It had been two years since Christopher's favourite series had been cancelled. He had spent many, many hours in the world of Enchanted Forest, Storybrook and all the intertwining of all the characters and probably knew as much about this series as the people who wrote it. Today, 23 October 2021, was the tenth anniversary of the series, ten years ago today the very first episode was on television. And today Christopher sat all excited in the digital waiting room of the Zoom conference of the OUAT reunion show. For years, he had been unable to do his actual job after a serious leg injury and had plenty of time on his hands. In the dark early days, he had discovered Once Upon a Time and found some more joy in life again.
He had specially asked his boss for an afternoon off and almost didn't get it because someone from the team at the hotel where he worked in the office for a few hours a week since his retirement had called in sick. However, fate seemed to mean well for Christopher.
Christopher looked at his wristwatch; actually, it was supposed to start at 6 pm already. But they were already a few minutes over. He adjusted his reading glasses. Did he have the time wrong? However, before he could get out his written confirmation with the personal code he was supposed to give for his authentication and look it up, something happened on his screen.
Slowly the cameras came on and Christopher could see almost the whole ensemble. "Hey, glad you're all here - our managers already said it wasn't easy to get access for this, so all the cooler that you made it," Josh Dallas, the actor from Prince Charming, greeted the assembled fan base from his sofa. He introduced the programme together with Sean Maguire, actor of Robin Hood, and Lana Parilla, actress of Regina Mills. Christopher listened intently and laughed a lot as they all talked about the filming, answered fan questions and gave everyone a great experience. After just under three hours, the event was ending. Then Colin O'Donoghue spoke up again.
"Now before we say goodbye here, is there a Christopher Carpenter in this faceless crowd?" he asked and Christopher hurried to turn on his camera and mic.
"Yes, here I am!" he said excitedly, his reading glasses falling off his nose he nodded so vigorously.
Colin grinned at him. "Okay, then just enter your code into the window that's about to pop up, we've got a surprise for you." With sweaty fingers, Christopher typed in the ten-digit code of numbers and letters while his thoughts circled the other's words. A surprise? For him? Oh God, maybe there was some special thing they hadn't told yet? Or they would finally answer an important question he had sent as a letter to the team after the series was over? So many possibilities. Christopher pressed enter.
Colin was talking to someone off-screen. Then nodded. "Very nice, it all seems to add up. So, to explain the surprise, more people are about to be approached, don't worry: we've started a secret competition and 20 of you have won original props from the show. You'll see exactly what in a week's post." Christopher didn't know what hit him. Soon, soon he would own an original prop from his favourite show. Oh, he was so happy he started cheering until he realised his microphone was still on. Embarrassed, he switched it off.
Half an hour later the meeting was over and Christopher still couldn't believe it. A small part of him perhaps didn't want to believe it either. But a much bigger part of him found it sad at that moment that he couldn't tell anyone. His colleagues at work didn't care about Once Upon a Time or talk to him. His friends were for the most part far away, unavailable or already dead. He had never had a relationship, nor did he have a family anymore. Christopher felt it was a bit of a shame that he couldn't share the joy he was feeling with anyone. So he decided to re-watch his two favourite episodes of the series every day for the next seven days until his winnings arrived.
After a week, Christopher came home from a slightly longer shift at the hotel and looked in his letterbox. There was a letter inside. With the logo of the studios that had produced Once Upon a Time. Hastily, as fast as he could with a leg that was no longer completely healed.
As a fan from the very beginning, we would like to congratulate you once again on your prize. Unfortunately, your original prize was broken in transit, so we will be sending you a slightly larger prize as a replacement. Thank you for your years of support.
Needless to say, Christopher was now a little disappointed. He had been looking forward to having an original prop from Once in his house soon. But if the studio wrote him extra, it could only end well.
Another seven days passed and Christopher had to take sick leave after a very exhausting day because he could hardly perform. Today, of all days, the painkillers didn't work fast enough either, so he almost couldn't go to the door when the doorbell rang. "Please wait a moment, I... bloody hell, stupid leg... be right there," Christopher called out as the person at the door rang repeatedly. Finally, after several minutes and with his face contorted in pain, he managed to open the door and an impatient-looking parcel deliveryman stood before him.
"Carpenter?" he asked, looking from Christopher to his doorbell and then back to his clipboard. Christopher nodded. Barely enduring the standing. "Sign," the messenger said curtly and held out the clipboard with a form to the other man. Christopher signed and no sooner had his pen stopped touching the paper than the messenger was gone. Only now could he look at the package lying at his feet. It was quite flat and about a metre long. The logo of Christopher's favourite series was emblazoned on the box and for a moment, the pain in his leg was blown away.
"It's here! Finally!" he said and the grin on his face grew wider. As quickly as he could, he brought the package into his living room so he could take a good look at the contents. What was in it? It wasn't particularly heavy. Was it perhaps one of the candlesticks from Rumpelstiltskin's castle? One of the Evil Queen's spellbooks? So many possibilities...
With a box cutter, Christopher carefully cut through the cardboard and strings and... then there before him was something he never thought he would see live. It was a coat made of leather, with a red waistcoat, a dark shirt, trousers made of leather... and a sparkling pendant on a chain. It was one of the costumes Hook had worn!
"Oh my God, this is unbelievable, this is amazing!" Christopher was very happy! This had been worth waiting for! Almost in awe, he lifted the clothes out of the box and took his reading glasses from the table to have a closer look. Carefully he ran his trembling fingers over the textures. Felt the patterns of the clothes, stroked the smooth metal of the pendant. It was beautiful...
Suddenly the skull flipped open and a small note fell out. Christopher groaned as he had to pick it up from the floor. The writing was neither very neat nor particularly large, so even with his reading glasses, it was difficult for him to decipher everything.
These things have always helped me to empathise with my role. I hope they will have the same effect on you. C.
Christopher's eyes grew wide. And frowned. What did this C mean by that? Had it been the actor from Hook? Christopher suddenly felt the urgent need to take a closer look at the clothes. What did the waistcoat look like from the inside? Slowly he opened the buttons. What he didn't notice was that the pain disappeared from his right leg. Christopher thought nothing of it. Surely the painkillers were finally working. The inside of the waistcoat was as noble as the outside. Should... should he try it on? Just for fun, it wouldn't fit anyway. Over the years, beer consumption had left some marks on Christopher and given him a very wide midsection. But he was determined to try it out. He felt excitement spreading through his body. It wouldn't take long, Christopher thought to himself, everything was too small anyway.
But just as he was about to lift the shirt and waistcoat, everything disintegrated into fine crumbs. "NO!", Christopher screamed and stared at his hands in horror. One by one, all the things in the box disintegrated until there was nothing left but a small pile of dust. Some of the dust got into Christopher's nose, which made him sneeze and spread the dust all over the room. He had to cough as dust particles entered his lungs again. "What a bummer, why is this only happening to me?" he whined between coughing fits. Coughing as he inhaled more and more of this dust, he just decided to go to bed. The evening was ruined.
However, in the middle of the night Christopher woke up, he felt terribly hot. Drenched in sweat, he threw off his duvet and reached for the remote control for his air conditioner. He didn't care that it was November. He felt like he was about to melt! He tore off his pyjamas and lay on his bed in just his pants. Was he getting sick? Was he getting a fever? A dull pain suddenly appeared in his stomach area and Christopher rubbed his sweaty hand over his stomach until he stopped, puzzled. Was it because he was lying down, or why was there less mass there than usual? His skin began to tingle.
Bit by bit, the little fat pads that had accumulated throughout his life disappeared. But not only on his belly. All over his body, the superfluous fat disappeared until he was back in the weight range he had had as a young man. Christopher's skin began to smooth out. Wrinkles disappeared, age spots dissolved. He felt... full of energy. Then his mobile phone, which was on his bedside cabinet, rang.
"Hey, Christopher, your favourite colleague Milo here!"
Christopher thought sharply, but he had no idea who the man was. Or how he knew his mobile number. In fact, he was still far too busy staring at his flat stomach. He could see his feet, everything was so smooth, no more age spots. He had to be dreaming.
"Actually, I'm just supposed to call you to make sure you're suitably prepared for the shift tomorrow morning, we have a very special show and we need your... skills," the man on the other end of the line chatted. He emphasised the last word very strangely. So strange that a shiver ran down Christopher's spine.
"What do you mean by that? What... abilities am I supposed to have?" asked Christopher a little suspiciously.
"Oh, now stop it mate, don't be so modest! But listen, you must look the same tomorrow as you did last time. We need your hairy chest," the man called Milo whispered over the phone. Christopher was about to protest, but then something happened on his still sweaty chest. Dark brown hairs sprouted from the skin under his hands. At first, they were still short, and then they grew longer, longer from below his breastbone, and spread over his entire chest down to his collarbones.
"And your nice pecs, they tighten so great when you wear your waistcoat open," Milo continued. Before Christopher could protest, his chest, over whose new hair he stroked in irritation but not aversion, felt as if he had a bad case of aching muscles. His skin stretched and muscles pushed across his chest, not a great deal, but enough that the mounds were clearly visible. In disbelief, Christopher put his free hand on his new muscles. Tightened them on a trial basis. That... that worked! He squeezed once. Tense. That felt good. He just kept going. His breathing was a little heavier.
"That's right," Milo purred over the phone. "We all can't get enough of you. And me first of all. There's never been a man who looked so good with his body hair. You cannot shave any of it. It's the perfect amount. Especially not your beard, it suits your role so well." The skin on Christopher's face behaved as if he had leaned his face into a pile of nettles. All over his chin, his cheeks, above his mouth, little dots pressed against his skin from the inside. It itched! He wanted to scratch, but finally, brown whiskers pushed through his damp skin. Christopher exhaled in relief as the hairs next to his ears grew a little thicker and longer until he had sideburns. He licked his sweaty lips with his tongue and ran it over his beard. It felt strange. Foreign, yet also... somewhat familiar. It tasted salty. Christopher's hand tightened in his chest hair.
"Mi-milo, I don't know what you're doing, but... you can... I'm... uncomfortable... sweating." Fragmentary sentences came out of his mouth, the scratching on his skin seemed to have entered his throat. His voice sounded different with each sound. So... British. So... sexy.
But Milo continued mercilessly. "Oh yeah, that sounds pretty good already, no one sweats like you, but also no wonder when you have as much hair as you do. So thick, mmm. No wonder you smell so irresistible, I can smell it through the phone already" If it was still possible, more sweat poured out of Christopher's pores and then... it suddenly stopped. He jerked his arms up, his legs apart, just lay there panting. Then it began. Hair sprouted on his body, as it had on his chest and face earlier. Unlike other men, whose body hair increased with age, Christopher's was just the opposite. At over 60, he had been smooth as a baby's bottom. Only with wrinkles. Now his follicles were showing what they were made of.
As if in fast motion, his armpits filled with brown hair. The same thing happened in completely different places. In the same move, strength flooded through him again, making his muscles work. Christopher gasped as his buttocks tightened and the space between them filled with a few hairs as well. He inhaled with a jerk as the hair from his chest now worked its way down. He felt queasy in his stomach area as the blood pooled there and then shot with all its might into the centre of his body.
"Oh God, what is happening?" moaned Christopher, looking down over what looked to him to be an increasingly natural and attractive chest. The tingling in his crotch was driving him insane. The panties had to go. With his erratic hand, he reached for the waistband of the pants, but it brushed against something else. Amidst the growing hair, that was already working its way to his legs, he came across something hard. Something hard that pressed against his prison of fabric.
"But who would I be if I forgot your magnificence. Oh, how I miss them, their strength, their size, their... potency," Milo gasped, probably feeling the same thing Christopher felt. Almost carefully, as if afraid of breaking something, Christopher stroked along his cloth-covered cock. A shudder went through his body, the phone falling out of his hand. How long... "Fuck it, oh yeaaaah," he croaked, forcefully ripping the pants off his legs. Only now did he notice something. It smelled different around him. So strange, yet familiar too... not like the air freshener he'd been buying for twenty years.
Christopher could hardly think straight. Hormones shot through his body and he bit his lip. With all his might, he tore away from his crotch, even as his cock yearned to be touched. Christopher swallowed hard as he sat up. He groaned as his balls swelled. He could feel the pressure. "No... no... what..." he stammered, holding his hands to his head. He could feel the hair on his face, the slight scratching under his fingertips. He could... he had to. There was a crackling in his feet, then a tingling. Christopher almost squinted, so strong was the temptation. Then... it was over.
Breathing heavily and sweaty, Christopher got up from his bed. He looked down at himself. What had happened to him? Mirror... mirror! He ran to the bathroom, ignoring the fact that he could walk again, and stared at his reflection in his small bathroom.
"Oh my God, I... Hook?!" he gasped, palpating his changed features. Tried out his voice. Tried to repeat quotes. However, with each word he repeated, he felt more imperfect. Something was missing. Clothes. He needed clothes. Back in the bedroom, he opened his wardrobe. But his usual clothes were gone. There were leather trousers, a red velvet waistcoat, a heavy leather coat, a black shirt and a pair of thick boots on the floor. Right next to them were numerous rings. As if in a trance, Christopher looked at the things. "Yes, that's what I want.... what I always want... what I always wear," he mumbled, putting it all on. The smooth leather rubbed over his skin. The coolness over his exposed chest felt good. Christopher felt complete. He had been given a chance at a fresh start. But before he could think any more about his future, the phone rang. The name Milo was on the display. Christopher still had no idea who it was, but... maybe he should stop by the hotel now. Maybe Milo could put him back into the one that was more suited to his abilities.
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