#leather tf

[octuscle]

Hey Valentine's day is coming up and I am single with no boyfriend. People say im too shy, overweight, and not the best in the looks department with glasses and that naturally chubby face. Im 35 any way you can help me out?

You're hunched over your cluttered desk in the dimly lit office, the glow of your computer screen casting harsh shadows across your face as Valentine's Day looms like a storm cloud. At 35, single and utterly invisible, you feel like a ghost in your own life—too shy to speak up, too overweight to turn heads, hiding behind thick-rimmed glasses that fog up with every anxious breath. Your round, chubby cheeks flush with embarrassment at the slightest glance, and no one notices you beyond the pitying stares. No boyfriend to whisk you away, no dates scribbled in your calendar, just the relentless barbs from coworkers that slice like paper cuts: "Still flying solo, huh?" or "Maybe lay off the donuts." Desperate for escape, you've scoured the internet for self-help miracles, and that's when it happens—a cryptic notification buzzes on your phone like a lifeline from the void. "Chronivac Preset Activated," it reads, linking to some mysterious app or download that whispers promises of transformation. You bookmark it absentmindedly, your thumb slick with nervous sweat, not daring to hope.

But fate twists the knife deeper: Your boss, with his perpetual scowl and coffee-stained tie, drops the bomb in a curt email. A mandatory business trip on Valentine's Day itself, and worse, you're paired with Mark—the office tyrant who delights in your misery. He's the one who sneers at your belly rolls, mimics your glasses with exaggerated squints, and dubs you "the perpetual virgin" in front of the water cooler crowd. Built like a gym rat with chiseled abs and a cocky grin, he struts around bragging about his weekend flings, his voice booming like thunder. The drive to Chicago stretches ahead like an eternity of asphalt purgatory, a full day's worth of torment that makes the Spanish Inquisition seem like a spa day.

The highway unfurls in a monotonous blur of gray concrete and flashing taillights, the engine's hum a constant drone that does nothing to drown out Mark's cruelty. You're behind the wheel first, gripping the steering column until your knuckles whiten, the air thick with the scent of his overpriced cologne mixed with stale fast-food wrappers. He lounges in the passenger seat like a king on his throne, slurping his black coffee with obnoxious smacks, then launches into his ritual gloating. "Dude, last weekend? Scored these two smoking-hot babes at the club—blonde and brunette, total firecrackers. Rode one like a stallion till dawn, her nails digging into my back. And you? Still batting zero? Yeah, figures, with that pudgy babyface and beer gut jiggling like Jell-O." His laughter erupts like a hyena's cackle, echoing in the confined space, each guffaw a fresh stab to your gut. You clench your jaw, tasting blood from biting your tongue, eyes locked on the endless white lines whipping by. Switching seats doesn't help; Mark drives like a maniac, weaving through traffic with aggressive honks and curses at "idiot drivers" who dare to exist in his lane. You're just another loser in his eyes, the car vibrating with his road rage. To escape the verbal onslaught, you fumble for your phone, heart pounding, and tap the Chronivac link. A progress bar flickers to life, downloading some enigmatic preset that auto-activates with a soft chime. Screw it, you think—anything to mute his endless drivel.

Then, silence crashes in like a wave. Mark coughs awkwardly, his bravado crumbling as he shifts in his seat, stealing glances at you with newfound curiosity. "Hey, uh... so, what's your deal? Like, what do you do for fun outside this grind? Got any cool hobbies?" Your eyes widen in shock, the words hanging in the air like smoke—this isn't his script. He presses on, his tone dipping into unfamiliar intimacy: "You got a crush on anyone? What really gets you going? Damn, you know, you're actually kinda... sexy. That shy vibe, those soft features—it's hot." You scoff bitterly, heat rising in your cheeks. "Knock it off, Mark. Not funny." But his gaze lingers, hungry and sincere, tracing the lines of your body with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. "I'm dead serious. Your smile lights up the room, and those curves? They're driving me wild."

Simultaneously, a electric tingle surges through your veins, like liquid fire igniting every nerve. Your arms bulge with sudden strength, muscles coiling like steel cables beneath your skin; your legs stretch longer, thighs thickening with power. You're expanding, growing taller inch by inch, shoulders broadening into a V-shape that strains your shirt seams. A quick flip of the sun visor's mirror reveals the miracle: Your plump, boyish face sharpens into rugged angles, jawline carving out like a sculpture, crowned by short cut  fiery ginger hair. A well trimmed beard sprouts dense, framing lips that curl with newfound confidence. The glasses vanish in a blink, replaced by piercing eyes that gleam with primal allure—you're a towering red-haired Adonis, straight from the pages of a fantasy epic, exuding raw, magnetic masculinity.

And lower still... a throbbing pulse awakens in your groin, a tidal wave of arousal crashing over you. The fabric of your pants tents obscenely as your manhood swells, hardening into a massive, insistent bulge that aches with delicious pressure. You gasp sharply, breath hitching, a bead of sweat trickling down your temple. "Mark, exit at the next rest stop—now. I gotta hit the john, bad." He smirks wickedly, leaning across the console, his hand boldly cupping the swelling mound and kneading it with teasing strokes. "Hold on a sec, big guy. Been eyeing that reason for an exit for miles. You can tough it out—or want me to lend a hand?" His voice drips with husky desire, fingers lingering just long enough to stoke the fire. You swat him away, but the heat builds, your pulse thundering in your ears.

At last, the rest area looms—a dingy oasis of cracked pavement and flickering neon. You bolt from the car, legs wobbling with the rush, the cool breeze whispering against your transforming skin. Midway across the lot, your clothes morph in surreal pulses: The stiff suit pants melt into skin-tight jeans that hug your powerful quads, the belt buckling into rugged leather chaps that creak with every stride, framing your assets like a second skin. Bursting into the restroom, the fluorescent lights buzz overhead, illuminating the graffiti-scrawled walls as you lock a stall door with trembling hands. You tear open your shirt buttons with a rip, exposing a colossal, furred torso—chest heaving like a blacksmith's forge, slabs of muscle etched in veins, nipples pierced with gleaming steel that catch the light. The paunch evaporates, revealing a rippling six-pack blanketed in a lush trail of red body hair, soft yet wild. Panic flares hot in your chest, mingling with an intoxicating rush of power—you're a beast now, dominant and unyielding, every inch screaming alpha.

A tentative knock rattles the door. "You good in there, man?" Mark's voice, laced with concern and something darker. You fling it open, towering over him like a god among mortals, your ginger beard brushing his forehead, a leather harness now cinched tight across your pecs, accentuating every curve and contour. His eyes devour you, pupils blown wide with lust. Your voice rumbles like distant thunder, deep and commanding: "Strip. Now." He complies without a whisper of resistance, shedding layers in a frantic blur—shirt, pants, briefs—until he stands vulnerable in a skimpy leather thong that barely contains his straining excitement, the fabric stretched taut over his arousal. You seize him by the nape, yanking him close, your lips crashing onto his in a devouring kiss, tongue plunging deep to claim every inch of his mouth. He melts against you with a guttural moan, hands roaming greedily over your sculpted chest, fingers tangling in the red fur, tracing the piercings with reverent awe.

This is merely the spark. You slam him back against the cold tile wall, the impact echoing like a thunderclap, your massive hands mapping his body—pinching, stroking, teasing until he's a quivering mess. "More... fuck, please..." he whimpers, voice breaking, eyes glazed with submission. The Chronivac's magic hasn't stopped at you; it's rewritten the world, twisting Mark from tormentor to eager devotee, his once-mocking sneer now a plea for your dominance. You don't rush out of that grimy sanctuary; instead, you claim him right there amid the faint scent of bleach and urgency, thrusting with raw, passionate force that shakes the stall partitions. His cries bounce off the walls, a symphony of surrender, as you drive him to ecstasy in the flickering light.

Hours later, back on the road, the sun dipping toward the horizon in a blaze of orange, Mark huddles beside you—obedient, flushed, his eyes fixed on you with adoring hunger. You're the wheelmaster now, the new you: Valentine's Day conqueror, reveling in your deserved triumph. A casual grope at your own bulging crotch sends a shiver through you, and without a word, Mark leans over, his skilled tongue worshipping you with fervent devotion, the car swerving slightly from the distraction. A firm squeeze at his lap, and he shudders, soaking his pants in a helpless release, his gasp muffled against you. The remaining drive unfolds in epic waves of pleasure, the miles blurring into bliss. And that Chicago weekend? It promises to etch legends into the night, a whirlwind of dominance and desire under the city lights.

[pixellads]

New pad, new bike, new style, new crew — all that’s a snap with the Chronivac Relocation Coaches, bro.

[masterwolftfs]

THE ATTIC CLEAR OUT: MOTORCYCLE LEATHERS

@recentrift couldn't help but leap at the opportunity to grab the old motorcycle leathers, it wasn't often you'd find such a treat for free after all. But these leathers, like many of the objects stored in my attic, were no ordinary pair, and he needed to change if he was going to be able to use them well.

Eager to try them out, he began to slip them over his legs, failing to notice them tightening with new muscle, ckearly well trained after many an hour in the gym, and on his bike. The leather now fitting tightly, as he continued to slide into the leathers. He still failed to notice the changes as the arms, and then whole chest, became enveloped in the leather. But once he was fully sealed into the suit, and it knew it had him in its grasp, that was it.

A sudden squeeze, the suit compressing around his entire muscular body, almost pulsing with strength, tightening and loosening repeatedly, pushing its power into his body. He could feel it, overtaking him, forcing its way inside. He was no longer the same mine. He was a biker now, the best biker, a mere puppet to the leathers. Throbbing on his cock, forcing him to moan in pleasure, forcing him to obey the leather. He no longer had any need for thoughts, his mind an empty shell. Leather was all he could think of now.

Reaching down into the box the leathers came inm geabbing a baseball cap to slide onto his head, giving his crotch a tight squeeze, grinning cockily as the suit commanded. This was a man of true power, THIS was a man worthy of the title of biker.

My attic contains many mysterious items, cursed and magical, that I need to be rid of. Perhaps you can find what you need here.

[md7tf]

Folsom Meat

Mark gawked at the spectacle that was Folsom Street Fair, was that a man naked and was he… His gaze was pulled away from the scene as his friend dragged him toward a row of leather gear vendors and pulled him into a stall named “Good Boy Designs.” The friend immediately began flirting with the stall owner, gesturing toward Mark.

With a mischievous grin, the vendor approached Mark, holding a leather collar. "Your friend says you need a little help fitting in. I've got just the thing." The inside of the leather was embossed with the word "MEAT." Before Mark could object, the collar was fastened around his neck and a wave of intense unease overwhelmed him. 

The unease immediately gave way to a surge of pleasure as Mark felt a sudden, massive strain as his muscles began to swell; his chest and biceps ripping the seams of his shirt.

The change went deeper than just his muscle. His skin darkened, and course hair spread across his chest as the core of his being was remolded.

Lastly, the timid curiosity in the back of his mind—the hidden desire that had brought him to Folsom—exploded forward. A pleasant fog settled across his mind, melting away all insecurities. His former self vanished, replaced by a simple, confident impulse for his body to be displayed and used. After all, he was just a piece of meat like any good muscle boy. 

Minutes later, Marco, wearing only his new collar and tight leather shorts, was dancing jubilantly in the middle of the street, loving every minute among the sea of leather and latex. As the smell of sweat and sexual energy permeated the street, he couldn't wait for the afterparty and the real action that awaited him. 

[fredwkong]

Hey I really wanna be a cool mofo like my neighbor. He’s always decked out in leather like a Tom of Finland Character, tall black boots, leather jacket, riding on his motorcycle… can you help

“I wish I was like my neighbour,” you breathe, rubbing the mysterious thrifted lamp with near-desperation.

There’s a burst of thick smoke that stinks like gasoline and smoke. “Well, he had to earn it, boy,” says a genie right out of a Tom of Finland fantasy, with a bulge the size of your head and a lantern jaw to match. “He had to fuckin’ train for it. And I think,” the genie pauses, hearing the revving of a motorcycle engine outside, “he’s ready to take on his own apprentice.”

There’s a rush of wind on your face and, when it fades, you find yourself in an alien bedroom. Racks of leather gear line the walls, black and shining to match the dozens of boots lined up neatly in front of them. The sight and smell of all that leather has you chubbing up in the confines of your leather jock…

You look down, and gasp to see a pale, slender chest and belly leading down to a slutty leather jockstrap. You rush to the full-length mirror at the foot of the bed, unstable in your creaking chaps, and look at the leather boy you’ve become. Handsome, but in a pretty way, with angelic curls framing your face and barely hardened by the sluttiest possible leather gear.

Loud footfalls on the stairs. Gruff voices in the hall. You remember you’re in Daddy Tom’s house, your boring old bedroom in the next house over. The door swings open, and Daddy Tom looks you over, his muir cap shadowing his eyes so that he’s all bushy handlebar moustache. “Ready boy?” he asks.

Behind him, a leather daddy who looks suspiciously like the genie steps into view, a cigar clamped in his jaw.

“Time for your special training,” your daddy purrs, and your cock and hole twitch.

Another wish fulfilled.

Got a wish you need twisted? Send an ask! Remember to say “I wish” so the genie hears exactly what you’re wishing for.

[futureperfectchanges]

The Leather Jackets

"How about this one?" Finn asked as he held up a leather jacket to show to his friend Greg. "Seems a bit smaller than the others."

"Maybe, although perhaps we should try somewhere else?" Greg replied, he was getting a bit nervous now that they were actually in a store looking at jackets. A couple of nights ago they had gone to Infernos, their local club, and seen a flyer for an upcoming leather night. One thing had led to another and Greg had admitted that he had always had a bit of a thing for guys in leather. Greg had definitely not expected Finn to then suggest going to the leather night, but was excited when he did as he would never have had the courage to go on his own.

The only problem was that the flyer had said wearing something leather was mandatory, and neither of them owned anything suitable. They had joked about getting some harnesses, but had decided to play safe and go for leather jackets. Finn had already found a jacket he thought was good, but everything had been a bit too large for Greg. "Let's just try these on, and if they don't fit we'll try somewhere else."

So the friends made their way to the changing room where Finn was the first to try on his jacket. Finn was the more outgoing of the two, and had always enjoyed going out in fancy dress which was why he'd suggested attending the leather night, but even he was now worrying they might not be able to pull these costumes off. Finn had a bit of a baby face, so once he slipped his jacket on and saw himself in the mirror his first thought was that he looked like a child wearing adult clothes trying to look tough.

Finn had expected the leather to feel cool, which it was to start with, but once the jacket was on he was surprised to get a bit flushed. He was worried he might start sweating into the leather, but the warmth quickly faded away at which point he noticed just how comfortable the jacket felt.

Finn smirked a little as he looked at himself in the mirror. He straightened his back and pushed out his chest to show off his chiselled body. He started thinking of the other leather jackets he had but couldn't remember any fitting as well as this one.

"See Greg, nothing like a leather jacket to help make you look like a man. I'm glad you've finally agreed to join me at a leather night, and if you are anything like me you're going to love it." Finn said confidently as he checked himself out in the mirror.

"That's fine for you to say, you've worn stuff like this for years and have the body to suit it. I just don't think I can pull it off, especially not with something that is too large for me. I think we should go somewhere else." Greg said starting to lose whatever confidence he had.

"Well we are here now so you might as well try that jacket on. You'll at least know if you like the feel of it." Finn replied. He knew his friends at the leather night would love Greg regardless of what he looked like in the jacket.

Greg reluctantly started to put on the jacket. What he had not told Finn is that his interest in leather was not about looking cool. Instead it was about domination. He had always been small, weak and mostly submissive, but when he thought of leather he thought of heavily built intimidating men and everything he wasn't.

So Greg knew that even if the jacket had been his size it would never be right to him, something which was confirmed to him as he looked at himself in the mirror. Greg thought he looked ridiculous and knew that the idea of going to a leather night had been a huge mistake. Greg started to feel anxious as he thought about how he should never have said anything to Finn. The jacket started to feel suffocating around Greg's body, but before he could take it off he felt the ball of anxiety in his chest burst out across his whole body.

"Wow, that looks great on you Greg" Finn said as Greg admired himself in the mirror.

"What did you call me Boy?" Greg barked back whilst staying focused on the mirror.

"Sorry, I meant the jacket looks great on you Sir."

"Another slip up like that and i'll be forced to punish you." Greg firmly replied as he turned to face Finn, with both of them getting turned on by the thought of what might come later.

[grizzmantfs69]

BOOT MASTER CHAPTER 7: IMMORTAL BROTHERHOOD

The full moon was close to rising, keenly awaited by four guys. Jonathan rumbled “Not long now...” Peter nodded “Yeah.” Angus gave the fourth guy, an older grey haired man in bike leathers, a reassuring look. “Calm down, brother. Peter & Jonathan know what they’re doing. They’ll sort this out.” Alan nodded. “I hope so. It's driving me round the twist!”

It had all started about four weeks earlier, when Alan had vanished into nothingness at moonrise on the previous full moon. Right in the middle of his first meet-up with the gay bikers’ club that Angus led and which Peter & Jonathan belonged to. Jonathan & Peter had missed the meet due to previous commitments at their friend Timothy’s gym... but fortunately, due to their previous visit to Jonathan and Peter’s mansion, Angus and most of the others at the event weren’t TOO startled. Angus thoughtfully took Alan’s bike home to his garage for safekeeping.

Three days later, Alan called Angus. “You got my bike – can I come and collect it?” Angus was relieved. “Sure! What happened to you in the bar, brother? Are you OK?!” Alan was rattled. “I dunno. I was sitting beside you right through the evening... just went invisible and immaterial the moment the moon rose! I stayed there, but none of you could see or hear me! I only just became solid and visible when the moon set half an hour ago!”

Angus raised his eyebrows. “Hmmmm... get round here to my place pronto. A couple of our brothers, who you haven’t met yet, are pretty clued up on that sort of stuff. I’ll call them and see what they say.” Alan was relieved. “Many thanks. See you shortly.” Angus ended the call... then made another.

Sitting on their balcony, overlooking the gardens and parkland surrounding their mansion, Peter’s phone rang. “Yo, Angus. How’s yourself?” Angus replied “Needing yours and Jonathan’s help, my friend. Something weird happened at the meet a few days ago...” and went on to describe Alan’s predicament. Peter’s response was immediate. “We’ll be with you shortly.”

A few moments later, Peter & Jonathan both ‘ported to Angus’ lounge. “Yo, man. You good?” Jonathan asked. Angus grinned in relief. “All the better for seeing you, my friends. This one’s out of my wheelhouse.” Peter nodded. “Sounds like it. Jonathan suspects a were–curse of some kind. We’ll do some digging when the guy gets here.” Angus smiled, relieved.

Half an hour later, a cab drew up outside and Alan climbed out. Angus opened the door. “Come in, Alan. Meet Jonathan & Peter – Jonathan’s the taller of the two.” All 3 guys shook hands and sat down. “So, Alan – Angus told us what happened. I’ve a suspicion about this – may I check you over?” Jonathan asked. “Sure” Alan replied, nervously. Jonathan smiled gently, projecting an aura of calm and trust. “Don’t worry – you won’t get hurt.”

With a ripple of green fire, Jonathan scanned Alan’s body. “Hmph. Thought so. Someone’s put a were–curse on you. Means you’ll vanish from the first moonrise to the last moonset of each full moon from now on.” Alan’s jaw dropped. “What – EVERY full moon? For the rest of my life?! NO. FUCKING. WAY!!! This is a real crock of shit, guys!” Jonathan agreed. “Yeah, it is. Right now, the curse is submerged and dormant – so it won’t cause you any problems until it activates at the next full moon. Also, we can't break it while it’s dormant – we have to wait until it manifests again, then strike, as that’s when its inner workings are exposed and vulnerable. Let’s arrange to meet a few hours before the next full moonrise – we can use the time for preparation, then as soon as it manifests we break it. OK?” Alan nodded. “Sure – and thanks.”

Peter spoke. “Let me have a look, too – wanna see if I can find out who did this to you.” Alan sat quietly as Peter touched a clear quartz crystal to his forehead... then activated the vision spell inside it, took one look at the image that appeared therein, and quickly disengaged the spell and removed the crystal, wrapping it in black silk.

“Guy’s got quite a bit of power. Didn’t dare look for long – he’d sense me. And he’s too well shielded for me to find his location, let alone do anything to him. Here’s his image – do either of you recognise him?” Angus shook his head... but Alan went quiet and still. “I do. That’s Colin – my ex. Typical bitchy queen. Threw him out two months ago – caught him screwing around on me.” Peter nodded. “That figures. Hell hath no fury like a cheating bitch caught & punished!”

Jonathan was thoughtful. “We can break the curse, and protect you from further magical shit... but there might be a better way to deal with him. It goes like this...” all three guys listened as Jonathan laid out his plans. Peter was in agreement. “Yeah – that won’t be difficult. If you can slam the bastard hard enough to break his power, I can catch him for further treatment.” Jonathan was satisfied. “Then we have a plan. Best do it at our place where we have other assets available on hand if needed.” Peter nodded. “I’ll go and see Gil – think one of those capture crystals might come in handy on the night too.” Jonathan’s face was hard. “Excellent thinking, brother – even better than what I had in mind. Get an extra flask of crystal solvent while you’re there, will you? Our stock’s getting down a bit.”

Jonathan & Peter checked the lunar calendar and exchanged phone numbers with Alan. All 4 guys laid plans to meet up at Angus’ place a few hours before the next full moon rose, then parted company. Alan got his bike out of Angus’ garage and headed home. Jonathan and Peter ‘ported back to the mansion, where they made a number of arcane preparations.

Several weeks later, Alan rode to Angus’ place. Apprehensive about the planned work, but with no better alternative, he pulled up to find Angus, Jonathan and Peter waiting. Jonathan greeted him. “Yo, man – how you doing?” Alan replied “Not good. VERY wound up, feeling like I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. This isn’t easy to process.” Peter nodded. “That’s understandable. I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to get too worked up. We’ve done a lot of preparation for this, so you’ll be as safe as possible.”

Angus spoke up. “Alan – I wouldn’t’ve reached out to Jonathan & Peter if I didn’t trust them. If they can’t sort you out, nobody can. You’re in good hands here... just relax and follow their instructions.” Alan took a deep breath and nodded. “OK. What now?” Jonathan smiled, reassuringly. “Now, we gotta ride. Will be some special effects needed to get you both to our place. Angus knows what to expect, so just stay beside him, with me in front and Peter at the back.... don’t be surprised at what we do, and stay on your bike until we say otherwise. OK?”

Angus grinned. “Nothing to worry about, man – you’ll be fine”. Alan nodded. “Sure...” and swung out into position as the four bikers roared out of the city and into the hills.

Going up a gentle slope, Alan’s eyes widened in shock as Jonathan & Peter wrapped him, Angus and their bikes in a net of green fire... then all four riders lifted up from the tarmac, soared out of the world, over a rainbow bridge of colours Alan had never seen in his life and had no names for; bringing them down upon a flagstone courtyard before a grand mansion, among gardens and parklands, under a glowing, featureless sky.

As the bikes settled on to the courtyard, the net of green fire disappeared and all four riders came to a halt. Peter grinned. “Welcome to our place. Leave your bike here – it’ll be fine. Let’s get indoors.” Shakily, Alan swung off his bike. “WHAT THE – “ He blinked and caught his breath. “OK. Now, just WHERE the fuck are we?!” Jonathan gave him a reassuring smile. “This is our place. We’re on a dimensional ark, floating outside normal time and space. Weird, I know – but given our abilities (and our immortality), we needed a bolthole like this.” Alan’s eyes were wide. “I can understand that need – but the reality of this place takes some adjusting to. And the COLOURS of that bridge were just indescribable. Like, WOW!” Jonathan grinned. “Cross–dimensional bridges get that way – words aren’t much use when it comes down to descriptions. It’s why the ancient Scandinavian lore only describes Bifrost – the interdimensional bridge to Asgard – as a ‘Rainbow Bridge’ – there aren’t words suitable to form a more detailed description of the true colours.”

Jonathan & Peter took their guests straight to the lab. “We’ll do the social thing later. First things first. Let’s get started.” Jonathan cast a protective circle round them all, then looked at Peter. “You ready, brother?” Peter nodded, bringing out a blue capture crystal. “All good to go.” Jonathan grinned “OK – taking us to 15 minutes before moonrise... and synchronised.”

As they waited, Jonathan rumbled “Not long now...” Peter nodded “Yeah.” Angus gave Alan a reassuring look. “Calm down, brother. Peter & Jonathan know what they’re doing. They’ll sort this out.” Alan nodded. “I hope so. It’s driving me round the twist!”

Watching Alan closely, Jonathan saw the ripple of magic as the curse manifested. “NOW!!!” With a flash of green lightning, Jonathan struck – and Alan staggered back as the curse shattered. Wrapping a combined knockout and magical obliteration spell inside the shattered curse, Trojan Horse style, Jonathan yelled “FOLLOW IT, BROTHER!!!” as he dumped the broken curse back on its originator. Peter vanished, following the psychic stink of broken magic to its source.

In a classy apartment in Los Angeles, Colin sat back waiting for moonrise. “Hope you enjoy being reduced to nothing... Daddy.” He remarked, smirking. Then, as the edge of the full moon appeared over the horizon, his smirk vanished.

“AAAIIIEEE!!!”

Colin screamed and grabbed his head in agony as the backlash from his broken curse slammed into him. Going through all his magical defences, because the curse was made with his own power, which said defences could not block. As Colin collapsed to the floor, head splitting, writhing in pain, Jonathan’s Trojan Horse spell emerged from inside the wreck of the curse and exploded. Colin’s eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out, his defences flying apart as the spell obliterated them from the inside and hurled his consciousness into darkness.

Next, Peter appeared in Colin’s lounge with the capture crystal, cut and placed a lock of Colin’s hair in its base and activated it. The crystal bathed Colin’s unconscious body in blue light, dissolved him and sucked him into itself. Leaving his clothes and shoes behind, empty, collapsed on the floor... and a deep violet crystal in Peter’s hand. With a satisfied smirk, Peter wrapped the crystal in black silk and returned it to his pocket, then stripped Colin’s apartment of all magical paraphernalia and ‘ported back to the mansion with it.

“Yo, brother. All done.” Peter grinned at Jonathan. “Here’s what’s left of Colin the cunt.” He handed the capture crystal over. “And here’s all his stuff – we can go through it later and see if we can utilise any of it.” Jonathan grinned. “Nicely done, brother!” Alan & Angus listened, eyes wide, as Jonathan explained “This is a capture crystal. You saw it in its unused state, blue, before Peter left. It’s violet now because Colin has been absorbed into it. The absorption is a one way process – Colin has no way back – so he can’t bother any of us, ever again.”

Angus was shocked. “My GOD! You basically destroyed his life!” Peter nodded. “Yeah, we did. It’s a harsh reality where magic is concerned – the occult has no effective police or law enforcement, so we have to be a bit ruthless about dealing with opponents and protecting ourselves against counterstrikes.”

Jonathan agreed. “For your sake and ours, it was necessary. It’s a less pleasant aspect of magical work – we reserve it for real need only. If Colin hadn’t had magical powers of his own, we wouldn’t've used it.” Alan was thoughtful. “I agree, it’s a horrible thing to do... but I can’t help feeling relieved that he can’t ever threaten me again.” Angus agreed. “Aye, there is that. I gotta say, I wouldn’t've been too easy in my mind if he’d still been running around on the loose either. A tough call – but I’m relieved you made it.”

Peter nodded. “This sort of thing goes with the territory. It’s a necessary evil – nothing more.” Jonathan continued “Aye. Now to deal with redress – again, something we have to see to ourselves. And you, Alan, deserve some compensation for what Colin did to you. I’m gonna see to that now.”

Going over to a medium size tank on the bench, Jonathan placed the crystal in it, poured a flask of crystal solvent over it and sealed the tank shut. Alan & Angus watched in amazement as the crystal dissolved, leaving the tank partially filled with a shimmering violet liquid. Jonathan decanted it into a smaller tank. “Hmmm. 5 litres – more than I expected. Thought we’d get some extra due to his magic – but not THAT much more. He must’ve been more powerful than we realised.”

All 3 guys watched closely – Alan and Angus fascinated, Peter quietly interested – as Jonathan carefully refined the violet fluid, pouring the waste products down the drain, until he was left with 2 litres of a sparkling liquid that couldn’t decide whether it was silver or gold. After transferring it to a flask, he poured some of it into a beaker and added other ingredients, using his gifts to combine them into a glowing green liquid that filled the beaker, then turned to Alan. “All of Colin has been stripped away and poured down the drain, except for his magical life energy. That’s in the flask, and I’ve used some of it to make a rejuvenation potion in the beaker. 1 teaspoon – 5 millilitres – will take 5 years off your age. How young do you want to be?”

Alan’s jaw dropped. “My GOD. Are you SERIOUS???!!!” Jonathan grinned. “Absolutely. I don’t recommend going younger than 25 – that’s the minimum age for full physical and mental maturity – but other than that, pick a number!” Alan laughed. “Well, how many impossible things have I seen now?!” Peter quipped “None before breakfast, at least.” Everyone laughed.

“Give me a moment, guys?” Alan asked, and sat back to think. “You said 1 teaspoon removes 5 years, yes?” Jonathan confirmed that. “Then I‘ll have 7 teaspoons, please. That’ll remove 35 years from my age and take me back to 30 – a nice sweet spot, in between twinkhood and daddyhood.”

Peter grinned as Jonathan measured out 7 teaspoons into a glass, which he handed to Alan. “The potion includes a few extra enhancements... so, if you want to preserve your clothes, strip naked first.” Alan nodded... nervous, but starting to get excited too. “Can I watch myself change?” Jonathan laughed. “Of course – just stand in front of the mirror first, then swallow this, all in one go.”

“Thanks.” Alan undressed, took the glass and walked over to the mirror. Standing facing the glass, he chugged the potion all at once.

“AAARRRHHH!!!”

Alan roared as the potion exploded inside his gut and dissolved into starry light, infusing his entire body... then turned into heat as his rejuvenation began.

Staring at his reflection in amazement, he watched as his wrinkles smoothed out, his skin freshened up and became younger. Next, his grey hair darkened to its original jet black and extended forwards, reversing years of receding hairlines – and his straggly goatee thickened and spread into a full black beard & moustache as his face firmed up and hardened.

Next, his sagging torso, stringy arms and chicken legs firmed up and bulked out with muscle... as his back & shoulders straightened up and broadened out. His cock and balls blossomed, reviving from a wrinkly mess to gorgeous man meat, and grew longer, thicker & larger.

Finally, his renewed gorgeous young body was covered with a pelt of black hair – and he felt something inside him pushing out, as the ceiling got closer and he grew from 5’8” to 6’6”. The magic infused his body, placing him in a state of perfect health, and abated.

Angus, irrepressible, gave Alan an old fashioned wolf whistle. “Now THAT is impressive... you sexy fucker!” The gorgeous hunk winked at him – and Angus actually blushed. Peter’s voice murmured, laughing in the back of Jonathan’s head “Wanna bet they’ll be an item soon?” Jonathan laughed back. “No – I’m certain of it. And I never bet on certainties unless I propose the wager.” Peter had difficulty not laughing out loud.

Getting back to business, Jonathan asked Alan “How do you feel?” The young hunk laughed. “Like a fucking GOD. This is amazing!” Peter chuckled. “Now, loose ends time. Colin was a lot wealthier than you – and his pad’s a lot better than yours – so we rewrite reality, wipe his life out and add the best of it to YOUR life.” With a net of green fire, he altered all records and memories, erasing all traces of Colin’s existence, blending Colin’s assets, knowledge, financial skills, property and wealth into Alan’s life.

“There you go. Nobody remembers Colin, and no records of him exist. For you, your life has been adjusted to your physical age, and all memories and records of you altered accordingly. Your birth day and month are unchanged, but your birth year has been rolled forward by 35 years. I’ve also transferred all Colin’s assets – wealth, property etc. – to you, along with his knowledge & financial skills. Your apartment is gone, and Colin’s former apartment is now yours.”

Jonathan chuckled at Alan’s expression. “I’ve expanded your gear – and your bike – to fit you. Get dressed, stud – before poor Angus creams his pants!”

With a dirty laugh, Alan got dressed – but, feeling Angus’ eyes on him, deliberately made a slow exhibition of the whole process. Snuggling into his briefs, with a wiggle that did terrible things to Angus. Slipping into his t-shirt like a piece of man meat into a condom, the cotton stretching tightly over his torso, bouncing his pecs right where Angus couldn’t help but see them. Wriggling sensuously into his leathers like they were a second skin, and sliding his feet into his boots like he was pushing into somebody’s tight ass.

All the while, Angus tried desperately not to drool. In vain. Alan making his glutes bounce – inside tight black leather – was too much. Now it wasn’t just Peter who struggled not to laugh out loud. Jonathan murmured in the back of Peter’s head “Dirty fucker... gotta say I like his style!” Peter snorted in silent laughter. “Indeed!”

Jonathan transferred the rest of the potion to a bottle, placed it and the flask of magical energy liquid in his safe, and locked the door. “OK guys – work’s over. Let’s get upstairs to the drawing room and relax, and we’ll get our bitches busy with dinner.” All headed upstairs... with occasional personal noises in the background as Alan groped Angus’ backside and murmured dirty things in his ear. The two of them fell far enough behind that Jonathan & Peter had time for a long hard laugh, in private, after reaching the drawing room.

“Oh fuck, that dirty bugger!” Jonathan hooted. Peter, laughing so hard he couldn’t speak, resorted to mind speech. “And ye Gods, I never knew Angus could blush so red. It was getting hard to tell where skin ended and hair began!!!” Shaking in laughter, they summoned Baz & Nicky, then calmed down over cigars and brandy as Angus & Alan entered. Once all were sorted with refreshments, both Masters set their boys to work on dinner.

At Alan’s request, they activated a large flatscreen TV for a geology series he was interested in. “This week’s episode is on the San Andreas Fault and the Cascadia Subduction Zone. Both local, unstable, and with devastating potential.” Settling down, they watched the programme with interest – then discussed it afterwards. With a certain level of concern. “I never realised that the two systems were connected like that.” Jonathan remarked. Peter nodded. “It’s downright fucking scary, bluntly. The potential for disaster – all it needs is a big enough quake in the wrong place to set BOTH systems off – how the hell do people responsible for managing that sleep at night?” Jonathan was quiet. “I don’t know. It’s not a job I could do.” Peter shook his head. “Nor I.” Alan agreed. “I’m actually relieved Colin was so cagey – he refused, point blank, to invest in any projects in California and the Pacific Northwest due to this very risk... meaning I’m not exposed financially either, now.”

Over dinner, they sought to lift their spirits with a change of subject, turning the conversation to the next bike run. However, Angus was slightly saddened. “You remember your first run with us, when we had to abandon the original plans because Steve’s boy got COVID?” Peter nodded. “Well, young Jack pulled through... but not unscathed. Poor guy’s got long COVID. He’s a wreck. Too ill to ride... almost bedridden, in fact. Steve’s become his carer, now. A hard job. They can’t join us on a run – so we’re gonna join them.”

Jonathan was quiet. And spoke thoughtfully in the back of Peter’s mind “I think we should do something about that, brother.” Peter agreed. “Definitely.” Thoughtfully, they spoke up and agreed to join the run. Angus & Alan were delighted.

Angus told them “After Jack got out of hospital, Steve moved them both to his late uncle’s place in the Columbia Mountains – feeling that the cleaner, drier air would be better for Jack’s lungs. They’ve issued a standing invitation to all club members to drop by and see them whenever we like. Now you’ve agreed to join, we have the full club lined up for the run – which is downright fucking perfect.”

Peter grinned “Speaking of fucking... do you two wanna stay over tonight? Got a guest suite with a super king size bed available.” Jonathan winked “Privacy guaranteed.” Alan’s dirty chuckle made Angus blush. Jonathan laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes... we’ll show you the room shortly.”

After dinner, cigars and brandy, Alan grinned. And murmured something in Angus’ ear that caused a huge blush. “Guys – you’ll excuse us, I hope? I have a certain private entertainment planned for this gentleman.” Placing a possessive hand on Angus’ shoulder, he smirked as he guided him upstairs. Their hosts laughed. “Enjoy!”

The following morning, Peter & Jonathan didn’t even try to keep the grins off their faces as Angus and Alan joined them for breakfast... both thoroughly satiated. Alan with a smug, cocky grin and a smuttily satisfied light in his eyes. Angus’ hips so slack he couldn’t walk straight, his eyes in a happy post coital haze. Both guys’ lips rough and swollen with beard rash. After breakfast, both guests were lifted over the rainbow back to L.A.

The following weekend, the entire club met up at dawn for the run across the state to the Columbia Mountains. 98 strong, they cruised across country, then climbed up into the hills as the sun set behind them. Arriving at Steve’s place as twilight fell.

With a stunned look on his face, an older daddy biker bear came out onto his porch. “Brothers! And WOW! I didn’t expect a turnout like THIS! Thanks!!!” Angus waved at him. “Hey, Steve! How’s yourself and your boy?” Steve looked tired. “Both of us are feeling beaten down and worn out. This is proving to be one HELL of a load to carry.”

Angus spoke quietly. “I’d like you to meet two of our newer members...” – and introduced Peter & Jonathan. Both projecting auras of calm, trust and peace, they instantly overwhelmed Steve. As he bade Angus and everyone to make themselves at home, he turned inside and, soon afterwards, emerged pushing Jack in his wheelchair... to find Peter waiting for him. “Yo, guys. Tents are up, machines are on their stands, and supper’s on the way. Join us!” Pushing Jack’s chair, Steve beheld a marquee and tent city on the field behind the house, created by Jonathan, where everyone was settling in. “We figured the canvas was necessary – couldn’t fit everyone under your own roof.” Peter led their hosts towards a big outdoor kitchen, where they joined everyone else for supper.

As everyone looked towards the kitchen, where the guys doing the cooking were getting very busy, Jonathan and Peter walked up to Jack. Calm, trust and peace spells on full, they each took one of his hands in greeting... then held him firmly as they poured green fire into his body. Before the stunned, amazed look on Steve’s face and the increasingly incredulous delight on Jack’s, his body was healed of long COVID and returned to peak health and fitness.

Jonathan and Peter grinned in joy as they released Jack’s hands. “How do you feel now, brother?” Jonathan asked Jack. “Downright fucking WONDERFUL!” Jack answered. “You guys just gave me my life back. THANK YOU!!!” Steve’s face was wet. “That goes for me too!” Jonathan chuckled. “Indeed it will.” And laying hands on Steve’s shoulders, Jonathan and Peter healed and rejuvenated his body and mind as well. “You deserve it more than anyone – being a family carer is a hell of a weight to carry. There are few who would – or could – stand by him the way you did.” Peter told him, releasing Steve... who, his voice trembling, thanked them before hastening over to hug Jack. Both with tears of joy on their faces.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Bill, an older biker, exclaimed, his jaw dropping. Jonathan grinned at him. “Just brothers helping brothers, man. We’ve got some extra gifts, is all.” Bill’s eyes were wide. “Guys – extra gifts or whatever, THAT was plain weird. You’re making me believe in the kind of miracles that the pastor back home used to preach about!” Jonathan laughed. “I bet your pastor never told you just HOW some of those biblical miracles were achieved... the early Christians, and the Hebrews before them, utilised a lot more magic than modern Christians are comfortable with!”

Bill wasn’t the only one stunned by the healing and rejuvenation – shock & raised eyebrows were widespread among the members who hadn’t previously met Peter & Jonathan – but grins of delight and approval followed as the results became clear. The gathering round the bonfire was a lot more cheerful and merry than had been expected. Jonathan and Peter spent most of the night in the company of Steve, Jack, Angus and Alan.

The next day, the members who hadn’t previously met Peter and Jonathan gathered in the marquee as their story was told. With the obligatory shapeshifts along the way. Dan, a rough old school biker, growled “I’ve seen the demonstrations and I still don’t believe it. You guys got a LOT more work to do if you wanna convince ME.”

Jonathan grinned. “How about this?!” as he wrapped Dan with a web of green magic, dissolved his body into a ball of green light, shrank the ball and brought it over to the palm of his hand... where he reconstituted Dan’s body as a 6 inch tall version of itself. He transferred the shocked guy to his left shoulder, protecting and securing him in place with the necessary spells and providing downsized food, drink and smokes for him. Along with a couple of sanitary spells to take care of piss and shit.

“HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT!!!” Dan yelled. Jonathan and Peter both laughed. “Believe us now, little guy?” Dan took a deep breath... “Yeah, I do – though it’ll take a bit of time to get my head around this.” Jonathan grinned. “Well, you’ve got food, smokes & drinks there – and we’ve used a few spells to keep you safe, secure, and handle your piss & shit... so just chill and cogitate a bit.” Peter added “It’s easier to face it while you’re changed – stops all the mental tricks and shenanigans that the mind can pull from getting in the way.”

As his current situation sank in, Dan took a deep breath, lit a cigar, popped a can of beer, and tried to relax. It proved surprisingly easy. Long cogitations and conversations followed throughout the day as Dan spent it on Jonathan’s shoulder, getting gradually more and more drunk and stoned, without a care in the world. As dinnertime approached, Jonathan removed Dan from his shoulder and returned him to full size. “All good there, big man?” Dan laughed “Sure. Though I’ll never look at the world the same way, ever again. Thanks, brother.” Jonathan grinned. “Glad it’s been useful.” Dan joined Jonathan and Peter by the fire.

Many hours later, the moon riding high in the heavens, they sat round the dying bonfire. Bed was on everyone’s mind. Rick rumbled “Been a bloody good run. And what you two guys did for Steve and Jack is something else.” Dan laughed “Yeah – and riding your shoulder like that was sick, man. I just had the most carefree day of my life, doing that. Didn’t have ANYTHING to worry about!” Jonathan laughed. “There’ll be more runs in the future, brother... we can always do it again sometime.” Dan grinned. “I’ll look forward to it – many thanks!”

Suddenly, the peace of the night was shattered, as the birds awoke and called out in panic; the land animals all dived into their holes; and the earth beneath everyone’s backsides shook. Jonathan and Peter instantly wrapped everyone in protective spells... as the shaking got worse. And worse. Rumbling on... and on... and on, for what seemed an eternity.

Eventually, the tremors ceased, and the earth quietened. Jonathan & Peter checked the place out. Tents collapsed, bikes fallen over, trees down, house and barn badly damaged. After some extensive cleanup, salvage, repair and restoration work – both magical and physical – everyone regrouped round the bonfire, which was rebuilt and relit. Faces were grave. “If that was this bad here, what state is the coast in?” Rick asked. Angus answered “Probably wrecked. To be that bad up here, it must’ve been the big one.” A grim silence spread among the group. Peter spoke in the back of Jonathan’s head. “I think we should check it out.” Jonathan agreed, and spoke. “Guys – everyone here’s OK; so sit tight and we’ll go have a look.” Peter added “Might be a while... don’t wait up. We’ll be back ASAP.” Both guys vanished into thin air. Eventually, everyone went to bed. Jonathan & Peter did not return that night – they spent it out and about, ‘porting hither and thither, surveying the scope and the damage of the earthquake.

Gathered round a breakfast table in the marquee the next morning, munching and talking, everyone fell quiet as Jonathan & Peter entered the tent. Both their faces gray, shocked and tired. Peter spoke first. “It’s bad. REALLY bad.” Jonathan nodded, grimly. “Looks like BOTH Cascadia and San Andreas kicked off. Big time. I guess it must’ve been at least a magnitude 9. Maybe even higher.” A horrified silence fell.

Peter picked up the narrative. “The San Andreas fault has cracked open along its entire length. There’s a huge inlet opened – you can sail a boat down its length now, from the southern end of San Francisco Bay all the way to the Salton Sea. Every town and city along the way has been obliterated. The coast to the west of the fault has been pushed down and over – Los Angeles and every other community west of the Coastal Ranges has been torn apart and either partially or completely submerged into the ocean.”

Grimly, Jonathan added “And that’s not all. The San Andreas has split to the north as well – the entire coast from north of the bay up to Cape Mendocino has sheered off and fallen into the sea. Further north, Cascadia has ruptured and caused severe coastal subsidence right through Oregon and Washington State. Seattle and Portland have both taken a beating – quake, fires and tsunamis have wrought hell there, and both cities have partially sunk into the ocean. The USGS has triggered the volcano alert systems as well – as San Andreas, Cascadia and the Cascade volcanoes are part of the local section of the Ring of Fire systems, they consider the quake has a high probability of triggering eruptions.”

Peter added “Everyone’s crossing their fingers and praying that the volcanoes stay quiet. Mount Rainier's lahars are the last thing Seattle needs right now. And ash from Mount St. Helens would seriously hinder rescue and disaster relief efforts. San Francisco seems to have been lucky. It’s been damaged badly by the quake and tsunami, but has been spared the land collapse. It hasn’t sunk into the ocean. Though all the bridges – including the Golden Gate – are gone.”

Diego swore “Mierda!” Angus agreed. “Looks like we’re all homeless. Most of us are coastal guys.” Alan nodded. “And even those of us whose homes are still intact will have problems trying to get to them – I expect highway collapses, severe road damage, etc. will have occurred.” Peter confirmed it. “Remember the quake years ago that pancaked the multi level highways in L.A.? That’s nothing compared to the way things are now. The eastern half of L.A. has been reduced to rubble – and the western half has sunk into the ocean. Along with all the land between the city and the old coastline.”

Jaws dropped. Rick spoke quietly. “The death toll... I don’t want to think about it.” Jonathan nodded, sadly. “Judging by the bodies we saw – rafts of them, floating in the ocean – and the devastation on land, I expect it’ll be in the millions. Hitting at night like that, on a weekend, a lot of people were in bed. Of those who were awake, many were drunk, stoned or high. None of them would’ve been able to react in time to save themselves. It’s going to take years and years to recover from this – and some places may never recover. The coastal rupture has created brand new cliffs from north of the Bay all the way to where Cape Mendocino used to be, so the coastal towns have either been obliterated or have lost their beaches and their access to the water. I doubt they’ll ever be rebuilt.”

Stuart’s jaw dropped “Wait a moment – you said where the cape USED to be?!” Peter nodded. “It collapsed completely into the ocean. It’s gone.” Stuart and Anthony were shocked. “FUCK!!!” A quiet, grim silence fell across the gathering. Steve spoke up. “Guys – if you want to stay here, you’re welcome to do so. Might be the best option for now.” Murmurs of assent rippled over the room.

“There’s our place as well.” Jonathan added. “Which might even be better, as we’ll be completely out of the way of any volcanic shit that might kick off. We’ve the advantage of being able to swim across the timestream there to get past the worst of the disaster and recovery phases here, along with swimming back in time a bit to salvage as much of your stuff as we can from before the quake. Storage won’t be a problem either – our dimensional ark has plenty of room for that. It’s a bolthole that could save your bacon.”

Peter concurred, adding “We can wrap this place in protective wards etc. while we’re away – make sure nobody interferes with it in our absence.”

Thoughtfully, all the guys talked it over. With extensive input from those who’d been there. Peter suggested “Give it a try. We can always return here if it doesn’t work out.” Jack finally remarked “Worth a shot – let’s give it a go. Besides, we’re all ‘friends of Dorothy’, to use an old term... so why SHOULDN’T we go over the rainbow?!” Groans, eye rolls and sarcastic laughter greeted that statement. “What the hell – if we don’t try it, we’ll never know. Worth a shot!” Steve grinned. “Now, how do we do this?” Jonathan smiled. “We get on our machines and ride up higher into the hills. I need to lead, with Peter at the rear – nobody in front of me, nobody behind Peter. Once we’re ready, we’ll lift you all in between us. Don’t be alarmed, and don’t stop or get off your machines until we land on our courtyard. OK?”

All in agreement, they got ready and climbed onto their bikes. Some nervous, some eager... Steve and Jack buzzing with sheer excitement as they hauled their bikes out of the garage and climbed back onto the machines they’d never expected to ride again. The 20 guys who’d been over the rainbow bridge before spaced themselves out amongst the rest, providing reassurance and calming nerves. All ready, they followed Jonathan up, higher into the mountains. But not for long. The 20 riders who knew what to expect all grinned in excitement as the familiar net of green fire wrapped them and their machines; the rest gasped in shock... as Jonathan & Peter lifted everyone up, off the ground, out of the world, over the rainbow bridge, and brought them to rest on the flagstones of their mansion’s courtyard.

The 20 guys who’d been across the rainbow before grinned, laughing in joy as they kicked their stands down, swung off their bikes and turned to the other 78 riders who, awed, were shakily dismounting.

Bill was freaking out. “Guys – WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE???!!!” Jonathan & Peter grinned at him. “At our mansion, on the dimensional ark we told you of. How do you like it?” Bill’s eyes were wide, his body shaking. “Brothers – help. This is a bit of a head stretch... and I’m not sure my head is stretchable enough for it!”

Gently, Jonathan wrapped Bill – and a few other guys who were just as badly rattled – in a spell of calm reassurance. Soothing away the fear, the shock and the disorientation, he quietly adjusted their minds until understanding and acceptance were achieved.

Once the gathering had calmed down, Peter spoke. “Welcome to our home, brothers. Let’s get inside and get settled. Leave the machines where they are – they’re quite safe out here.”

Urged on by the 20 who knew their way around, everyone followed their hosts to the drawing room, where Peter & Jonathan summoned Nicky & Baz. “Brothers – drinks, smokes and snacks are available. Give our bitches your orders, then sit down and get comfortable.” Peter told everyone. Looking at Baz & Nicky, Jonathan added “Boys – with this number of guests, you’re going to need some assistance. I’ll have the housekeeping server assign a few drones.” Jonathan accessed a handheld wireless device and sent the necessary commands. 5 drones entered the room and started serving the guests. Causing wide eyes among the first time visitors. “Wow – robot servants! That’s SO cool!” Jack exclaimed. Russell laughed. “Gave us a helluva shock the first time we saw them, believe me!” Peter and Jonathan smirked, keeping quiet about the origins of the drones.

As the guys settled back with cigars, brandy, beer, finger foods and so on, questions and conversations began. “So this is the dimensional ark you told us about, then?” Steve asked Jonathan. “Yes, it is.” Jonathan answered. “We’re totally disconnected from time here, so we’ve no need to rush. After we’ve shown you to your rooms, we can chill out, have some fun...then after we’ve had a good night’s sleep, we’ll have the energy to swim the timestream back a few days, salvage everyone's stuff and put it into storage here.”

With a pleased chorus of agreement, everyone relaxed. Much later, after dinner, Jonathan & Peter showed their guests to their bedrooms to unpack and get a good rest. Relaxing in their master suite, Peter remarked “I used to think you had delusions of grandeur, making this place so massive. Now I’m just glad you DID make it so big.” Jonathan agreed. “Better too much space than too little, brother.”

The following morning, after breakfast, Peter & Jonathan took the ark across the timestream to the morning immediately before the quake, secured it in place, then gathered everyone together. Jonathan spoke. “Right. Salvage time. Our magical lair can’t hold everyone, so we do this in one group of 8, then 9 more groups of 10. We’ll take each group to the lab, locate and extract each guy’s stuff from their place the morning before the quake, then bring them back up here so the next group can go down. Let’s get started!”

Angus, Alan, Diego, Russell, Stuart, Anthony, Steve and Jack made up the first group. Jonathan grinned and created a series of underground storage units within the hull of the ark, adding a new entrance to the facility in the basement vestibule.

“OK. Who’s first?” Russell stepped forward; Jonathan placed a hand on his shoulder and calmed his mind. “Now, bring the location of your apartment and your stuff to the front of your mind.” Russell did so; Jonathan touched his mind, waved his hand and the inside of Russell’s apartment appeared via a viewing spell on the wall. Carefully, under Russell’s direction, Jonathan ‘ported all his possessions from the flat and placed them in the first storage unit, then handed him the key. “The unit number is on the tab. Check it over, then come back here. Any problems, let me know.” Russell grinned. “Thanks – will do!” and headed out of the lab. Jonathan called Angus forward. “Your turn.” Shortly afterwards, Angus was off to check his storage unit too. Then Alan. And so on.

Once all 8 were seen to, Jonathan led them upstairs and Peter took the next group of 10 downstairs. Both Masters took alternate groups, splitting the load and taking a dose of a restorative potion after each group was done. Finally, it was finished.

Jonathan unhitched the dimensional ark from Earth time. “Now, brothers, that’s the most urgent stuff done. By now, I’m sure those of you who haven’t been here before have heard all the stories from those who have. Magical malarkey is available for those who want it, and we’ve all the time in the multiverse to enjoy it. Anyone want to give it a go – and what’s your fantasy? Nothing permanent or irreversible; usual 12 hour time limit, followed by automatic reversion, applies.”

Angus grinned as he asked “We’ve got a lot of guys interested in bodyswapping – can we do a mass swap again?” Jonathan grinned. “No surprise there! However, given the increase in numbers compared to last time, this will be a huge bodyswap marathon – which, for the older guys’ bodies, could be a bit much... so let’s rejuvenate you all first.” With a wave of his hand, every guy older than 30 instantly had his body regressed to the age of 30 – and everybody, regardless of age, was restored to perfect health and peak fitness. Jonathan finished with a reality rewrite, adjusting all records and memories of the rejuvenated guys to fit their new ages.

Jonathan grinned at the stunned looks on their faces. “Rejuvenation is permanent – and I’ve rewritten reality so all records, documents, and memories of you are adjusted accordingly. Nobody else remembers you being older, and your birth dates are adjusted to fit. This is the only exception we make to our 12 hour rule. Now, the fun can start – here we go!” and he snapped his fingers. Yells of shock rose from 98 mouths as everyone was switched into someone else’s body. Jonathan & Peter laughed. “12 hours in each body, then you move to another body. No-one does the same body twice. Everyone gets a turn in everyone else’s body before getting back to their own body. Also, a new twist... I’ve added a binding spell, so none of you are able to reveal your true identity until you’re back in your own body. Means that nobody’s gonna know who they’re playing with or who’s playing with them. Adds a bit of spice to the whole thing. Once you’re back in your own body, it’s all over. Have fun!”

In fairly short order, the party degenerated into a fuckfest and orgy. Peter thoughtfully supplied more of the restorative potion for everyone to use at need; then he & Jonathan sat back with cigars and brandy to watch the show, occasionally taking a guy down to the dungeon when desired. Over the next 49 days and nights, everyone shagged everyone else. With nobody knowing who was really in bed with them.

Once it was over, everyone staggered to their own beds, in their own bodies... and slept for a solid 48 hours. Coming down for brunch, all the first time visitors much less uptight than earlier, they made a happy group in the breakfast room. Jonathan & Peter grinned in satisfaction.

Over coffee, the subject of the earthquake came up. Peter spoke “I looked forward in time – the repair, rebuild and restoration takes 5 years to complete. We can navigate forward in time and use reality rewrite spells to plug you all in to that post recovery timeframe whenever you like. But there’s no need to rush if you don’t want to. You know the way time is, here.” Alan grinned “Aye. Leads me on to something else we were talking about before you both came downstairs...” Peter’s eyebrows rose. “And what might that be?”

Jack answered the question. “We all want to be turned into piskies for 12 hours! We LOVED seeing your piskey selves and want a go at being that way too! The potential for fun and mischief in that form is AMAZING!” Peter’s eyebrows rose. Beside him, Jonathan went very quiet. Steve asked “Is that request problematic, guys?” Jonathan nodded. “Yes, it is. And the problem is completely outside our control. It’s like this... piskey transformations attract the notice of the Sidhe. And if they like what has been done, they can make it permanent. There’s a very real, significant risk of you being turned into piskies forever. And neither of us will be able to do anything about it – we can neither prevent nor undo such a change. If it happens, you’re stuck with it. Forever.” The room fell silent. Carefully, Angus spoke. “Then we’d better know what being a piskey entails, first. It’s stupid to jump into something like that blindly.” Jonathan & Peter both agreed, and a long discussion ensued.

At the end of the conversation, Alan summed it up. “So... we lose our humanity, but not our identity; we become naughty immortal fairies capable of magical malarkey; we’ll never be the same again... but we retain our selves, and can shapeshift into human form to interact with our friends and family at need. I don’t know how the rest of you feel about it – but it’s good enough for me. I’d be OK with that, because I’ll still be Alan. I’ll still be me – just Alan the piskey rather than Alan the human.” A chorus of cautious, thoughtful agreement rose from everyone.

Jonathan spoke. “OK. Since you’re all good with taking the chance, we’ll do it. Go put your bike gear on, then come back here. Full kit – skins, boots, gauntlets; lids strapped on your belts.” Less than half an hour later, all 98 guys returned to the drawing room, fully kitted out, with helmets strapped to their belts. Jonathan opened a case, revealing 98 vials of shimmering eldritch green liquid, and handed one to each guy. “Drink up!” All 98 bikers tossed their vial’s contents down their throats, and put the vials aside.

“UUURRRGGGHHH...” groans echoed from every mouth as the green faery magic infused their bodies. Then, Jack yelled “WHEE!” as he started to shrink. Further yells followed as everyone else started downsizing too. Peter & Jonathan laughed as everyone changed. A few minutes later, 98 leatherclad piskey bikers were standing on the floor, each 1” tall and as insubstantial as thin air, where the same number of full size human bikers had been standing a few minutes before.

Jack stood there, his head and shoulders poking out of the deep pile of the rug on the floor, in amazement. “This is... stunning. All of a sudden, the world seems an awful lot bigger.” Jonathan & Peter grinned. “Guys – ‘port to the table. You’ll get a better perspective from there.” Steve did so. “I see what you mean. Get up here, brothers!” Everyone followed suit. “This is cool!” Angus remarked. “Got quite a few advantages over being human, frankly.”

A new voice, unfamiliar to everyone except Jonathan, spoke. “Now I’m very happy to hear that, lads – because you’re gonna be brothers long after that potion runs out!” With a laugh, Jonathan’s piskey brother appeared before them all. With a wave of his hands, he bathed all 98 transformed guys in green faery magic... everyone felt a profound inner change as their inner nature, worldview – and even their souls – were modified, permanently changing them into piskies, eliminating their humanity to make their shapeshifts permanent. Each felt two locks click shut inside themselves. The piskey spoke again. “The first lock is on your inner nature, and it’s permanent. No matter what outer form you take, you’re piskies on the inside, where it matters, and you’ll never be anything else. The second lock prevents you shapeshifting, and it’s temporary. It’ll release after being a piskey has become totally natural to you. Enjoy your new lives, brothers!” With a cheeky laugh, he vanished. Leaving 98 new piskies standing on the table, in shock.

Jonathan & Peter flipped into their piskey forms and joined the others on the table. Quietly, Jonathan spoke. “That is what I feared might happen. Is everyone OK?” Affirmation was unanimous. Jack spoke. “He’s a cheeky little fucker, isn’t he?!” Jonathan laughed. “Indeed he is – he was just as cheeky the day he turned me into a piskey!” Eyes widened. “So this is it, then? We’re like this forever?” Dan asked. “Yeah – you are. Welcome to the brotherhood.” Jonathan answered. “We’re immortal, too?” Angus asked. Jonathan nodded. “Yes – this is it. For eternity.” Thoughtful silence crept across the table. Alan spoke up “Well, we knew the risk. So be it.”

Rick grumbled “Only thing is, I was looking forward to a ride round the grounds here. But no way can I handle my bike when I’m like this!” Peter snorted “Shrink and dematerialise your bike to fit you, man!” Rick stared at him “But my shifting powers are locked down!” Jonathan shook his head. “Only for changing your OWN form, Rick. You can change other things easily. Right now.” Rick’s jaw dropped – as did others. Peter laughed. “Tell you what – let’s ‘port out to the courtyard and do just that. Then we can all ride the grounds!” With cheerful laughter, all 100 piskies did so. A few minutes later, a miniature bike race was going on, under the rosebushes, hedgerows and daffodils. Interspersed with shouts and laughter.

Parking their bikes under a box hedge, they all climbed off their machines and ‘ported to the balcony. Sitting there with cigars and brandy, conversation was lively. “Some sweet curves under those rosebushes. Better than the country roads back home!” Dan chuckled. Steve agreed. “Yeah – and did you see the spiders under the daffodils? Frigging things look SO fucking weird up close!” Jack shuddered. “They gave me a fit of the heebie-jeebies! I wasn’t a fan of arachnids in the first place – having spiders bigger than me is SCARY!” Jonathan laughed. “Don’t get too worked up – they can’t touch you. They’d walk right through you and wouldn’t do you any harm whatsoever!”

Alan was curious. “About that – how come we were able to ride our bikes after dematerialising them? And why did the dematerialisation spell feel like it was twisting the guts of every single component of bike, oil and fuel when I used it?” Peter grinned. “It’s like this...” and everyone listened closely as he explained the atomic inversion that made dematerialisation possible. Silence fell as everyone digested the information.

Stuart spoke, thoughtfully. “We’ve all got a lot to learn – about our new forms, our new lives... and about our magic.” Jonathan agreed. “Yes – and learning to use your magic is the best way to begin. It’s vital to our very being. It’s the core of everything we are. Learning about it, and learning to use it, will help you adjust to your new forms all the more quickly.”

Speaking in the back of Peter’s head, Jonathan murmured “I think the best thing for us to do now, brother, is teach. Shall we get on with it?” Peter agreed. “Yeah – I see that. Let’s do it.”

Jonathan continued. “You’ve managed quite a bit by instinct so far. That’s to be expected, as piskey magic has a strong intuitive element to it. However, instinct can only take you so far. We’re more than happy to teach – and the more you learn and work at it, the sooner you’ll be unlocked.”

With a concerned look, Russell asked “That isn’t going to burn you out, is it? There are 98 of us and only 2 of you!” Jonathan nodded. “It is a risk, yes. What we’ll have to do is run short, practical exercise classes – and set a lot of homework. You’ll get the basics, hands on, face to face with us, via direct magical teaching methods that are far more efficient and effective than mundane ones – after that, your homework will be practicing and reading up on the theory behind what you’ve been doing, with us available to provide assistance whenever you start having problems. Also, over time, the more advanced students among you will be able to help the others. Spreading the load like this is the only way we can pull it off, given our current numbers.”

After a slightly slow start, with both teachers and pupils feeling their way into their new roles, everyone settled down. Over time, the classes proved successful and all became better skilled in the use of their faery gifts, reaching very high levels of skill and ability. As time passed, each new piskey became used to their new form, and each shapeshifting lock opened.

Dan remarked. “Hmph. Typical. I’m ABLE to return to my human form now – after reaching the point where I don’t WANT to!!!” Jonathan laughed. “Yeah – that’s how we piskies operate. Always a joke & a sting in the tail!” Dan’s eyebrows rose “So THAT’S why my sense of humour’s gone so sardonic! Being turned into a piskey even gave me the piskey sense of humour!” Peter chuckled. “We wouldn’t be piskies without it, brother. It’s as vital to our being as our magic!” Dan sat down in quiet amazement, looking at himself. Taking stock. Accepting the new person he’d become. Having an epiphany that, over time, each of his brothers would – and did – share.

Some time later, training & education complete and all unlocked & adjusted, they gathered on the balcony, sitting on the railing, looking out over the gardens. Jack asked Peter “Can we swim the timestream forwards and get to the point where recovery and rebuilding are complete? I wouldn’t mind seeing how things look.” The others agreed.

Jonathan & Peter brought the ark forward to the right time, secured it and performed a reality rewrite. Jonathan spoke. “Now, brothers... we’ve rewritten reality, so everyone remembers us all relocating to Steve and Jack’s place for the duration of the recovery and nobody will think twice about us. Now, let’s bring our bikes back to the courtyard, solidify and upsize them, flip our bodies back to human form and cross the rainbow to Steve and Jack’s. From now on, you lift yourselves. You don’t need our help any longer.”

With eager grins, they all did so. 30 minutes later, they swung back in to Steve and Jack’s place in the Columbia Mountains. Looking around, Angus remarked “This could be a very handy clubhouse for us, Steve – off the beaten track, quiet, but with easy access. Feel like opening it up?” Steve grinned. “Why not? The mansion is our real home now, so this can be put to other uses.”

Angus agreed. “It’ll be a good place to bring new prospects in. From now on, becoming a piskey has to be a mandatory part of club membership, as we’re all piskies. We’ll need somewhere to introduce the new guys, gradually and carefully. This could fit the bill very well.” Steve and Jack grinned, then deployed their gifts and changed the house into a clubhouse and social space, with the barn becoming a bike shed. To the approval of all their brothers.

After an evening and night relaxing, they all climbed on to their machines at dawn and headed west to see how everything they’d known looked now. Streaks of green fire, they arced over the sky at dawn... crossing distances in minutes that would once have required hours on the ground. Spreading out, they parted company and headed off to see what was left of their homes.

Jonathan & Peter found San Francisco reassuringly familiar, with only small changes. They were glad to see that the LGBT community had recovered and rebuilt its own safe spaces – and were especially relieved to discover Timothy’s gym was back up and running... even thriving, with its proprietor delighted to see them amidst a huge boom in business.

The fact that so many addicts had perished in the quake had been a salutary lesson... far more people had started choosing workouts, protein shakes and ‘roids in preference to pills, booze and white powder. The switch had actually been significant enough to force several local gangs to change their trafficking practices, replacing heroin, cocaine & ecstasy with illegal ‘roids and supplements. A few had even opened their own gyms. And existing gyms had acquired significant waiting lists for membership.

Both Alan & Angus found Los Angeles a hell of a shock. Rebuilt, but unrecognisable. The eastern half of the city was totally new, built further inland on virgin ground. The old western half of the city was on the seabed, lost to the waves. The old eastern half of the city had become the new western half, running out to a shoreline the city had never had before. All the land from the city to the old shoreline had sunk beneath the waves. Alan was stunned. “I hardly recognise the place! The city I knew is gone...” Nor was he the only one. Angus quietly remarked “This doesn’t feel like my home any more. Everything I knew is either destroyed or profoundly changed.”

Further shocks awaited Russell, Bill, Dan & Diego – who found their homes in Palmdale, San Bernardino and Desert Hot Springs totally gone. Along with the entire towns and cities of which they’d been part. The great jagged gash of the San Andreas Inlet ripped right through where they’d all been, and all traces of them were submerged beneath the waves. Aghast, Russell spoke. “Bloody good job we decided to do that run when we did. I’d be dead if we hadn’t.” Bill's, Dan's and Diego’s agreement was equally shocked.

Things were no better to the north. Stuart & Anthony found Bodega Bay – and their old home there – totally obliterated. A huge cliff rose where the beach had been, cutting off access to the ocean. The town had collapsed into piles of rubble – many of which had caught fire – and had been abandoned.

Deeply shaken, they all returned to the clubhouse. Sitting there in the evening twilight, everybody was badly rattled by what they had seen. Angus spoke up. “Our roots, our homes and our lives here are gone. What do we do now?” Jonathan answered “We make the mansion our home base and settle in there. We use this place as our clubhouse and our base in this world, to run the club and serve as a legal address for licenses, official documents etc., as well as a spot to host runs and bring in new members. We’re brothers. We live and function as a logical family. That’s the foundation on which we rebuild our lives.” Angus agreed. “Yeah – makes sense. Nothing else we can do, anyway. Let’s get back over the rainbow – I doubt I’m the only one ready for dinner.” With quiet agreement, they mounted their machines and headed out, over the rainbow bridge and home.

After eating, they all reverted to piskey form and sat on the balcony railing, smoking, drinking and talking. “So – our new life begins.” Angus mused. “What mischief shall we get up to next?” Jonathan laughed. “No real limits, brothers – not with the powers we all wield! It’s advisable to reserve the really nasty tricks for those who deserve them – but there’s no reason not to indulge in harmless mischief with others!” Dan’s eyes rose “So just what would you consider necessary for someone to deserve such shit?” Peter smirked. “Here’s a good example...” and he told them all the story of the origins of the housekeeping server and its drones. Eyes sparkling with sardonic delight, Bill laughed. “Now THAT is a wonderful way to sort out a bunch of queerbashers! And having them spending eternity in mindless service to the kind of guys they despised is poetic justice. Nicely done, brothers!”

Angus grinned. “How about we get ourselves into San Francisco’s next Pride parade, as a gay bikers’ club? Then sprinkle the afterparty with magical malarkey and mischief?” Laughter rippled across the group. “Now THAT sounds like a plan.” Dan remarked. “Having a nice cute twink to ride & ravage could be fun – especially if I use my cum to stuff him with a slow change spell that’ll turn him into the very kind of guy he’s into most.” Jonathan smirked. “And add a reality rewrite spell to make sure nobody else notices his changes. That always freaks a guy out, big time!” Dan, Bill, Rick, Steve and Jack all burst out laughing.

Russell’s grin was evil. “I know just who I want to do that to as well!” Angus laughed “Micky doesn’t know what he’s in for!” Russell nodded. “Spot on. I’m still cogitating...” Noticing Peter’s look of query, Russell explained “He’s my ex – a twinky little drama queen with a thing for big, hairy, musclebound leather daddies. High time he actually became one!”

Jonathan smirked. “Nice idea, brother – but do some planning & testing in the holotank first. Tailor the spell to do exactly what you want it to do – it’s more fun that way.” Russell nodded. “Sure. I do need to do some prep work, yes. Is anybody using the tank tomorrow?” A chorus of negative answers reassured him. “Then I‘ll make use of the evening to get a set of reference images together, and start the tank work tomorrow.”

The following morning, Russell tinkered with the images, ideas, and knowledge of Micky’s preferences to craft the twink’s ideal leather daddy in the holotank. He crafted the spell, made it slow acting, included personality changes and a reality rewrite, then tucked it away for future use.

Time passed, and each of the others in turn made use of the holotank to craft their own workings and spells for their own targets. Finally, Jonathan asked “Is everybody ready? All plans laid and spells prepared?” Receiving affirmation from everyone, he grinned. “OK, Angus – over to you. What point in time do we need to jump to in order for you to contact the Pride committee and book the club’s place in the parade?” Angus was thoughtful. “Hmmmm...”

Under Angus’ direction, Jonathan & Peter brought the ark to the right point in time & Angus made the booking. Next, they detached the ark and swam the timestream again, bringing the ark to a point 1 month before Pride, so they could grab a copy of the events listing.

Browsing the lists, Russell mused. “Hmmmm... eeny meeny miney mo...” then laughed. “I’m being a fool!” Diego looked at him “Huh?” Russell grinned. “We can read minds – had you forgotten? Let’s dig into our targets’ minds, find out where THEY intend to go, and lay our plans accordingly.”

Angus was pensive “What if they split up?” Peter answered “Then we split up and keep following our individual targets. We’re all telepathic; we can all teleport to each other; physical separation is irrelevant for us.”

Angus nodded. “Yeah – I get it – just old habits die hard.” Peter grinned. “Don’t I know it! My tendency to flip into AAVE is still on automatic – there are days when every syllable is a conscious effort.”

Dan agreed. “Yeah – even without changes as drastic as ours, I learnt that many moons ago. It’s as much a part of life as change... and an inevitable consequence of such change. For every action, an equal and opposite reaction. That applies to human nature as much as it does physical nature. This is just our egoic resistance to change. Nothing more. As long as we keep on plugging at it, it’ll diminish over time. Just keep on going.”

Jonathan chuckled. “That’s enough cogitation and mind food for now. It’s high time we changed the subject and got our feet back on the ground. Let’s get physical and go have some fun!” Securing the ark to the start of San Francisco Pride, everyone did some extensive mindreading. Plans were laid. Jonathan & Peter were delighted to find their target heading for one of their favourite leather bars, and made plans to follow, with dirty glee. Russell, Angus, Alan and Diego found their targets heading for various bars and nightclubs and happily laid plans to track them. Stuart & Anthony found the couple who were their targets heading for a quiet, comfortable restaurant very much to their own liking, and cheerfully rewrote reality to book an adjacent table for themselves.

The following morning, everyone flipped their bodies into human form, bedecked their bikes with Leather Pride flags and rode over the rainbow, bound for the parade. Wind in their faces, they turned plenty of heads – and raised other heads – at the sight of 100 sexy bikers in tight black leather roaring in on their machines. As performers, groups, organisations and other participants assembled, and the crowds built along the route, excitement grew.

As the parade rolled out, they took their place in it and cruised easily through the city. During the parade, they all found and tagged their targets among the crowds. After the parade was over, the fun began. Slowly and carefully, each of them parted company and began stalking their chosen men.

Russell, Angus, Alan and Diego all split up on their separate chases.

Russell grinned as he stepped on to the dancefloor and started a sexy leather daddy dance, heading directly for Mick. Who soon found himself unable to take his eyes off the gorgeous hunk in black leather before him. With a wicked grin, Russell cast a spell of seduction upon him – then smirked quietly as his ex fell for him like a ton of bricks, not knowing who the hunk towering over him had been.

Later that night, he went home with Micky, who was already calling him “Daddy” long before they got in the door. Laying his boy flat on his back in his own bed, Russell proceeded to fuck his brains out. Finally releasing the leather daddy transformation spell into him as he came. After that, a butt plug was inserted and inflated to prevent leakages, and a sleep spell applied to keep him quiet while the transformation spell took root.

The following morning, Russell checked the sleeping twink, ensured he was fine and that both cum and spell had taken root, then deflated and removed the butt plug, cleaned it, and packed it away with the rest of his stuff. After coffee & buttered croissants, he pulled his leathers on, collected his stuff and ‘ported down to the garage. As he kicked his bike into life, he reached up into Micky’s apartment and lifted the sleep spell from him, roaring out of the garage as the twink he’d fucked into a slow 7 day daddification transformation woke up, alone, multiple floors above. Soon afterwards, Russell headed home over the rainbow.

Everyone else also had success that night. Angus took Ian, the musclebound jock & aspiring bodybuilder who’d bullied him at school, to bed and fucked his manhood out of him. As the transformation spell took hold, he’d roll back into a lithe, skinny college swimming champion.

Alan had found his ex Colin’s cousin and partner in crime Marcus, and fucked his dominance out of him. Over the next week, he’d turn back into a submissive young twink.

Diego found Wilhelm, the neo-nazi who’d queerbashed him, multiple times, in childhood... and fucked his straight whiteness out of him. Over the next week, he’d turn into a young gay Spanish man.

With a few exceptions, all the guys had likewise picked past tormentors and successfully exacted revenge. Among the exceptions were Stuart & Anthony, and Peter & Jonathan – each pair had picked a shared target, purely for pleasure.

Stuart & Anthony struck up an easy conversation with Evan & Thomas in the restaurant, leading to a very energetic foursome later that night. After fond farewells the next morning, they parted company... Stuart & Anthony keeping the knowledge of Evan’s & Thomas’s incipient transformations into a pair of spit-roasting dom biker daddies to themselves.

Waking up in Jason’s bed, Jonathan murmured “Woof, Gorgeous” in Peter’s ear. Receiving a low “Grrrr...” in reply. Downstairs, said Jason was restrained, gagged, muzzled, plugged and locked into chastity in his own basement cage. Yesterday he’d been a white dom daddy. Last night he’d been a white bitch for two black Masters. Over the next week he’d turn into a Black Master himself.

Targets all caught, enspelled and released, each of the 100 piskies regrouped back at the mansion. The place was abuzz with energy and amusement. Everybody had a viewing spell on the go in their rooms, watching their targets transform, helplessly, into the people they’d decided to turn them into. Jonathan and Peter joined the throng, set up their own viewing spell and settled in for the show.

Russell grinned as he watched Micky.

Coming in from work, having a shower and drying off, Micky noticed a five o’clock shadow on his face – with surprise. “Huh? I’ve never had that before!” Making a mental note to himself to get a razor tomorrow, he wandered off to the kitchen. The next morning, getting out of bed was harder. His body heavier. Looking in the mirror...

“WHAT. THE. FUCK???!!!”

In the glass, he saw his body had started beefing up. His face was beginning to square off. And to cap it off, a light dusting of body hair had begun to appear.

Staring at his reflection, Mick was shocked. “Am I having a growth spurt or something?! This is WEIRD!” On his bed, Russell burst out laughing. “If he only knew the truth of it!” Chuckling, he watched on.

As the days passed, Mick kept changing. The next morning, he looked and felt older. His body beefing up further, maturing. And the reflection matched, showing him a man who looked like he was in his mid thirties. The morning after, he found himself taller as well as beefier. Cock and balls longer, thicker & larger. The changes ran on over the week.

The next morning, he woke up to find his body had rolled forwards into his early forties. Rugged and hairy. The day after, his face had vanished behind a beard and moustache.

The final morning, he woke up a different person. His mind transformed, as much the 43 year old hairy, kinky, leatherclad muscle daddy on the inside as his body was on the outside. The reality rewrite having changed his life, his records, his documents, his identity and every memory of him and in him, while he slept.

Standing in front of the mirror, he realised that Micky the twink was gone forever. Musclebound leather daddy Michael stood in his place, in full BLUF gear. Looking at his reflection, Michael chuckled. “Whoever did this to me – thanks.” With a grin, he turned away from the mirror and got ready for his day. Finding his Grindr full of twinks wanting Daddy to tie them up, flog and fuck them. Life was good.

In the mansion, Russell smirked in pleasure as he lifted his viewing spell.

Diego had also had an enjoyable week, absolutely gloating as he watched Wilhelm.

Getting up the morning after their shag, Wilhelm headed for work. Getting home that night, he looked in the mirror – and was shocked to see his swastika tattoos fading and his muscles shrinking. “MEIN GOTT IN HIMMELL!!!” he panicked, frantically rubbing his skin.

The next morning, his skin had darkened to a dark golden hue, his blue eyes had turned deep brown... and his blond hair began falling out, with dark black hair growing in to replace it.

The following morning, he woke up – to see a fine boned Latino twink looking back at him in the mirror. No physical trace of his German Caucasian self remained.

Next to go was his language. Waking up the next morning, he was horrified to find his mother tongue had vanished.

“¡DIOS MÍO! ¡YA NO PUEDO HABLAR INGLÉS! ¡YA NO PUEDO HABLAR ALEMÁN! ¡¡¡YA NO PARECE YO MISMO!!! QUE MIERDA ME PASA???!!!”

Diego smirked, knowing that wouldn’t change. Part of the transformation spell prevented fluency in anything except Spanish. Watching, he smirked and gloated as the final rewrite turned Wilhelm into Carlos, a gay Spanish twink with a Grindr full of daddies wanting his ass... and the last part of the neo-nazi queerbasher dissolved into nothingness with a shriek of helpless fury.

“GOTCHA, you bastard!” Diego yelled, punching the air in victory, grinning from ear to ear. Unashamed, he smirked as he lifted his viewing spell. Sometimes, revenge truly is better served cold.

Angus had a marvellous week, watching Ian as the musclebound jock had his bodybuilding dreams dissolved before his eyes.

Waking up in the morning, Ian stretched and flexed in bed – then sat up in shock, feeling lighter. The mirror showed him a fit, defined but less bulky version of himself. “WHAT THE FUCK?! Where’d my muscles go?!” he stared at himself, jaw dropping.

The next day, he woke up to find the room a lot bigger. Measuring his height, he discovered he’d shrunk from 6’4” to 5’2” overnight. And the mirror showed a much younger guy than he’d been the previous evening... looking like he was back in his early twenties instead of his mid thirties.

The day after, his body had condensed to a tight, young appearance, with a swimmer’s butt... and his gym kit had turned into swim kit. Speedo, cap and goggles replaced shorts, tank top and trainers. Freaking out, he curled up in bed, not wanting to look at himself.

The final morning, he awoke as an entirely new person. A competitive swimmer. College champion. His head full of swimming and diving techniques, his body’s muscle memory attuned to speed in the water, and his old bodybuilding jock self consigned to memory.

A lithe, slim college swimming champion stood where a prospective Mr. Universe had once been. As Ian headed out for practice, Angus chuckled, knowing that the transformation spell prevented future muscle gains and would keep Ian slim and skinny for the rest of his life. So much for his bodybuilding dreams.

Angus also smirked as he lifted his viewing spell – then chuckled as Alan walked in, satisfied and happy. “That bastard Marcus – Colin’s sidekick – is now a cute little femboy twink with a bubble butt and a tiny cock, spreading his legs for every dom he can find on Grindr.” Angus grinned. “And Ian’s bodybuilder ambitions are gone. He’s a college swimming champion now, instead. With that lithe, fit body and swimmer’s butt, he’ll be VERY popular in the locker room!” Both guys roared in laughter.

Stuart & Anthony watched in pleasure as Evan and Thomas changed.

The first morning, Thomas woke Evan. “Are you doing the gym? You look like it!” Evan’s eyes rose. “I could ask you the same question! And when did you get tattoos?!” Thomas looked confused. “I haven’t got t- WHAT. THE. FUCK???!!!” Both guys stared at the mirror. And at each other. Evan asked “What is HAPPENING to us?!” Thomas looked confused. “I don’t know – but I’m very glad we’re on holiday this week. This could get difficult if we had to go into the office.”

The next morning... “Hey!” Evan shook Thomas awake. “You’re OLDER!!!” Thomas looked at him. “Speak for yourself!” Evan’s jaw dropped. The mirror showed them two older guys, in their early forties. Bodies bulked out, tougher, mature. Faces hard and strong.

It left both guys terrified. Shaking, Evan stammered “W-What is going on? Where did our youth go?!” Thomas trembled. “I have no idea. This isn’t funny.”

Next morning, the tattoos had spread over both their bodies. Each had grown a pelt of black body hair. Matched by the long thick black hair covering their heads, and the thick beards and moustaches covering their faces. Looking out of the window, Evan stepped back with a gasp. “Thomas – our limo has vanished. THERE ARE TWO HARLEY-DAVIDSON MOTORCYCLES STANDING IN ITS PLACE!!!”

Shakily, Thomas added “And our closets are full of biker kit – leathers, boots, gauntlets, helmets. Evan, hon – I think we’re turning into a couple of biker daddies. I can already hear your voice deepening and roughening up.” Evan answered “Yours too.” They both swallowed. Evan asked “What are we going to do?” Thomas was thoughtful. “We’re gonna go with the flow and let it happen. We can’t stop it – so why try and fight it?” Both fell quiet as the reality sank in. Evan asked “You remember Stuart & Anthony? Did they trigger this? Have those two sexy bikers turned US into bikers?!” Thomas looked thoughtful. “Our changing like this right after a biker couple seduce & shag us IS a bit too coincidental... no proof, but certainly food for thought. If we run into them again, we can ask about it.”

The following morning, they woke up transformed – this time on the inside. Harder. Coarser. More assertive and dominant. The two architects & art lovers were gone, replaced by two rough biker daddies who liked nothing better than spit-roasting a twink between them.

Thomas rumbled “Get your ass in gear, man. Too good a day to be stuck in here. We’re riding.” Evan sat up. “Yeah – looks a good day for it. I’ll get us coffee and we’ll hit the road.” Shortly afterwards, they got into their gear, kicked their bikes into life and headed out. Hair blowing behind them in the wind of their own passage.

As Stuart closed down the viewing spell, Anthony grinned. “I wouldn’t say no to being spit-roasted by those two, you know?” Stuart laughed. “You never know – I might just hire you out to them one night!” Anthony gave him a wicked look. “Be careful – you’re giving me dirty thoughts...” Stuart smirked. “That’s the whole idea. You know, they might actually be good prospects for the club.” Anthony laughed “You really DO know how to drive me round the twist, don’t you?!” Stuart just smirked. “I’ll mention it to Angus – see what he thinks of the idea!”

Jonathan & Peter thoroughly enjoyed their week’s viewing.

The morning after they’d left, Jason woke up – and stared in shock at his cock and balls. Longer, thicker and larger than before – and pitch black. “Huh? I know I’ve dreamt of being black – but a white guy with a black cock is weird. Hope it’s nothing bad...” resolving to keep an eye on it, he got dressed and headed for work.

The next morning, the blackness had spread, making him deep black from his navel to his thighs. And his brown body hair had fallen out, with tight black curls replacing it, wherever his skin had darkened.

“WHOA!” Jason was shocked. “I know Jonathan & Peter said they had a gift for me – did they do this?! ARE THEY GIVING ME MY FANTASY AND TURNING ME INTO A BLACK MAN???!!!” He surprised his watchers, then, by bursting into laughter. “Well, guys – if this is your promised gift, thank you! Now, I’m gonna sit back and enjoy my transformation.”

And that was exactly what he did.

The next morning, he was black from pecs to knees.

The morning after, only his head, hands, face and feet were still white.

The next morning, his face had reshaped – nose flatter & wider, lips thicker – his body had muscled up like it was going out of fashion, his white skin was totally gone and his African American accent had become noticeable.

The final night, his transformation turned inwards and he woke up the following morning as a dominant, assertive, kinky, controlling Black Master. His appearance changed, his mind, life, memories and identity rewritten... the white dom daddy replaced with the musclebound Black Master he’d dreamed of being. Inside and out. For life.

Looking at his reflection, Master Jason murmured “PHWOAR... thanks, brothers!” And sat back, chilled and happy. His head filled with dirty plans for the weekend.

Jonathan chuckled as he closed down his viewing spell. “We’ll have to hook up with him again someday. That was fun!” Peter agreed. “Being a Black Master was a dream of his – since we fulfilled it, he’ll be grateful to us and open to more fun.” Both guys laughed, dirtily.

Later, all back in piskey form and relaxing on the balcony railing, Jonathan remarked “Well, our Brotherhood has had its first mass outing. Looks like everyone enjoyed themselves!” Diego agreed. “Absolutely. Vengeance feels deeply satisfying, you know? Like an old anger, a buried pain, a hidden shame has been healed and let go.” Angus laughed. “SO true!” Peter nodded and spoke. “The emotional release it’s given everyone is actually healing our brothers... good to see.” Jonathan agreed. “Now they’re through the pain, the real fun can start.”

Stuart & Anthony grinned. “Speaking of which...” they proceeded to tell the others about Evan and Thomas. Angus, Jonathan and Peter laughed – then took a very interested look at the two with a viewing spell. Peter was complimentary. “Good work, brothers.” Angus agreed. “Definitely good prospect material. We’ll have to get you guys to bring them in.” Stuart & Anthony smirked in gleeful anticipation.

Jonathan & Peter smirked as they opened a new viewing spell to show Master Jason to the others. Angus, especially, was impressed. “WOW – when you guys make someone over, you do a fucking good job of it!” Jonathan laughed. “Bloody good fun too! You know, we could do with a few more of us in the club...?” He cocked his eyebrow at Angus, who laughed. “Why not? If you want to bring him in, feel free.”

Angus’ face turned serious. “I’m pretty easy on admitting new members – the only rules are that they must be a gay or bi biker before joining us, and will be permanently turned into a piskey upon initiation. So if you want him in, turn him into a biker first. Got it?” Jonathan grinned “Sure – it’ll be a pleasure.”

Peter grinned. “Maybe bring in Timothy & Micky as well?” Jonathan agreed. Angus shrugged. “I’ve given you the rules. Stick to them and we’ll give your prospects a fair hearing.”

Sitting back with cigars and brandy, the 100 piskies relaxed and started making dirty plans for the future. The State of California and its people had survived the worst natural disaster in their history... let them rest in blissful ignorance of what might be in store for their future. For tonight, the immortal brotherhood was satisfied and at peace. Good enough.

[sanzaibian]

Congrats on 1,000! I was hoping you could give me a haircut! I always wondered what if look like with a pompadour or soemthing like that

“Welcome to the normal barbershop ! Thank you for choosing our service !” You are welcomed as soon as you set foot inside the building. “You will be accompanied by Rilaj Mam, an associate of Dr. Davod, who is known for having studied all sorts of arts of the hair. - Please call me Rilaj, using mam makes me feel old !” A voice is being heard from further inside the shop. - Sorry, but it’s in your namecard !”

As those two bicker, you approach the place where this mysterious man is, and find a quite small man, dark-skinned, folded eyes, and silky black hair arranged in a man bun – although the rest of the head is flawlessly shaved down to the skin. He wears colorful clothes, including a big bandana, and presumably the large hat and the pair of sunglasses that have been put down on the counter, all hiding what your trained eyes recognize as a ripped body.

But when you come just a little but closer, that short guy, presumably Rilajn suddenly turns to you – almost looking up to you – and smiles, full of kindness, though there is a tinge of malice behind his pitch black eyes.

“No matter ! I now have work to attend to !” He finishes the bickering, before addressing you. “I was waiting for you ! Please take place on this seat !”

You oblige, finding the seat to be extremely comfortable, much more than most barbershops you’ve ever been to. Almost too comfortable, considering this shop is temporary, after all… However, you’re here to relax and change hairstyles. Your hair has grown quite a lot since last time, and it’s about time you arrange it up. And trying a new style is just the cherry on top.

“So…” Rilaj, the barber, starts, coming with a bottle full of a weird black substance. “I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that… your hair is way too short to make a good enough pompadour. You should have come in like… two months or three to have enough length to do what you wanted.”

You look at him disappointed. As if to prove it, he takes a strand of hair from the very front of your mop and drops it down your face, only reaching the base of your nose. And this shop is going to be closed by the time you grow enough hair, so although you can always come to another later, shelling out money for what is simply a bit of a silly tryout feels pointless.

“However, the good news is that I have a way to make a great pompadour thanks to my very special technique. So… are you interested ?” The barber offers with a malicious voice.

Still taken by your disappointment, you don’t think much and, foolishly, you agree immediately. You see his smile grow, as you are regretting having agreed so quickly while not considering what this technique is.

“Great ! Well, we shall start with a bit of trimming, no ? ‘Cause your hair might not be long enough, but it still needs shaping for this new cut !”

He draws out clippers and installs on it quite a big guard. Then, he turns it on, and starts mowing at your hair, tufts of it dropping from the sides of your head. His cutting style is quite peculiar, though, using the clippers only bit by bit, tuft by tuft, as if he was cutting with scissors. However, when he has finished one side of your head, continuing by working on the back, letting yet more strands of hair fall, you notice that the result is very regular, with each hair the exact same short size.

Somehow, that unorthodox technique works, and you are left with a great and very soft carpet of hair – which you were able to feel once he put down the clippers. Then, he draws out some scissors, of which one side is shaped in a sort of comb-like structure. He explains to you how it will make your hair less dense, which will make it easier to style, and better able to receive the special technique.

As he chops down some hairs on top, making the remainder of the mop lighter, you notice how silent he is throughout the whole ordeal. Although he seems like quite a jovial guy, even quite chatty at times, he doesn’t seem to be like other barbers, pulling you into discussions about what you did recently, or other mundanities. But looking at his pitch black eyes, matching his pitch black hair, you feel a weird sense of… tiredness ? coming from him. You can’t quite describe it, but as is always said : the eyes are the door to the soul. And behind the eyes you feel a truly ancient soul.

“That’s about it ! Now we’re coming to the good stuff !” Rilaj suddenly pulls you out of your thoughts. “Let me just show you…”

He takes the bottle of black stuff in his hands, and presents it to you through the mirror, before uncapping it.

“This is what I call nuuch’ay ! Don’t try searching it, you won’t see anything about it on the web. It’s an old tradition from my people, forgotten today, but that is very potent.”

He starts dropping it on your hair. It has a very slimy texture, and drops slowly. Looking at its pitch black but slightly shiny form, it almost looks like rubber… Once the bottle is fully emptied out, he puts it away on the counter. You look at it and notice a label, on which there is something written. You can’t understand it, the letters spell words you haven’t seen anywhere, but you do note that the handwriting is very neat and elaborate. It’s the kind of style that would belong in a historical document.

“Now, let me just rub it all in, and then I’ll be able to… pull your hair out of your head, let’s put it like that.”

You are quite disturbed by this. As he is spreading the black goo, you’re wondering about what kinds of irreversible damage it would make to your hair… if it’s pulling out your hair, won’t it damage the follicles ? Destroy your hair, and making go bald when the hair inevitably drop ? But as you’re considering whether to flee as a matter of precaution, you find that you’re actually unable to move. You look at his eyes… still a deep, deep black hole…

You are now trapped.

Concentrated, Rilaj starts, as promised, pulling on your hair. He does it first in the front, and just as he starts pulling, you feel weird… as if he is pulling on other parts of your body. You look at yourself, and aren’t really able to notice anything that has change… but as he suddenly pulls a second time, you feel a bit weird in your belly.

He pulls once again. You feel… tighter, as if the flab that you had been accumulating over the years was being… pulled back. Another pull. This time, you feel weird in your jaw, a weird sense of tingling all over your face… and on point, you notice that, as he pulls another time, there is no more facial hair. If you could draw your hand to your face, you’re sure you would feel it to be all smooth.

He continues pulling, the pain and the tightness being felt on all parts of your body. You look up at your hair, and notice black strands, reaching far higher than they ever have… and they are stood perfectly. It’s a feeling that you’ve never had, and as he pulls yet another time, tightening your body yet again, you feel kind of… hot ? Like, you’re wearing a haircut quite elaborate, your face is devoid of beard… you feel beautiful, and, dare you think, cute !

He continues pulling out your hair, continuing to tighten everything in your body, as he starts combing your new longer hair. The comb goes higher, and higher, your body feels tighter and tighter, until he goes back to the rest of the hair, revealing a big, tall, but not obnoxious pompadour.

The definition of beauty and hotness.

And as he finishes combing the rest, the barber looks at you, smiling from a well done job, just like you are from a wonderful haircut. You are enamored by the pomp, so much that you fail to realize how big your clothes now are on you. You want to feel it, you want to touch it… but before you can make your hand reach, not even registering how you’re suddenly able to move, Rilaj blocks your arm.

“No, you can’t touch it just yet. It needs to dry up a little bit more before you can, else you will mess everything up.”

Dry ? You do as said, but that use of words does throw you for a loop. And your barber notice, since he then adds a few precisions.

“See, the nuuch’ay is derived from rubber, and we need to let it dry a bit before it can keep its shape. I have variants that dry a lot faster, but for hair, only this one gives out good results.”

Of course ! It’s rubber ! You knew it ! Especially now that you look again at your pitch black and slightly shiny pompadour, the same color as the short guy’s man bun. He goes to fiddle with his tools, putting away the comb, scissors and clippers, and drawing out another bottle full of that black thing… “nootcheye”, was it ? Whatever, that rubber thing he put on your head.

Feeling he was finishing up, you feel like it’s appropriate for you to stand back up… but just when you are in a vertical position, you feel something dropping. You look below, your pants and your underwear are on the ground, your shirt being the only thing still hanging on, although it is by now only hovering around your body.

You cry in shock, drawing the attention of the barber, who smiles, almost mocking you – though you don’t feel anything truly mean about it.

“Oops ! I guess I didn’t consider that law from that one smart French guy – what was his name… Lavoisier ? yeah, Lavoisier’s law of conservation of matter.” He half-mocks, sticking out his tongue.

You glare at him, growing angry.

“Okay, okay, don’t need to be this upset ! I was going to explain how the nuuch’ay works before you left anyway !” He throws his hands up in surrender. “Basically, it’s just stretching your body so that the hair is higher, so it had to take mass from somewhere else – that somewhere being your fat, mostly. « The nuuch’ay is currently keeping your body stretched, meaning that you will stay like that for quite a while. However, once it completely dries up, it will crack and then your body will go back to normal, whence why I couldn’t use the instantly drying up nuuch’ay.”

He starts helping you out of your shirt, revealing a lithe body, one that you hadn’t seen since early puberty. Although you can see muscles, they lack any definition, and are only revealed by the low amount of body fat you now have. By all definitions, you can now call yourself a definite twink. No matter how much of one you already were, by now there is no mistake, with how hairless and skinny you are.

“It should last about a month or two, I didn’t check when I made this bottle, but if you want to end it early, you have to warm your hair up with, for example, a perming machine.” He continues to explain, as he starts uncapping his other bottle of ‘nootcheye’. “But until then, your hair will stay exactly like this, no matter how much you squeeze it, wash it, or mess it up !”

As if to prove his point, he squeezes down your pompadour, and as he removes his hand it bounces back into place, as if nothing had happened. Bewildered, you let your hand reach your hair, messing it up in more and more extreme ways, but like rubber, it always gets back to its place. It just feels… surreal.

“By the way, we don’t have any spare clothes for you – all the spare are made for bigger people – so I will use this bottle to create clothes. Don’t worry, I have great taste.”

He pours the bottle of nuuch’ay he had in his hands, and it spreads over all your body, from your neck down to your feet, creating a big, black, shiny jumpsuit. But as it settles, red accents and multiple crevasses appear, until it has formed into a kind of black leathery tunic, one that you would more readily see in fetish publications than in the street.

But you love it.

And under the smile of Rilaj Mam who artfully wanders out of the field of view, you take a photo to commemorate that new hairstyle, that new shiny black pompadour.

But before you go out of the barbershop, after having collected your bag and your unfortunately big clothes, Rilaj stops you.

“Sorry to bother you, but could you grant me a favor ?” He draws out a short red cigarette. “I found that thing when I went to Tokyo a few weeks ago, and I think your uncle might be interested in it.”

You look at him shocked when he suddenly mentions your uncle – especially knowing the unfortunate fate he suffered.

“Now, don’t make this face. I knew who you were ever since I saw your name booking this haircut, that’s the reason I chose to cut your hair. That guy at the welcome desk can attest that I’m very selective with my clients.” You hear a frustrated ‘yes’ from far away. “But if you have any questions, ask them to him, I won’t say anything he doesn’t want me to. After all, he is the only one who has the right to answer them...”

Hearing his tone, it feels as if he wanted you to ask questions to your uncle… Does he feel smart for trying to so blatantly manipulate you ? Or does he realize that you can’t ask questions to your uncle and expect a coherent answer anymore ?

“And, seriously, don’t use that cigarette. You saw how potent the nuuch’ay is, and this is more insidious. On that, send my regards to your uncle. Xtiqaatz’at chik na qii’.”

Without waiting for you to react, he leaves out the door, leaving more questions than answers.