Gifts from a Magi – Part 1

Jake had a problem. Well, not so much a problem as a set of circumstances which were conspiring together to make him as unhappy as possible. First, was the fact that he was graduating this coming weekend, ending his college career and he had no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life. He had no job lined up, barely any money in his bank account, and after he’d come out to his family a couple of months ago, he…wasn’t exactly going to be welcomed back there with open arms either. Then there was Rand, on the left in the photo.

He was Jake’s best friend. They’d lived on the same floor during their freshman year, and had lived together ever since, even renting an apartment together as seniors. Rand was the first person Jake had come out to, and Rand in turn had been one of Jake’s biggest supporters at college. He was the one who’d convinced Jake to come out to his parents and quit living the big lie. Of course, this culminated in situations three and four, where Jake had fallen in live with Rand–even though Rand was straight as could be. Jake was…annoyed by this fact, but he treasured what relationship they did have, or at least what they had for the moment, because Rand was flying out the monday after graduation to start at his new job across the country, leaving Jake here…alone. And so, in his desperation, Jake was willing to cling to anything which might resolve this in someway which didn’t end with him alone, and possibly on the streets. Even a crazy idea like this one. He pulled the strange leather cocoon out of his drawer again and turned it over in his hands.

Jake had a thing for BDSM. He hadn’t delved into it too much, but he did like going out to leather clubs and hooking up on occasion. He’d been to most of the fetish gear shops in the city around the college, and had become pretty friendly with some of the regulars. He’d even played around with a few of them, and found a few fuckbuddies, but he’d always felt like he was saving himself for Rand, as sad as that was. He was talking about his problems with one of the shopkeepers when a strange man clad from head to toe in a shiny leather uniform had come up and introduced himself. His hand had been strangely cold and clammy to the touch, and something about his eyes bothered Jake, but he’d listened to the man’s offer. After getting the rundown on Jake’s situation, the man pulled out a strange, leather bodybag and gave it to him. When Jake asked what it was, the man said it was a solution to his problems–all he needed to do was get Rand into the cocoon, and then, twenty-four hours later, Rand would be a whole new man–Jake’s man.

Jake had been appalled by the idea at first–who wouldn’t be? And the man had been vague as to what exactly was going to happen to Rand. The man said it would turn Rand gay, but he also kept mentioning other changes, which he never elaborated on. Jake had tried to refuse the man’s offer, but he’d walked away, leaving Jake holding the leather. He’d stashed it for a week now, but he was starting to feel like he didn’t have a choice–he had to try, even though it was wrong. Still, he had no idea what would happen when Rand got into it, or whether he would even survive in the hot leather sack for a whole day, but he couldn’t help but think he needed to try. Hell, if he ruined their friendship, at least it would be over before Rand left him for good, which is what it felt like. But Jake still felt like he had to be honest to Rand first, and tell him how he was feeling.

So, that afternoon, as Rand was packing, he brought him a beer and they sat down, and Jake told him everything–about his fears of joblessness, of his unrequited love, of how he desperately needed Rand in his life…and while Rand didn’t freak out, he told Jake that he couldn’t be everything Jake wanted him to be. That he had his own life to live, and his own dreams, and that while he would always care about Jake–as a friend–he needed to leave, and Jake was furious. That settled it–he had to try the cocoon–he had to.

He went to the kitchen, popped open a couple of beers, roofied one of them, handed it to Rand and proposed a toast to life long friendships…and an hour later, Rand was so out of it couldn’t stop Jake from lying him down in the cocoon, apologizing and professing his love the entire time he fit him into the leather and zipped it up over his face. As soon as the zipper came up over the crown of Rand’s head, the tag broke off and the teeth disappeared, leaving only a stitched seam. Rand struggled inside for a few minutes, Jake watching with something between terror and horny fascination as his movements grew weaker and weaker–and then he was still.

Jake came over and could feel nothing, neither a breath nor a heartbeat, and his first thought was that Rand had suffocated and died. He tried prying apart the leather, cutting at it with scissors, a knife, stabbing it, anything he could do to rescue the man he loved, tears streaming down his face, but nothing marred the impervious leather. He thought about calling the cops, or an ambulance, but what would they say? What would they think? What had he done? He had to find that man, the one who’d given him the cocoon in the first place. It was his only chance. He left the apartment, giving one last look to the leather encased Rand, and drove downtown.

He trolled the leather bars and the bathhouses, he searched the fetish shops open late and the adult bookstores, but he never found him. He was reduced to wandering the streets, too terrified to return to look at what he’d done, but the eventual light of dawn, and his own exhaustion drove him home. Rand was still there, on the floor where Jake had left him…but something was different. The cocoon was a slightly different shape, like Rand was growing larger inside of it, and the leather itself had changed, gaining creases and cracks in the surface like it had been spent years uncared for by anyone. He put his ear to Rand’s chest, and faintly he could hear the pulse of a heartbeat, and the sheer joy he felt was overwhelming. He was alive in there–and changing. Perhaps the man had been right after all.

Despite his nerves and residual panic, Jake fell asleep and woke up in the early afternoon, rushing to check on his friend. The cocoon was looking quite worn now and almost…brittle, but even though it appeared weak, it still refused to be cut. The cocoon had continued growing, while remaining skin tight against Rand’s form, though it was looking quite a bit less like Rand at this point. Jake realized that he had no idea what was going to happen once the twenty-four hours had past–would Rand be a completely different person? Jake felt his nerves start up again, as he checked the clock. When exactly had he done the deed yesterday? He couldn’t remember. It had to have been sometime between five and six in the afternoon, and it was now four…this wait was going to kill him, but he couldn’t leave…what if Rand woke up and no one was here to meet him?

Jake tried watching TV, he tried reading, but nothing could take his eyes off the cocoon for long. Eventually he pulled over a chair and just sat down, watching and waiting for something to happen–though he had no idea what he was waiting for, exactly. He found himself getting caught in fantasy after fantasy, Rand emerging from the cocoon transformed into his own ideal man, with rippling muscles beautiful blow job lips and a tight hole. Jake had always fancied himself a top, and as he thought about what might come out, he found his fantasies turning more and more twisted. He would show Rand for denying his love–he would beat him. He would lock him in chastity. He would train him to love him as much as Jake loved him back, and they would be happy forever.

Rand’s first movement caught him off guard, the odd lurch and groan from inside the now thin, leather skin. Jake knew he should do something, but he could only sit and watch as Rand’s struggling increased, and he began ripping and tearing at the cocoon crumbling around him, and Jake caught the first glimpses of the new Rand. He had stripped him down to his underwear before putting him in the cocoon the day before, so when a leather booted foot burst out, he was taken aback, especially when he saw the thick hair covering the thigh, and he grimaced.

Jake had never been a fan of body hair–he was more one for smooth muscle. He’d actually suggested to Rand that he start shaving his chest a year ago. As more and more of Rand emerged from the casing, he realized that Rand whad become someone far removed from his dreams and fantasies. He was hairy, for one–really hairy, that glimpse of the thigh had been the tip of the iceberg. His chest was covered with a thick pelt, and when his head burst out, framed by a mane of wild, greying hair with a thick, long beard beneath, he couldn’t help but let out a sound of disgust. He couldn’t even bring himself to get down and help him as Rand struggled to his feet, staggered over to a chair and plopped down into it with a gasp.

“Fuck…” Rand muttered, his voice deep and gravelly, “God I need a smoke…” He pulled a carton of cigarettes and a lighter out of his vest, lit one and took a deep drag, letting out a thick plume of smoke into the room.

Jake’s face twisted up. He hated smokers…it was a filthy, disgusting and deadly habit. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. He was so caught in his disgust, that he almost didn’t register Rand talking to him. “Hey–Hey! Jake, what the fuck did you do to me, man? What the hell was that thing?”

Jake almost couldn’t get the words out, but the did come, and he told Rand the story, told him about the man, and the cocoon, and that he couldn’t imagine living without Rand, so he’d drugged him and forced him into the cocoon. Jake left out the part about how he now found Rand absolutely repulsive…but he started noticing how Rand was was now looking at him, while he played with his pierced dick.

He finished his story, and they both sat in silence for a moment, before Rand spoke. “Well, I guess you got what you wanted–I have to say that you look damn cute over there–so if this is the way things are going to be, I could get used to it. Now how about you come on over here and give me a hand with this? Daddy’s fuckin’ horny.”

Jake couldn’t move for a second, he couldn’t even speak. Rand had become everything he was least attracted to, an old, dirty smoker with a thick pelt of body hair, he fought the urge to vomit at the suggestion of even coming into contact with him. “No…No you don’t understand, this isn’t what I…I mean, I’m not…”

“Hey, you’re the one who did this to me,” Rand said, “And I’m touched Jake, that you wanted me, and now I want you…oh fuck do I. I can’t wait to plow that hot ass of yours.” Rand got up out of the chair, tromping over towards Jake who quickly got up and put the chair between them.

“Stay the fuck away from me, you’re fucking…you’re disgusting!” Jake said, and Rand stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing.

“What–You think I’m…” Rand said, his face growing redder, “You’re the one who fucking did this to me, Jake. You’re the one who wanted me to fucking love you, to want you, and now I do. This is what you fucking wanted–and I don’t give a fuck whether you want me or not, I’m gonna have that ass of yours, bitch!” He grabbed the chair away from Jake who tried to run around towards the front door and escape, but Rand tackled him to the floor. Jake fought, and he fought hard, hitting and scratching at Rand’s face until the big man pulled back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rand shouted.

“Get out you fucking freak!” Jake screamed back, “I didn’t fucking want this, get the fuck out before I call the fucking police!”

Rand looked back and forth, from the crazed Jake on the ground to the door, and before he could stop himself, he was crying. He saw the clothes Jake had stripped off him the night before, he bundled them up in his arms and fled out the door, leaving Jake shaking and sobbing in the living room, alone.

*****

To be Continued Tuesday


There are some places in the world, small ones, where ley lines converge, which pulse with spectacular energy. There are many kinds, masculine and feminine, purity and corruption, but merely passing through them is enough to incite a small change in any person, but for a special few, whose own energies reverberate with the lines below them, something spectacular can occur.

Paul Bunyan, we believe, is one such example, though most think he is all but legend. While traversing the American Frontier, he likely stumbled through one of these intersections. Imagine his surprise as he was struck with a bout of incredible horniness, jacking his growing cock as he quickly grew out of his clothing, rocketing from the height of a normal man to twelve feet tall, his beard and body hair growing thicker and thicker and impossible to cut, his cock soon the length and girth of a normal man’s forearm. Of course we prefer to speak of these instances as mere myth–but that doesn’t stop men from spending their lives searching for these sacred places, hoping they too, will be changed, and be made extraordinary. 

Opposite Day? How about an opposite year? Yeah, I was pretty suspicious when I found the spell online, but I knew just the asshole to cast it on–Mitch Greenin–the biggest bully from high school. The spell would flip twelve things about a person’s life, one a month, without them noticing until the end, when the changes were sealed. His first change was to gain fat whenever he worked out.

He has no clue, and six months later he’s getting pretty huge, especially after his nutritious meals started packing on the pounds during the second month. He’s also a lot more polite, not that his crude, insulting remarks are automatically translated into proper, polite English. This month though, every time he shaves, he’s going to put on more hair–and Mitch shaves everywhere. It’s going to make him a huge hit at the bear bars next month, when I flip his sexual orientation. I’ve already made him subservient to every person he would rather try and dominate, so he’s probably going to have a lot of training in sucking cock and taking it up the ass before too long–and the year’s only half over.

Ian had been watching the young man sleep on the chaise lounge for several hours now, and was quite pleased with the results of his sunblock. Well, he’d been young when he arrived at the hotel pool, when Ian had offered him some complimentary sunblock. He’d been a smooth, pale and slender guy in his mid twenties, and while he’d planned on swimming, the topical sedative in the solution soon had him relaxing and asleep in the sun.

Ian’s special solution absorbed that solar energy and generated several special chemicals the subject absorbed, most importantly testosterone, which caused the men to grow copious amounts of body hair. Of course, a few other, more dangerous chemicals were also released, particularly ones which caused the body to age rather rapidly and convert muscle mass into fat–the young man was already nearing his mid forties, and was quite heavy set. A final, unfortunate side effect was a massive drop in IQ, cognitive function, and often substantial memory loss. Still, he wouldn’t be needing any of that when he was added to Ian’s growing harem of bear sluts kept for the hotel’s clients. 

Nice looking team, right? Now, I know what you’re thinking–“They look a bit old for a high school team, even if they are seniors,” well, you’re right. See, my school, we’d gone through a pretty awful rut as far as championships went, and the guys on Varsity, well, when I asked if they’d do anything to win, they said yes, so I hooked them up with a little concoction from a company called Arctos.
It made them everything they wanted–faster, bigger, stronger–and maybe a few things they realized too late that they didn’t want. They were hornier for one thing, and suddenly their girlfriends weren’t doing anything for them. Before and after practice, the locker room started looking like one, big, hairy orgy. And after the season? When they started losing their hair, growing chubby and aging into their forties and fifties? Well, that’s the price of greatness. Luckily, Arctos was happy enough to place them in a variety of jobs, and I of course got a handsome commission, and whole new bevy of seniors this year. After all, why not go for the championship two years in a row?

Andy hadn’t planned on drinking tonight, but after getting his first beer free for buying a room at the inn, he hadn’t turned it down. But a few drinks later, he was feeling pretty strange. His shirt wasn’t fitting right, and he’d had to unbuckle his belt and undo his top button, which had been cutting into his stomach. He was also really itchy, but he figured it was just the Southern heat.

The rest of the patrons though–the bears eyeing the fresh meat–they knew the score. They could see the mutton chops developing into a nice full beard, the bulging, furry gut, the cigarette many hoped would morph into a cigar before too long. Some were restless, but they could wait. Wait until he was good and drunk, well into his change, before bending him over the stained pool table and having their way with his ass one after the other, and by the morning, he’d be begging them for more. No, for Andy, the road trip was over–he was about to become a permanent whorecub for the regulars at the Big Bear Inn.