There is a curious thing happening to some men–it appears as though something has started messing with the space-time continuum. The effect appears to be rather small–one change, sometimes big, sometimes small–which happens in a man’s past, but which can radically alter the future. No one knows who is chosen or why–but the changes do seem to have a love for karma.
John was an early target, an older contractor who was a stickler for order. This was generally a positive trait, but John liked to force everyone else to live as he did. He was the tyrant of his neighborhood association, and was the first to make a formal complaint should someone try and decorate their lawn, or put their Christmas lights up even a day early. As a contractor he was a stickler for building codes, and he inspected every renovation to any house whether the owner asked him to or not. Apparently, someone decided to go back and with a little tweak, make John a messy child.
John was in the midst of cleaning his living room when he noticed the changes cascading over him. Whenever he picked up a piece of clutter, three pieces would suddenly appear behind his back. He had no idea where all of this stuff was coming from, but he recognized it all as his…didn’t he? Before long, he was pushed out of the living room by the piles, and he caught a glimpse of himself in a tarnished mirror hung askew in the hallway. When did he get so fat? And why was his hair and beard so long?
Hell, why wouldn’t it be that long? He hadn’t cut his hair or shaved his face in years, why in the hell would he start now? He gave his belly a scratch and let out a loud belch. He should probably take a shower, but why bother? He clambered over the piles of junk still filling his house from floor to ceiling and made his way outside, not caring that he was suddenly naked. No memories of his old life remained–the slobby kid had grown into a adult hoarder.
Of course, the culprit of these changes also tried to reward individuals who had done well in their lives, but who had never been able to get as far as they should have. Be in a small boost in confidence, or a little twist of luck, a few people found their lives put on a better track than before. Howie was a good example.
Howie was a good man, or at least he tried his best. He’d grown up poor, but rather than turning to crime and drugs like a lot of his childhood friends, he worked to pay his way through truck driving school, and was finally doing well for a change, however, he wasn’t happy. The years of work had been murder on his body, and the driving didn’t leave much time for exercise. He hated his gut, his balding head hidden by his hat, and his cigar habit, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. His slow metabolism and high testosterone level caused most of his ills, but apparently whoever was behind these changes felt a bit sorry for him. So, Howie went to bed that night with a slight tweak body’s molecular makeup.
When he woke the next morning and looked in the mirror, he didn’t recognize himself for a second. He ran his hands across his firm stomach and pecs, the sensation of his smooth skin something new, and not unwelcome, along with his new tan. Sure, the sudden lack of testosterone had shrunk his cock and balls quite a bit, but with his increased metabolism and tendency to pack on muscle, he had never really minded, nor did the men who lined up to worship his massive body. He lit a cigar for himself as last night’s catch woke up, and quickly got down to suck Howie’s cock, running his hands up and down the bodybuilder’s front. Exhaling a thick plume of smoke, he knew he should try and quit this nasty habit, but hey, some changes still had to be made the old fashioned way. –
Bracken's Corner 