a few years older than him at this point, but that didn't last long. It was hard to shake the thought that the kid was more than young enough to be his son nowadays. How time flew...

As the tree grew bigger and mature, so did Mick. He'd embraced this new life for a while as he rapidly went from a trainee to a master of his craft within a few weeks. Until he realised in that time, he had managed to grow older than his parents. His age was catching up to him as fast as his hairline had receded to the back of his head. He was finding more and more greys in his beard, and his blanket of chest hair. New wrinkles were digging into his now rugged skin. The thought that he was rapidly encroaching on his grandparents' age used to frighten him. Now, he assumed he'd surpassed even that without any fanfare. He just looked and felt every bit of his age as he veered ever closer to the big 6-0.

The only bright side is that it had been a week since either the tree or himself had matured. Its plentiful branches once covered with leaves were now barren and bare. And all Mick could hope was it would stay that way. He wasn't ready to retire from a profession he's only started mere weeks ago. Which made training Jonesy all the more daunting. He was essentially training his future successor... No, he had to stop thinking about his future for once. Mick slapped his cheek to snap himself back to reality, ready to put on his tough-guy attitude once more as Jonesy re-entered the house. He had to be tough, it was the only way he'd learn in this trade. 

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I came home with a frown. Soccer practice had been cancelled for the day. But on the plus side, that meant I was home earlier than usual. My parents weren't back home just yet, and my brother was going to an esports thing with his friends, so I'd get the house to myself for a couple of hours. I was looking forward to Fortnite-ing without somebody breathing down my neck.

As I closed the front door, I could hear the shower running. Trent must still be getting ready. Probably preparing for the sleepover at John's house after. He's a new addition to the crew, though I don't think I've met him yet. They must be good friends to always be sleeping over. It was the 2nd time this month. 

As I reached the top of the stairs, I could see that Trent had left the bathroom door wide open, probably assuming he'd be the only one home. Huge mistake. There was no better time to prank someone than when they're vulnerable. And who could beat the classic "flush the toilet to make the shower cold" prank. 

So I quietly pushed the door open, and crept inside. But something felt weird. I turned to look at the shower, and through the curtain, I could make out a large figure several inches taller than me. He was humming a song to himself, deep and gravelly. This guy was too sturdy to be my dad. And it definitely wasn't my baby brother.

Before I realised what I was doing, I grabbed the curtain and threw it open, stepping back in shock. There was some strange old guy using our shower! He turned around, a look of surprise on his face that slipped into recognition as he laid eyes on me. He sighed, and growled, "Calm down, it's only me." 

"W-what do you mean me!?" I cried out, jabbing the toilet brush towards him in self-defence.

"Me, Trent, I'm Trent!" He bellowed before pinching his brow with a sigh of frustration. "The one time I don't lock the frickin' door..."

He turned to face me, and I spun back in disgust. Trent or not, I didn't want to see his little friend! I could hear him pull a towel from the rack, and wrap it around his waist. When I turned back, I was still looking at a middle aged man with more hair on his shoulders and back than what remained on his head. How the hell could this hairy, gray-stained oaf be my little brother? "How the fuck are you Trent, you old, furry fucker!?"

"Woah, language," he chastised with a frown. "I just used some Goo." He paused for effect, before asking with a little shock, "Wait, you don't know what Goo is? God, you're so lame..." 

He tossed an empty bottle my way about the size of a complementary hotel shampoo. "Daddy's Goo?" I asked, a little disgusted. "Rub into skin to unleash the daddy within... Why would you use this? You're not even handsome..."

"To you, maybe." He grumbled. "But if you have to ask, it's for the event tonight." He said it with such gravitas, as if I'd automatically know what he meant. When I clearly didn't, he sighed once more, and continued. "So you know how the worst thing about going anywhere with friends is that we have to bring an adult with us? Which throws the vibes off for everyone, since all our parents are kinda cringe. But then Pete came across this stuff on Henka for super cheap, and suddenly, we had the fix for everything! Now every time we want to hang out without any grown ups bugging us, one of us uses Goo, and now that adult is just another friend."

"Okay..." I mumbled. I could see where they were coming from, but using some untested substance from that tacky online shop couldn't be good for them. What if he goes overboard and my little brother is suddenly my fake uncle for life? "You sure that stuff's safe?"

"Safe enough," he replied. "It lasts for about 10 hours, and the reversal can leave you sore. But we've been using this stuff for like a year now, and we've had no troubles yet."

"A year? Someone's going to get suspicious at some point, you know..."

"That's where John comes into it." Trent crossed his arms with a smug grin. "Don't you get it? John doesn't exist! it's our cover story. The guy chosen to be the designated dad will pretend to go to a sleepover, but really, we just book a cheap motel and wait for the goo to wear off. Plus, he has two dads so if anyone gets too curious, we don't have to worry about who's meeting who!"

I had to admit, it was a decent plan. It wasn't as air-tight as he thought it was, but they'd been running this con for almost a year without anyone noticing. Until now. "You know I've got to tell mom and dad about this, right?"

"You could do that," he said with a stroke of his graying goatee. "Oooorrr, I could make it worth your while. See, Henka practically sells Goo by the barrel. I've got so much, I wouldn't even notice if a bottle or two went astray... Say, isn't Serena Cardigan coming to town next month? I don't want to brag, but John's dad gets premium perks at the stadium, including special rates on tickets, and access to the VIP lounge."

I frowned as my brother tried to weasel his way out of this situation. But I've been a member of the CardiGang since her Eyes Shut Tight days, and scalpers nabbed all the good tickets within seconds of them going live... It sure would be nice to go, especially without mom or dad cringing up the joint...

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Toni grumbled under her breath as she readjusted the yoga mat tucked under her arm. Why did they have to hold a music festival on the beach the same week of her girl's vacation? It was barely 8 in the morning, and it was already crawling with people jamming out to covers of throwback hits, and not even the good ones. This wasn't the environment she'd dreamed of when she planned her morning yoga. And if she didn't get her routine in soon, she wouldn't be ready in time for the bottomless mimosa brunch at that chic restaurant on the boardwalk. There was certainly no space in that single room she was sharing with her girlies. Surely there had to be somewhere quiet, and isolated nearby.

Her search further down the coast led her through a lush cliffside forest, and down an unmarked desire path, the floor scarred by countless people walking the same route. There, she came across the most perfect spot. It was a secluded cove with gorgeous views over the ocean, and not a single soul was about. It was a haven made just for her. Granted, there were warning signs along the route. Probably something to do with the cliffs, she didn't bother to read them. She had yoga to do, after all, and she'd be 30 minutes tops. What was going to happen in that time?

Toni walked out onto the sand, lightly warmed up by the sun, and unrolled her yoga mat. She began with a simple breathing exercise, deep breathes in and out. The soft sound of the ocean crashing against the shoreline was like music to her ears. She let her eyes close, a pleasant warmth filling her body, as she stood tall in a simple mountain pose. She exhaled in bliss. 

She ran through her routine like clockwork, every stretch felt euphoric as if her entire being was expanding in every direction. Even with her eyes closed, she effortlessly glided into every pose. That is, until she didn't. It was her trusted tree pose that betrayed her. Standing on one leg, left foot pressed into her right thigh, there was the slightest wobble. Then her leg buckled, and she lost her balance. Huh, Toni thought. That was weird. But she didn't let it phase her. Next pose. 

She felt heavier than usual. Like that time she carried all the groceries into the house at once, every bag looped around her upper body. Not only that, but there was an odd itch all over her body that gnawed at her concentration. He couldn't scratch, not while she was in firefly pose. But soon, she couldn't even keep that in check. Instead of opening her chakras, it felt like her muscles were seizing up instead. Her renowned flexibility was vanishing. She couldn't even wrap her arms behind her back. her fingers kept swiping at oddly gritty skin. Had she gotten sand on her in all the commotion? 

With a heavy sigh, Toni decided to call it quits. She did one last downward dog before opening her eyes up to her surroundings. As she gazed down at her body, she couldn't help but let out a low, guttoral scream. "What the fuck!?" She bellowed in a smooth baritone a full octave deeper than usual. 

Toni fell back on her ass, arms flailing as she grappled with a body that was not her own. For one thing, she was huge! Thick, unsightly muscles roped around her arms and legs, her flat stomach now paved with abs of steel. All coated with a healthy layer of body hair. Especially all over her breasts, exposed to the elements as the scraps of her bikini top littered the sand. Dark, curly hairs dusted across their wide expanse. She dared to prod them, only to realise these weren't her boobs. No, they were tougher, harder. Thick slabs of sculpted meat that were, somehow, even larger than the meagre breasts that once adorned her chest.

Feeling those solid mounds made the reality sink in much further. Because if those really were pecs, then the obscene bulge that filled her panties wasn't an eager sea cucumber. She slipped a heavy hand down, her heart pounding as she tugged on her panties. Out slipped a veiny, girthy cock and a low hanging scrotum surrounded by a bushel of pubic hair. She twisted her hips slightly, feeling her newly external genitals bounce around. It was a new yet familiar sensation, and it made her feel nauseous.

"What the fuck is going on!?" Toni sobbed under her breath. She was a man, a hulking, hairy, bodybuilder of a man. The thought was ludicrous, and yet... Hold on, she thought. One of the girlies had joked about this on the flight. She'd seen videos online, of boys going to the beach and coming back as men. But they were all clickbait, right? She grabbed her phone to check, when her camera flickered on for face ID. To her dismay, it wouldn't unlock due to the messy, bushy beard that swamped her lower face. Was her jawline wider, or was it just the beard? And her hair was so short. Was it receding? Being a man was one thing, but she couldn't have a receding hairline as well!

This was too much. She had to ground herself. Kneeling on her mat, Toni closed her eyes once more and took some deep breaths. She was a man. With oversized muscles and excess body hair. With large feet and an above average penis. But the weird part was that, despite the shock, she didn't feel out of sorts. It was still her body, just... enhanced... Maybe she wasn't just a man on the outside... Quietly, she grumbled to herself, "Hey, who's that man over there. With the action figure proportions and the furry face? Oh, him? That's Tony, with a Y. He's so masculine, that Tony. He's the man!" He was the man...

As his heartbeat slowed down, Tony exhaled in relief, then started to roll his yoga mat back up. Okay, this was new. This was different. This was not ideal... But he was still Tony. Still one of the girls, in a way. And as much as he'd like to wallow some more, he had brunch to attend. But how was he going to convince the girlies that he wasn't some creep trying to chat them up? 

As he walked back towards the path, he spotted one of those signs. Tanetanga Beach... Surely Shauna could back him up, she seemed to know the most about this place. Grabbing his phone, and unlocking it with his passcode, he took a quick photo of the sign before opening the group chat, and tapped his thumbs across the screen. 

OMG!!! You would NOT believe what's happened!! ⛱️🌊🧘🧔‍♂️😱

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Jared's heart beat fast as he avoided eye contact with the intimidating man sat before him. Scott "The Beast" Anderson was not a man to cross. Legend has it, he was the star player back in his day. Even went pro for several years before retiring at the height of his career from a back injury. Now a washed-up coach of an average high school team in the mid-west, he made sure it was everyone else's problem. Which didn't bode well for Jared. It was no secret he was the worst guy on the team. He knew the ins and outs of the game better than anyone. But try as he might, he couldn't put his knowledge to practice. And when his epic fumble cost them the last game? Well, he knew it was only a matter of time...

A moment of silence sat between the two, until Anderson cleared his throat, and the air. "You may have heard the rumors that I'd been scouted to help develop a new team." Jared, in fact, had not. "Well, not only are they true but, with any luck, I will be leaving my post by the end of the day." With that, Anderson scooped his hands behind his head with a triumphant, crooked grin.

"Oh, wow." Jared mumbled. "Congratulations, I think?"

"You think?"

That icy remark made him gulp. "I-I mean, I guess I don't know what that has to do with calling me to your office after school..."

"Well, I need somebody to fill in for me for the rest of the season. I know I'm a tough act to follow, but if you do a good job, you could even be looking at a permanent position."

"Woah, wait," Jared asked incredulously. "You want me to coach the team? Me!? You can't be serious!"

"I know you're not the fastest out there. Or the strongest. Or the most co-ordinated. In fact, you've been a liability on the field all season. But you're a whizz at strategies, and that brain of yours has helped us out of some serious pickles. Being a coach on the sidelines is the perfect position for you!"

"It's a kind gesture and all," Jared muttered, blushing from the backhanded compliment. "But surely there are more qualified people for the job? You know the team doesn't take me serious enough as it is, let alone attempting to coach them. Besides, I'm only a freshman..."

"Pah, excuses!" Anderson growled. "I have it all figured out. You'll be able to skip classes, you'll get paid for your time, I'll even help you earn the respect of the team if you're so incapable of doing it yourself. All I need is a shake of the hand, to seal the deal."

As Anderson held his hand out, Jared felt apprehensive. It was clearly too good to be true. But The Beast was the last person he'd ever want to make an enemy of. So against his better judgement, he reached out his own hand. His clammy palm was engulfed by his coach's rugged paw, that triumphant smirk on his face.

There was a spark of energy that propelled the two in opposite directions. Jared groaned as he leaned up against the wall, wiping his sore jaw. He paused. Why did it feel so prickly? And his shirt sleeves, normally so loose, were now bunched up around his biceps. His breath caught in his throat as his shirt tightened around him. Even his oversized gym pants were starting to feel snug. "I'm growing...?" He pondered aloud. The thought was ridiculous, and yet... Quickly, he yanked his shirt off over his head, exposing his newly toned torso to the world, a patch of hair growing in-between his pecs. "Coach, I don't..." Jared began to ask, until he looked up to see he wasn't the only one going through changes.

"I guess I haven't been entirely honest here," Anderson chuckled as he paced the room, no longer hunched over from back pain. His shirt hung loose against his thinning waistline, tight around his expanding chest. "There is a start-up team seeking talent nationwide, but for a specific goal. To find those struck down at the top of their game, left to wallow in the remains of their cracked dreams, and to offer them a second chance. All I had to do was find some schmuck who'd be willing to give up their own future to bolster my own. That's you, by the way."

Jared groaned, barely taking in his coach's words. More focussed on the swollen mounds of beef that were now inflating across his body, and the persistent fiery itch of thousands of follicles breaking free across his skin. The coach was just using him? For another shot at fame??

Anderson flashed another cocky grin, his blotted face looking softer, and clearer by the minute. His bald spot had all but filled in, his thickening hair returned to its former straw blond glory. "Of course, it wouldn't be fair to leave you a broken shell like I was." He cooed. "No, I promised to help you earn the respect of the team, and I'll be damned if you don't put the fear into their eyes the way I did. Just look at you, all that brawn and fur. I know a beast when I see one!"

The younger man held a hand out to Jared, who took it in his rough paw and clamoured to his feet, wobbling as he adjusted to his new bulk. He couldn't help but notice he was now eye to eye with his former coach, who looked to be around college age by now. It felt like a dream as the blond star guided him out of his office, and into the weights room with its full length mirrors, where the two of them came face to face with their altered beings.

"Fuuuuck, talk about a flashback. Look at me, nineteen years old again!" Anderson hollered in triumph. Though with his broad stature, swollen muscles, and lantern jaw, he could have passed for a man in his twenties. No wonder he was the star player back in the day, there was no doubt this man was a pro athlete.

Meanwhile, Jared was at a loss for words. There in the mirror was a brawny, hirsute hunk of man meat. His heavy brow and dense beard hardened his already masculine features, giving him the natural look of a man you didn't dare cross. And despite the disconnect, that man was him. He looked just as terrifying as Anderson once did. Younger too. He still had a full head of hair, and nary a white strand in sight.

Speaking of, his former coach swung a buff arm around his shoulder. "Don't say I'm not generous, you could be in your forties right now, but I left you just enough time to live up that late thirties bachelor lifestyle!"

"I'm... I'm in my thirties? I'm almost forty?" Jared's head was swimming, that was twenty years of his life, gone in an instant. Replaced with hair and sweat and brawn...

"But what an almost forty you are," Anderson said with a pat of his wide back. "Look at you! No kid on that team is going to kick up a shit with a face like yours. Throw in your killer strategies, and you're going to guide them to victory!" The younger man wiped away a fake tear, and declared, "I couldn't ask for a better successor!"

"But, I don't... I can't..."

"Oh don't give me none of that wishy washy bullshit! You're a man, grow some balls!" Somehow, these words of encouragement did little to fix Jared's situation. In fact, tears began to well at his eyes instead. Anderson groaned, and slumped his broad shoulders. "Fuck, there's nothing more pathetic than a grown man crying... Tell you what, I've got some time before the Big Man comes to get me. I'll give you some pointers in being a tough but fair coach that gets results. Rule one, no showing weakness! Dry those tears and meet me in my office. When I'm done with you, you'll be worthy of The Beast's title."

With that, the former beast took a bow, and left the room, leaving Jared staring at his older, masculine reflection with a pained expression. To think an hour ago, he was worried about losing his position. Now his place was all but assured, but at a heavy cost. Somehow, this was worse than being kicked off the team...