Both men muttered under their breath, reading things on the marked page, and flipping to other pages, looking for something definitive. At this point, only the boys knew of the final page that reversed all spells.
Curiously breathless (though he had done naught but read pages from the book), Marco slammed the heavy covers shut. Well, Frankie? Do you feel... anything?" he implored.
Francisco wiped some stray beads of sweat from his forehead, then reached down to gingerly feel his hairy, but still flat, crotch.
"No. Nothing. Zip. Nada!" he answered. The result of the boys' spell had finally begun to sink in fully, and Francisco's lower lip actually trembled, and marco thought he saw a hint of dampness in Francisco's eyes.
"It's okay, precioso. It's okay," Marco consoled Mr. Mendes. He stepped forward to give a reassuring hug to his now Ken (well, an Hispanic Ken) doll-like companion.
No sooner had Marco touched Francisco than they both felt that odd feeling that had announced the working of the book's spells before.
Instinctively, Marco pulled back. "Frankie, did you feel what I just felt?"
"I don't know, Mraco. I did feel.." Mr. Mendes paused. "I think I can feel... yes, there's something happening!"
He removed his hand and they both looked at what had just been covered. The hairs near the center of Francisco's crotch seemed to be vibrating.
"Oh, pease. Come on, come on – I know you're there – come on back!" Francisco fairly shouted in anticpation.
Five seconds passed. Then five more, and, ever so slowly, a cone of skin pushed out from the nest of dark hair.
"Yes! Thank you, Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Francisco sang out.
Faster with each passing tick of time, the genitals grew - the dick slithering forward and down, and the scrotum expanding like a balloon, until a full-size set of men's genitalia was exactly where they were supposed to be on the much-relieved Mr. Mendes.
Marco stared long and hard at what had erupted from the plain skin, and a puzzled look crossed his face.
"Um, Frankie..." he began, "don't go all freaky on me, but that doesn't look like what I remember... in fact, it looks a lot like...."
Marco shoved both hands down the front of his trousers and shorts, and his face blanched paler than Francisco had ever seen it.
"Diós mio! Frankie - those are mine! And... and, I've got – NOTHING!"
Marco fell back into a convenient chair, hands still deep within the empty folds of his clothing.
Francisco reached just one finger down, to make sure what was extending from his crotch was real. Marco was right – that wasn't the same length, girth or shape as what he had been so familiar with all these years. And it hooked to one side - the same funny little zig that Marco's dick had!
"Are you sure, honey?" Francisco cooed, already knowing the answer.
"Of course I'm fu**ing sure!" Marco exploded. "Christ, I've got both goddamn arms down my pants almost up to the elbow, and there is nothing else in there with them! Do something!!"
"Something we read in the book did this – made us switch cock and balls," Francisco said. "The change happened when we touched. Marco, touch me again."
Marco pulled one arm free and held it out to Mr. Mendes, who firmly grasped the hand and squeezed with all his might.
"Ouch! What do you think you're... oh, I get it," Marco said, and allowed Francisco to pull him up from the chair.
There they stood, hands firmly clasped, for a full minute, but neither felt a tingle, chill or anything out of the ordinary at all.
After realizing that nothing was going to happen, Marco suggested checking the book again.
"Uh-uh. No way, amigo. That's what got us into this situation. Look, I know what you're going through. I mean I REALLY know what you're going through. But let's wait until the boys get back - they seem to have a better grasp of this cursed book and what it can do, and they're the ones who started this whole thing by magicking me in the first place."
"But, but..." Marco protested.
"No. I mean it. It'll only be for a few hours, and I promise you I won't do anything to what's, er, yours that I wouldn't do to mine," Francisco replied.
That was enough to break the tension for the moment, and Marco actually laughed and again fell, nodding in agreement, back into the chair.
**knock knock knock**
Both men glanced at the door. "Ignore it, Frankie," whispered Marco.
**knock knock knock**
The staccato raps were sharper and louder this time.
"Mr Mendes! Mr. Mendes, are you home? It's Pat, from 4-G? I forgot my key and my mom won't be back until late, and the super's not around. Can I wait in your apartment? I really, really need to use the can!"
Both men recognized the tenor voice - Patrick O'Shaughnessy, the 16-year-old son of one of the other tenants. Mr. Mendes had provided the family with a welcome basket of goodies when they'd moved in, and had gotten to know them informally. Patrick had even come by for tutoring in Spanish a few times, and Pat was well aware of the relationship between the two men.
"Marco, he's gotta know we're here," Francisco said.
"Look, babe. I've lost my dick - you've got it, and we can't do anything about it until the kids get back," Marco answered. "I - don't - think -I - can - take - anything -else - today."
Francisco looked down at marco, and pushed out his lower lip. "Please? Pat's cool, and I'll make sure he stays out of the way. It'll only be for a little while, until Mary comes back..."
Marco took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. But no more magic stuff."
"Hang on, Pat. Be right there!" Francisco shouted. "Um, Marco, you answer the door, all right? I'm not exactly dressed for it." He moved behind the couch and cupped his hands around his new equipment. "Toss me those shorts, hon."
Marco did so and then went to open the door.
"Pat! What's up, kid?"
"Hey, Marco. Is Mr. Mendes here? Oh..." the teen said, seeing Francisco just finishing pulling on a pair of boxers. "Um, I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
"No, just hanging around. C'mon in," Marco said.
Patrick Kelly Clough O'Shaughnessy was still at the gangly stage, all limbs and joints, not having yet filled in mass and muscle to match his last growth spurt. Average height, with brassy red hair and a pale, almost pasty complexion, he always sported pinkish cheeks and had blue-gray eyes. "Thank you," he said. "Can I put my books down here?"
Marco nodded.
"I don't want to be rude, but do you mind if I use your bathroom?" Patrick asked, peeling off his jacket to reveal a short-sleeved button-down sky blue shirt.
"Sure. You know where it is. Let me take that for you," Marco answered, and reached for the jacket, just brushing the lad's bare forearm.
Immediately he felt the odd churning wave he'd felt before while using the book.
"Um, thanks. I feel kinda funny. I'd better get there quick," Pat said, and practically sprinted across the living room and through the bedroom door.
Marco tossed the jacket over the back of a chair. "Frankie, I think there's something else that book is doing. I felt the same feeling I felt before. You?"
"No, not a quiver," Francisco said.
"I'm sure I felt... oh my God – Frankie, something's starting to happen," Marco whispered.
"What? What? Mr. Mendes asked, moving around the couch.
Marco patted the fly of his pants. "It feels strange, but something's back - in there. What about you?"
Francisco pulled the waistband of the boxers and looked down. "No. Still the same. I mean, still yours. I mean..."
One hand still pressed on the fabric, Marco smiled. "Yes, yes. That's more like it," he said triumphantly. "I don't know how, or why, but that's much more like it. Now I think I can relax a little until Josh and Ric get back."
"Well, I'd better get dressed," Francisco said, and went into the bedroom.
He pulled on an old pair of jeans and threw on a v-neck pullover. Standing at the dresser, brushing his hair, he realized it had become very quiet.
"Pat? Pat? You okay in there, buddy?" he asked.
Silence.
"Pat? Patrick?" Francisco moved closer to the bathroom door. "Listen, bud, you're getting me worried now. Just answer me, okay?"
Francisco thought he heard sniffling through the door, but couldn't be sure.
"Pat? Listen, I'm going to go get Marco and we're going to come in to make sure everything's okay unless you answer me right now," Francisco said gently.
No response.
Francisco walked to the bedroom door and leaned into the living room. "Psst, Marco. Come here. Quick. I think something's, um, wrong in the bathroom."
"What do you mean?" Marco asked, as he cam into the bedroom.
"It's awfully quiet, and Pat isn't answering," Francisco said. "Pat? Please say something, boy. You're making us very uneasy out here." Then, to Marco, "I'm pretty sure I heard him crying in there."
"Well, this is awkward," Marco said when it was clear no answer was forthcoming. Still, we'd better not take any chances, not after what's been happening around here lately. Come on, we'll both go in. On three. 1-- 2--"
Slowly pushing the bathroom door open, first Francsisco, then Marco took a step into the small room.
There, at the john, stood Pat, pants and underwear down around his ankles. He turned to stare at the two men, his face flushed, tears running down his cheeks, and just as quickly tried to cup both hands over his exposed privates. Not quickly enough so that both Marco and Francisco saw pale, pinkish thighs and, in the front, a sparse fan of dark brown hair, but nothing else that should be there.
"It... it .. went away," the boy stammered. "I was... taking a leak... and it just kept getting... smaller ... and smaller.. and it all... went away."
Marco and Francsico shot each other a stern look. Marco unconsciously patted his fly again.
"Look, Pat. I don't know if you're going to believe this, but I think we can explain. You'll just have to trust us, all right?"
The teen nodded and sniffled.
"Here, take some of these," Francisco said, grabbing the box of tissues on a nearby shelf. Pat gingerly lifted on skinny pink arm and pulled out a wad of tissues, and blew his nose into them, the other hand still tightly clutching the unbroken plane of his crotch.
Marco, while this took place, had unbuckled his belt and unfastened this pants, pulled out the waistband, and studied what was now inside his underwear. "Yeah, that's it, Frankie," he whispered, pointing towards his midsection. "That damn book again."
"Now Pat, Marco and I are going to go back into the bedroom. We want you to poull yourself together, get dressed and come in, okay? I promise you nothing is going to happen that you don't want and that we can explain what's going on. Okay?"
The boy nodded.
After nearly a minute, he came out of the bathroom, still daubing at tears in the corner of his eyes.
"Pat, this is going to sound bizarre and even insane, but I swear on my grandmother's grave everything I'm going to say is true, Francisco began. "There's an old book in this house. It's a book full of all kind of old spells, but it's not a joke. It really works. You know Ric and Josh, right? Well, they thought it would be funny to do some magic on me. I was in the same condition you are now not too long ago. Instead of waiting for them to come back to see if they could stop it or reverse it, Marco and I tried to use the book ourselves. Somehow, things got mixed up, or crossed, or something. Because after that, I had Marco's, um, package, and he had nothing... down there."
Patrick's eyes widened, and he swayed visibly. Marco reached out to steady the boy, who brushed off the helping hand and sat on the edge of the bed, eyes still fixed firmly on Mr. Mendes the whole time.
"Now it is going to get even stranger, Pat. Listen carefully. I think somehow we jumbled some of the magic spells together, and the result was that when I touched someone, or was touched by someone, we switched equipment, since that's when it happened with Marco and me. The best I can figure is the spell, or whatever it is, is affecting only whoever has no dick and no balls. That's the way Marco was when you came in. Did you touch him or did he touch you at all?"
"Yeah... Yes! When he took my jacket," Pat offered.
"Well, then I'll tell you this - your 'stuff' isn't gone - it has just, er, um, moved to a temporary location. I know Marco and I touched after our switch, and nothing happened that time, so there must be some kind of firewall or lock that prevents the last two who switched from switching back. Now, Marco's going to undress."
Patrick flinched and seemed to try to pull his entire body in on itself.
"No, no. Nothing like that. Nothing about sex. But it's the only way to prove what I've been telling you. Afterwards, I'll show you the book. You've known both of us long enough to know we wouldn't deliberately do anything nasty with you or anyone else around, but you've got to trust us - really trust – okay?" Francisco's voice was controlled - soft and modulated - and Patrick, still focused intently on him, untensed a little bit. "Marco -- you're on."
Marco peeled off his shirt and, ever so slowly, lowered his pants. "Now I'm going to have to take off my shorts, Pat. It's not to flash you, but you've got to believe us, and this is the only way." Patrick, perhaps in shock, moved his eyes to where the new voice was coming from.
Marco slipped a thumb under each side of the underwear's elastic band and slowly pulled down the fabric.
Patrick gasped, his eyes fluttered, and he slumped over sideways, sprawled along the edge of the bed, one sneaker still on the carpet, the other dangling in mid-air.
Francisco went to sit next to the boy, and gently patted his blue-clad shoulder. "It's okay, Pat. It's going to be okay." He was fairly sure the spell had moved to Pat, and that he'd switch with whoever he came into direct contact with next, but didn't know for sure if the spell would still affect anyone who had already been magicked by it.
Looking at Marco, he saw the familiar tanned, almost coffee-and-cream skin on his chest, stomach and legs, a somewhat lighter shade of tan below the waist and above the thigh. But, protruding from Marco's usual tightly curled patch of wiry black hair, there was a long, thin, very pink prick, looking all the more bright in hue in contrast to the rest of Marco and to what Francisco normally saw there. A prominent vein ran down the top of the shaft, and the head was turned up just a bit. There was also, hanging between Marco's legs, a low-slung reddish-pink, hairless scrotum, which swayed back and forth almost imperceptibly as Marco breathed in and out.