Sunday, November 6, 2016

Halloween Swap Cards Part II: Growing Out of Foster Care

They say a son learns everything about how to be a man from his father. In some cases, there are fathers that soon wish they had been better examples. After all, when you teach someone kindness, it comes back to you. Unfortunately, there are some people that don't understand this concept until it is too late...

Take Mr. Jordan Frazier for an example of bad parenting gone awry...


"I don't want any lip from you, either. If you want to live here in MY house, you live by MY rules, and I don't put up with any CRAP."

"I just.."

"You shut the hell up! I'm not taking you trick-or-treating. It's a goddamn stupid thing to do, it's nothing more than begging. I don't give a shit what you want. Go get your work clothes on that I gave you and start chopping wood. You're a damned fairy but I'll make a real man out of you, if you listen and don't fucking whine. I don't want to hear any complaining from you or I'll take you across my knee, do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

Little Nate Wallace was in foster care. His mother was in jail and his father had been in jail, until he had gotten killed in a brawl. His life became a living hell in the orphanage. Older kids stole all his things and the people who got paid to set him up with parents didn't care what happened to him or what kid beat him up. They only cared about getting their paychecks. They set him up with a man who wanted to be a father, but he was a mean, mean man who just wanted the extra state money. He worked as a machinist, and was very conservative. He believed that children shouldn't speak unless they were spoken to, and he had been very abusive to Nate in just a few short months. Nate did many chores and was terrified of his new foster father, but Mr. Frazier told him what happened to lots of foster kids that was far, far worse. Things like getting killed or molested. There were plenty of worse fathers, he had said.

That night, Nate was cleaning the dishes after dinner and Mr. Frazier was drinking again. He liked to drink a lot. Nate didn't like him when he drank.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Mr. Frazier slurred.

"Nothing."

"I suppose you want to leave because you think I'm so horrible," Mr. Frazier accused him of. "Hmm? Little shit. You think you're better than me. Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you! You don't like me, do you? Well, by all means, try and find something better. Maybe the next foster family will decide to be nicer to you, hm? Won't happen. Most of them live in fucking shitholes and they have other kids. You got a good thing going here, kid." He drank more of his Jim Beam out of the bottle.

"Can I go to bed now?"

"Can I go to bed now?" Mr. Frazier mimicked him rudely. "Stop bein' such a pussy, Nate. Jesus. You know you're lucky to have me. You know that?" The phone rang. Jordan answered it. "Yeah, why not? Sure, pick him up tomorrow."

"Who was that?"

"That was a friend of mine. He's gonna take you to the carnival tomorrow. See how nice I am? Let's see you get that at your next place..."

And that is where I gave little Nate his wish card. I told him to save it for something really good. I told him it could change him or any other person. He looked like he wanted to believe me, and I never know which cards will be used. But using my crystal ball later, and looking into his life, I couldn't wait for him to do so...

A few nights later, Nate made a mistake. He was so nervous living in a new house and Mr. Frazier was drinking and told Nate to make him a sandwich. Nate took the knife that Mr. Frazier liked to use. It was a nice knife with a wooden sheath and Nate had never used a knife with a sheath before. Jordan had told the young lad to clean it and always put it back in its place OR ELSE. It made Nate afraid and he put the knife back in with peanut butter all over it. He panicked as soon as it happened and took out the knife. There was peanut butter in the sheath and he frantically tried to wash it out in the sink. Mr. Frazier walked in just as he was doing it, since his sandwich was taking too long.

"What the hell you'd DO to it!?" he shouted. "It's fucking ruined now! Didn't I tell you to be careful of my things, boy?"

"I'm sorry! It's late! I'm tired!"

"Those are excuses! I'm gonna make you work hard to pay that off!"

"I already work hard! I work hard all the time!"

"You don't work for shit, boy. You don't know the meaning of the word!"

Something inside Nate wanted to rebel.

"Oh what, are you getting mad now? I put a roof over your head and I just let you go to a fucking carnival, and this is how you repay me?"

"You didn't take me! Mr. Grant did!"

Mr. Frazier got a look on his face of undeniable rage and he smacked Nate across the face and sent him flying across the floor.

"Now look what you did! You made me hit you! You want to make me really mad?"

"No," Nate cried.

"Too late for that," Mr. Frazier finished off his bottle of Jack Daniels, came over and picked Nate up and smacked his butt four times, hard. Nate started crying and blubbering. "Get upstairs before I kick your ass!"

Crying himself to sleep, Nate held the wish card in his hands.

"I wish I was big. And that he couldn't hurt me anymore, and that I could do whatever I wanted." The wish card with Madame Illusia's image in evaporated in a puff of smoke in the middle, leaving a hole in the middle. Nate sat up quickly and his eyes widened. "No way..." He went to sleep and hoped tomorrow would be different.

When he woke up, he wasn't a big grownup and he thought he must have imagined the thing about the middle of the card disappearing. It was just some stupid magic trick, he thought. Some joke shop trick. He put his clothes on and they felt tight. His shoes didn't fit. He frowned. It was Saturday and he needed to do chores but his shoes didn't fit. Great.

He went downstairs and Mr. Frazier was sitting and snoozing on the couch. His hair had become more of a buzzcut and his muscles were a lot bigger than Nate remembered.



He was even more afraid of him than before now!

He snuck out of the house and into the backyard. He used his work boots, which were bigger than his shoes by several sizes with lots of room so his feet sort of jostled around in them.There was a chicken coop so he collected the eggs. He cleaned up the chicken shit and turned the compost heap, which was a lot of work. Then he started to get the pitchfork to break up dirt for the vegetable garden. He kept feeling pain in his legs and back. His pants were struggling against his skin. He forgot he needed to put his workclothes on. Mr. Frazier kept them in the barn. He went into the barn where they were kept and felt relief when he put them on. One was just a loose fitting camo shirt that Mr. Frazier used to use, and some pants that Mr. Frazier used to use as well, that were now old and dirty. The pants he needed a belt for and he cinched it very tight even though they bunched around him. Over the next two hours he worked and toiled in the growing morning sun.

"Geez, I'm thirsty," he said out loud to himself. "Oh no, I hope I'm not getting sick!" His voice was thick and husky. He didn't feel sick and he hoped Mr. Frazier wouldn't be mad if he had to go to a doctor. He stretched his muscles. and flexed. His...arms were different. He flexed again and his penis throbbed. He realized that all of a sudden his pants were lifting up and the belt was really tight! He loosened it and continued to work. Work became much easier and he found himself taking great pleasure in lifting and throwing up dirt. He imagined he was big and strong like Mr. Frazier. His imagination must be running wild, he thought. He looked at his arm. He must be dreaming! It looked huge! It looked like a grown man's arm!

"Wow." he said. "My voice! What's going on?" He absentmindedly had kept loosening the belt and now he realized that it was impossibly on one of the last notches. "What? Why are my pants not bunched up anymore?" Sure enough, they fit him like a glove now.

He trudged back to the house and his muscles throbbed. He stopped several times as if he was absorbing energy of some kind. It was so pleasurable he couldn't believe it. He got to the door and his suspicion leapt in his heart. He was in disbelief. He was taller. He was almost as tall as the top of the door. He took off the boots and wandered into the bathroom and couldn't believe what he saw in the mirror.


"Oh," he said. "Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. I...I'm big! It worked. Oh my gosh, it worked! Oh no. Oh no! It worked!" He panicked. What was he going to do? He had to escape, he thought suddenly. He had to get to a bus station. He had dreamed of leaving and going somewhere but...he didn't have any money, he realized. Mr. Frazier didn't give him an allowance. He felt like a giant. His legs were powerful and he loved the way they felt as he walked. He gingerly felt the outline of his pants and realized his penis was a lot more hefty than it used to be. His arms and chest were tiny boulders attached to his body. "Wow," he said. "I don't believe-"

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" A man said, coming in the bathroom. "I have a gun and if you don't get the hell out of my house or tell me what you're doing here, I'm gonna use it to put a bullet in your ass, motherfucker!"

"Mr. Frazier? Is that you?"

"Course it's me, who the fuck are you?" the man shouted. The man had brown hair and looked like he was 30 at the most.

"You...look different. I'm me. I mean it's me! It's Nate!"

"Oh so are you some kind of nut? Because I'm gonna kill you if you-"

"Look in the mirror!" Nate cried, just as Jordan saw himself finally.

"What the fuck? What the hell? My body. My...my face! This isn't possible!"

"Yuh huh cause I made a magic wish and it came true and it made me bigger but it made you younger! Cause I wanted to be older so I guess it had to make you young cause that's the way it works or somethin'. I don't know. I hope you're not mad at me!"

"This is impossible. I haven't even had a beer yet. Look at me!" He turned in wonder at the huge man cowering in fear, looking like he was about to cry.

An hour later, the two had talked extensively about the carnival and what had happened.



"So what do we do, Mr. Frazier?" Nate asked. 

"Kid, I'm fucking 30 again. Or younger! What are we gonna do? We ain't doin' nothin'. But you gotta go. I'll give you some clothes but you gotta get the fuck outta my house."

"What? Why? I don't have anywhere to go!"

"Well I guess you should have thought about that before you made a magic wish, huh junior? Now I'm not gonna fight you on this. I'll have to report you ran away, and you are gonna have to find some way of being an adult out there in the big world. You aren't a kid anymore, which means I can't make any money for taking you in. And I'm thinking of going to Florida. Fuck, look at me! I'm gonna get tons of pussy! Oh, man. I remember being this age! I got pussy all the time!"

"W-what do you mean?" Nate asked, confused. Mr. Frazier laughed, delighted at his ignorance. 

"Kid, I mean sex. See, you stick your dick in a woman's hole. In her pussy. Then you fuck the bitch until she screams and you pop your boner inside and it feels like heaven. Just don't get a bitch pregnant. You wear a condom for your dick. There. That's our sex talk. You shouldn't have any problems now finding some pussy, hell you look bigger than me. Guess I'll have to get a new foster kid."

"Oh yeah, well I'm glad you aren't my foster dad anymore! You're stupid and I hate you!" The grown man screamed the words and ran away and it seemed very immature both in the way he said it and the way he ran. He just didn't know anything about being a grown man yet and he was in the body of a muscular stud! What was he going to do! he thought. He went to the barn and cried. 

After he was done crying, he went for a walk. He put on his workboots, which now fit his feet very snugly where before his feet loosely jostled around in them. He loved walking around on his new legs. They were so big! He loved the feeling of being so heavy and he loved being bigger than he was. It felt so good! It just made him feel warm feelings in his penis to think about it. He walked to the guest house on the edge of the property, which Mr. Frazier rented out most of the time but was still currently looking for a tenant. He thought about what Mr. Frazier had said and wondered how his penis could get hard like that. Just then, he noticed something falling in his eyes. He swiped it away and noticed it was his blond hair. he felt his head and enormous clumps of his hair started to just fall right out, painlessly.

"My HAIR! NO! NOT MY HAIR!" He felt his head frantically. All of his hair had fallen out, all at once. He felt a surge of energy and testosterone. His muscles became taut and grew. He was overwhelmed by his own masculinity and strength. It was intoxicating like nothing he'd ever experienced and he moaned his new baritone voice in sheer pleasure. "Oh GOD that FEELS SO GOOD!" After the feelings subsided, he thought about it, and the way he'd worded his wish. 

"I got older! That means..." He started to run back to the house on his huge legs and smiled to himself.


 When he came in the house, or rather stomped in the house, there was a young teen screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Alright! You got younger and I got older again!"

"No! Make it stop! I was happy being 30! You did this you little son of a bitch!"

Nate realized he was looking down on his new foster father. By a head. He crossed his arms.

"I don't have to be sorry," he realized. "And I'm BIGGER than you now!"

Coming out of the house, with a huge smile on his face, Nate dragged his new stepfather in a headlock.

"Let me go! Let me go! Let me go, you little faggot!"

"I'm not little anymore! Stop saying I'm little!" Nate felt surges of testosterone flooding his system. He was right and he was in charge and he was going to show this fucker that he was gonna tell him what to do now, because he was way bigger now!

"Get off me! You can't do this!" Nate let him go. Then picked him up by the lapels of his now oversized shirt.

"Gimme your car keys!"

"No! No, you ain't drivin' my car!" Nate put him down and shoved him onto the ground, and then to Mr. Frazier's shock, he sat on top of him. 

"Get off me, get off me! Help! Help!"

"No one is around for miles! Ha ha! Now gimme your keys, little man!"

"Okay, okay, here! But you don't know how to drive!"

"It's okay, I can learn! Come on, I wanna go down to the river! It'll be fun! Oh but first we should change clothes."

Jordan screamed and ran at Nate, who simply threw him aside on the ground.

"Ow! You hurt me!"

"Yeah, cause you're a little BITCH now." Nate had never cursed before but he felt excited by it and was breathing more quickly. "And I tell YOU what to do now! GOT IT? And if you don't like it, I'll...I'll give you a smack across the face!"

Mr. Frazier, now a slight 14 year old boy with auburn hair and thin demeanor, couldn't believe how much smaller he was than this fucking kid! The kid outweighed him now by at least a hundred pounds! He tried on some of Nate's bigger clothes, that he had been handed down by the orphanage in the hopes he would grow into them. Nate didn't fit into many of Mr. Frazier's shirts because he was way bigger than he had been, but managed to find something.

An hour of practicing on the farm later, Nate felt like he had gotten the hang of driving enough to take the jeep out to the river. He delighted in being a good driver along the road and Mr. Frazier in his diminished position told himself that at least it was a flat road without curves and he sighed in relief.



"I can't believe you can do anything you want now and you're blowing bubbles," Jordan said.

"I like blowing bubbles! This is gonna be fun!"

"You can't do this. We can't do this. I'm not going back to school. You can't get a job. We have social security numbers, and people expect me to be into work. People know where I live. So does the foster system. What happens when they come for a visit and find two strangers living in the house!"

"I dunno, but it's your problem, huh?" Nate blew bubbles.

"My problem? MY PROBLEM? YOU LITTLE FAGGOT! I WANT YOU TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT AND I WANT YOU TO DO IT RIGHT NOW! YOU FUCKING FIND THAT CARD AND WISH US BACK AND-"

Jordan yelped as he was picked up in midair.

"Shut up, KID. I'm the daddy now and what I say goes. Now why don't we go home and you can make ME some dinner. And you're doing the dishes afterwards! Ha!"


"No! No no no no no! This can't be happening! I wanna be older again! You can't do this! You're just a kid!"

"Shut up and get in the car!" Nate ordered. He felt so grown up! He felt his face and noticed he was starting to grow a beard. "Hey look, I have facial hair! Cool!" He drove them back to the farm without problem.

When they got home, Nate was gloating and was feeling the high for the first time in his life of being big and threatening and his cock throbbed with power at the thought of telling Mr. Frazier what to do. Nate sat back on the couch watching TV while Jordan slaved away at dinner. Nate took great satisfaction in this and he checked in on the now youthened lad's progress.

"How are you coming along?" he said gruffly, loving how his voice now sounded.

"It'll be done when it's done."

"Are you mouthing off to me? I'm an adult now! You can't mouth off to me, you have to do what I say and respect me! So there!" He grabbed the boy and lifted him up in the air. He was so big! His muscles swelled.

"OH GOD!"

"No! Stop!"

"I'm taking your age again!" The boy struggled in his arms. "HELL YES! GIMME THAT AGE, BOY!" he roared.

"No no no!" Mr. Frazier screamed, his voice getting shriller and shriller. "No no nooooooo!"

Nate could feel the mass from the boy moving into him, flowing into him. His muscles and back expanded. He moaned. He drained the boy until he was only 8 or 9 years old again. He put him down and his body swole with muscle and age. Tattoos swirled around on his arm. His beard grew out more fully.

"Oh god. My voice. It's so deep now!"

Mr. Frazier looked far up, helplessly. His new clothes were now much bigger on him.

"Look how big I am! I'm so big! I'M HUGE!! And I'm hungry! What's for dinner!" he demanded.

"I...I made some spaghetti."

"Great! Sounds awesome!" Nate helped himself to a large portion of the food, helping himself to as much as he could shovel in his mouth. He started eating without asking Jordan if he even wanted any. "I'm starving! God, I'm hungry! I've never been this hungry before!" He made disgusting noises as he practically inhaled his meal.

Mr. Frazier, in a daze, got out a beer and took off the cap. Nate heard the hiss and as the now mere boy sat down just opposite to him, he couldn't help but laugh to himself.

"Are you kidding me? Really?"

"I need a beer," the 8 year old Jordan told him.

He moved quickly to pounce over and snatch the beer out of the boy's hand.

"Little boys don't drink beer. They can have milk, water, or orange juice. You can have one of those. Only grown ups get to have beer." He sniffed. "Hey, that smells good." He tried a sip. "Mm. That's yummy! Course, I'm not gonna be a total alcoholic like you. So you can't drink anymore. Little man. Got it?" He finished off his first beer. "Wow, that's really different. Kind of gross, but kind of good." He put some spaghetti on a plate and offered it to the young boy, who had gotten some milk for himself wordlessly. Jordan looked up at his new "dad" worriedly. He wanted to make things right now. He was so innocent looking, Nate thought.

After dinner, he sat down.


"We need to have a talk, boy."

"O-okay."

"Do you remember things now? Did you notice how things have changed? Look at the photos in this room." Jordan did so. All of the photos were of the now grown up Nate.

"No..."

"Yes. I'm a state machine inspector. Do you know what that means?"

"No."

"Well, that's because you're a dumb kid. I'm a big grown up, and you're a kid from foster care. This is my house and if you live here, you are gonna live by MY rules!"

"No..."

"Yeah, and I ain't gonna be an alcoholic loser like you, either. I make way more money than you did. And I work hard for my money. So you're going to respect that and respect me and you will call me 'SIR'. Do you understand?"

"I...this is my house! Mine!"

"Oh really? You're an 8 year old. You're trying to tell me you're the boss of this house, buddy?"

"You little faggot! I can do whatever I want! I can do anything! You can't tell me what to do!" Jordan yelled, mustering all his strength. Nate grumbled a laugh.

"Oh?" He stood up. Way up. He was so much taller and bigger than Jordan now. He grabbed Jordan before he knew what was happening. He was now over Nate's knee. No! No! he thought.

He smacked little Jordan on the butt four times. Jordan blubbered after the spanking.

"Yeah. Trick or treat, you little bitch! You want another one?"

"No, I'm sorry!" Why was he crying like a little bitch? He was acting like some dumb kid!

"Apology accepted. Are you going to make me spank you again?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, sir. You're in charge."

"That's right and I take that seriously. I'm going to be a good foster father to you. And don't go telling them we swapped ages because they won't believe you. And don't tell them I spanked you unless you want to go back to the big, bad orphanage. You understand me, BOY?"

Jordan shook his head up and down yes.

"Now, why don't you go be a little angel and wash the dishes for daddy?"

Jordan did so obediently. Nate put his feet up and relaxed. His old foster father's training had begun...

TWO WEEKS LATER...

"Jordan!"

"Yes, Mr. Wallace?"

"Are you ready yet, son?"

"Yes, sir."

The little boy came trotting downstairs with his baseball glove. Mr. Wallace, as Nate went by now, had taken an interest in getting the boy into athletics. He would raise Jordan right this time. The boy had already forgotten everything about how to be an adult and only marginally remembered being big and old. He smiled. He was a true mentor now, guiding the little tyke into male bonding activities like baseball, going to the park, farm work they did together (he didn't feel right just giving the boy chores like he had been given, and he wanted to set an example) and showing the little boy how he worked out with his huge barbell and dumbbell weight set in the backyard. He promised little Jordan that he could start lifting weights when he turned 11 or 12.

They had swapped ages, swapped rooms, and swapped life roles. Only Nate was popular, had some very manly friends in town, and was a more successful man than Jordan ever was. All thanks to a very special lady named Madame Illusia and her magic wish cards.

So come one, come all. The next time you go to a Halloween carnival, and you see her tent, take advantage of the opportunity! Your entire life could change overnight!

2 comments:

  1. You're on a roll with these Halloween stories! As always, very well written and captivating. I couldn't tear my eyes away!

    ReplyDelete