DILF Elixir

It was mid-morning, and Trent was still resting in bed. He had no work, no plans, no responsibilities, except for sleep. That is, until he was rudely awoken by the curtains in the room being thrown open, and his boisterous husband bouncing onto the bed beside him. "Get up, sleepyhead" Frank cooed with a sharp prod.

"Mmm, noooo," Trent mumbled. "Sleep..."

"Don't you know what day it is?"

"Sunday," he grumbled. "The day of rest... So let me rest!" He dug himself under the covers further.

"It's not just any old Sunday. It's..."

"I'unno... S'not my birthday... Not yours..." Suddenly, he jolted upwards. "Fuck, it's not our anniversary, is it? It can't be..."

"No, of course not." Frank laughed. "Bit worrying you forgot we married in the winter... No, it's Father's Day!"

"Father's Day? You woke me up for that!? Our dads suck, you know that!"

Trent chucked a pillow at Frank, who only laughed at his partner's tantrum. "Well, I suppose I should just get rid of this then," he said, dangling a small bottle just teasingly out of reach.

Trent stared at the vial, a little confused, until his eyes widened in recognition of the shimmering blueish contents within. "Oh shit," he muttered. "Is that...? You didn't..."

A Ritual

It started as a hypothetical. Not even that. I wasn't even the one who introduced the idea. And now our lives have been flipped, traded, intertwined. But I'm getting ahead of myself... Many decades back, whilst backpacking through Europe, I picked up a pair of of totems from an antique shop. I didn't understand the significance of them back then, I just thought they looked like unusual knick-knacks. The person who sold them to me surely didn't know either, I'm sure they can't have. Or they wouldn't have sold them to me for so cheap...

Those totems still sit on my bookshelf alongside all the other various tchotchkes I've acquired over the years. I'd never even thought to look into their origins. Why would I? They were mass-produced tat for all I knew. It wasn't until my grandson, Greg, took a sudden interest in them. I was looking after him for the week while his mother went on one of her business trips. And as soon as he arrived, he made a bee-line for my bookshelf, and plucked them right off the top. He then went off on some tirade about a documentary he'd seen on the internet about old-world rituals. Apparently, these totems were used as part of a ritual that would allow two people to air grievances by putting themselves in the other's position, and working through their issues together. Or that's how it sounded to me.

"Nuh-uh," Greg sighed with a shake of his head. "The guy on YouTube literally said they swapped minds."

"Exactly. They swapped their thoughts and troubles to better understand each other's position, and come to a mutual agreement." 

"You're not getting it, Gramps." Greg took the totems, and swapped them around in his hands. "They swapped for real life, body and mind. They each became the other!"

"Don't be ridiculous," I spat, upset by the very notion. "It's clearly metaphorical."

Suddenly, a mischievous smile crept across Greg's face. "If it's so metaphorical, why don't we give it a try?"

Man Flu

Rohan whimpered as his mom pulled the thermometer out of his mouth. She studied the end before tutting and shaking her head. "It's ninety-eight degrees. That's normal, you're perfectly fine."

"But moooom," he whined, his voice unusually deep and husky for a twelve-year-old. "I don't feel good! Even my throat hurts." He coughed meaningfully, as if to prove his point.

"But nothing! What you have is a case of the man-flu. Now get ready for school."

As his mom left him to get ready, Rohan only dug himself further under the bed covers. He felt awful, and it hurt that his mom didn't believe him. Sure, there had been times in the past that he may have faked a flu to get out of school. And he did have an exam to take, one he hadn't prepared for. But he really wasn't faking it this time. He may not have a temperature, or clogged sinuses, or even a runny nose, but that didn't mean he wasn't actually sick!

Birthday Bumps

"What's wrong? You've been a little distant this whole meal."

"Huh?" I glanced over to Ethan, who had put an arm around my shoulder. I shook my head, and took a puff of my cigar. "It's complicated..." I sighed. "Just dwelling on the uncertainties of life, and the future, and stuff."

"Aw, babe, you shouldn't fret about that, especially on your birthday!" He took me by the arm, and led us back to our table where a small designer cake with a single candle sat atop. "Relax, you only turn 38 once, after all."

Ethan tugged lightly on my beard, pulling me closer as we locked lips in a loving kiss. I smiled for him, and blew out the candle to his delight. But I couldn't help but dwell on my thoughts. Everything was happening so fast, it wasn't supposed to be this complicated.

--------------------

It was while we stood at the front of the restaurant, waiting for our server to return and lead us to our reserved table. I was bouncing on my feet impatiently, when I felt a heavy figure crash into my back. I stumbled with an "oof!" Turning around, I glared at the man who had bumped into me.

He looked apologetic but didn't even stop. "Sorry, kid!" he cried out, almost as an afterthought, as he rushed through the crowded restaurant, to the balcony in the back.

I frowned, but shook off the accident. I wasn't going to let some jerk ruin my birthday. I was finally entering double digits, the big 1-0. I was going to have an awesome lunch with my best friends before heading to the entertainment complex that recently opened down the street. There was an arcade with VR, laser tag, mini golf, and a Ninja Warrior style obstacle course all under one roof! It was going to be the best birthday!

Bigger

Want to be bigger? CLICK HERE!

Jerry stared at the ad on his phone. He only wanted to look up a walkthrough to a game he'd gotten stuck on. Then the video he'd chosen was interrupted by an ad break, as was typical. However, the ad choice was unusual. Even weirder, it didn't end. There was no timer counting down the remaining seconds. No X to close that would resume his video. Despite the irregularity, Jerry remained transfixed by those six simple words.

Because of course, he wanted to be bigger. It was his strongest desire, one he hadn't told anyone before. Not that they'd be surprised. What eleven-year-old didn't want to? And here was this intrusive advert, just begging him to interact. He knew not to click on dodgy links, that was basically Internet Safety 101. Yet, that innate desire of his, to be bigger than he was, it was too much. He squinted his eyes, and tapped the glowing link, before releasing a breath he didn't even realise he was holding. 

As the page loaded, Jerry dwelled on his predicament. It just wasn't fair. He was the shortest kid in his class. He was the thinnest, too. His best friend used to be as short as he was. Then he had a major growth spurt, leaving him in the dust. Everyone seemed to tower over him. His dad would always laugh it off, saying he was also the runt when he was the same age. But now he was tall, and broad, and so much bigger than everyone else in the family. It just wasn't fair, he'd waited years for that hypothetical growth spurt, when was it even going to happen? He wanted to be bigger now!

Finally, the website loaded. It was a garish looking piece of work that Jerry would have immediately backed out of, were it not for its promise. Still, it looked like it was made by an amateur in the early days of the internet, with pixellated GIFs, bold colours, and mismatching fonts. In the centre was a single message.

Do You want to be BIGGER? The biggest in your CLASS? In your SCHOOL?? Even bigger than your DAD???

Follow our INSTANT embiggening plan below!!!

BIGGER

Jerry raised an eyebrow. That was a little too specific, almost as if it were aimed at him. But surely he wasn't the only one... With a small bit of hesitation, he tapped the blue link. As the page loaded, his phone sparked. He jumped back in shock, dropping it on the floor. He slammed a palm into his forehead, why would he do something so foolish!? Had he busted his phone? Was it now a virus-ridden block? His parents were gonna ground him for a year! It was a hand-me-down, too... Carefully, he picked the phone up, and sighed in relief. The screen still worked, and it wasn't cracked either. The website now displayed a progress bar. 

EMBIGGENING - 3%.

Tānetanga Beach

Louie grumbled to himself as he forked several banknotes over to the scruffy cashier in front of him. Sunscreen, bottled drinks, snacks, beach towels, even a tacky inflatable toy. His son had somehow forgotten to pack everything required for their visit to the beach. Then instead of staying with him, Sean decided to run off and find a spot on the beach while he paid for the lot. 

When he booked a getaway to New Zealand, Louie specifically chose a quiet looking town within the Bay of Plenty, wanting to stay away from the hustle and bustle of the bigger, more populated cities. However, it seemed the entire country had the same idea, as the summer vacation crowds became apparent. It was Sean's desire to visit Ōhope beach in particular. There had to be countless, beautiful coastal areas further afield. Yet here they were, mere yards from their hotel, in what appeared to be a locals hotspot.

As Louie left the gift shop, he swept his head left and right in search of his son. But it was no use, there were too many people. Thankfully, he'd stuck Sean's phone on a location tracking app, just for emergencies. He opened it up, and frowned. That couldn't be right. According to the little dot, Sean was on the other side of the forested headland west of the beach. Sure enough, as Louie approached the hill, there was a wooden pathway up and into the forest above. He climbed the stairs with a grumble. Why was Sean sending him on a wild goose chase? 

Following the directions on his phone, Louie came to an abrupt halt. The manmade path continued to the left, but a wilder, natural path led straight ahead. The only sign of civilisation were several signs stuck in the ground, and hammered to trees. They were grimy and faded, but the message was clear; don't pass this point. He looked at his app, and cringed. Sean was on the other side of those signs!

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.