Grant had received a steady stream of packages from his grandfather’s estate since the first a few months ago. The pace was so rapid that his apartment quickly was becoming cluttered with his things. His mind was becoming rather cluttered as well–there was so much to study, so much to process, and he just didn’t know where to even begin his studies. Quite a few of the boxes had simply been filled with books–everything from spellbooks and alchemical references to family memoirs and genealogies, while others contained jumbled collections of pipes, alchemical materials, and one shipment was simply a massive chest with no hinges or sign that it could even be opened. But perhaps what was most frustrating was that he had no way of testing his new powers. He lived in the middle of a large city–he couldn’t just go around casting spells on random people, especially when he couldn’t even be sure he was doing it right. He could try them on himself, but if something went wrong, then he might not be able to fix it at all.
Given that his apartment was quickly becoming a mess and a laboratory, the few times he escaped were to either go to work, where he mostly thought about magic, or heading over to visit Aaron, where he could get away from the books and spells for a bit and just be a person again–and fuck around of course. If there was anything his new body loved to do, it was fuck. Still, Aaron could sense something was bothering him, and Grant couldn’t exactly confide in him about his new hobby. Grant pulled away, and Aaron couldn’t figure out how to get him to open up. Finally, they had a raging argument over Grant’s constant pipe smoking–something Aaron couldn’t stand–and Grant stormed out of the apartment. Aaron pouted for a couple of hours, and decided he had to figure out what was wrong with his boyfriend.
Grant, however, had spent those few hours in his apartment, surrounded by his grandfather’s things, fuming smoke. He was just so frustrated, and Aaron didn’t understand anything! His family had always been known as hotheads, but it was never a trait Grant had struggled with, but now…he simply couldn’t stop being angry. He could feel everything in the apartment resonating with his anger as well, books falling from shelves, liquids boiling in their jars. If anything, all of the energy stored up in the place was shaking, desperate to get out, along with his anger. And so, when Aaron knocked on the door, and Grant flung the door open, and they started shouting at each other all over again in Grant’s living room, it only grew worse. The walls and floor started to creak and shake, and Aaron saw Grant’s hair start to swirl out as though lifted by an invisible wind. Terrified, he backed towards the door, but it was locked by some invisible force.
Grant, however, in the middle of the storm, felt both incredibly calm and impossibly tense at the same time. He was desperately trying to wrangle together his thoughts. He was angry–angry at Aaron for wanting to intrude. Angry at himself, for keeping him at a distance. In love with him, even though he knew he could never bring him close enough to love him completely. If only. If only Aaron was someone closer. If only Grant could protect him. If only Aaron could love him completely. If only, if only, if only, and the power building in him twisted those desires into a ball of light and smoke, and flung it directly into Aaron’s chest.
The collision was blinding. Aaron felt it infuse every part of his body with light, heating him up, changing him…somehow. It was hot as well, so hot, it felt like his mind was boiling and shifting, like he wasn’t quite himself anymore, and even as he felt that strange idea in his mind, he couldn’t quite remember how he’d used to be to even make the comparison. For Grant, the flash passed in an instant, searing his eyes, and he blinked a few times, but in the aftermath, Aaron was gone–or at least, the Aaron that had been there moments before was gone. In his place was someone new–or at least, Grant thought he was new.
He was quite a bit shorter, for one, and much wider. Aaron had been a bit of a beanpole in shape, but now he couldn’t have been more that five and a half feet tall, but his trunk was packed with fat and muscle, making him take up plenty of space, his legs thick, heavy and a bit bowed, with a thick, hefty cock hanging down, his sack hanging a bit lower even. He was covered in hair, almost as much as Grant, all of it a light strawberry blonde, including a bushy goatee centered in a round face topped with short bristly hair. And his eyes. He was looking at Grant, but with a look he’d never seen in Aaron. He wasn’t just horny, it wasn’t just love, it was hunger, and the naked cub tromped towards Grant while he couldn’t move, got down under his kilt, and started sucking on his cock.
What had he just done? He could feel the magic still reverberating around the room, waves of it washing back over him, and each wave brought an onslaught of thoughts and memories that hadn’t been there before. The first evaporated his anger, converting it into lust. Lust for his boy, lust for his cub. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard, and he started thrusting into Aaron’s open mouth, feeling his entire cock slip effortlessly down his boy’s well trained throat. Another wave rocked him, and he felt his chest well up with love, but a different kind of love than he’d felt for Aaron before. It wasn’t a cautious love, it was now impossible to deny, as though it was built into his very bones. His son–he’d do anything for him, anything he could to protect him and keep him safe. Another wave, and his old memories of Aaron faded into a dim backdrop as others filled in. How he’d raised him from a small lad, how he’d become closer to him than anyone else, how they knew each other’s bodies intimately. Aaron’s blow job suddenly intensified–he knew exactly where to tease his daddy, exactly how to push him close to the edge without sending him over. But Grant knew what he really wanted. He wanted his boy’s ass today.
He pulled his son out from under his kilt and hauled him up, leaning over him, feeding his smoke from his pipe for a few minutes, before pulling him over to the couch, sitting him down on it, facing him, so they could keep kissing while he fucked his son. He couldn’t believe what he’d done. How could he forgive himself? He locked eyes with Aaron, and felt another wave push through him. Then again, there was nothing to forgive, was there? He thrust inside his boy’s perfect hole, hearing him gasp in pleasure, reached down, and started milking his thick cock with one hand while thrusting inside him. They exploded together, and it felt like the air around them finally settled again, the chaotic spell finally finished. They shared a bit more smoke, Grant staying inside his son’s ass a bit longer, as he softened. He’d have to fix this, of course–but maybe…maybe for just a while, he could enjoy this, and be happy.
Bracken's Corner 