Enough

By Bill Rowan

“Enough already.” Chris said to no one in particular. He was finally back in his own body after his latest stint as another Chris for the past few months. Mind you being the other Chris hadn’t been bad. Au contraire he had had a blast being the Aussie stud but after so many times of being transformed, transferred, possessed, and even cloned, he was beginning to lose his own identity. He enjoyed the experiences, many of them quite erotic, but he needed time to be himself for once and recharge. Doubtless that wouldn’t happen. There were some major obstacles to overcome if he wanted down-time.

For starters he would have to fly beneath the radar so people wouldn’t think to use magic on him. That was definitely a hard one since he didn’t really want to live somebody else’s life but he knew it would likely be the only way he could get some peace for a while. He didn’t want to give up acting as that was his first love, meaning his options might be a bit more limited. He was pretty sure whoever he did choose wouldn’t be too bummed out at being an A-list actor who just happened to be quite wealthy and hunky. And even if he could find such a person, how would he be able to pull off the transference since he himself had no magical abilities?

Thinking all this through, however, got Chris conflicted. On one hand he wanted a break but on the other he had become quite addicted to having himself ripped out of his body or turned into some inanimate object to be worn by some hot guy. Just thinking about that got him rather aroused and he definitely didn’t have time for that now. Rarely did he get to be himself for more than a day or two before someone else had their way with him so he would have to act quick if his plans were to succeed.

He thought back to one of the swaps a few years ago when a guy named Brian had taken his body for a Halloween superhero costume party. Brian had used a Draconian Katra that Mr. Cavanaugh, one of Chris’ frequent transformation instigators, had given him. It actually had been quite amusing to see the kid’s reaction at finding himself suddenly thrust into Chris’ body. Chris wondered if Brian still had the Katra and, if he did, would it still work? Didn’t matter anyway since Chris didn’t know how to contact Brian anymore. So what other option was available to him?

His mind then wandered to the possibility, remote as it was, that perhaps some residue magic had been left in his body. But even if there was, how could he activate it and would it be enough to achieve a swap? “Nope.” He told himself. “They wouldn’t be careless enough to leave any trace behind.”

He could call Mr. C. but then he would know Chris’ plan and that would likely defeat his purpose. So maybe Chris could get one of his friends to ask the crafty wizard, or whatever he was, for some help. Like maybe get an artifact that could be used…. No, two things wrong with that. He didn’t know how to get in touch with Mr. C. and whatever friend he asked would think he was crazy. After all body swapping and magic weren’t really possible, right? They would think him crazy. He resigned himself to never being able to accomplish his much-needed vacation and finally went to bed. Tomorrow was another day of filming and Chris had to be at the top of his game.

The next morning before he went to the studio he got up early to take a walk around the park. It always helped him clear his head. Fortunately no one had decided to hijack his body or to play some other mischief during the night. Maybe they would leave him alone for a while.

As he was walking along his usual path he came upon a small store sitting smack dab in the middle of the park. Now Chris was always very observant of details but somehow this store had escaped his notice before… or it had never been here. But that would be silly. Stores don’t just appear out of nowhere. Intrigued, he went closer to explore.

The windows showed him nothing other than his own reflection. A “CLOSED” sign hung in the window of the door, just below faded lettering – “M. Bostov     Clothing Store”. Why in the world would anyone put a clothing store in the middle of a park? Chris looked around, checking out the store. While there were very few people at the park, none of them seemed to notice anything unusual as they passed by. Was he seeing things? His curiosity being fully aroused, he tried the handle on the door which, despite the “CLOSED” sign, opened easily, allowing him access inside as a small bell above the door tinkled. The lighting was dim but Chris could still see rows of clothes and accessories that seemed to stretch on forever, odd given how small the building looked from outside.

“Hello? Anybody here?”

“Hello Mr. Evans. I’ve been expecting you.” Chris swung around to find a young man clad in head to toe leather behind him. “I’m Jace. Welcome.” Jace tried to remain calm but he was such a big fan of Chris Evans that he was rather flabbergasted to see his idol standing right there before him, even if he had been waiting for him to make an appearance. Chris shook the hand that was offered, smiling at the young man but still rather befuddled by the strange store. “Follow me. I have exactly what you desire.” Okay, that was strange. Why would Jace be expecting him or know anything about what he desired? Nonetheless Chris followed the young man, not quite understanding why he was trusting him.

They wound their way through a myriad of merchandise, finally ending up at what was obviously a section devoted entirely to leather. Leather pants, leather vests, leather harnesses, leather jackets. If Chris had been in the market for something leather today, this was definitely the place to find it.

“I’m really not interested in buying leather today. Thanks just the same.”

“Let me show you something that you can try on and if you find you don’t like it, fine. But I think you’ll like what I have to offer.” Jace was definitely persistent. Chris had to give the young man that. Besides what could it hurt to try on a jacket, if only to amuse his host? Jace pulled out a distressed-looking brown jacket. One that looked to be too small to fit Chris’ bulked-up torso.

“Uh… I don’t think that will fit me, Jace.” The jacket was quite obviously meant for someone not quite as large as Chris but as Jace handed the jacket to him, Chris felt the strangest compulsion to try it on.

“I think you will find it fits you perfectly, Mr. Evans. Let me show you to the changing cubicle right over here.” Jace motioned forward where there was a booth with curtains. “If you please, sir.” Chris entered the booth, whereupon Jace handed him the jacket.

A Southern Rebel in Yankee Clothing

Read Goin' South
Read Going North

by Bill Rowan

I was aghast seeing myself in Joel’s suit.

“What? What have you done Cletus?” Wait… that didn’t sound like my voice. My drawl was gone. I sounded… no, that couldn’t be…

“Just what I was sent here to do. I turned a Northern Yankee into a good old Southern boy, although not quite in the way the sheriff expected.  I’ve been enjoying being Mark and all the perks that go with it and thought maybe I could share that with my best bud. I changed Joel into you, so he can go back to Pops and tell them all is going well up here while you get to stay with me and have some fun. I don’t think I ever want to go back to being Cletus now, even if I am older and a Yankee. Just think of all we can do together. But first I think we better get a change of clothes for you though. You look ridiculous brother.”

“Brother?” There was that accent again.

“You still haven’t figured it out yet, Will? You’re a smart Southern boy. You should know what happened by now.” A sudden chill ran down my spine as I finally realized…

 “You…you changed me into Joel?” Now I recognized the voice. I was a damn Yankee. What would Pops think? Hi Pops. It’s me Will. Yeah, I know I don’t sound like myself. Oh, and by the way, I’m a Yankee now. Pops would think I was crazy, especially with Joel by his side as me. My head began to spin trying to figure this all out.

“Come on. Let’s go join Will and get you into some proper clothes.” There was nothing I could do about the situation, at least not yet, so I resigned myself to my status as Joel until the opportunity arose where I could do something to get back to being me. As we started to leave I caught a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror. I had to admit I looked hot.

Joel, or rather Will now, had a very perplexed look on his face as we came back to the room.

“Whadj y’all do to me? How did I wind up in Joel’s clothes? Did y’all put them on me when I passed out? Not funny Mark.” I couldn’t stand it, watching Joel look, act and sound like me as though this was all perfectly normal. Mark was just standing there with a smirk on his face, obviously enjoying our predicaments.

“Yes, Will. We thought it would be hilarious seeing you all dressed up in Joel’s clothes.” He could be a sarcastic bastard when he wanted.  Apparently whatever Cletus had done had taken away the knowledge that Mark was really Cletus. I would have to learn what story he had planted in his mind to pull off getting Will up north to visit him.

My Name Is Jace

Special thanks to M. Bostlov and his magic clothing shop and to "Pops"

Up until a very short time ago I was a sixty-two year-old man working in a very boring dead-end retail job. All that changed when I wandered into this very odd-looking clothing shop one day. From the outside, M. Bostlov Magic Clothing Store looked like any other little shop along the street, but I couldn’t contain my amazement when I entered. What looked small from the outside was quite large inside. Must be an optical illusion or something. Row after row of various clothing and accessories greeted my eyes. As I studied the aisles more I noticed the store seemed to be divided into sections, although exactly what kind of sections I wasn’t sure. That is when a very dapper looking man walked over to where I stood, and we started to talk. He followed me down the various aisles as I checked out the selections until I came upon what was quite obviously the leather section. I had always had a fancy for leather clothing and in my younger days had always dressed in leathers when riding my motorcycle. I missed those days and sighed as I thought back on all the good times. He must have sensed something for he started to ask me questions, very personal questions indeed but I didn’t mind answering him for some reason. I was feeling very relaxed and quite at ease. The smell of all that leather was intoxicating. As we carried on our conversation he had been picking out various items of leather clothing until he seemed satisfied with his bundle.

“Come into my office with me. I have a proposition you might be interested in.” He smiled so seductively I couldn’t help myself and followed him willingly. By now I had lost all conception of time and my mind was cloudy like I had just woken up from a very deep sleep. He continued to ask me questions: would I like to leave my old life behind and come to work for him in the store? I would never have to worry about anything ever again he assured me. I was so enamored by the leather gear that I immediately answered “yes” without really giving it much thought. But then again what did I have to lose? It probably should have struck me odd that he would want an old man working for him, yet it never occurred to me.  And then, in what should have surprised me, he asked me to take off my clothes and try on the leather gear he had gathered. What surprised me more, I actually disrobed in front of him! I never in my life had done that in front of someone I had just met.

As I stood there stark naked and slightly chilled he held up a pair of leather pants. Nice pants but they looked way too long and way to skinny to fit me. He assured me they would fit okay, urging me to trust him and try them on. I was still skeptical, but I started to pull the pants over my feet and up my legs. The leather felt so great against my bare skin and as I had suspected, it was a tight fit, especially when I tried to pull them up over my hips and waist. He assisted me until finally I was able to zip and button the pants. I felt silly, but he assured me I looked great in the pants. He continued handing me the rest of the gear, none of which I would have sworn would ever fit properly, until I finally was dressed from head to toe in leather. He seemed quite pleased as he looked at me. I could only picture seeing an old man trying to be young again in my mind… until he led me over to a mirror.

Going North

by Bill Rowan

Read Goin' South

It had been about a month since I had heard anything from my best bud Cletus and I was worried. He hadn’t returned any of my phone calls or text messages and that was not like him at all. When I talked to the sheriff all he would say is his deputy was up north on some assignment, but he wouldn’t give me any details. Then one day I got a call from someone named “Mark”. I was just about to decline the call when for some reason I hit the accept button instead.

“Hey, buddy. Sorry to be incommunicado for so long. How have you been?” The voice on the other end didn’t sound familiar to me so I had no idea who this “Mark” person was or how he got my number. Yet he was calling me buddy like he had known me for a long time.

“Do I know you, Mark?”

“Sure you do. It’s me… Cletus.”

“Cletus? Y’all sure don’t sound like Cletus and Cletus wouldn’t say no highfalutin word like incommuni…whatever.”

“No, I don’t, but I can’t explain now. Trust me. It is really me. Remember the time….” He proceeded to relate a story only Cletus and I would know.

“Do you fancy a road trip up north to Rhode Island?” Rhode Island? I had never been out of North Carolina never mind going up north to Yankee country. Pops would never let me associate with no Yankee scum. Not so sure he would cotton to the idea of me going to Rhode Island to meet up with Cletus either.

“Damn boy. I can’t get over how different you sound. I gotta talk to Pops first. If I can I’ll text you and y’all can give me the details.”

“Tell him to talk to the sheriff and that I need your help. By the way, have you met Bo?”

“Yup. Met him the other day. Just moved into the old Jenkins’ place. Was out plowing the fields. Something different ‘bout him though.”

“You’re right there. I’ll explain everything when I see you. I know Pops will let you come to visit. You have my number now so give me a holler so I can give you directions.”

“Sure thing Cletus. Be careful whatever you’re doin’.” I disconnected the call and went to talk to Pops.

I high tailed it home and told Pops everything Cletus had said, whereupon Pops went to talk to the sheriff. Whatever the sheriff told Pops it was enough to convince him to let me go north, with one provision: I had to stay with Cletus at all times and not go wandering alone among the Yankees. I could tell Pops was none too thrilled with the idea in any case and if he had said no I would not have disobeyed him, no matter how much I had to find out what had happened to Cletus. I called Cletus later that night and he told me the route to take and where we should meet. I was to call him when I got there or if I needed help along the way. I barely slept that night I was so excited, so I started to throw clothes and other things I would need into my huntin’ pack. Made sure my rifle was all primed and in the rack of my new truck Pops had just bought for me. As soon as daybreak hit I had breakfast with Pops, told him I would see him soon, and took off for parts unknown.

Goin' South

Dedicated to "Pops"

Mark was never the type to be anything less than arrogant, snobby, egotistical, and a hundred other adjectives, none of them flattering. Granted he was a very handsome man who came from a very prominent Newport, Rhode Island family vested with so much old money that it would take several lifetimes to spend, but in no fashion would that ever excuse his behavior. His viewpoint, the only one that mattered to him of course, would be that no one was quite like him.

There was no denying that dressed totally in black leather that only accentuated his muscular body and dashing good looks that he was the epitome of every woman’s ideal and every man’s wet dream. Add to that mix his hot black motorcycle and voila he was a true force of nature.

 On a whim he decided to take a road trip on his motorcycle. He had no planned destination in mind, only that he wanted to get away for a while and see what adventures he might have someplace different. He had no worries because if anything happened Daddy would be there to bail him out, so it was a win-win no matter how he looked at it. A stop in New York saw him bedding a few women, much to the dismay of their husbands and boyfriends. And some asses got promptly kicked when some Pennsylvania boys thought they could jump him from behind. West Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee, well, those could be tales unto themselves. Heartbreak and mischief followed in his wake wherever he went. He was having the time of his life. Until he came to North Carolina.

Threesome

Note: Inspired by Mr. C. and his writer’s guild. Thank you, gentlemen.

      Mr. Cavanaugh made his way to Chris Pratt’s trailer. Still in the guise of the hot young actor KJ Apa, it was a breeze for him to get on any shoot he desired. Normally he would hang around to watch the proceedings but today he was on a mission and couldn’t waste any time. After finding Chris’ trailer he knocked on the door, waiting for the actor to open up.

     The door finally opened, Chris looking ruggedly handsome in his Starlord costume as he greeted KJ.

     “KJ? What are you doing here? Want to come in?” KJ started up the steps but stumbled, albeit on purpose, as he reached the top. Concerned, Chris rushed out to help the lad to his feet. “You alright?”

     “Fine. How are you feeling, Chris?” That was a strange question, Chris thought, but then he noticed something odd happening to him. His bare arms were turning silvery, like chrome, and getting thinner and hollow.

     “What the…?” but before he could complete his sentence he found himself falling to the ground, his hands and feet transforming into shiny chrome forks supporting tires. The costume he had been wearing disappeared, leaving only his ass covered in black leather. In a matter of seconds where one of the hottest actors had been standing now sat a metallic midnight blue Harley just begging to be ridden.

      Abandoning the bike for the time being, KJ went to find the next part of the triad he required. Chris Evans was already on set in his Cap costume shooting an intense action scene when KJ wandered over.

The Thermometer

By Bill Rowan

As I was walking to my car after a long day of shopping I came across this little hole-in-the-wall shop I had never seen before. From the outside it looked like one of those olde musty book shops like one might see in Dickens’ London, ones that held wonderful treasures concealed inside. My curiosity aroused, I entered, not knowing what to expect. Sure enough the scent of “olde” assaulted my nose as I gazed on the plethora of wonders.

“May I help you, sir?” A friendly looking older gentleman asked as he approached. He fit perfectly with the aura the store was exuding.

“Just browsing, thank you.”

“Take your time. If there is anything I can help you with, let me know.” He started to move away and as he did my eyes focused on something shiny.

“What is that?” I asked him as I pointed to a long glass tube with spheres suspended in a clear liquid. Each sphere was filled with some sort of colored liquid, giving the object a very intriguing appearance.

“That? That is a Galileo thermometer. The young fellow that brought it in said he thought it was broken though because the balls always stay at the top. Said his uncle had it for years before he just disappeared one day.”

I had seen such tubes before but had never bothered to find out what they were. I couldn’t fathom how little glass spheres could accurately tell the temperature. Science was never my strong suit.

“How much?” I asked as I stared transfixed. He named a price and after a little bit of haggling I bought it on the spot. While it might not be anything other than a conversation piece I found looking at the balls to be quite fascinating. He carefully wrapped my newly acquired treasure in tissue paper and placed it in a bag so it would be safe on my trip home.

Naughty or Nice

by Bill Rowan

Gonna find out who’s naughty and nice

Santa Claus is coming to town.

Ben was a good man. Smart and kind hearted, he was the kind of man that could make the world a better place. No matter how hard Ben’s life was he always found time to help others. This morning he had been walking in town when he came upon an elderly man sitting on the sidewalk, trying to stay warm by huddling close to a shop door. People ignored the obviously destitute man and Ben had seen the owner of the shop try to shoo the man away, yelling at him to find someplace else to sit and stop disrupting his business. That’s the trouble with people these days. No time to help anyone else other than themselves. Ben extended his hand to the man as he struggled to stand up.

“Bless you sir. This cold weather gets into my bones.”

“You’re most welcome. Here, take my coat. It will help keep you warm.” The man protested but Ben insisted and wrapped the coat around him. “Take this and get yourself something to eat.”

“Really sir. I couldn’t take your money.”

“Nonsense. I won’t take no for an answer. Merry Christmas to you.”

“And the same to you sir.”

Helping always made Ben feel better. He could forget about his own problems if only for a short while. Ben had made some bad choices in the past and had wound up living a very hard life as he approached his later years. There were always people far worse off than himself though and for what he had he was most appreciative. He had a nice warm house to live in and food on his table so why not share with others when he could?

Ben had hung his stocking on the mantel and his Christmas tree was all decked out in ornaments and tinsel that sparkled in the twinkling blue lights. Unfortunately, there were no brightly wrapped presents under the tree and the only excitement in the house was Ben’s enthusiasm while he waited for Christmas eve.

He still believed in Santa and every year he got disappointed when Santa didn’t show up to eat the milk and cookies he put out. This year would be different, he told himself, it just had to be. So, hoping for a miracle Ben went off to bed, visions of sugar plums dancing in his head.

Christmas morning arrived with bright sunshine glistening on newly fallen snow. Ben awoke early, anxious to see if Santa had been.

Ben made his way downstairs to his Christmas tree, hoping for the best but knowing he would probably be disappointed yet again. His eyes went wide with amazement when he saw the room. Decorations of all shapes and sizes adorned just about every surface, making a picture perfect Christmas scene. Santa Claus came! The milk and cookies are gone! And my coat! But I…  While there were still no presents under the tree, Ben noticed a small bulge in the toe of his Christmas stocking. He pulled the tiny wrapped box from its hiding place, anticipation filling him as he read the attached tag.

“Dear Ben. You are a very good man and deserve the best that life has to offer. Merry Christmas. Santa.”

I knew it! Santa is real!

Fingers trembling, Ben very carefully unwrapped his precious treasure. Much to his surprise what lay inside, nestled in a velvet lining, was a pair of exquisite gold and diamond cufflinks. Obviously very real gold and diamonds but of what use to Ben they were going to be was beyond his guess. He never went anywhere in a fancy suit that would require cufflinks like these. He didn’t even own a fancy suit! Maybe I can sell them for a lot of money. Maybe that is what Santa intended.

Still, they were a nice gift even if they weren’t of much use to him. He took them out to examine them closer, turning them over in his hands. They were even engraved with initials: “BC”. The “B” could stand for Benjamin but the “C”? His last name didn’t start with a “C”. Maybe Santa had made a mistake, and these were meant for someone else. Someone who had money and could make use of them. Disappointed, Ben started to return them to their box when he stuck his finger on one of the diamonds. A small drop of blood dripped onto the link which, much to his surprise, disappeared immediately into the diamond. What the…?

Before he could finish his thought, he found himself outside on some sort of pathway, dressed in a very well-tailored suit, the inks firmly attached to the cuffs of the shirt he now wore.

A very confused Ben looked around. Where am I? What happened? Not too cold but why am I outside in a suit?  The path ambled across well-manicured lawns to a large mansion just up ahead. Whoever lives here must be very wealthy to own such an estate. I hope they are awake. Gaping at the scenery all the while, he made his way to the front door, hesitant about possibly disturbing somebody. He couldn’t stand out here all day and maybe there would be some answers inside. He rang the doorbell, waiting for someone to respond.

***

The Greatest Gift

Marcus arrived in his typical style on his motorcycle, dressed in his leather jacket and jeans. Marcus was a good kid. Well, not actually a kid but at 30 years of age he was young enough to be my son. We were as close as a father and son, a bond we had forged over the months since I had need of a helper around the house and he had applied for the job. Never having married and with no children of my own, he had become the son I had always wanted. I had repeatedly asked him to be a live-in companion so he wouldn’t have to travel so far but he always declined. He said the ride over helped him clear his head and he so clearly loved riding his bike that he didn’t mind the distance from town to my home in the country.

“Good morning, Mr. Donaldson. How are you feeling?” He asked as he dismounted. No matter how many times I told him to call me Mike, he still insisted on calling me Mr. Donaldson. Polite to a fault, something rarely seen these days.

“Doing okay, all things considered.”

“I need to talk with you.” I almost dreaded what he might have to say. Was he going to leave me for another job?

 “I have a proposition for you Mr. Donaldson. I want to help you.”

“You already do help me. Very much Marcus.”

“Well… I want to do more for you, end your pain. I told this genius friend of mine about you and how I wanted to help you. He helped me develop a special serum.”

He had gotten my curiosity aroused. Had he found a way to cure the illness that was quickly eating my body away?

“This serum would allow us to be together. You see what it does is to turn a person into a body suit. Not just any kind of body suit but one that retains the essence of the original person plus the person who puts the suit on. I want you to become me, Mr. Donaldson. No more pain. No more dying too soon.”

“What?” I was rather taken aback by what he was telling me. Someone becoming someone else? I had heard some very strange things in my time but this really took the cake. Me as Marcus? Absurd.

“I know it is hard to believe but it is possible.”

“I don’t know Marcus. This all sounds far too strange for me.” Even as I was saying that he had taken a syringe from his pocket and injected this strange glowing serum into himself.

Demon Moon

Bryan had always been jealous of his big brother Stefan. As seemed to be quite stereotypical, one brother had been blessed with the good looks and body of a model while Bryan was destined to be the brainy skinny nerd of the family. And of course, their parents had given him the cool name as well. Plain old blah Bryan. While the brothers were not that far apart in age, Stefan never let him forget just who was the alpha in the family, which only made Bryan even more despondent.

Stefan had been particularly cruel today, taunting Brian mercilessly when he had caught him trying on some of his clothes.

“Hey twerp! Maybe you should go shopping at babies are us. You probably could find something to fit you there. Leave the real clothes for the real men.” Stefan had left laughing to go meet his buddies. Humiliated once again, Bryan ran to his room to hide away from the world. Still, while he might not have his brother’s good looks, he wasn’t the dumb jock. He had an actual future that he wouldn’t trade for anything.

His cell rang - his only friend Nicholas, or as everyone called him, Nick. Even Nick had a way cooler name. Life just wasn’t fair. Nick was popular, cool, and, like Stefan, a great looking jock. Bryan could never figure out why he had ever chosen Bryan to be his friend. He could tell Nick anything and he wouldn’t get laughed at or teased. Nick stopped the bullies from pounding him into oblivion. He would even take Bryan for rides on his hot motorcycle. Stefan certainly would never think of doing something nice like that.  Somehow Nick always knew when he needed someone to talk to, someone who could always make him feel better. Bryan adored Nick and only wished he had been his brother instead of Stefan.

Playing Jax

Stewart began to panic when he wound up at what was obviously a motorcyclists’ hangout after taking a wrong turn on one of his infrequent outside forays. He approached a group of bikers checking out one guy’s new tattoo.

“Uh… excuse me. Hi, I’m lost. Can you please help me?” Stewart tried to hide his nervousness but he sounded more like a shy school boy than a confident young man. The men turned to stare at the intruder. Soon he was surrounded by big burly men who looked like any one of them could snap him in half with their pinkies if they so desired.

They started to taunt the thin lad, pushing him around and generally roughing him up. Stewart had no idea how he was going to get out of this mess. He was ready to accept that he was dead meat when the sea of men parted and a ruggedly handsome man, probably somewhere around ten years older than Stewart and obviously someone of standing in the club, made his way towards him.

“What’s going on?” He demanded as he looked Stewart over.

“We thought he might be a spy for the Feds. Like that guy before.”

“Him? A spy?” A murmur of agreement ran through the group. “Don’t make me laugh. Let him go.” The man commanded sternly. The man holding Stewart immediately let go, Stewart’s shirt now crumpled with specks of red showing on the white fabric. Other than a cut lip and a bloody nose, Stewart was fine and very thankful the man had come along when he did.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to come here. I lost my way while walking.”

Without responding, the man grabbed Stewart by the arm, making Stewart wince in pain from his strong grip. Now even more scared and nervous than before he wasn’t at all sure what would happen next. “Come with me.” He roughly commanded as he pulled on Stewart’s arm. He led Stewart into a garage and then into a room with a large table. The man sat down and motioned for Stewart to sit.

Another Thor

Loki suddenly appeared in my house.

“What the…,” Before I could finish my question he had whisked me off to someplace unknown.

My eyes went wide in amazement at the great hall bathed in golden moonlight I saw before me. The wonderful smell of jasmine on a warm summer night tickled my nose. Loki stood close by, a sly smile on his face as he seemed to watch me with a great deal of amusement.

“Welcome home, brother.” Brother? I wasn’t Loki’s brother. I was from Earth and he was an Asgardian. What did he mean by brother?

“Brother?” I questioned him, only to find the voice I heard was foreign to me: deeper, accented, and quite authoritative I was sure if it had come from someone other than myself at that particular moment. As my mind tried to make sense of all this I noticed I was now looking slightly down at him rather than looking up to him. Had he shrunk?

Just then a slight breeze wafted past, billowing a red cape around my body. Where had a cape come from? I stared down at myself. I was no longer dressed in the jeans and t-shirt I had on before. Instead I found myself clad in armor and maille that clung tightly to muscles that definitely weren’t mine. I brushed away a strand of long blonde hair hanging in my face. Wait… long blonde hair?? I was nearly bald and never had this color blonde hair. What had Loki done to me?

Retirement

Tom Brady and Bill Belichick were to meet in the coach’s office and then have lunch. Lunch with Belichick was always at some fancy restaurant so he had dressed in a suit his loving wife Gisele had picked out for the occasion. The 6’4” man was a handsome and imposing sight even out of his uniform.

“Please sit down, Tom.” Belichick began in a very serious tone. “Before we go to lunch I need to have a talk with you about your future with the team. Nothing to worry about. Coffee?” Coffee? How could he possibly think about coffee when they were talking about something so damn important to him?

Belichick continued. “You’re getting a little long in the tooth so we have to start making plans for your retirement. We need to make way for a younger quarterback to take your place so you can get away from the wear and tear of football.”

Essentially, he was being put out to pasture, his coach telling him that he was past his prime. The famous, or infamous depending on your view, quarterback knew at 40 years of age that he was getting old for a professional quarterback and that his time as the king of the Patriots would come to an end someday but why talk about retirement this soon, especially when he had just led his team to another Super Bowl victory and proved all the naysayers wrong? True, he didn’t play like he had when he first started out but he was still quite capable of winning football games and bringing home trophies. For sure Gisele would like him to retire. She was always nagging him about going out on top before he was seriously injured, but football was his life.

“I’m sure we can find a spot for you within the organization, a nice desk job. Something that doesn’t require you to be on the field playing.”

Tom’s temper got the better of him and he erupted. “Seriously? No way. I want to keep playing for as long as I can. Besides, who are you going to get to replace me? Garoppolo?”

“Sorry Tom. I was hoping you would cooperate with me.” Belichick rang a buzzer on his desk and an immaculately dressed man entered the room. Tom had no idea who he was but he must be quite wealthy, judging by his suit and the gold cufflinks, studded with diamonds that formed the letters ‘HC” in the center, that he was wearing. “You leave me no choice.”

The stranger raised his arm, the cufflinks emitting a brilliant white flash that blinded Tom’s eyes. Suddenly he found himself outside, his arm poised to launch a spiral. He was so surprised by the sudden change that he fumbled the pass, the ball missing the intended target.

The Fashion Show

My friend Matt was a very handsome and extremely wealthy man. The two of us couldn’t have been more different if we had tried. I was hardly wealthy and far from being male model handsome as one could possibly get. Despite our 36-year age difference – he was 22 - we somehow managed to click when I met him at a trade show where he was the guest speaker.

He had hired me as his personal assistant shortly thereafter and introduced me to a very luxurious lifestyle that I had never known. He even had me living in his penthouse in one of the buildings he owned. He had money oozing from every pore it seemed, so much so that economies could crumble and he would still be uberwealthy. I’ve been with him about two years now and I had accompanied him on some of his wild adventures during our time. Sometimes I would join in on the activity if I was capable.

Our age difference didn’t bother him at all but he knew it did bother me, more so as my latest birthday was approaching. I could tell he was concerned as I became more and more withdrawn the closer the day came. It just wasn’t right for a young man such as him to be dragging a man old enough to be his father along on his treks, no matter how much we enjoyed each other’s company. I just wished I could be young enough to be more like a bro than a father. I grew insecure, no matter the number of times he protested that my age didn’t matter or how much he pampered me. He was happy and he wanted me to be as well.

The Chase

I’m too damn old for this. I have no idea why I am chasing after some shadowy figure down streets I don’t know. I had spotted him when he had come around a corner near where I was standing. For some reason, I felt compelled to follow and then chase him, running as if my life depended on catching this guy. From the way he is running I would say he is a lot younger than I am as well as a lot taller and better built.

I go around another corner, only to see the guy standing with his back to me like he is waiting for me to catch up. He is not quite as shadowy as he was a few minutes ago. I can tell he is wearing a colored tee and jeans plus he is running barefoot. As I get closer he takes off, sprinting down a darkened alleyway. Why am I continuing to play cat-and-mouse with this dude when it is obviously hopeless that I will ever catch him?

Shadowhunters: Lost and Found

“Jace. Jace, wake up. You fainted.”

He opened his eyes. Why was he in Jace’s room at the Institute? What was Clary doing here and why was she calling him Jace?

“Clary? I’m not…” he stopped short, his voice sounded… weird. He slowly raised himself from the floor, his eyes going wide as he surveyed his surroundings. He looked down at himself. He was wearing Jace’s leather jacket, the one that always looked tight, like it was molded onto Jace’s body. He was nowhere near as big as Jace and yet the jacket felt snug.

“Jace… are you okay?” Clary sounded concerned. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was finding a leather jacket that looked a lot like Jace’s and, since no one was around, had decided to try it on.

“Sure, Clary. I’m fine.” But he wasn’t fine. Nothing about him or this situation was fine. He started to get to his feet, only to fall back down as the change in weight and height hit him. Clary offered her hand as he tried once more.

“Let me help you.”

“I’m fine. Just need to splash some water on my face.” He made his way to the open bathroom door. Every movement felt so odd to him. Different. He closed the door to be alone, to think. He was glad Clary was there with him but now he needed to see if he could figure out what had happened. He was feeling somewhat better… until he saw his reflection in the mirror.

Simon found himself in the strangest circumstances of his life. He literally had become Jace Wayland, the confident, cocky, and handsome Shadowhunter that Clary loved, despite her protestations otherwise. Of course, Simon knew the Shadowhunters could change their appearance using their runes but he wasn’t, or least hadn’t been, a Shadowhunter. Almost anything was possible in the supernatural world he now was part of but how could trying on what must have been Jace’s jacket cause him to transform? For that matter, how had Jace’s jacket just been lying near where he had been?

His first instinct was to ditch the jacket. Maybe he would be himself again. He unzipped the jacket, revealing a tank that did nothing to hide his quite impressive physique. How he had often wondered what Jace looked like underneath the cool exterior people saw. Now he could find out. He excitedly ran his hands along his torso, feeling every sensitive touch for the first time. Jace had such a finely tuned body, the perfect specimen of masculinity and now it was all his. Did it really matter how it happened? Why not just enjoy it…?

The longer Simon stared into the mirror the less he thought about how this had all happened or even trying to change back. Why would he want to? After all he was now the stud he always wanted to be… what every nerd dreamed of being. True once he had become a vampire his vision had cleared so he no longer needed glasses and he had become somewhat of a chick magnet in his own right but this was something entirely different.

Deceptions

Read Part 1 "Expectations"

“Hello, Casey”.

“My name is Peter, not Casey. Who are you and how did you get in?” Casey was certain he had locked the door and he certainly was not going to let anyone know who he was, let alone some stranger that somehow just walked in.

“Name’s Finn. Merlin sent me, mate, so you can drop the “Peter” act. I knocked but no one answered and the door wasn’t bolted so I came in.” Finn extended his hand in greeting.

“No act here, Finn. I’m Peter Quinn and this is my home. What do you want?”

“Like I said Merlin sent me. He thought you might need some watching over while you’re in hiding.” Casey was still puzzled. He had only been Peter for about an hour and Merlin was already sending someone to watch him? That just didn’t make sense to him but then nothing Merlin did made a whole lot of sense. Maybe Finn could be trusted.

Casey shook Finn’s hand. “Have a seat and let’s talk for a while.”

Expectations

Casey was the town street rat. Ever since his parents had died he had to survive on his own, stealing food and evading capture by the local constables. Wise beyond his tender 17 years, he had street smarts, as people called them, and plenty of them. He didn’t trust or need anyone, which suited him just fine.

Merlin was the town eccentric, the person others loved to talk about. Little was actually known about him other than he seemed to have been around for as long as anyone could remember. He would be quite congenial when he met folks, but he preferred to be left to himself.

Their lives intersected one day when Casey accidentally acquired Merlin’s watch after the two bumped into each other.

“Sorry mister,” Casey apologized to the older man. “I didn’t see you.” Merlin smiled at the youth. For some odd reason, he was feeling uncharacteristically guilty about stealing the old guy’s watch.

“That’s okay son. Accidents happen.”

Casey nervously fingered the watch in his pocket, trying to make sense of why he should feel so guilt-ridden about what he had done. He never had been bothered by his thievery before so why this time?

“Say son, you don’t look so well. How about coming home with me and I give you something to eat. You look like you haven’t had a good meal in a while. What do you say?” Something about the man set Casey’s defensive instincts off but he couldn’t tell just what it was. Go home with him? He might be some kind of perv or worse. Was it the glint in the old man’s eyes as though he knew something he wasn’t telling Casey? The dude was only trying to be friendly, right? Besides he could take care of himself and this guy was certainly no match for him if it came to that so what did he really have to worry about?

“Yeah, okay, but only for a meal and then I’m gone. Deal?”

“Fine. My name’s Merlin. And you are?”

“Casey.”

“Follow me, Casey. I don’t live too far away.” The two started to walk, Merlin setting a rapid pace that surprised Casey. He certainly was spry for an old guy. They soon arrived at what Merlin called his ‘humble’ abode. Strange thing about the house though: it appeared small on the outside but upon entering Casey was overwhelmed by just how large the interior was. Must be an optical illusion he told himself.

A Scottish Holiday

Walking the Highlands of Scotland was amazing. Never had I seen such an abundance of wildflowers, especially heather, all in one spot, and the views from the top of the crag were fantastic. Ah, such a place to call home must surely be like a bit of heaven on Earth.

Of course, it wasn’t my home. I was just a visitor, an interloper into the serene scenery and clean mountain air. But oh, to look up into that clear blue sky with the clouds rolling lazily by, what I wouldn’t give to stay in that spot forever. I could believe Brigadoon was just over yon hill.

How aggrieved I was when night started to come on and I had to make my way down the hill. Sure the inn I was staying at was nice, the people friendly, and such a preponderance of food the likes of which I had never seen, but by comparison to the natural wonders I beheld outside everything else paled.

I wasn’t watching where I was going having been so caught up in the beauty around me that I stumbled on a rock as I continued downward. I cursed silently to myself for having been so stupid. A hand reached down to help me to my feet.

“Thank you.” I must have hit my head for the man attached to that hand looked like a British soldier from centuries ago. In full military garb, he was immaculate in his formal red uniform.

Time Off

Special Guest Courtesy of Mr. Cavanaugh's TF Stories

Chris wanted time off. After a rapid succession of movies, he needed some down time alone to recharge his batteries. Not that he didn’t love his family and acting mind you. He just hadn’t had a good vacation just for himself in a while.

There was a break in filming on location in New York City and the weather had turned sunny after raining most of the day so he decided to go for a stroll.  Along the way, he came across a newsstand with a tabloid he had never seen before. Not usually one to care about tabloid gossip he nonetheless picked up the paper and paid the vendor.

Cavanaugh’s Celebrity Chatter

The front page had a picture of the Amell cousins and the second page had a story about Matt Bomer, both of which he glanced at but quickly skipped over. It was page 3 that really caught his attention. There was only one headline.

Chris Hemsworth: Tired of Acting?

The picture showed him dressed exactly as he was now. Intrigued for sure how that was even possible but after all it was only a tabloid so he closed the paper and thought no more about it. As he started to leave he made eye contact with a young man just coming out of a bar. He shivered as a cold chill travelled throughout his body. Shrugging it off as just a cool momentary breeze he continued onward to a small coffee shop. He opened the paper again while drinking his latte, surprised to see his picture had changed.