Angela still had some presence of mind to bring the groceries in and put away the stuff that needed to stay cool before she ran up to her and Jacob's bedroom. Pulling the book out of her closet, she dropped on the bed and flipped it open on her lap, flipping to the spell. The wording was so flower and old it was hard to translate. But she read words she didn't like, such and unbreakable and forever. Nothing about a way to undo it or stop it. Then she noticed something written after the spell in a different hand, it wasn't another spell but more of a journal entry that made Angela pale to read.
'Be careful with this spell. I performed it at the request of a friend of mine who fancied and older widower. The two changed quite significantly. Being young and spry, my friend changed less, but she came more to resemble the widowers dead wife whom he loved dearly. The widower became much younger, and everyone treated him as if he were now the son of his brother, having forgotten who he once was. Only I, my friend, and the widower seemed to recall the way things had been, but the two I cast the spell on soon began to act their roles, my friend claiming her old life seemed a peculiar dream and now she had found happiness. I write this on the day of their wedding, now two youths of barely twenty years, they will no doubt spend their lives together.'
"Always read the whole thing, Angela." The color on her arm from the tattoo caught her attention, it seemed to be becoming a more intricate piece, the flames giving way to autumn leaves and a dragon head as the art spread up her arm. So if she had picked Jacob's hair it seems they would both have become younger, but with what was happening to her she thought she must have gotten it wrong. Both of the boys were old enough to have at least some body hair, and they had been known to use that shower, but which had it been, Andy or Jeff? The thought of becoming soul mates with one of her step sons sent a shiver up her spine. It seemed so wrong.
Jacob also loved petit and blonde, there was no mistaking the fact that Angela was getting taller, and as he looked over to the vanity her hair had retreated from bob to pixie cut, and was no longer just streaked with orange but looked like a bright flame atop her head. It wasn't very flattering, and barely feminine at all. In fact, she almost looked boyish. There had to be something her ancestor had over looked in the book. She looked back down and started flipping pages, only pausing as she noticed her hands. There was no trace of nail polish left on her fingers, the skin and smoothed out and tightened, becoming younger, but her hand was also larger, her fingers no longer delicate and tapered but thick and blunt.
She didn't just look boyish.
She tossed the book aside on the bed and tore off her top, which by now was tight enough to cling to her like a second skin, her bra, while tight was distressingly loose in the wrong places and soon that was laying on the floor, too. She cupped her breasts in her hands. Even accounting for larger hands she could tell they were smaller, her nipples less pronounced.
She sprang to her feet and the button on her shorts popped off and flew across the room and the shorts fell down around her ankles. With growing panic she shoved her hand down between her legs. Nothing. Well, almost nothing. Just unbroken skin and the small bump of her clitoris as all the remained of her womanhood, that and a fiery red bush of pubes. She knew in that moment, she was becoming a guy.
So which of her two step sons was gay?
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Andy still was not having a good day. Gym was awkward and uncomfortable in the slightly too small clothes, and by the end of class he had learned he could barely move without revealing at least some of his stomach for everyone to see. He felt like the constant blushes would burn his cheeks right off. After class he hid in one of the bathroom stalls until most of the class had changed and gone on to their next periods. He slipped out to find only Ryan waiting for him.
"You okay, dude?" Ryan asked, his usual jovial tone more serious.
"Yeah.. I just needed to.." He jerked his thumb to the stall he had been hiding in as he walked over to his locker and changed. He started changing out of his gym clothes, practically having to peel them off.
"Okay, I need to get to class but.." Ryan wiggled his cell phone in Andy's direction, an invitation to text him before leaving the locker room, calling back, "That new workout routine of yours is working though, so don't look so glum."
"Workout routine?" Andy muttered in confusion then looked down at himself. No wonder his clothes had felt like a second skin. His chest was jutting out, two unfamiliar swells with a shallow valley between them, a forested valley that contained that newly grown chest hair of his. He flexed one arm and was surprised to see a decent pop of muscle as he did so. He had only asked Ryan for some weight lifting tips a few weeks ago, and the wrestler was only too happy to provide, but this was ridiculous. He ran his fingers over his stomach, tracing out the faint beginnings of a four pack and the line of fuzz down the middle of his stomach. He looked over to his other arm intending to flex it as well and gave a little start.
Wrapped around his newly thickened arm was a tattoo of thorny vines, a band around his biceps. He had wanted to get that exact tattoo for his birthday but his father had flipped his shit. Andy had designed it himself, he was telling everyone he wanted to go to school for art, but his hidden passion was to become a tattoo artist, he had a whole sketchbook of designs but this was supposed to be his first.
He touched it gingerly, expecting the skin to be sore as if the tattoo was new, but it felt no different than the rest of him, though firmer than he was used to due to the muscle. "What the hell is going on?! I need to get out of here." He quickly began to dress. His tee shirt was too small and too tight, riding up his torso a couple of inches and the sleeves too short to hide his new tattoo. He finally managed to get it on, but one flex of his arm tore a seam.
Cursing, he reached into his back pack and pulled out his hoodie, it was pretty baggy and would work for now. Though pulling it on, pretty baggy meant fit perfectly now. He shook his head and grabbed his stuff, intending to flee the school as soon as he could make a break for it. Though stepping out of the locker room he heard a sharp call of, "Zimmerman!"
He gave a start and turned to look at Coach Miller. "Sir?"
"Follow me." It wasn't a request. He followed the Coach to his office, watching as he sat down and started digging in the drawers. "You know Zimmerman, you're making some decent gains. You might want to think about trying out for one of the teams, we could use you on the football team."
"I, uh, thanks but I don't know.." Andy stammered. He had never been asked before, or even encouraged, he had been slim his whole life but not athletic. That was Ryan's thing, he was the artist.
"Well, can't blame a coach for trying, just think about it." The coach pulled out a disposable razor and held it out to Andy. "But I have to remind you to remember school grooming standards."
Andy stared at the razor, confused. "What?"
"Boys aren't allowed facial hair. Shave, there's some shaving cream on my sink." The coach motioned to his bathroom off his office. As Andy continued to stare the coaches brows pulled down. "Know how?"
"Yeah, sorry, I thought I did." He plucked the razor from the coach and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He turned to the mirror over the sink and felt what seemed like the dozenth shock of the day. His upper lip and chin were dark with short black stubble, same with his side burns, though his cheeks and most of his jaw was still clean. He quickly set to work, having already had at least one lesson from his dad. The hair was short and still more soft than coarse, and he was clean shaven in a few moments, but his lip and chin still had a light shadow.
Growling under his breath, he pulled up his hoodie and placed the razor against his chest. He felt for a moment that if he could just remove the offending chest hair everything would go back to normal. But he couldn't bring himself to pull the razor across his chest, it was like suddenly trying to pull a big rig with his teeth. Besides.. maybe it did look good on him. Some guys loved guys with fuzz.
That thought hit him like a ton of bricks, but he still lifted the disposable razor off his chest and tossed it in the trash, pulling his hoodie back down. He stepped back into the coaches office with a, "Sorry about that, coach. I was in a rush this morning."
Coach Miller nodded in acceptance of his apology and went to open the door to his office. As Andy went to walk by he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Think about what I said, Zimmerman. You might find you like it on the field." Andy smiled, but he knew it was a bit of a sickly one, since he suddenly noticed he was looking his six foot tall gym teacher straight in the eye, where this morning he had only been 5'7".
"I will." He assured the coach as he ducked out of the office and away from the gymnasium. He could probably get out the back of the school and sneak out across the teacher's parking lot, so he turned in that direction for the mile walk home. He turned his phone on, intending to text Ryan he left to go home and saw a text waiting for him from a contact that was in his phone as just a heart emoji, 'Thinking of you, love.' He didn't know who sent it, but it made him smile to see it. And without even thinking sent back a 'Can't wait to see you' almost by reflex.
He hit send and it was too late, he shook his head clearing the sudden wave of giddiness he had felt. "What the hell is going on with me?"