The Christmas Spirit

A merry belated Christmas, everyone! And a happy early New Year! To celebrate, here's a very special, Christmassy TF story for you all. A collaboration with the wonderful visceral-stories, who has so graciously teamed up with me to write this story full of festive cheer! Do go give him your support. And, hey, maybe throw me a bone too. 😉

THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

 

It's nearly Christmas, and all Trevor wants is to ruin the holidays for everyone in his home of Mistletoe Valley. After his gang of destined high school drop-outs cause a ruckus at the mall, Trevor happens upon a golden invitation offering him the opportunity to escape his delinquent life, and begin a new one as the greatest festive icon of all. But will he take it? It appears he has no choice in the matter!

Better Treatment

Scott grunted as he pushed a lawnmower around his neighbor's yard. It was freezing outside, and there was still frost on the ground. Yet even though he couldn't see over the handles, he persisted. He knew he hadn't been the best boy this year, but even this wasn't worth getting into Santa's good books. He grumbled, recalling how Mr. Drummer suggested to his mom that he could do good deeds around his house to appease those watchful elves that reported on his daily doings. Scott knew the grump only wanted some free labor, for him to do the stuff he didn't want to. But he couldn't back down now. They were so close to Christmas, he could make it on the nice list, and get that Lego set he'd been dreaming of.

Speak of the devil, Drummer came out from the house wearing a bulky overcoat that clung to his belly, and a knitted hat atop his bald cranium. He stopped at the border between grass and pavement, and shook his head with a tut. "You won't be finished by sundown at this rate."

"Couldn't I have a break? My back is killing me..."

"Wait until you're my age, then we can talk about backs," Drummer grumbled back. "You wouldn't complain so much if you did your own chores at home. Now you know how your poor mother feels."

"Yeah, yeah..." Scott gave another push of the lawnmower, the motor vibrations shuddering up his arms. "But surely this could have waited until after Christmas? I can barely push the thing..."

"Ah, quit whining!" As Scott came closer, Drummer proceeded to pull a Santa hat from inside his coat, and hastily shoved it onto the boy's head. "There we go, may as well be festive while you're out here. When you're done with the lawn, I'll find you something warmer to do. Cleaning the stove, maybe..." He wandered back to the house with a cackle.

Scott groaned. His neighbor was deliberately making this tough for him. They weren't exactly on good terms after he knocked a tennis ball into his greenhouse, but this was too far. He sighed. "I wish Mr. Drummer would treat me better..." But that was as likely as catching Santa in the act. After a moment of self-pity, he got back to mowing the lawn.

Proof

I can't believe I've been grounded! So Mom caught me smoking one little cigarette, what's the big deal? S'not like I do it all the time. That she knows... Besides, it was all Tony's fault! He was the one who gave it to me in the first place. But he doesn't get in trouble, I do... And who cares if I smoke? Mom says it's a nasty habit, and can ruin your life. But lots of people do it every day, and they're just fine. Plus, Grandpa smokes! And he's healthier than all the other old people I've met. If only I could prove that Mom's acting all protective for no reason, then maybe I can get ungrounded...

It's a good thing I have this hat. Brett says that these promotional Santa hats everyone's been getting have some sorta weird power in them. He says that he wished for better grades at school, and now he's the smartest kid in class! Sure, he always was a genius, but I s'pose it changes other peoples' memories too? At least, that's what it sounded like when he explained it to me. And he's the brainiest guy I know, so it's gotta be true! 

I stuck the Santa hat on my head, and sighed. This better work... I thought through exactly what I wanted, and after a few minutes, I said out loud, "I wish I could prove I'll live a long life even if I smoke..." I waited, hoping that maybe some useful evidence or knowledge would suddenly come to me. But nothing. I can't believe I actually thought Brett was telling the truth. I feel so stupid...

I slammed a fist onto my bedside table, only for the drawer to slide open. Weird, it's never done that before. As I was about to close it, I noticed something inside. I reached in, and pulled out some weird looking log. I gave it a smell, and recognized the tobacco. Of course, it's a cigar! But I never put a cigar in there. And I don't know anyone who smokes them. Even Grandpa sticks to his fancy pipes. Still, it's pretty cool to have around. I put the cigar between my teeth, and was surprised as it automatically lit itself. Then I knew. This was exactly what I needed. If I want to prove I'll live a long life, then that's what I'll have to do. The magic hat was working!

License To Drink

"Come oooon, dad! Just one drink?"

"Absolutely not!"

"But it's Christmas!"

"Not for another 3 weeks, it's not. Not like that would make a difference..."

Max sulked as his dad walked off to greet another couple who had just knocked at the door. He was almost 16, he was practically an adult. It's not like he'd never tried beer before, so why did it matter if he had a little drink? It was a party! It wasn't even a cool party, just a gathering of some people his parents knew. None of his friends were allowed to come. At least alcohol would make things interesting...

Max knocked the white bobble on his Santa hat out of his face, and grumbled to himself. "I wish I could drink alcohol without getting into trouble..."

He slunk into the kitchen, preparing to grab a plate of finger food before retreating to his bedroom for the evening, when he stumbled into his uncle Jack, who had a sly grin on his face. "I overheard your little tiff with your pa."

"Yeah, so?" Max griped. He didn't want to talk to anyone else. Jack tapped his nose, then suddenly produced a bottle of beer from behind his back. Max's eyes lit up, as he snatched it from his uncle's hands. "O-M-G, you wouldn't!"

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "It's a teen's nature to rebel, and who am I to deny nature?" He reasoned as he took the bottle back, pouring the amber contents into a plastic red cup. "Don't worry, I'll keep your ol' pa occupied."

Max was bubbling with excitement as he took the cup from his uncle. "Thank you! You're the coolest!" Jack merely put a finger to his lips, then strutted into the main party room, straight up to his younger brother. Max ducked further into the kitchen, and took a moment to appreciate his alcoholic gift before taking a gulp from the cup. It burned the back of his throat, and sent a shiver down his spine. He'd forgotten how bitter beer could taste. He didn't like it much the first time, and it still left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. But he couldn't pass up his uncle's offering. He braced himself, then gulped down the whole cup in one go.

Rough Day

Matt had been having a rough day. He forgot his homework was due, getting him detention for the week. Then he lost his lunch money to a faulty vending machine. And to top it off, he tripped on his own shoelaces during gym, face-planting in a pile of mud. He had never felt so humiliated, he was already preparing to have a fake sick day to avoid going back the next day. 

So when he returned home after detention to discover his dad was already home, he was a little suspicious. His dad never left work early. He was in the kitchen, waiting beside two empty mugs. "You okay, little man?" he asked just as the kettle reached a boil.

"I guess," Matt mumbled as he dumped his backpack and jacket on the floor. "I just had a bad day at school..." 

His dad sighed, and grumbled. "I know the feeling..." He turned around and picked up a mug billowing with hot steam, and passed it to his son. "Maybe a good cup of tea will make you feel better."

Matt grabbed the mug and gave it a sniff. It smelt sweet and fruity, with a little hint of something smoky. He wasn't much of a tea drinker, or any hot beverage really. But after the day he had had, it was nice to have a little treatment.

Grandfather Clock

Tick...Tick...Tick... Greg stared at the grandfather clock with a frown, his arms crossed. The mystery of the clock had consumed him for the entirety of his stay at his grandpa's house. It ticked, which would usually mean it worked. And yet the hands had been stuck at 1:30 all weekend. Whenever he got close, his grandpa would shoo him away, warning him not to get too close. But why did he care? It didn't look fragile or expensive, unlike the other antiques in the room.

Greg stood in front of the clock, watching the pendulum swing left to right. Its incessant ticking taunting him. It was clearly working, so why was the time completely wrong? He looked at his phone to see that it was many hours out of time. If only he could nudge the hands to the correct time, it might restart and begin working once more. But his grandpa... Thinking on it, he hadn't seen or heard his Grandpa Drew all morning. He slunk through the house, looking for the old man, eventually finding him dozing outside with the morning newspaper resting on his belly. Greg grinned, this was perfect!

He rushed back to the clock and gingerly placed a finger on the wooden panel. Then his whole hand. Then the other. Greg smiled mischievously. He was touching the grandfather clock and his grandpa wouldn't even know! As long as he kept his grubby fingers to the wood and not the glass, he wouldn't risk leaving a stray fingerprint. Now all he had to do was adjust the time. He reached up on his tiptoes, and pushed against the minute hand to move it backwards. Yet try as he might, it just wouldn't budge. Gingerly, he nudged it forwards, and the hand moved! Doing so made a weird tingle go down his back. He chocked it up to the thrill of doing something against the rules.

A Tough Decision

THE DECADES CIGAR

Ethan was lounging outside, enjoying the warm morning sun, when he heard the patio door open. He opened his eyes, and turned to see Bruno stomp out with a mug of coffee, and proceed to collapse into one of the outdoor sofas with a long sigh.

"Phew! I'm so glad it's the weekend," Bruno mumbled after taking a sip of coffee. "Who knew that having a job could be so tiring."

"You're the top executive in your company, how can you be tired?" Ethan questioned accusingly. "All you do is sit at a desk, and hold meetings. Nothing like me..."

"Hey! I also do other stuff!" Bruno growled, rubbing at the back of his neck, working out a kink. "It's just tougher at my age. Being in your fifties can be such a drag... Not that I'm complaining!"

"Well, you did make that decision yourself, you know."

"Yeah, yeah..." Bruno smiled wistfully. "But I could still do with an extra day to relax." Suddenly, he snapped his fingers, his leathery face stretched into a grin. "Hang on, I'm basically the boss! From now on, we're going to have a four day week. It's the future, you know."

"I don't think that's how-"

"And there's only one way to celebrate such a momentous decision." He grinned as he leapt to his feet, and reached for a humidor hidden inside of an outdoor cabinet. Inside were a selection of fine cigars.

He took one from the top, then turned to Ethan and held the box out to him. "Don't think I forgot about you."

"I don't know if I should, it's not even noon..."

"C'mon, just one little cigar. I know you want to."

Halloween Nostalgia

Maria pawed through her purse one last time, ensuring she had everything she needed, followed by an affirmative nod of the head. She looked up to her eldest son, home from college for a week, and beamed. "Thank you for looking after Carlos tonight," she said with a glance over to her youngest, who was engrossed in a battle on his Switch. "Remember to stick to the neighborhood, don't go any further than Maple Avenue, and be home before eight! I don't want you staying out all night. And don't forget to-"

"Don't worry mom," Gabe interrupted. His mom always worried. "We'll be safe."

"And Carlos." Maria leaned down to speak quieter. "Thank you for amusing your brother, I know Halloween isn't your favorite."

"Aha..." Carlos mumbled, keeping his focus on his game.

"You say it like I'm forcing him to go!" Gabe said with a exaggerated pout. "Now hurry along or you'll be late." He waved his mom goodbye, then ran to the storage cupboard where he'd stored two bags, each containing a costume. The words "Costume Plaza" in big balloon letters adorned each one. He chucked the largest bag to Carlos, who grumbled as he paused his game. Gabe was practically bouncing with energy. "I hope you're ready for a spook-filled night!"

"You know I'm not." Carlos groaned, taking his bag by the handle. "But you'll never shut up about it if I don't."

"That's the spirit!" Gabe cheered, watching as his brother slunk towards the stairs. "We should leave within the hour if we don't want to miss the good candy!"

Carlos stomped upstairs with his bagged costume, clearly unhappy with the situation. As for Gabe, he couldn't wait to try his costume on. He carefully slid the garment out of its bag and gazed upon its beauty. Well, it was a cheap looking Loki costume, the kind made for a kid. But the difference was that this was actually magic. Though, now that he had it in hand, he had to admit that he had his doubts. It was clearly made for a child half his size. What if the claims were bogus? He'd be fifty bucks down with a tattered costume and major humiliation... 

"Well, here goes nothing..." He took his clothes off and began to put this tiny costume on. The first thing he noticed was just how stretchy it was. It actually stretched to fit his entire body, albeit incredibly tight. He felt like if he were to move any part of his body, it would suddenly rip. He waited motionless for a few seconds until he noticed the room expanding around him. He was shrinking! It was like the costume was pulling itself back to its original size, and it was taking him with it. He felt a weird wooshing as he crept closer and closer to the floor. Within minutes, he had become a kid-sized Loki. He couldn't help but marvel at what had happened. He stroked his face, now smooth and lacking his distinctive goatee. He felt energetic and care-free. And most of all, eager to go trick or treating! He just had to make one little arrangement...

One More Round

"fuck ur one hot dilf... i'd fcukin kll to b tat sexy at ur age. wanna get toggether some time??? i got a hard dock wiht ur nmae on it"

That was the message Isaac had sent while drunk last night, along with several embarrassing, innuendo-laden emojis. He couldn't stop cringing when he reread it the following morning. He had to stop drunk chatting up guys on his dating apps. He was barely able to type, and always came off as horny. Usually it led to nothing but being ghosted by potential hook-ups. Yet somehow, his drunk forwardness had brought him some luck. The DILF in question, a hunk by the name of AbrahamHarker1704, contacted him back.

"I would love to. See you tonite, handsome."

Since then, he'd been waiting impatiently all day. What if he was a catfish? What if he wasn't interested? What if he bailed? Finally, the doorbell rang. Isaac made a last minute mirror check, smoothing down his unruly curls, and straightening his shirt, before opening the door. He couldn't help but gasp as he saw the man on the other side. He really was a DILF. Stark silver hair, short scruff across his lantern jaw, and a beefy body just bursting out of his clothes. His bare arms were coated with silvery hairs, and the curls of chest hair peeking out from his shirt collar made him swoon.

"Hey there. You are Isaac, right?"

Isaac blushed, he realised he was simply staring. "Sorry, yes, hi. I guess I forgot how stunning you looked..."

"I've been told I have an alluring presence from time to time." He flashed a beautiful smile, and Isaac could have melted. The two stared until Abe coughed, and gestured inwards. "So... Can I come in?"

Isaac blushed once more, and stepped aside. "Of course, yeah!"

As Isaac closed the door behind him, he felt the man tug on his shoulder, spinning him around, and planting his lips directly on his own. Abe leaned back with a cheeky grin. "Mmm, you taste as good as I hoped you would..."

Hijacked

Charlie's fingers danced across the aged leather pouch, eager to empty it of its goods. He grinned as metal clattered against the surface of his desk, admiring the emerald studded ring that fell from within. He'd had his eye on it for a while. It was calling out to him, begging him to buy it. He checked that antique store almost daily, hoping someone else wouldn't snatch it up before he had the chance. Then finally, he'd saved enough money, and here it was, in his possession. He lifted it up in his hands, admiring the simple design.

"Finally! It's been years!"

He gasped, and spun around. "Hello?" Charlie called out to his empty house. "Dad? Are you home?"

"I ain't your dad, kid!"

There it was again! A deep voice that was so clear in his head, it was as if they were in the room with him. Yet there was nobody about. "Who are you?" He called out. "Where are you!?"

"Cool it, kid. I'm right here in your hands."

He looked at the ring in his palm. "Wait... My ring can talk?"

"Not talk, per say," the voice explained. "More like mental communication via physical contact. I'm in your mind, kid."

"Oh... Well I'd prefer it if you weren't, Mystery Voice."

As Charlie proceeded to place the ring back on the table, the voice called out. "Woah, woah, woah!" It screeched, bringing him to a sudden halt. "Ain't you curious as to why I'm communicating with you?"

He was. But Charlie also knew that nothing good could ever come from cursed jewellery. Yet he couldn't unclench his fist. He sighed. "Okay, I'll bite."

In The Moonlight

My roommate has always been a little odd, ever since I moved in with him. Don't get me wrong, Harry's a swell guy. Kinda tiny, and thin as a rake, pretty clean-cut, mostly keeps to himself. And we get along just fine, I can't even recall a single argument. But then he has these moments, it feels like it almost happens every month. I'll invite him out somewhere, and he says he has other plans. Then he'll go out all night, and I won't see him for a few days. He never talks about it. Which is weird because it's definitely something. One time, I looked in his room for some spare deodorant, and found a whole wardrobe full of leather, and kinky toys. Not that I'm judging, everyone gets their kicks some way. But he never brings anyone back to the apartment, I've never even seen him leave the house with the stuff.

For now, Harry's on crunch time at work, putting in long hours and weekends to get their current project done and dusted. He's been so frazzled, I don't think he's even been eating right. So to cheer him up, I decided to treat him to a night at the Wood Cabin, a decent pizzeria on the edge of town.

"I really shouldn't..." He mumbled as we got out of the car. "Pam wants the updated papers tomorrow morning."

"C'mon, you're working too hard! All that stress causes grays, you know."

"Right..." he scratched at his head with a frown. His temples were scattered with premature white hairs. Poor guy's not even thirty yet.

I reach over and pull him into a tight squeeze. "C'mon! It's just one night, my treat. Plus, it's two-for-one Thursday. We might even make the end of happy hour if we hurry."

"Wow, half price pizza, and five dollar cocktails? You're really pushing the boat out, cheapskate." He shook his head. "Besides, I believe you'll find that it's Wednesday today."

"No, it's definitely Thursday. Dragscapades drops new episodes on Wednesdays, and that was definitely yesterday. You've been working non-stop since last week, after all."

"But- No... I never lose track of time... I can't..." Harry glanced at his phone, then up to the sky.

"It happens, it's no biggie. Just think, you're one day closer to the weekend." I went to nudge him jovially, only to realise he wasn't with me. I glanced back, and he was running in the opposite direction, towards the woods.

Neighborhood Creator

A few months ago, my dad found some old PC game from the 90s while we were at a flea market. Something called Neighborhood Creator. I didn't think you could run things that old on new computers, but he managed to get it set up without any trouble. It was a life simulation game, which I think is a boring game genre, so I never wanted to play it myself. Yet, Dad was hooked on the thing. In a matter of days, he'd created a whole town, and treated it like a real place. If the graphics weren't so dated, I swear it could've been our actual town. It was a little creepy. 

Weeks passed, and he spent all his free time watching over his virtual town like a god. He already had a job playing and reviewing video games, so it seemed like overkill. My mom and I would try and get him to leave the house, but he wouldn't listen. He became a shut-in. Eventually, my mom left him for another woman, and he barely seemed to notice, acting like it was his own decision. Then I was offered a place at a prestigious private school, and I knew I had to take it. I didn't want to leave my dad alone, his obsession with the game was unhealthy, but I also didn't want to be around him any longer.

Not Always Greener

I pulled up outside my old house and sighed. I can't believe it's really been a month. I thought it was going to be a breeze. Hell, I even thought I'd conveniently misplace the brooch, and never go back. But modern teen life definitely wasn't how I imagined it would be. I'm almost glad to be going back to living my old life, even if it wasn't exciting. It was a mistake to consider playing out my fantasy. At least I know Brent is going to be pleased to get back to his own life too...

I knocked on the front door, and was a little dismayed when Frank opened the door. It was strange to see him after a full month. It was crazy how much I missed his beautiful face, his warm touch... "Oh, Gerald," he said with a smile. "What a surprise! I wish you'd called ahead, I was just about to head out."

I was surprised. Didn't Brent let him know I was coming? We did mark today's date down in our phones, just in case we forgot. I smiled and nodded, saying, "Don't worry, I just came by to see my uncle. We have things to discuss."

"He's outside in his usual spot," Frank replied, patting me on the shoulder as he left. I shuddered at his touch, I couldn't wait for things to get back to normal. He turned on his heel, then added, "If you stick around for dinner, I'm making my famous meatloaf."

I waved him goodbye, knowing I would definitely be around for dinner. His meatloaf really was the best. I couldn't wait to sit at the dinner table with him, gossiping about the neighbors, and complaining about work. It's the little things you miss... 

Ring of Desire

Tension was brewing between Martin and his Uncle Jim. He was staying with him while the rest of his family went upstate to support his brother's debate team in the regionals. Martin had hoped he'd be alone for the week, but staying with his uncle was a nice alternative. They were kindred spirits, both enjoying the same music, the same movies, and the same baseball team. The only problem was that Martin's easygoing nature clashed with Jim's sternness. So when he switched off the TV, claiming the upcoming game would be on too late, Martin didn't take it well. As he stomped upstairs to his room. Jim called out, "Where are you going, little man?"

Martin huffed, "I'm gonna play Minecraft."

"At this hour?" Jim asked. "If you can't sleep, isn't there any homework you could do? Or maybe you could clean your room a little. Dirty clothes belong in the laundry, after all."

Martin ignored him and slammed his door. He didn't think he could last another day with his constant rules. So he reached into his bedside table, and pulled out a tacky looking ring, the kind you might get for 500 tickets as an arcade prize. Except, Martin had bought the ring from a thrift store for a dollar. It was no ordinary ring, it had strange powers. It could grant any desire of the person using it. From making the bed to changing the universe, there were no limits to what the ring could achieve. The powers would last until the day he discovered his ultimate desire. At that moment, the ring would vanish, sensing he would no longer have the need for it. It could take hours, or it could take years. He knew this, of course, because the ring told him when he first put it on.

Mixed-up Reservation

"Hi, we're here to check in? Should be under Arden."

The woman at the guest check-in tapped the name into her system, and asked "Aha, Jack Arden?"

"Huh? No, it should be Michael... Jacky's my son," Michael said, pointing to the bright-eyed boy next to him, who gave a little wave. 

"Really? That's peculiar..." She tapped a few more times. "We do have a Michael Arden signed up to our kid's activity club."

"It looks like your computer's made a mistake," Michael said with a huff. "It must've got confused when I pre-booked the kid's stuff for my son. Isn't there a way to fix it?"

"Of course, sir. Let me just get your room sorted, and we'll get things switched around for you, post-haste."

After getting their room number and door keys, the two dumped their suitcases on their respective beds, and, while Michael started to put his clothes away, Jack jumped into the bathroom to put on his swimsuit. Moments later, Michael heard his son yell out, "Dad, my trunks are too small!"

"What?" He turned to see Jack wearing a bright red pair of trunks, which looked significantly outsized for him. Michael gaped and exclaimed, "we only bought them last week! They were baggy as anything."

"Yeah, but now they're really tight! I don't wanna go swimming in my underwear!"

"You won't have to, bud." Michael frowned as he dug into his suitcase. His son did look larger than usual, as if he'd had a growth spurt in the past fifteen minutes. But that wasn't possible He tossed him a pair of his own. "These'll be real big on you, so tie them up super tight!"

"Okay, thanks!" Jack ran back to the bathroom to get ready. Michael chuckled to himself, if only he had that type of energy. All he planned on doing this vacation was relaxing. As he himself got ready to leave, he gazed at himself in the mirror. He couldn't place it, but he was looking refreshed as ever. His skin looked radiant, he even looked slimmer, his perpetual love handles almost missing. The first day of vacation, and he already looked well rested. That must be a new record!

The Decades Cigar

Ethan had rushed to his best friend's house after Bruno texted him about an epic surprise that'd help solve their vaping issues. It was getting harder and harder to keep their habit under wraps from their parents. Until now, the only appropriate option was to quit. But if Bruno had found something, it was probably big.

As the door opened, Ethan was somewhat taken aback. There was an unfamiliar man on the other side smoking a cigar. He cracked a massive smile upon seeing the portly teen at his door, deep wrinkles cutting onto his leathery face. "Hey buddy!" he cried in a rough yet familiar tone, beckoning him inside.

Following the man through the hallway, Ethan did his best to dodge the cigar smoke, which wouldn't help his case if his parents caught a whiff of it on his clothes. Through the haze, he asked, "Hi, uhm, have we met before?"

"You could say that," the gruff man replied, a sly grin flashed across his lips. "I'm Bruno's, uhh, uncle. From his dad's side. Thought I could help with your little predicament."

Bruno never mentioned having an uncle who also smoked, even if it was cigars instead of vapes. Maybe the older man knew something that would convince their parents it wasn't that big a deal. As they entered the kitchen, the man ducked behind a cabinet and poured himself a glass of whiskey, which looked close to empty. Yet, Ethan couldn't help but notice what was missing. "Uhm, sir? Where exactly is Bruno?"

Guest Satisfaction

It's funny to think that, before we left, I was not looking forward to my family vacation. Usually, we'd stay in a condo in Florida, but this time we were going to some boring hotel and spa in the middle of nowhere, let alone near a theme park. Even worse, I'd have to share a hotel room with my parents. They both snore so loud, I'd never get any sleep! I begged and pleaded to have my own room, but they said it'd cost too much, so I was stuck with them...

When we got to the hotel, I complained once more. Mom told me off for making a scene, but the check-in lady actually went to speak with her managers. When she came back, she said they usually don't let kids stay in their own rooms, but they'd make an exception for me since they were trying something new and needed some feedback! Plus, it was no extra charge! My parents weren't too sure, but she managed to talk them into it. It's almost like she hypnotised them. Whatever she did, it turned this trip into the best!

Malfunctioning Clock

Things were quiet at the store this morning. That is, until an agitated man stormed through the door. I could sense his negative energy before he entered, of course. Yet the way he slammed the door open was enough to make me jump in fright. As he strode up to the counter, I was afraid he was going to throttle me! Still, I managed to keep my composure and smiled. "Good morning, how may I be of assistance today?" He said nothing. Instead, he thrust an alarm clock in my face. It looked familiar, certainly one of my own. Yet I couldn't place his face. He could be any of the bald, angry men who required my assistance. From recent memory, I'd only sold one of those clocks to a much younger man... "Oh, I remember you! You're the late bloomer, that's right..." I gazed at him and frowned. "Oh dear, you've aged terribly..."

"You think?" He growled as he slammed the clock on the desk. "This fucking clock is broken! It won't stop fucking ringing! Every ten minutes, R-I-I-I-NG! R-I-I-I-NG!" As if on cue, the alarm clock suddenly sprang to life in his hand. He slammed his hand down on the buzzer and buried his head in his hands, releasing a short wail. "It's driving me insane!"

The Hangover

"Wakey wakey, sleepyhead!" A voice chirped as the curtains were thrown open, and Scott was rudely awoken from his deep slumber.

"Ah..." He sat up and blinked in the sudden sunlight, trying to see who had disturbed him, only to wince in pain. He rubbed his forehead as a terrible pounding throbbed deep in his skull.

"Headache huh?" It was his brother, Trent. But something seemed off about him. Scott tried to focus on him, but the morning light only made his headache worse.

"Mmmhmm... I don't feel too good..." he mumbled before coughing to clear his throat. He sounded as rough as he felt. "Ugh, get me a bucket..."

"That bad, huh? Well, I'm not surprised after the night you had."

Night. What even happened last night? It all felt a blur now. Flashes of memory blinked through his mind, none of which made sense and only made his headache worse. There was, however, one thing that stuck out. "I had the craziest dream," The thick deepness to his voice still persisted. "It was like... We found this sort of spell book in the archives, and after reading it out loud, we somehow managed to swap... lives in a way? You became a kid and I turned into an adult..."

He stifled a chuckle, covering it as a cough. "Wow, wouldn't that be crazy."

"Right? But since it was in a different language, we couldn't reverse the spell before we were kicked out at closing. So we had to pretend to be each other for the day, and nobody even noticed. Your friends even invited me to some bar and..." He paused to scratch his chest, and froze. He felt something unusual, something hairy... "What the-"

"Then what happened." Scott looked towards his brother. He hadn't noticed how light his voice sounded until now. He squinted in the morning light. He had thought Trent was sitting down, given how short he looked. Only now he realised he was actually standing. He also noticed his cartoony PJs and the pair of bunny slippers he was wearing. Then he noticed how round and not scruffy his face looked, He was almost cherub-like. Trent cracked a knowing grin, and prodded, "Go on, what happened at the bar?"

Scott's eyes widened. "Oh no..." He was still dreaming, he had to be! He looked back down at his own body. He had a toned, athletic torso with a tidy coverage of body hair. "No, this isn't..." He could feel his beard scratch again his collarbone as he spoke. He wasn't even in his own bedroom. Probably because he was too big to sleep in his own bed. With a final, daring move, he shoved a hand under the covers, and cringed upon discovering he wasn't wearing anything underneath. He grasped his hard cock in confused wonder, feeling it twitch upon his touch. "Noooo..." he gasped under his breath.

Trent jumped onto the other side of the bed with a laugh. "Took you long enough! And to finish your story, you went out with my buds, and went a little overboard on the alcohol. Welcome to your first hangover!"

"Hangover?" Scott grimaced at the thought. He couldn't have gotten drunk, or gone to a grown-ups party, or anything else his mind insisted he had done the night before. "This has to be a dream..."

"Afraid not, bro. The headache, the nausea, the tiredness, among other things. You really are a grown man who can't handle his drink."

Scott buried his face in his hands, wincing at the feeling of his beard ruffling against his palms. He slammed his head back into his pillow and groaned, "Just leave me here to die..."

"Don't be such a cry baby. It won't be the last time you get one of those."

"Not if I can help it. I'm never drinking again..."

"That's what they all say, first time round."

Scott's phone buzzed. Or rather, Trent's phone which Scott had acquired. He reluctantly picked it up, only to moan loudly at the message he received. "They want to go out again tonight!? I can't... We're going back to those archives and fixing this mess!"

Trent sucked on his teeth the way people do when giving bad news. "About that. The archives are kinda closed to visitors for the next few months... So unless you remember the name of that book, you'll have to take it easy on the alcohol tonight. But for now, a good cup of joe should perk you up."

Before Scott could react, his brother jumped off the bed and ran out of the room. "What!? I can't be stuck like this for months... Trent? Come back!" He sighed once more, Trent had even left the curtains wide open. With an annoyed grumbled, Scott rolled over and clenched his eyes shut once more. Maybe if he woke up again, he'd discover it was all just some horrible nightmare. He just had to go back to sleep once more...

Long-Distance Spell

I was busy working on a report for work when my quiet time was rudely interrupted by my son yelling down the hallway. Without warning, Chris burst into my study and yelled, "He's gonna do it!"

I sighed. "Who's going to do what?"

"Grandpa!" He was brimming with excitement. "He's going to do the spell!"

"Aha..." I mumbled as I turned back to my screen, trying to recall what I was writing. That old coot was always bragging about his supposed magical abilities with nothing to show for it. 

"Don't you remember? I told him how you always tell me to grow up and stop acting like a baby, and he got all annoyed?"

"Oh, I remember," I replied with a sour expression. "But your grandpa isn't a wizard, no matter how much he believes it. You really must grow out of these fantasies..."

"Yeah, like that! He said he knew a spell to help me, and that he'd also help you reconnect with your childhood since you're a pain in the butt that needs to learn manners."

"Charming..." That man has had it out for me ever since I had that little affair and broke it off with my, um, lovely ex-wife. Honestly, I'd love to cut that whole, weird family out of my life, but Chris was too close to them, he wouldn't understand... I tried to shoo him away, until my computer screen started to flicker.

The air felt like static. I turned to look at Chris, who had a grin on his face. "I think it's starting! I'm gonna go watch!" He ran out of the room. I felt uneasy. Why did the room feel so peculiar? There was no chance the spell was real, right?

Chronolysis

It's game time. I bought my cinema ticket for Hyperion Re:Union online, and I collected it from the self-service machine without any trouble. It didn't even alert someone to check if I was old enough to see an R-rated movie. That was the hard part of the plan. Now I just have to convince the ticket guy that I'm old enough to watch it unaccompanied... Okay, well I look every bit the high schooler that I am, but all the cool kids at school sneaked in, and I'm not going to be left behind! Luckily, I have a little trick up my sleeve...

Fortunes Told

"Look what I found in my pocket!" I glanced up from my phone, and watched as Jonesy produced a large cigar with a big grin. "Isn't that cool?" He chuckled, putting it up to his lips like he was smoking.

 "Hey, don't smoke it!" I cried, trying to reach up and snatch it from him. But Jonesy had the height and weight advantage, keeping me a fair distance away until I stopped thrashing. Then he poked his tongue out at me. Real mature... I grunted, "Are you even allowed to smoke here?"

"First of all, I can do whatever I want since I'm an adult. Besides, I made sure to check before we entered and, as long as we stay in this area, it's allowed."

"Why would you check for a smoking area?"

"In case I wanted to smoke!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed as Jonesy produced a lighter from another pocket. Where was he getting this stuff from... "So you've never smoked in your life, and just wanted to start because...?"

"That's just the kind of guy I am now. I don't know why you're so hung up on it. Unless..." He waggled his eyebrows from beneath his sunglasses as he leaned in closer, then whispered in my ear, "you're jealous..."

I swatted Jonesy away, and he fell into a laughing fit, almost dropping his cigar in the process. I buried my head in the menu to hide my reddening cheeks. He was right, I was jealous. Not that I was going to admit it to Jonesy's stupid, bald, wrinkly, old face. It wasn't because I wanted to smoke, that's just disgusting. It's the other thing... The fact that my baby bro was now some big, old muscle man. Not only that, but he keeps acting more like an actual adult, and I'm beginning to forget he was even my brother...

Pep Talk

 

Okay... You're okay... So you're suddenly big and hairy and old... But that's fine! You'll find a way to...to not be big a-and hairy and...old... Just be cool, you're just a normal guy who's washing his hands, and you're gonna... AH!

I leap back from the sink and clutch my chest, before whipping my hand away as it brushes against my chest hair... Ugh, it still sounds weird to say it. My chest hair. I have chest hair. And stomach hair. And back hair, ew... I grip the edge of the sink to stop my legs from collapsing again, and exhale a deep sigh. I need to ground myself, and recall what happened...

All-Inclusive

 

 

 

Aw man, this stinks... When that lady in the lobby said she could make me a grown up for the rest of the vacation, I was so excited! I imagined I'd be doing loads of cool stuff with all the other grown-ups, like bungee jumping and surfboarding and scuba diving! All the stuff I wanted to do on vacation, but I was always told I was "too young" or "too short" or whatever lousy excuse they told me. But now I know the truth. It's not that I wasn't allowed to do that stuff, it's that none of the grown-ups wanted to! All they want to do is sunbathe and drink at the poolside bar. It's so boring! 

 

Even if I suggest doing something fun, everyone stares at me like I'm an idiot for wanting to leave the hotel. I know it's all-inclusive, but there's more to vacation than this! I'd go and do it myself, but then I'd have to pay for the taxi to get there, and then pay to do the thing, and then pay for the souvenirs... It was easier when my parents paid for everything. And apparently, adult me didn't budget for anything outside of Happy Hour, so I'm basically stuck in this place... Vacations are expensive!

 

Even worse, now that I'm a grown up, I can't do the other fun things I could've done as a kid. Like the water splash park, or the mini-golf course. I even miss the stupid kids club the adults put you in when they decide they want a kids-free evening. At least they had videos games! I tried building sandcastles on the beach with the kids I used to be friends with, and the adults laughed and said it was cute that I was humoring them. They just don't understand...

 

I suppose I should focus on the positives of being a grown-up. It is pretty awesome that I'm bigger than all the kids and my stupid cousins. I even got muscles, so I can lift real heavy things like they were nothing. And having a beard is pretty neat too, except when it gets all itchy 'cause it's hot out. I guess it's cool that I can drink alcohol without getting into trouble, even though it tastes nasty without being mixed with lots of soda and juices. Actually, it's real nice to be treated like a person when I'm hanging with the other adults. Even strangers are a lot friendlier and happy to chat with me, which is a weird change of pace!

 

But I'd give it all up so I could be a kid again before the vacation is up. Wait a minute... That lady did say I'd stop being an adult when vacation's over, right? I didn't just assume she said that in the excitement of it all? I haven't seen her in the hotel since then... I can't be stuck like this! I don't wanna get a job...

Test Subject

 What luck! Just as I was wondering how to discreetly test my latest, ingenius invention, the perfect test subject happened to board the bus. He was your typical, defiant teenager who had decided that long, greasy hair, spiked accessories, and a liberal usage of eyeliner really stuck it to the man. He trudged to the back of the bus, dumping his bag covered with band buttons in the seat next to him. He was completely oblivious to the world around him, oblivious to me and my wonderful invention.

I swung open the device in my lap and aimed the transmitter at the goth, smiling as a list of attributes ran down the screen. Phase one worked perfectly. Now to put it into action... I decided to start with something subtle. Those unsightly ear gauges would do perfectly. I tapped in my desires and held my breath, trying not to stare as I waited... Then it happened! I stifled a squeal of glee as the large, plastic hoops melted and dripped out of his enlarged ear lobes. The liquid glided effortlessly around his ears and joined above his forehead, forming a standard pair of sunglasses. Meanwhile, his droopy ear lobes rolled back up, tightening and molding until there was no sign he'd ever pierced his ears, let alone stretched them out.

I couldn't believe it, my invention worked! I mean of course it worked, I am a genius after all. But to show such promise in its initial test run? I couldn't hope for any better! That goth brat was entirely unaware as well, even when he reached up to touch the sunglasses, only to adjust their position. He didn't notice a thing!

Big Summer Blowout

So, I have been far busier than I expected to be these last few months. Which is good for many reasons, but not for my writing! Since I've piled up a sizable backlog of stories that are partially written... But I do have a few shorter stories written, which I would usually combine for a vignettes post and call it a day. 

However, I've decided to do things a little different this time, and I'm going to spread them out over the rest of the summer. I'm aiming for one or two stories a week, so look out for that starting tomorrow!

Ursa Complex

"See that guy? The one smoking on the steps? That's my new landlord."

Hunter gestured towards the tinted windows of the coffee shop before narrowing his eyes with distrust. His friend, Jamie, followed his gaze to the man who sat outside with a cigar. He cocked his head and asked, "That's the guy you're so frightened of? He looks harmless to me..."

"Pft, harmless..." Hunter replied with a shake of his head, messing up his hair. "I have good reason to fear him." He took a long sip of his iced coffee and slammed it back down on the table. "I think he's kicking his tenants out so he can fill the place up with his friends."

Jamie swirled his straw around in his plastic cup, clearly not convinced. "That doesn't sound legal... Can you prove it?"

"Well every day, I'm seeing more and more guys like him around the complex. "

"Guys like..."

"You know," Hunter said as he waved his arms abstractly, trying to best convey his thoughts. "Big, hairy men! All of 'em are friendly with each other, like they know what's up. And they all smoke like chimneys. The whole complex used to be smoke-free before he showed up. Now it stinks of ash!"

"OK, calm down," Jamie said, reaching over to swat at Hunter's hands before he crushed his drink. "I'm sure it's a coincidence. Maybe he advertises the vacant rooms on like-minded websites."

Hunter shook off his friend's hand and jabbed an accusing finger towards his apartment complex. "Well I'm not the only one who's noticed. Old Larry across the hall won't shut up about the two guys who moved into the apartment above him. Apparently they're fucking 24/7, he's not had a moment's peace."

"Have you tried talking to your landlord?"

"Not since the day he introduced himself... " Hunter gripped onto his cup in thought. It was only two months ago, the guy knocked at his door. He even gave Hunter a cigar as a gift, which he promptly shoved to the back of his junk drawer. Before he left, the landlord told him to expect some changes as he took over ownership of the building. At the time, Hunter expected a new paint job or a better laundry room. He couldn't have predicted what eventually came to pass.

"Maybe you should re-introduce yourself, then! Grab a few beers to loosen the atmosphere and air out your concerns. I bet you'll find it's all a big misunderstanding."

Hunter looked at Jamie incredulously and cried, "I don't want to be put on his hit-list! I'm perfectly happy where I am. Maybe if I keep out of his way, he'll forget that I exist and I won't have to find somewhere else to live... You know, he even changed the name of the building."

"Oh really?"

"It's called Ursa Complex now." Hunted scoffed and gazed out of the coffee shop window. "Ursa Complex... What does that even mean."

"It sounds fitting to me," Jamie said with a chuckle, refusing to explain the joke. 

"Well whatever it means, it's just another hole in my shattering social life. What if I want to bring a girl back home? Nothing says mood killer like passing a bunch of fat, middle aged men smoking stogies."

"You bringing a woman back? That's the most unbelievable thing you've said today."

Hunter snorted. "Shut up..."

Jamie grinned and played with his cup a little before saying. "I wish I had your problem. You know that my landlord still hasn't fixed the water issues? I ended up joining a gym so I have somewhere to shower..." He paused for a moment, reflecting on his own misfortune, before an idea struck him. "You know, we could always swap apartments. I'll live with the smelly men and you can live with no hot water."

"As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll pass. The only good thing that bastard did was lower my rent. Probably to help out his mates..."

"It was worth a shot..." Jamie mumbled before he stood up from the table and took his jacket off of his chair. "While I'd love to hear more of your conspiracy theory, I've got to dash. See you when you're less crazy."

Hunter said goodbye to Jamie and finished his iced coffee in silence, waiting for his landlord to finish his cigar and leave. Hunter swore that the man kept looking in his direction but the coffee shop's windows were tinted so he wouldn't have been able to see him. Right? The minute he saw the man get up and waddle down the road, Hunter grabbed his bag and high-tailed it back into the complex.

The lobby always smelled stale and musty nowadays. To think he missed the days it used to smell of chlorine from the fountain... He reached out for the elevator button when the doors opened. Two massive men stepped out, each wearing a low cut tank top that clung to their bulging bodies and allowed as much of their abundant body hair to breathe. One was bald with a gray-stained beard, the other had a military cut and a bushy moustache. They each had a cigar clenched between their lips. He recognised them as the couple who moved in down the hall from his apartment, taking over the cute students who used to live there. He hadn't seen either of the girls since, he didn't even get the chance to get their numbers. They probably didn't feel comfortable with the sudden influx of men and moved back to the college dorms... Hunter stepped out of the brutish men's path. They didn't even glance at him as they walked past. As they approached the door to the street, he saw one of them squeeze the other's ass, who then growled and returned the favour. Hunter winced, there were some things people should keep to themselves...

The elevator stunk of strong tobacco. Stronger than the usual background smell that had permeated the building. Sometimes Hunter wondered if he were evicted, would he have withdrawal symptoms. He reminded himself to research the effects of second-hand smoke. Maybe he could threaten to sue the landlord if he didn't enact a strict smoking policy.

As he pondered over the theoretical lawsuit, he exited the elevator and walked down the corridor to his apartment. Before he could reach his door, he noticed something peculiar. Larry's apartment door was propped wide open... Curious, Hunter knocked and called out his name. "Larry?"

"In here," he heard somebody growl. The voice was low and husky, nothing like Larry's frail, hoarse voice. Was he OK? Maybe he was being burgled... Cautiously, Hunter stepped through the door frame and glanced around. It looked as pristine as usual, no signs of a struggle or a robbery. Then he peeked around the corner and his jaw dropped. There was a huge, hairy man sat at the back of the room puffing on a cigar. Hunter couldn't believe it, they kicked out poor old Larry! Evicting some young college kids was one thing, but Larry had been there for decades! That landlord had gone too far...

He must have gasped too loud as the man looked up at Hunter and smirked. "You just couldn't wait to see me, huh?"

"Wh-who are you? Where's Larry?" he demanded.

"I'm right in front of you, kid," the man said with a grin. "New and improved."

"No... No no no..." Hunter stared flabbergasted. This man couldn't have been Larry, he was far too young to be the old guy. Far too big and burly to be the short, frail man. He shook his head and spluttered, "I'm talking about the guy who lives here, that Larry. He's an old man, retired a decade ago, grump with a heart of gold? Where is he!?"

"That's me. Old man Larry... Maybe not as old, but still old enough to teach you a thing or two."

The large man stood up from his seat and stepped towards Hunter, who himself stepped back towards the door of the apartment. There was a sudden slam, and Hunter turned to see the door had shut! He tugged on the handle, but it wouldn't budge. The strange man was almost within arm's reach. Hunter immediately darted to the right and into the open plan kitchenette, using the dining table as a barrier to keep some distance between them.

"C'mon pal, I only want to have a chat," Larry said in his gritty voice. He sounded calm but there was an urgency in his tone.

Hunter's stance immediately softened. Something about Larry's warm voice almost made him trustworthy. The man gestured to the table and Hunter felt himself pull back a chair and sit down. His body felt heavy, subdued, moving on its own whim. His mind felt cloudy all of a sudden, as if the urgent desire to flee had vanished. Larry smiled and sat down himself, resting his arms on the table as he clutched his cigar in a raised paw.

"That's it, take a load off and we can chat. Maybe even share a drink." He gestured to a whiskey bottle and two glasses in the middle of the table. Hunter smiled politely but didn't reach for the bottle. Eventually, Larry sighed and took it upon himself to pour each of them a glass. He raised his glass in cheers. "I know these are strange circumstances," he huffed in irritation. "But a little whiskey ain't gonna hurt ya. C'mon, it'll put hair on your chest!"

Hunter cringed at Larry's choice of wording. Was that what happened to him? Did someone offer him the same gesture? Hunter couldn't help but notice the bountiful hair covering the older man’s own body, a covering that almost certainly wasn't there the last time they met. He watched as Larry downed the glass in one gulp, wiping the dribble from his chin with a cocky smirk before resuming his smoke.

As Larry puffed on his cigar, Hunter looked across to his bearded face and tried to find something, anything, that was even a semblance to the grumpy old man who used to live in the apartment. But his cold blue eyes were docile. His button nose was long and straight. His constant frown was now a harmless smirk. Under any other circumstance, Hunter would have welcomed the change of demeanor. But the literal change of appearance was unnerving. It was like he'd been replaced.

"So, you're Larry. You're really Larry, the retired dentist who's lived in this building for decades. You're not, like, a relative or a scam artist or something, you're Larry Proctor."

"Well I ain't the queen of England, am I?"

"What even happened to you?"

"I had a visit from the Big Man downstairs after making a complaint about my neighbors upstairs. He took it upon himself to find a solution that suited everyone. Heck of a guy, he is!"

Hunter stared at the man, skeptical yet shocked. He knew his landlord was up to something fishy but he never would have suspected this. How could he ever guess his landlord was turning his tenants into big, hairy smokers? He still couldn't believe it, it sounded impossible. Then again, there wasn't anything to suggest it was true either. For all he knew, it was an elaborate prank or even a distraction for something even bigger.

"But if he made you like the others then..." Hunter gulped. Maybe swapping rooms with Jamie was still on the table. But he couldn't let his friend get caught up in the frenzy, could he?

Sensing Hunter's revelation, Larry exhaled a plume of smoke and said "You can't hide from the Big Man. He's kept a watchful eye on you, waiting for you to take his initial offer. And he's getting impatient. So he wants me to give you an ultimatum." He dug into his pockets and pulled out another cigar, placing it on the table between them. "Smoke this cigar and you'll become one of the guys, simple as that."

"Excuse me!?" Hunter asked before bursting into nervous laughter. He stared at the cigar before him, his nose scrunched in disgust. He hated smoking, it didn't appeal to him in the slightest. It was obvious that the cigar played a part in what was happening and he had no intention of being included. "Nuh-uh. I'm not getting mixed up in this weird power fantasy. I'd rather be kicked out to the streets!" He tried to stand up but it felt like a two-tonne weight was resting on his groin, a powerful force that prevented him from moving. He grunted as he tried to move, only to stop as he noticed the man across from him get up.

Larry tutted and shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not an option, pal. You smoke it of your own free will or I'll be doing it for you. Either way, you're not leaving this room until the deed is done."

 

"You can't force me to stay, no matter how strong you are!" But as Hunter tried to get up from the table, he found himself floundering as his ass stuck firmly to his seat, which itself was immovable. "Wha-"

 

"The more you fight it, the worse it's gonna be... You'll never fit in if you don't go with the flow." Larry stood up from his own seat, his stern face taking a sinister turn as he stepped closer to Hunter. "Go ahead and take a puff, it's waiting on you..." He stared down at the young man, waiting for him to make a move. But after a minute's silence, Larry lost his cool. With one swift move, he snatched the cigar off the table and set the tip alight. Before Hunter could process what was happening, Larry gripped the back of his neck and tried to guide the cigar into his mouth. Hunter jerked about, trying to free himself of the man’s grip, but Larry was far stronger than he used to be. He squeezed Hunter’s neck tightly, causing him to groan in pain. Seizing his opportunity, Larry shoved the cigar between the smaller man’s lips and clamped his mouth shut so he couldn't spit it out. "That's it, pal. Get that in your system," Larry growled, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. 

Hunter held his breath and attempted to spit the cigar out, but his teeth wouldn't unclench. He tried to reach up and yank it out, but his arms wouldn't budge. He hoped it would fizzle out and break whatever charm it had over him so he could make a break for it. Yet it only seemed to burn brighter. He held his breath for as long as he could but he couldn't take much longer. He gasped for air, his lungs filling with smoke and making him cough. He took another breath, not as harsh as the second. By the third breath, he was already used to the sensation. 

He hadn't noticed that Larry had left his side until he glanced up to see him back in his chair, arms crossed and keeping a watchful eye. He nodded his head slightly, and Hunter felt a small part of the charm break. He reached his right arm up to remove the cigar from his lips, breathing out a haze of smoke that surrounded him. A small tingle ran down his back, twisting his lips upwards. That almost felt good, he thought. But he couldn't let the charm overtake his body. He swung his arm down, aiming for the ashtray in the centre of the table, until he felt it hit an invisible barrier. Try as he might, his arm wouldn't go further. It stayed put in mid-air until he tried moving it back up to his mouth. 

"You're becoming a natural already," Larry purred as he puffed on his own cigar, adding to the smoke-filled atmosphere. "Feel that smoke entering your system, embrace its power. It's already working its charm on you..."

Hunter felt lightheaded...and good... He took another puff and felt a tightness in his chest. As he breathed in a mouthful of smoke, he watched in detached awe as his chest pushed outwards. When he slowly exhaled, his chest stayed stoic, unmoving. He repeated the process. Breathe in, his chest puffed out, breath out, his chest stayed put. After a few puffs, he'd grown a shapely chest that he had only dreamed of attaining. With his free hand, Hunter reached underneath his tight shirt and grasped a rounded pec with awe, feeling solid muscle buried under a thin layer of fat. As he brushed a finger against a perky nipple, he felt a jolt of pleasure run down his spine that made his cock twitch. A tiny moan escaped his lips, a reddening blush crossed his cheeks.

The brain fog momentarily faded and Hunter remembered what was at stake. He tried once again to put down the cigar and failed. His arm shook as he resisted putting the cigar back in his mouth. But that numbing sensation of submission washed over him, his arm mechanically swinging towards his mouth once more. Every smoke-fueled breath added more bulk to his body, thickening his limbs and rounding out his torso. Muscle pumped down his arms and a burgeoning bulk rested around his midsection.

The closer the cigar came to its stubby end, the more it seemed to affect him. Hunter winced as his shirt tightened around his thick body. It restricted his movement, making it hard to breath. But he couldn't do anything to relieve the stress. He stared at Larry, his eyes creasing in desperation, sending a silent plea for help. Finally, the man relented and Hunter felt control flow back into himself. He scrambled at his neck and flexed his torso, cringing at the sound of torn fabric as his shirt was reduced to a pile of scraps. Now in control, Hunter finally slammed his cigar stub into the ashtray, twisting it out with a sigh of relief. But the damage was already done.

He gazed down at his thicker body, a far cry from the slim man he once was. Round pecs rested on a rounder stomach. His thighs had shredded his jeans to disarray, each looked to be double the size they used to be. But to his surprise, Hunter felt no panic or loss. He was bigger, yes, but with some intense training, he could lose the bulk. If anything, after his first smoking session, all he felt was thirst. Without even thinking, Hunter reached out for the glass in front of him and downed it in one gulp. He gasped as he felt the searing burn of whiskey coat the back of his throat, alongside the painful realisation of what he'd done. He slapped his forehead and growled "Stupid! Why the fuck did I do that!"

"You might think the smoke is clouding your judgement, giving you brain fog," Larry chuckled before downing his own glass. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then nodded his head in Hunter's direction. "Of course, it's only guiding you. It's not the only part of the process What did I tell ya, pal." He tapped his own hairy chest with a grin.

Another prickle of change overtook Hunter’s body as thousands of hairs burst forth from his skin, covering his exposed skin with a healthy amount of dark hairs. "No..." He reached a quivering hand to his chest and brushed it through the newly grown carpet with twisted curiosity. He had never been a lover of body hair, and was always grateful that his heritage only blessed him with the bare essentials. But now he had a chest rug straight from the seventies. There was no way he could prune the dense curls that wrapped around his torso without specialist help. But as he stroked his chest, it felt relaxing, even pleasurable. Suddenly, he growled and snatched his hand away from the tempting fur. He didn't like it, it was only the charm affecting his mind, Hunter assured himself. He glared up at Larry and said "You won't..." He paused, momentarily coughing to clear his throat. He winced as he felt more hair on his face, his manicured stubble having tripled in density and grown into a short beard. "You won't get away with this," he barked, then coughed again. "What the fuck is up with my voice? Why is it like that?" There was a persistent grit to his voice. Low and gravelly, like he was gargling gravel.

"Y'like it? You sound like a real man now. It suits you. Really gets me going..." Larry thrust his hips under the table, making Hunter cringe. But when Larry stood up from the table once again, he started to worry. He sauntered up to the newly hirsute man with a twisted grin. Before Hunter could react, Larry bent down and locked lips with him. His bristly jaw scratched against his own, the scratchy sound of beard upon beard filled their ears and pumped an unknown passion into him. Hunter wrapped his arms around Larry's shoulders and pushed himself into the burly man. He didn’t want to be with him, didn’t want to be kissing him. But he couldn’t stop himself.

Larry hoisted Hunter up from the chair and dragged him out of the kitchenette. They continued to make-out, stumbling back into the hallway with their mouths interlocked. Hunter tried to guide them towards the front door but Larry took lead and forced them into the living room. They stumbled and fell back onto the sofa, where Larry finally broke free of Hunter’s lips. He whined a little, already missing the feeling of the man's tongue in his mouth, then shook his head clear. He didn’t want any of this! He had to escape Larry's grip on him. 

Hunter tried to get up, but Larry shoved him down to the floor. When he got back to his knees, Hunter looked up and gasped. He found myself face to face with the older man’s cock, rock hard and desperate for attention. He almost jumped right onto it before he regained his composure. He wasn’t gay! He hadn't had a single stray thought for a man in his life. At least, not before he entered this apartment, not before he smoked that cigar… Hunter looked back at that thick cock, calling out for him. He reached out to touch the glorious rod when Larry grabbed him by the wrist.

"Ah ah ah, not yet pal. I love the enthusiasm but you're a little too immature for my tastes. I like a man to be closer to my age. However, it would be rude to make you wait..."

Hunter stared up at the brute, confused. He didn't know what to expect but he knew in the pit of his stomach that it wouldn't be good. Larry took a long drag of his cigar and blew the smoke down into the young man’s face. Hunter cringed as it billowed across his face and made the air hazy.

"Come now, I know deep down inside of you, there's a daddy just raring to be released..."

Larry blew more smoke in Hunter’s face, the gray cloud clinging to his body, refusing to dissipate. Every breath Hunter took made his mind feel heavier. He tried to resist, knowing it was another attempt to force him into changing, but the cigar smoke was thickening to a dull fog that wrapped around him and blurred his vision. It was too much... An odd feeling swept over him, like he’d been overworked and wanted to rest. His breathing slowed, his eyes felt heavy. In amongst the fog, Hunter heard Larry moan. "That's it pal, you're getting it..." His skin looked duller and rougher. Larry ruffled the man’s hair, causing strands to scatter around him. He could even see some gray hairs within the mix. It was really happening, he could feel himself getting older, and he couldn't stop it. "That's the ticket... Soon you'll be the daddy of your dreams..."

Hunter gazed at the fat dick in front of him, unable to find a way out. Maybe if he gave Larry what he wanted, this whole nightmare would come to an end, Hunter reasoned to himself. With a reluctant sigh, he leaned forwards, grasping the dick between his fingers. He felt the man shudder as he pressed his lips against the mushroom tip, wondering how he would get the whole thing in his mouth without gagging. He opened wide and laid Larry's hard dick on his tongue, tasting the musky saltiness. He hated that it turned him on. He could feel his own dick hardening within the remnants of his jeans. He almost yanked it out but maintained some semblance of self control. Finally, he took the plunge and slowly worked his way down Larry's dick, bobbing his head back and forth slowly as he let more and more of the cock slide down his throat. 

As Hunter continued his tongue massage, Larry continued to puff on his cigar and blow the smoke over him. Every dusting of smoke and ash made Hunter feel different. A little more tired, a little more willing to continue. He was getting a little more thicker, a little more hairier. He was so focused on pleasuring the man before him that he barely paid attention anymore. After a few minutes, he could feel Larry twitch and hear him whine in pleasure. He reached over and stroked Hunter's head, comforting him as he neared his final moments.

With one loud howl, Larry shuddered and shoved Hunter away, shooting his hot load over Hunter's face, dripping down his beard and onto his belly. Finally, the brute fell back against the sofa, his head lulling back in bliss.  Hunter fell back himself, gasping for breath and wiping the gunk off his face. 

As Larry laid back on the sofa, Hunter knew he had an opportunity. He stumbled to his feet and fled toward the front door. He scrambled with the lock and flung the door open, taking a glance back to see Larry hadn't budged. Nevertheless, he hurried across the hall, crashed through into his own apartment, and slammed the door behind him. He panted and fell back against it with a sense of anger and loss. He looked down at his hands, no longer slim palms with long, supple fingers. They were thick, square mitts with stubby digits and black hairs prickling across every knuckle. His palms were rough and calloused, in much need of moisturising. But he had a feeling no amount of lotion would heal his cracked skin.

After taking a moment to recompose, Hunter stumbled towards the bathroom. He was afraid of facing his reflection but he had to know what Larry had done to him. He gripped the sink basin, bracing for the inevitable as he gritted his teeth and forced his head up. He stifled a sob, and his knees buckled. He didn’t even recognise himself!

He had a rounded face with a short and prickly beard, which matched the hairy and pudgy body it was attached to. Yet that stranger was actually himself. He was a brute. A bulky, hairy, middle aged brute, unrecognisable to who he once was… He rubbed a hand over his bearded face in disbelief, his fingers lingering on the patches of gray hair poking through the dense darkness. Glancing upwards, it was hard to ignore how his hairline had slipped back a couple inches. Once blessed with thick hair like generations of men before him, he now had a receding hairline that started up on his head, along with a general thinness across his scalp. He glared at the man he had become, at least twenty years older than he originally was. He couldn't even say he looked like his dad because he didn't. Clean shaven, full head of hair, wiry man. Everything he wasn't. Maybe he could have resembled his dad in another life, if fate hadn't altered his course. Before he was forced into this bearish body. Hunter stifled a sob that shook through his body. It couldn't end like this... 

Hunter fell against the back of his door and sunk to the floor, slumping his head and arms over his knees. He took several deep, controlled breaths until he managed to flush his encroaching panic attack away. He let his legs fall to the ground and sat staring at his unrecognizable body. With every passing minute, he felt a little better. He hadn't fully accepted what had happened to him, how could he? But his mind felt clearer. Having escaped that lunatic's apartment, the nightmare was over. He didn't have to worry about changing any further. Not in the short-term anyway. He was as hairy and bulky as he was going to get. And now that he had passed the worst of it, he could begin to make a plan. He might have come out of it a changed man in more ways than one, but now he could focus on finding a way to fix things. Maybe he could even sue the landlord. Would that even be possible, he wondered. Magical, body-altering substances were a stretch of the imagination. He didn't know if a jury would believe what happened to him... 

Leaving the bathroom, Hunter figured he should grab his laptop, already dreading what his search history was going to look like. "Thank God for incognito mode" he muttered aloud as he perched on his sofa, laptop on table. Before he could type, however, he felt a gnawing at his chest. A desire for something he never thought he'd have. He tried to ignore it, struggling to type a coherent sentence as it nagged at his mind until he gave into its calls.

With an exasperated grunt, Hunter stomped over to his junk drawer and threw it open, rummaging through rechargeable batteries and expired gift cards about until he found it; the large Cuban cigar his landlord had gifted him all those weeks ago. To think his life had changed so much since that fateful meeting, so much within the past hour... But was it worth smoking it? It did come from his landlord, after all. It probably had those same powers that Larry's cigars had. Then again, he could be immune now that he'd already gone though the changes. It wasn't like he could just go out and buy his own. Not when his clothes no longer fit him. And he couldn't order them online, not when he needed to smoke right this very moment.

 

"Fuck it, I'm already in too deep..." he muttered with a heavy sigh. He clipped the tip off the cigar with a knife and stuck it underneath the gas cooker. He raised the cigar to his mouth and clamped it between his teeth. That first inhalation of smoke was pure bliss. Maybe he could get used to being a cigar smoker... He'd have to get all the equipment first. He couldn't be using the stove all his life. And why stop with cigars? He bet he'd look pretty good with a pipe, it'd suit his mature looks.

Hunter sat back on his sofa, arms spread across the cushions, puffing on his cigar in silence. He reflected on the days ahead. He was a changed man, after all. Wiser, more mature. He couldn't have walls of cartoonish memorabilia or video games. He needed some refined taste, something manlier. Then he would have to quit his job in data management, of course. Nobody was going to recognise him if he stepped into the office, and it didn't exactly suit a man of his stature. Maybe he could put his newfound brawn to use, get a blue collar job in construction. Then there was his blooming homoeroticism. It was obvious that his orientation had shifted. He hadn't been on a date with a woman since the new landlord appeared, and as much as he hated to admit it, his romp with Larry was the most action he'd had in months. It had awakened something in him. Maybe he should embrace it and get out into the gay dating scene. Gay men liked rough, older men, right? There had to be some sort of thing for that. At least he knew Jamie would go gaga for his new appearance, the little twink...  Jamie... Hunter closed up at the thought. How the fuck was he going to explain any of this to his best friend, let alone meet up with him ever again? They'd look like father and son. 

As he pondered these things, Hunter heard his apartment door open and shut, followed by a familiar growl. "You thought it was all over, huh?" Hunter turned his head to see Larry at his doorway. But he held a different presence. More docile. He held his hands out to show he wasn't hiding anything.

 

"Are you here to gloat?"

"Of course not, there's nothing to gloat about. I'm just a traditional guy. You gave me a good release back there and, well, it would be mighty rude of me not to reciprocate."

“Excuse me?”

Larry grinned and slowly stepped towards Hunter. "Truth be told, I may have made a little bargain with the Big Man. It wasn't like I needed persuading to join the club, after all. I mean, look at me now." He flashed a smile and gestured to his beefy body. It certainly was an upgrade to his previous frail figure. "But I knew he would need some help with the other stragglers. Like you..."

“So you helped the landlord into tricking me since you wanted a bit of power. I kind of connected the dots there. Besides, you already told me that..."

"I wanted to be a strong and intimidating guy, sure. But as I got younger, I realised there was more that I wanted. And that's where you come in..."

"You already turned me into this middle aged brute. You won. What else could you possibly want from me?”

Larry smirked. “You really haven’t noticed?” he asked, giving Hunter a good poke. “The Big Man mentioned that you never truly accepted his welcome gift like the others, and I had a light-bulb moment. Every magic fueled concoction has its own little effect. The ones gifted to me by The Big Man served their purpose to induct you into the ways of the bear. However, the cigar that he gifted you could have also done the job. Hence I wondered what would happen if you combined the two. You see, I have always enjoyed the presence of an older man, an enjoyment I lost as I became older myself. But now that I'm young again... Well"

The colour drained from Hunter's face. How could he have been so stupid!? With surprising haste, he pulled himself off his sofa and squeezed back into his bathroom to once again gaze upon his altered reflection. He clenched his fist and grunted. Larry's hypothesis looked accurate. Hunter watched as the remaining dark hues in his beard faded to white with each puff of his cigar. What remained of his thinning hair was falling out in clumps until the top of his scalp was completely bare, only a horseshoe of rapidly whitening hair remained. His already stocky body was piling on more and more pounds as his belly bloated outward in a seemingly endless tsunami of fat. 

 

 

 

As Hunter watched himself succumb to the extreme effects of the cigar, a horrifying thought leapt to his mind. He didn't want it to stop. He wasn’t some sniveling hipster any longer. He was becoming a mature, thick man. Like a fine wine, he’d only gotten better with age. He gripped his bald head in a panic, trying to fight those unwanted thoughts.  He never wanted to be a fat, old bear! He was content with his old life as a young, scruffy, lean man with a dead-end job. Wasn’t he? Going nowhere, struggling from paycheck to paycheck. When the new landlord took over and lowered his rent, it was like a breath of fresh air. Finally, he could save money and not have to worry about any sudden expenses. Money he kept hidden away for a rainy day. It would make a pretty loaded retirement fund when saved up over the decades, more than enough to pay for the cigars and pipes he so longed to smoke. Never having to lift a finger again. He was free from work, free to live the rest of his days doing what he loved...

Hunter stumbled back in a haze. Could he really accept this new life? There was nothing he could do about it, after all. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad... He couldn't give up but deep down he knew he'd lost. He could escape his apartment, but then what? Nobody would believe him, he'd be another ranting old lunatic that people would avoid in the streets. Maybe it was time to accept his new life. He was tired of resisting. Tired of fighting against the inevitable. Just...tired... 

 

 As he stumbled back into the living room, Larry was already waiting for him on the sofa, beckoning him over with the pull of a finger. Hunter felt himself move towards the younger man, no longer resisting the latent urges inside. Larry wasted no time grasping at the old man's body, stroking his belly and kissing his bearded cheeks. Hunter didn't even resist as Larry's hands slipped further down, right into his pants to fondle his cock.

Hunter leaned his head back, cigar in mouth, arms spread across the back of the sofa. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Larry apparently had a thing for old men, and Hunter definitely fit the bill now. And he couldn't deny that he was getting turned on at the prospect. Larry pulled the old man's cock out of his pants, feeling it stiffen within his grasp. Still got it, Hunter thought with a smirk as it bobbed and swayed with a desire for release. Larry lunged forwards, taking his full cock in his eager mouth.

 

With a content groan, Hunter continued to puff on his cigar. He was packing on the pounds now, his belly bloating out like a water balloon. His pecs were softening with every breath, sagging downwards and resting on his belly. As he rubbed his soft body, a rare smile cracked through his unruly beard. Now that he'd stopped resisting, he actually felt good about his body. It wasn't half bad being so fat and hairy. He glanced over his round belly and to the man who was suckling at his cock with an unbridled passion. His head was starting to slap the base of his belly, making it shake with joy. The way it jiggled like jello was mesmerizing to watch. Hunter exhaled a cloud of smoke and groaned as Larry suddenly hit a good spot.

Hunter reached down and brushed a hand over Larry's head. It was hard to believe this virile man used to be a grumpy old coot. It was harder for Hunter to believe that he himself was almost that old coot's former age. The thought alone made him moan in pleasure. He wasn't some inexperienced, young man any longer. He was a retired man with decades of life under his belt.

It was as if a switch flicked in his head, everything clicked. He was an old man, living in a building filled with other men, each one as brawny and hairy and manly as he was. Why didn't he see it before. He had resisted the changes up to this point but now he finally understood everything. He had gained everything he wanted. Larry upped the ante and Hunter winced. "Hngh....I'm..." He growled in ecstasy as Larry released his warm grip and Hunter ejaculated sticky ropes of cum onto the man’s masculine face. He kept cumming, his seed splattering down the Larry's hairy, burly torso. Following on, Larry growled as he yanked his cock out and shot his own load onto the old man’s fat belly. He fell forward, laying against Hunter, resting his head on his furry chest. 

 

"I fuckin’ love you, daddy," Larry growled in that gritty bass before slipping his expert tongue into Hunter’s mouth. They only broke free of each other's grip so they could get back to their other passion. Larry grabbed a couple cigars from his abandoned clothes, passing one to his older companion, who took it with an eagerness previously unseen up to now. Hunter flopped his head back against the sofa and exhaled a heavy plume of smoke with a contented smile. To think he had spent so long resisting the call. Finally, he was one of the guys now. Another bear in the apartments.

Hunter stretched out across the rest of the sofa and gazed down at his new body, utterly transfixed. He patted his huge belly with a loving smile, before leading his hand up to his saggy pecs covered with white fur. He scratched at his bushy beard, and pawed at his bald head, each far different to how he looked mere hours ago. To think that he truly was a retired, older man now. He was almost as old as Larry was that morning. If only Jamie could see him now, he thought with a smug smirk. The kid would lose his mind! Maybe it was worth inviting him over to see the results... 

 

As he stroked his younger lover's head and puffed on his cigar, he finally felt at peace with the whole situation. Maybe it was just the cigars talking but it sure felt good to just let it all go. The two men stayed in their meditative state for a few minutes until their peace was disturbed by a sudden knock at the door. Hunter grumbled and yelled "It's open!"

The door swung inwards and there he was, The Big Man. Their landlord. He was beaming when he spotted his two newest bears cuddled up in companionship. "Well hello," he purred as he walked into the room. "I thought I would pop in and see how you fellas were doing."

"We're doing just fine, sir," Larry said as he exhaled a plume of smoke. 

"That's right, we're just dandy."

"Good, good. Well I'll leave you two to your heart's whim." He turned towards the door, paused, and turned back. "Unless... You two have anything you'd like to address. Or undress..."

Hunter locked eyes with his landlord for a second, a slight tension between them. Finally, he cracked a small smile and nodded his head. The landlord closed the door and sauntered towards the two bears, eagerly unbuttoning his shirt. Things were going to be just fine at Ursa Complex.