After Luke left, the only men who remained in the house, or at least who remained normal in the house, since John was still enjoying his vices in the bedroom, and Issac was stuffing himself in the kitchen, were Mark’s father–Michael–and his uncle–Gabe. Mark stood in front of them on the couch, with the game on the TV behind him, and grinned at them both. Neither of them knew what to make of what was going on, and Mark didn’t really want to take the time to explain it. After all, once the spell took hold, and their fates were rewritten, neither of them would even remember any of their sons–they wouldn’t even be here.
The paradox of Mark’s existence would be smoothed over by reality well enough–his father would simply be dead in the past, literally, and replaced by the new version of his father somewhere else in the world. But where that place would be, well, that’s what he was going to have to figure out.
The spell would allow him to change these men’s fates, but it could only do so much, just…shove things in a different direction, when the opportunity arose in the past. It was up to Mark to use his energy to direct it…but this was by far the most risky spell that he was going to attempt, and that was why he was going to use it last. Temporal energy wasn’t something to toy with, and even his boyfriend had cautioned him against trying this–but Mark was adamant. He knew what would likely happen, and he had accepted it. The two of them deserved it–at least by twisting their fates together, in the same spell, some of the backlash would be lessened for him.
He spent the next half hour or so preparing the spell, getting the two men ready, and finally, he started the incantation, standing behind them, one hand on each of their temples, and he felt the strange sensation of vertigo as they all fell, together, backwards into the past. He focused on his uncle first, on the timeline stretching out of his entire life, and at the bright points of chance that stood out–points were Mark would be able to change things. One in particular stood out to him–his uncle, home for the summer during college, had gotten into a bar fight and ended up getting arrested. As things had happened, his father had managed to smooth things over with the sheriff…but things hadn’t needed to happen like that at all…especially with a few tweaks to the sheriff himself.
He was an older man, stern and law abiding, but Mark used the spell to twist him and his fate as well, enhancing his mean streak, but also giving him a strong fetish for…well, corporal punishment, especially with a young, uppity man as Gabe had been in his youth. He set the new sheriff and his younger uncle on a collision course, and watched the timeline start to twist, and then break. His uncle, drunk in the prison cell, had talked back to the sheriff, who had decided to take his belt to the loud mouthed boy–and followed it up with a rough fucking in the cell. Deciding the boy needed some…additional lessons, the sheriff held him in there most of the summer, beating and abusing him, making Gabe…crave the abuse, and crave the sheriff’s cock too. His uncle had never gone back to college–no, he’d decided to clean himself up, and got himself a job as a sheriff’s deputy…though each night, in reality, he was the domineering sheriff’s personal pain pig and slave.
He couldn’t follow the line further than that, but he didn’t need too–enough damage had been done. Now, Mark turned his attention to his father Michael, and he picked his way along the timeline, testing points of fate, looking for an opportunity, but none of them seemed satisfying–that is, until he found an odd one, where his father had hitchhiked his way home for winter break, and then hitchhiked back as well, usually catching rides with truckers along the way. So Mark found a better trucker for his father to catch a ride with–a massively obese fellow, easily 400 pounds, always stuffing his face with food, and more than eager to get Michael stuffed with food, and beer, along the way. The fat fuck had gotten his father drunk, and then molested him in the cabin behind the cab–and much to Michael’s surprise, and the trucker’s, he’d liked it. He’d liked worshiping the man’s massive, flabby frame, and he relished the attention the trucker poured on him, convincing Michael to stuff himself full all over again the next day, jacking off in the cab…and when they got to the city, Michael decided to keep riding with the trucker he found himself so infatuated with–and before too long, the two of them were team trucking across the country and back, stuffing themselves silly the whole way.
It was done. Mark began the process of pulling himself out of the past, climbing back up to the present, and as he did, he could feel the energy building up around him, infusing him, and when he finally opened his eyes in the living room, the couch in front of him empty, he was not the same man he’d been when he’d begun the incantation. He’d aged close to fifteen years, nearly forty years old, with quite a few wrinkles and some grey hair appearing in his now receding hairline…but he’d done it. He’d gotten his revenge…and yet, he still didn’t quite feel satisfied by it. In any case, he needed to leave–his boyfriend was waiting for him to get back, though Mark was sure he would be…angry when he saw Mark, and figured out what he’d done. Still, it had been worth it–it all had…but then why did it not feel like it was quite enough? Why did it feel like he could do so much more to all of them?
This is the end of the story for the moment! We will pick up the story again in a bit.