When you get back to your apartment, Walker has relocated to the living room. He's still not wearing a shirt, and his sagging body is slumped in your cushy recliner. He's asleep. You pull your phone out of your jeans pocket, checking the time. Guess a guy his age can't handle staying up till the outrageous hour of 6:40. You pull the statue from the bag, and place it on the table in front of Walker. He doesn't stir, in fact he begins snoring as loudly as he ever did in his 19-year old body. Louder, maybe. You take a look at his finger, but Walker seems to have hidden the ring -- it's no longer there. You consider looking for it, but decide it would probably be easier to get it another way. If your matured cousin wakes up and sees you looking for ring, he's never gonna trust you again.
You look yourself over for any changes that statue might have caused on your way home. You certainly don't look any more muscular, you think to yourself. Same little paunch, same undefined arms and legs. You turn your back on your sleeping cousin and undo the waist of your jeans, pulling back the elastic of your boxers to check your reduced manhood. Nope, still the same there, too. Although, maybe your dirty blond pubes are a little denser? It's hard to say, but it could just be your tiny dick making the hair around it seem fuller. You shrug. At least maybe that's something, you wouldn't mind a little hair on your smooth chest.
You decide to read a book, grabbing a pulpy crime thriller you picked up on a whim a few weeks ago. You've been meaning to finish the book and find out what that busty reporter was going to do with the secret pictures of the assassin. You start to read, enjoying the gentle tingling feeling on your skin caused by the statue...
---
You wake up a while later, having fallen asleep after reading a single chapter. Right -- this is why you usually stick to movies. It's full dark now, and you can't see anything in the room. You should have flicked on a lamp or something when you started reading, but oh well. A bright green glow shines from the microwave display in the nearby kitchen, telling you it's 11:30PM. You stand up, the paperback sliding off you with a loud thump. Something feels odd as you raise yourself, but you're not sure what exactly. "Mmm?" Looks like Walker is up. "Whyzit all dark?," he asks sleepily. You sigh. "You fell asleep. Here, I've got the light now." Odd, it feels like there's something on your face...
When you flip the light on, it takes you a long moment to recognize the man in the recliner. Well, the statue definitely did something. Walker takes a look at you, then down at himself, and lets out a gargling yelp. "What the fuck did you spend my money on, you little shit?" You yank your longsleeve tee over your head and see confirmation of what you assumed. Both you and Walker are covered in a dense tangle of body hair.
Walker's own parents wouldn't recognize him. The smooth, model-like boy from this morning is gone, now a furball ex-jock a little past his prime. His face features a dense set of eyebrows, almost touching in the middle of his wrinkled forehead. The bottom half of his face is covered with straight, silver bristles, stained a coppery orange-yellow above his mouth and at his cheeks. The thick beard hides his lips from sight, and continues far enough down his neck that it connects to his chest hair. Before leaving for the magic shop this afternoon, you remember seeing liver spots speckled across your cousin's collarbone and shoulders. Now, you can barely see his skin past all the hair. Although it is a little more erratic and crooked than Walker's beard, the mass of fur covering his chest and arms is mostly straight. His pubes seem to pile out of the front of his red shorts, noticeably curling over the wasitline. Your cousin's bare feet look like they belong to an animal than a human. This is thanks to the collection of wiry silver hairs that bunch on each of his toes and the tops of his feet.
You didn't fare much better. Looking at your hands, they look like they belong to someone much older -- mostly due to the ample fur coating them. You've never seen another 23 year old with hands like these. Whorls of dull gold and light brown hair envelop your knuckles and the backs of your hand. Your hair is a dirty blond color, but you're interested to see that where the hair on your hands connects to the dense covering on your arms and chest, it becomes much darker. Your hair has always been wavy, but the pelt on your chest and arms is wild and curly. Touching it experimentally with an equally hirsute hand, you run your hand through the forest of unruly curls. It's a little like touching steel wool. You raise a hand to your face, feeling that you seem to have quite a thick mess of facial hair yourself. You run your fingertips along your cheeks, feeling that your beard only starts to thin out close to your eyes. Jesus, as beastly as Walker looks, you must look like a goddamn Sasquatch yourself.
You're distracted from your changed body by another one of your cousins temper tantrums. Walker stands up angrily, fishing his hand into the sofa cushions. When it re-emerges, crumbs and lint are caught in his thick arm hair. "Ugh!," he bellows, brushing away the debris in disgust. But he picked up more than dirt -- he has the ring in his furry hand. Walker slides the ring onto his finger, and then...