Hammecker Smith kicked a rock and it skittered part way across the creek before hitting something. Gold
glinted back. Hammecker, whose parents had been big fans of Hammecker Schlemmer & Sharper Image, had heard of
people finding gold nuggets in the river. He thought, why not also in the creek. So gingerly he hopped from
boulder to rock until he reached the spot where the gold glinted in the sunlight. He leaned forward and stuck
his hand into the icy water. It was deeper than he thought, he stretched his arm deeper. He felt his foothold
on the wet rock slipping. He fell into the water with a splash. His head burst out of the water spitting out
water. He must have swallowed half a gallon he thought, as he held up the gold object he had sought. It was
a brass fitting off something. He grimaced and threw it over his shoulder. He waded shivering out of the
creek, and nursing his bloodied knee and elbow. He collapsed on the bank of the creek, his breathing was
irregular. It was true that Hamm was out of shape, but his exhaustion and shivering wasn't due solely to his
ordeal. The creek water was contaminated. The brass fitting he found wasn't the only thing to wash down the
mountain from the hidden secret government lab. Hamm's skin was flushed and clammy. He felt dizzy, his
stomach churned, all his muscles twitched, and then he passed out.
Hours later, the sun was low in the sky. Hamm awoke. His clothing was dry, and it hung awkwardly on him.
His shirt seemed too tight around the shoulders, and too loose around his belly. His trousers fell off him,
when he stood. His waist had narrowed. He looked down at his handsome naked legs and genitals. They were part
of him, but they didn't look like his had, these were too perfect, too ideal. He ripped open his shirt and
stared at his now ripped abdomen, and sculpted smooth chest with perfect areolae and pert nipples. His arms
were muscular, his shoulders broad. He felt different. Something itched mercilessly between Hamm's shoulder
blades. He reached back to scratch, and painfully pulled out a feather quill and all. He blinked.
"A feather?" he asked. He forgot his question astounded by the beautiful voice that came out of his mouth. He
added, "Was that really my voice? Good heavens it is!"
The voice was deep, masculine, but not too deep, not too masculine. It's vibrato was perfect. Every word
seemed to be sung when he spoke. His voice was mesmerizing. He spoke just to hear is own voice. He rambled on
about nothing, until he noticed the shadow cast by his growing wings.
"Am I dead?" he gasped. "I've got wings like an angel. Big white wings are growing out of my back. I wonder
if they work. Can I fly?"
He started to run naked as he flapped his wings. He stumbled and flew about 100 yards before crashing into a
thicket. He got to his feet, and began plucking brambles and thorns out of his body.
"I wish I had some clothing that fit me," Hamm said, and suddenly, he did.
"What the? How did that happen?"
Hamm reached up and scratched his head. His short straight hair was now longer, thicker and wavy. He
couldn't help but smell the hypnotically floral woody scent emanating from his own armpit. He sniffed it, and
found his new and improved cock growing harder.
What had Hamm become? What was he becoming?
He flapped his wings and flew a foot up in the air and hovered there for nearly a minute.
The chemicals he had been exposed to had not been intended to be used together. One was a special genetic
retrovirus designed to make the user irresistible sexually. It had been a bit too effective though. The
pheromone was so intense that it effected people beyond specific targets. The night club that an agent
enhanced with the pheromone had turned into a sex orgy due to the poor ventilation and the power of the
pheromone. The wings had actually been intended for horses. A government scientist had envisioned soldiers
in the mountains of Afghanistan flying on Pegasus-like stallions to run down Taliban guerillas.
Unfortunately, the horses they tested the formula on had indeed grown wings, but were incapable of handling
their new ability of flight. The terrified animals flew into canyon walls, and tumbled to their deaths as
their airborne hooves kicked and struggled for the purchase of the ground below them. So both chemicals had
ended up in barrels of toxic waste that was supposed to be properly disposed of by the staff. Proper disposal
unfortunately meant, "pour it in the creek." There were several different body building agents which had all
proven ineffective separately, when mixed in the creek, they had produced the amazing affects already noted on
Hamm's physique.
After several attempts, Hamm was airborne, and gliding down the slopes toward the town below. He discovered
that the psychic drugs had enhanced his mind. He could hear people's thoughts as he soared toward them. He
was surprised to hear the jock Thad Brunner lamenting that he couldn't find true love. That guy had every
girl in town chasing him. Except, according to Thad's innermost thoughts, they didn't want him - not the
person - they wanted the star quarterback, they wanted the captain of the football team, they wanted the
student body president. He was all those things, but they didn't define him. He was more than that.
Thad was jogging along side the creek. Struggling to fix the flat tire on his bicycle was Darrin Crenna. His
thoughts were strikingly similar to Thad's. Oh, he wasn't a jock per se. No, the girls that went after him
wanted his money - or rather his family's money, or their prestige. He thought they only saw dollar signs
they didn't see him.
Hamm soared overhead, neither man looked up to see him. His scent wafted down on them. Thad found himself
deviating from his planned course. He left the trail and jogged along the bike path, and there was Darrin.
Hamm willed Thad to stop to help Darrin, and it worked. Thad stopped. He helped Darrin. They both were
extremely nervous. Under Hamm's influence, each young man was suddenly finding the other attractive. Each
fought their new feelings, Hamm was relentless. The words "true love" haunted the young men's minds. Hamm's
winged shadow passed over them, but neither young man could take their eyes off the other.
Darrin was wearing his cycling shoes. He took a step toward Thad with his hand extended to thank him for
helping him fix the tire, and he tripped. The two went sprawling on the ground. They ended up embracing and
accidentally their lips touched. They kissed. Passion consumed them. Their clothing flew from their bodies.
The two unhappy young men were thrilled, they were elated, Hamm had given them true love. Oh, yes, they had
both been straight, but Hamm wasn't about to let such a little thing stand in the way of their true happiness,
it was obvious to him that they were soul mates. So he willed their brains to reconfigure them to being
totally gay. He was amazed at his own abilities, and pleased with his success.
Hamm had discovered what he was - he was a love god. He was Cupid. He was Eros. In two days, it would be
Valentine's Day, and he needed to spread the love. His wings beat rapidly as he raced toward town. He was
already thinking and hearing the thoughts of his old English teacher Ms. Maine. She was an incurable romantic,
and she was lonely. He found the mind of the poet to complement her in the body of Mr. Temperance, the
postman. Now how to bring the two together?
As he thought about Maine & Temperance, he was distracted by so many thoughts. So many lonely unhappy people.
He would make them happy, he would help them find true love...