Spectacular Hair Growing Miracle

James was a little worried about his son. He'd received a package in the mail, whereupon he immediately ran upstairs with it and to the bathroom. At his age, it was probably best not to ask any questions or interrupt under most circumstances. Boys will be boys, after all. But then he could hear him cussing out loud, even from downstairs. It sounded like whatever he'd bought, it wasn't going the way he wanted. It was probably another of those cheap doohickeys from that dumb online shopping app everyone seemed to be into these days. He didn't care for it, of course. A lot of the cheap tat on there was either faulty or fake. It's too good to be true, he always said, because there was always a reason for the price.

As James walked upstairs, he noticed that the bathroom door wasn't properly closed, there was a slither of a gap. Outside the bathroom, he could hear the shower running, his son groaning and cursing under his breath. He always tried to give his son some privacy, but he also had to make sure he wasn't in any trouble. So James rapped on the bathroom door. "You okay in there, Duncan?" he asked.

He heard him grunt in surprise, followed by the sound of scrambling hands and bottles. Eventually, Duncan yelled back, "everything's peachy! Don't come in!" Yet his voice sounded scratchy, gravelly even. As if he'd caught a cold. The shower turned off, and there was more of that whispered cussing that sounded unusually deep as it echoed around the bathroom walls. 

"I wasn't going to!" James replied. "But if there's something you want to talk about, you know I'm here." Even if it was embarrassing, he couldn't leave him injured or in pain.

There was a few seconds pause before Duncan finally replied, "Fine... Just don't look until I tell you to." James pushed the door open slowly, his hand covering his eyes, and stepped inside. He could see Duncan's feet as he stood in the shower entrance. But they looked bigger, swollen even. They led up to a pair of hair-covered legs that he couldn't remember his son ever having. A towel hung loose against his knees, flapping as it unfurled and assumedly wrapped around his waist. Duncan let out a heavy sigh. "Okay," he grunted. "You can look, but don't be mad..."

James uncovered his eyes, and jolted back in surprise, slamming his back into the now shut door. Instead of the husky, young teen he was expecting to see, he was faced with a burly, hirsute, middle-aged man.  There was a guilty look on his rounded face. Yet despite the salt and pepper beard, and the weathered skin, and the completely bald scalp, he could make out a strong familial resemblance. As if this man could have been his uncle. And yet, his gut told him otherwise.

 

 

"Okay, I know this looks bad," the man grumbled as he sheepishly rubbed his scalp. Which had to be the biggest understatement. It looked like his son had been replaced by a man far older, far hairier, and far huskier than even himself. The man could sense James' apprehension, and added, "Let me explain everything!"

Morning Pranks

It was the morning following a very successful sleepover for Jackson and Bart. They'd stayed up watching scary movies with lots of snacks, and very little adult supervision. For the most part, his embarrassing dad had kept to himself for the evening. And now, the following morning, the two boys were battling each other in the newest Boulevard Brawler game. Things were going well until Bart finally piped up.

"Your dad's acting weird today."

His dad was always weird, Jackson thought to himself. But it was true, he'd been even weirder this morning. It all started when Bart woke him up from a blissful sleep, having crept out of the room to use the bathroom, only to find it occupied. Inside, his dad was in his undies, staring at himself in the mirror and flexing at himself. He even grabbed his phone so he could take some selfies, until he finally noticed the two boys giggling uncontrollably in the doorway. 

That wasn't too weird, his dad was pretty egotistical about his huge size, and masculine appearance. He worked out most days, when he wasn't on the construction site putting those muscles to good use. He even had beard paraphernalia around the house because he was obsessed with his bushy facial fur. But Jackson had never actually seen him acting so narcissistic. Maybe this is what he was like behind closed doors. And that was just the start of it.

Glitter Bomb

Trent yawned and stretched his arms as he stumbled downstairs. He wasn't usually awake this early, but today was a special day; it was his sixteenth birthday. And it wasn't just any old birthday, it was a Leap Year birthday. He was used to having his birthday on the wrong day, so whenever February 29th came around, it was cause for a proper celebration on his proper birth day, the day he could only celebrate every four years.

The smell of roasted coffee wafted in the air, his mom already awake and making his favorite breakfast. And in the living room, there was already a small pile of gifts and cards for him to open. Trent didn't want to open anything until the rest of his family were there, but cards were always a go-to. He tore through the pile of envelopes, smiling at the thoughtful messages his parents wrote, and frowning at the 4th birthday jabs from his friends. His brother even got him a card made for pre-schoolers with dancing, rectangular dogs that wished him a bonzer birthday, whatever that meant. After opening another card from a distant relative with a $10 bill inside, he came to the last card in the pile. It looked a little haphazard, and he could feel something other than the card on the inside. He didn't recognise the handwriting at all, but that wasn't much of a concern. It wasn't like he knew everyone who'd sent him a card by their script. But this one felt different. Out-of-place...

Trent opened the envelope, a small smirk slipping his lips. It was a picture of a prune wearing a birthday hat. Wildly different from the other cards he'd received. Then he opened the card itself, and was immediately blinded by a puff of smoke and glitter. He dropped the card on the table, coughing as he tried wiping the offensive dust away from his eyes. Who would do something so stupid?? He grabbed the card again to find out who to yell at.

Dear Trent

Happy "16th" Birthday! What a day to celebrate it on!

Love

X

He scratched his head, confused. There was no name to who sent it, just a cross. He sighed, trying to put the memory of the glitter bomb aside. At least they signed it with him celebrating his sixteenth, unlike his immature friends. He may have been born in a leap year, but he didn't find the whole "your real age is a quarter what it actually is" thing funny. Then again, he noticed the sendee put 16th in quotations. What was that about?

He dropped the card down again, and sighed as he looked at his hands. They were coated in that fine glitter from inside the card. Plus, a load of it clung to his night-shirt in a shimmering mess. He didn't even want to think of what his face looked like. He yanked his shirt off over his head, and chucked it in the laundry room. But before he left, he noticed something peculiar on his chest. A faint itch that spread across his skin. When he rubbed his chest, it felt almost gritty to the touch. Had the glitter managed to seep through his shirt? That didn't make sense. He ignored the feeling for now, heading back upstairs to have a good shower. He grunted as he climbed, his knees feeling peculiarly sore. He tried to recall doing any exercise recently, but his thoughts felt hazy.

The Ideal Valentine

The night was young, and Miles was getting frisky with his girlfriend, Jackie. The two had been together for three years now, and their Valentine's Day had only begun. After a wonderful night out, there was only one thing on the lovers' minds. However, as soon as their lovemaking entered the honeymoon suite they'd booked for the night, Jackie paused a rowdy Miles as she rummaged in her underwear drawer. "I wanted to do something extra special for tonight, so I got us these." She held out two little bottles of shimmering liquid, dropping one into his open hands. "Drink this while I get into something more comfortable, and we'll have a night to remember!"

With that, Jackie slipped into the bathroom to freshen up. However, Miles had a few Valentine's plans of his own. He left the vial on Jackie's vanity table, then reached under the bed to pull out a box of treasures. He sprinkled some rose petals on the bed, lit a few scented candles, and dug out the box of premium chocolates and champagne. Then came to the pièce de résistance; a pair of tearaway briefs with a heart-print pattern that cupped his junk just so. He had this Valentine's thing in the can.

Finally, Miles got around to the small bottle his girlfriend had given him. It was a vibrant purple, with a peculiar sparkle. He noticed that the vial had a sticker on the front, a circle sitting atop a cross. He cocked his head, it was the universal symbol for women, and femininity. Why did Jackie want him to drink this? Then again, she was somewhat into witchcraft in a cutesy, fashion way. It was probably some sort of aphrodisiac she'd found online, made to spice the evening up a little. A way to find his inner women, and better understand how to pleasure her, perhaps. He uncorked the vial, and sniffed the contents. Sweet notes, with a floral undertone. Well, bottoms up.

"AAAHHHHH!!"

A Grizzly Christmas Wish

It was a chilly weekend morning when I received the text from Kris. "Hey, Bobby and I are in town for the weekend! Let's do Christmas lunch so we can catch up!" They were my closest friends back in high school, but since I moved downtown, we barely see each other. It'd be nice to catch up, and god knows I have nothing better to do. But I just know they're going to be all lovey-dovey around each other, and I'll have to face the questions about my relationship, or lack of one. It's been one break-up after another for me. Not all of us can be high school sweethearts...

While I was busy decorating the apartment for Christmas, and debating whether I should pretend to be sick, I found a Santa hat buried at the very bottom of the box. Clearly a leftover from last year's office party. I remembered stories from when I was a kid, where making a wish while wearing Santa's hat would make them come true. It was a little silly, but I couldn't help myself. I pulled it on my head, closed my eyes, and spoke aloud. "I wish I had a date that I could take to lunch." Before I could even open my eyes again, a loud knocking jolted me back to reality. I wasn't expecting any deliveries, or even any visitors. There's no way...

The knock came again, louder. I tossed the hat onto the sofa and darted to the door, taking a quick peek in the peephole before opening it with a big grin. It was my neighbor, Sophia. She moved in a few months ago, and there was an immediate sexual tension between us, Anyone with common sense could see the sparks we had whenever we crossed paths. "Heeey," I growled, trying not to seem too excited by fate finally bringing us together. "What's up, Soph?"

"Oh Tom," she cooed. "I'm so glad you're home. Do you have any plans today?"

"Well, that depends. What did you have in mind?"

"I need to run some errands, and out of the blue, my babysitter called to say she couldn't make it." My heart dropped as she shuffled aside, and little Casey, her young son, popped into frame. "I don't suppose you could look after him for the day? Please?" Sophia pouted her lip a little, looking at me with expectant eyes. So much for that hot date... 

With a heavy sigh, I nodded my head and said, "sure. I can do that."

"Thank you so much!" She gave me a quick hug before waving me off. "I owe you big time, Tommy!"

"You sure do..." I mumbled under my breath before closing the door. Casey's cute and all, but this wasn't what I had in mind. Still, it was a great excuse to get out of this lunch. When I returned to the living room, I was surprised to find Casey with his hands on the Santa hat. "Why do you have one of these?" He asked. He squinted his eyes. "Are you Santa?"

"What? No! I've been decorating, and found it in one of the boxes." I sat down next to him. "You know, when I was your age, my mama told me that if you wear one and wish extra hard, Santa will grant your biggest wish."

He gasped, and yanked the hat onto his little head, quick as a dart. He scrunched up his face, and cried out, "I wish I was a bear!"

I let out a snort and asked, "A bear? Why would you want to be a bear?"

"Bears are so cool! They're really, really, big and fuzzy and cute, but they're also mean and scary too, and they live in the forest, and catch fish with their paws, and eat all the honey they want, and scratch their backs on trees, and they get to sleep all the time, and-"

I shook my head with a laugh. The kid was hilarious. But if the hat couldn't score me a date with Sophia, there was no way it was turning Casey into a bear. I let him babble on while I ducked into the kitchen to get us some snacks, and find a way to word babysitting duties into a well-meaning excuse.

My Desired Costume

Jack groaned as he rolled his head upright, heavy with a case of grogginess. He hadn't felt this bad after a night out in months. He wasn't even partying wild like his college days, it was only a few drinks with friends. He hadn't reached that age already, had he? But he couldn't remember any specifics. The whole night was a blur. Except for one moment. He left to use the restroom, when he bumped into someone he recognised. Someone that made him feel uneasy. Someone unwanted... But for the life of him, he couldn't remember anything. He gulped, he'd heard stories of people being drugged and assaulted. Was he another victim? Had this mystery person done something to him? Did they spike him? His heart sank at the thought. 

Yet as he tried to tried up to his face to rub the sleep from his eyes, he realised something most unsavory. He couldn't move his arms at all. The shock cleared his mind, allowing him to recognise the danger he was in. He was stood upright, his arms tired behind his back, his feet bound together and locked to the ground. He struggled to break free or even move from his spot, but it was no use. He was stuck. With a sigh, he looked around his environment uneasily. He wasn't just anywhere, he was in his own bedroom.

But who would drug and kidnap someone, only to leave them in their own home? There was only one way to find answers. Jack gulped and cleared his throat. "Hello?" He cried out, just loud enough for a would-be murderer to hear him. "Is anyone there? What's going on!?" There was a sudden bump in the room next door, followed by heavy footsteps that padded straight toward the bedroom door.

The First Night

PART ONE

This was it, the night of the full moon. Tonight's the night... I tried to distract myself with a cheesy movie, but I couldn't help but check the clock every 5 minutes, or glance at the closed curtains, fighting the urge to throw them open. When was it supposed to happen? Was it going to hurt? What if nothing happened, would I be okay with that? I groaned, and shoved my face into a pillow. Why can't things be easy!?

It was only a month ago when my roommate, and now closest confidante, inadvertently revealed his deepest secret to me, a month since I unwittingly put myself at risk, and a month since I was infected... That night was such a blur now. I remember Harry changing, obviously. How could I forget the moment he transformed before my very eyes, his body twisting, contorting, and growing into a full-blown weredad. I didn't even know they existed until that moment. But after that, I only had vague memories of our bodies intertwining in the moonlight, as he pounded my ass in the cold night... Then, I remember waking up the following morning, both of us still in that forest. Harry was young again, and it was clear that we both regretted our actions.

That first night after, I was questioning everything. I didn't feel any different. I didn't look any different. Harry called them residual days, where the moon still looked full, but was waning in its power. He himself still changed, but he didn't get as old as that first night. He was still daddy material, with a beefy dadbod, and salt & pepper streaks through his hair, but noticeably younger than before. Meanwhile, I was still myself. Maybe I was a little hairier, and thicker. But if I was, I couldn't tell. I began to think I was immune, which was a little disappointing. But Harry said it was all part of the process. Nevertheless, we spent those nights in the bedroom. He broke out his leather, genuinely pleased to have a use for them again, and I offered my body up to him once again. Maybe in the hopes another few rounds would increase my likelihood of gaining that weredad status.

All was forgotten as the moon continued its cycle from full to new and back again. That is until the past week. I noticed something peculiar. I was finding myself drawn to the smell of leather and fine tobacco. The taste of a rare steak, and a good brandy. I felt a desire to wear a suit and tie that I'd never consider outside of a wedding. And even stranger, I was beginning to think of men around my age as being boys, and far younger than myself. I wanted to guide them, and teach them in the ways of the flesh, as they submitted their bodies to me... Even now, I get the chills thinking about it. Surely it meant something. That I was preparing for the change. But I was too scared to ask Harry about it, in case it wasn't...

What About The Ritual

 PART ONE

The past week has been one of the strangest in my life, and yet also one of the best experiences I've had in a long time. Now, as the week was drawing to a close, there was a sense of melancholy, the kind you felt as your vacation was drawing to a close. I wasn't quite ready to go back to the way things were, yet I'd certainly had my fill. All I had to do now was pack my suitcase. Or rather, find Greg and get him to do it. Technically, it was his, after all.

I hadn't heard much from him this morning. It was like he was avoiding me, drawing out the inevitable. Which was ridiculous, he was the one who had gotten the worst end of the stick this week! And yet, I couldn't find him anywhere in the house.

Eventually, I thought to check the back yard, and there he was, resting on the porch. He was topless, stood in the last beams of the available sun, and quietly puffing on a cigar, which made me frown. "Hey," I called out as I approached. "What are you doing out here for?"

"Soaking in the sun, smoking a cigar." He replied nonchalantly.

"I can see that," I grumbled. "I just wish you would've asked first. Those cigars were a gift, I don't like wasting them on such frivolities."

He merely grunted, and blew a puff of smoke out into the breeze. "Believe me, I already know." He tapped his bald noggin with a grin. "I figured it was a special occassion for me. The last chance I'd have to smoke one, given how you're supposed to -" He paused for a second. "How I'm supposed to head home today."

"Yeah, yeah. Just wrap it up quick. We still have to do the ritual before your mom gets here, or you'll be stuck being Grandpa Greg until Thanksgiving, at least."

"MbeIwntbgrmpagreg," he grumbled under his breath. Something nonsensical, before he raised his voice. "Maybe you should pack if you really wanna get rid of me that badly."

"Excuse me?"

"Pack my bags while I finish this cigar. Or else it'll go to waste. Then we can do the whole switcharoo."

I tried to think of a comeback, but I could only grumble. As much as I hate him smoking my vintage cigars, I also don't want it to be wasted halfway in. And it wasn't as if Greg had packed much, I could be done in half an hour, tops. Besides, I was done arguing about these totems once again. I gave him a final death glare, before turning back to the house with a huff.

No Refunds

It was an unusually quiet day in the store. So quiet, I actually had time to finish the crossword in the newspaper without a single disturbance. I suppose money is tight nowadays. But even the reliable window shoppers hadn't turned up. I was considering closing up early when the bell above the door tinkled. Finally, a customer.

"Hey! I've got a bone to pick with you!"

I frowned. A customer. There goes my quiet afternoon... I turned around to see a stout man with a round, bearded face striding towards me with a sour expression. "Ah, Mr. Grant," I chimed pleasantly. "How lovely it is to see you again." The man paused mid-stride, clearly surprised that I remembered him. But it's my job to remember every single person that enters through those doors, regardless of current appearances. It still gave me a smug feeling every time, however. I asked him, "What appears to be the problem."

Grant snapped out of his stupor, and grunted. "Isn't it obvious? Look at me!" He waved his hands up and down his bulky body.

"Yes, you're a man now, just like you wanted." Grant was a young lad the previous day, just on the cusp of pubescence. Like many of the youths who enter the shop, he was desperate for a means to grow up, to become an adult. And like many of them, I had exactly the means to do so. In Grant's case, I had a box of aging cream I was just about to throw away before he turned up. I thought it was luck, although it appears things have turned sour... I switched tactics, and said with a sly wink, "And might I add, you've grown into quite the handsome gentleman."

"Shut up!" He growled, slamming a carrier bag down onto the counter with a sharp thud. So much for sweet talk. "I'm not handsome, I'm old! This isn't what I wanted at all! I want a refund."

The Beach Is Magic

The secluded cove of Tānetanga Beach was looking a bit more lively nowadays. The once under-the-radar spot had gained a new wave of admirers recently, thanks to the wonders of social media. Its unspoiled sands, and mysterious workings were drawing in people from all over, and singing its praises. Which is why Jordan just had to drag his best bud Lamar away from their tour group while they were in the area.

"Even if they notice we're missing, they're not going to wait for us, you know," Lamar moaned as they pushed through the overgrown foliage that lined the wanderer's path to the cove. "They're gonna leave us stranded at this dumb beach with no way back to the hotel. My mom's gonna kill me if we're not on that bus..."

"We have a whole hour before we have to worry about that, "Jordan reasoned, trying to sound reassuring. "Trust me, It's going to be worth the detour."

"Right, because TikTok says the beach is magic," Lamar grumbled. "How do you know they're not fakes? Do you ever see anyone changing?"

"Well, no... But why would they make it up? And practically every single account that talks about it gets deleted! You should really check out r/Tānetanga, you'll-"

"Nuh-uh! I ain't checking out no Reddit about some conspiracy theory!" Lamar complained, trying to stand his ground, but Jordan didn't wait. With a roll of his eyes, he bounded after his friend as the beach came into full view. There are several men spread out around the cove, taking in the sun, wading in the waves. "Woah, those guys are naked," Lamar noticed, turning to avert his eyes from the sight. "This is some nudie beach! No wonder those TikToks are being deleted. We should definitely not be here..."

"Relax, it's all part of the magic! You'll see." Jordan dumped his bag on the sand, and stripped down to a pair of speedos that could have been mistaken for tighty whities. "You said you wanted adventure. It's better than some stuffy architecture tour, right?"

Lamar stared dumbfounded at his friend, not even dignifying that with a response. Jordan merely shrugged and bounded towards the ocean, leaving him alone. He looked around, noticing a few men looking in his direction, expectantly. He felt a shiver up his spine. Realising how much he didn't want to be left alone, he threw his shirt aside and begrudgingly followed his friend up to the ocean. His feet tingled underneath the warm sand in a not entirely pleasant way. That tingling only increased as they waded into the ice-cold, blue waters. He gave Jordan a pat on the shoulder, then asked, "Okay. So what happens now?"