Tricks and Treats [Flash Commission]

There were plenty of rumors about Old Man Sanders. Some people said he was dead, and that the house was actually abandoned. Others said he was a shut in. Others claimed he was a wizard. But always, in every rumor, he was known for his extraordinary gifts–though it was never clear what he was giving, or to who. Oliver and Martin, two guys going to college in town, had a drunken dare, a couple of nights before Halloween, and they decided they should head up the hill to the house, and see which, if any, of the rumors were true. They had already decided to go out on Halloween–a lot of the students did, and the neighborhoods humored them, giving them candy for fun. The big night came, and Oliver and Martin got dressed in their costumes–Oliver just put on his football uniform (he’d never been one for creativity) while Martin was wearing a simple robe and scream mask he’d bought at a store. They broke off from their friends around nine, and headed up the lonely hill towards Sanders mansion at the top.

No one was up there with him–most of the candy was to be found close to campus, where the residents were a bit more patient with their older trick-or-treaters. As far as they were concerned, that meant more candy for them. At last, they came to the mansion–it did look abandoned, aside from a spare few lights on in the windows. They let themselves in through the gate, and knocked on the door. To their surprise, a bent old man with a long white beard answered, and they both hollered, “Trick or treat!”

Old Man Sanders did not look amused. He peered at them, through the helmet and the mask…and both young men got the distinct sense that he could…see them, through the garments. “Aren’t you two a bit too old for silliness like this?”

“It’s…just for fun. If you don’t have anything, it’s cool,” Oliver said.

“We just wanted to see if the rumors were true!” Martin blurted out, and Sanders’ eyes narrowed further.

“Oh? Which rumors?”

Neither of them were sure what to say, to that. “Your…gifts,” Martin muttered.

Oliver tried to step away, eager to be gone, but found that his feet were glued to the doormat somehow.

“Gifts, eh? Well, I think I can scrounge up a couple of tricks and treats for boys like you–why don’t you come on in.”

Each of them found themselves shuffling inside the house, and Sanders shut the door behind them. “Now, both of you strip out of those childish costumes, and I’ll give you two something a bit more…grown up to wear.”

Again, neither of them could resist his commands, and they began stripping their way out of their costumes in the mansion’s entryway–and then beyond their costumes, even taking off their underwear. Sanders left, and returned a couple of minutes later with a bundle of clothes, and two pairs of shabby boots hanging from one hand. “Here you go boys, let’s see if you can fill these shoes.”

They did as they were told, and put on the clothes as Sanders handed the garments to each of them. They weren’t the least bit clean, and the clothes weren’t in their sizes at all. Oliver receiver a sleeveless muscle shirt covered with dirt–two sizes too big for him, even though he wore an XXL–and a set of overalls that hung off his large frame and pooled around his feet. Martin, on the other hand, got a heavily stained wifebeater–also much too large for him–and some jeans and suspenders. The jeans were too large at the waist and too short in the legs–the suspenders were too tight for him as well, pulling them up even higher. Lastly, they received the boots–also much too large for them both. They slid their feet into them…and once they were on, the laced tied themselves, and their bodies began to warp, over a matter of moments, until the clothes they were wearing fit perfectly–their bodies had changed to match.

Oliver was now nearly seven feet tall, and packed with muscle from head to toe, nearly bursting from the muscle shirt, the overalls struggling to contain his thick chest and massive thighs. Martin on the other hand, and shrunk–he was five foot two, and had a huge gut pushing out the jeans and suspenders until they were tight–almost too tight. They looked at each other and screamed, while Sanders looked on, enjoying the spectacle. “I suppose I am known for my gifts,” he said.

“Please–please change us back, we’re sorry, we didn’t mean to bother you!” Martin said.

“Aww…but don’t you two want your treats? Come now, let’s all relax a bit, and you can…enjoy yourselves.”

In the next room, Sanders sat both boys down in an armchair across from one another, and then left for a moment, returning with a cigar in one hand, and a six pack of beer in the other. “Here daddy,” he said to Martin, “Drink up–you’re very thirsty, aren’t you?”

He set the beers down, and Martin scrambled for one, popping the tab and chugging the brew down, before letting off a long belch–and as he did, his eyes sagged slightly. In fact, all of him sagged slightly, wrinkles appearing on his face as he aged up into his thirties, grabbed another beer, and chugged that one too.

While he drank, Sanders took the cigar over to Oliver, “Here boy, a special treat for you too–breathe deep now, you need it, don’t you?”

He shoved the end of the cigar into Oliver’s mouth, and it sprang to life. He breathed deep, trying to cough, but he couldn’t–and he felt power rush into him, hair sprouting all over his body, and he moaned around the cigar, eyes crossing a bit as his mind slowed down.

The two men enjoyed their treats for a while, and Sanders’…discussed their lives with them–their new lives. They would both remember being young men–but neither would be able to speak about it to anyone else. They were much happier now anyway. They both loved their gifts, after all. They loved living in the rundown trailer in the trailer park. Marty loved being Ollie’s daddy, lounging about the trailer all day, farting, belching, jacking off, waiting for his son to come home from work–his dumb, massive brute of a son, always chuffing on a cigar–and then Ollie would service his daddy from head to toe. He loved pleasing his daddy, after all, and once a week, they’d both make the trek up the hill, and help take care of Old Man Sanders’ needs too, right? After all, these were some expensive gifts, he’d given them, and they’d both be paying him back for the rest of their roughneck lives.

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