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    UnBirthday Present
    UnBirthday Present
    UnBirthday Present
    Ebook58 pages56 minutes

    UnBirthday Present

    By Eric Alan Westfall

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    About this ebook

    Royalty Note: 20% will be donated to an LGBT organization in my community.

    ***

    Fact: Shifters exist. Werewolves don’t. Fact: If you’re lucky, a shifter will pass by, read you with a touch, a glance, and when he comes back he’ll be in the shape of the man of your dreams...or maybe even a dream you didn’t know you had. Is your fantasy a massive man, massive in every way, bearded and burly, who’ll roughly use you in the alley behind the city’s most popular bar? That will be his change-shape. Is it a man who is sleek, and slender and elegant, and a bit of a slut with superb oral skills? Done. Is it an ordinary man, not all that in shape, a bit of balding, even, but someone to cuddle with afterwards? Done and done. And when the great sex is also done, he’s gone.

    Question: Do shifters, nearly immortal since their real shape ages slowly, and their change-shapes age not at all, have it made?.

    Possibly, if you want an almost-eternity of one-night stands. But what if you want something more? Someone to share all that time with. Except...there’s no sign or signal or symbol or scent to say, “He’s a shifter, too.” Just confession. So do you confess...and take the chance that he’s not a shifter, after all, and you get to watch the man you love slowly die? Confess...and perhaps wind up as a government experiment, if you loved neither wisely nor well?

    How much are you willing to risk for love?

    Richard and Steven have to decide.

    ***

    14,497 words of actual text.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEric Alan Westfall
    Release dateDec 8, 2013
    ISBN9781940935034
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      Book preview

      UnBirthday Present - Eric Alan Westfall

      UnBirthday Present

      by Eric Alan Westfall

      Copyright 2000-2013. Eric Alan Westfall.

      All rights reserved.

      ISBN: 978-1-940935-03-4

      Smashwords Edition

      A Hearty Round of (Cyber) Applause:

      For Beck and Lilia (alphabetical order here), whose beta reads and feedback and advice...there is a difference between the two...made this story far better than the original version was;

      For Jeff Wendorff, since the owl on the cover is from a brilliant photograph by him, and is used with permission. You can find his marvelous photography, covering a wide range of subjects, including more than 1700 photographs of birds, at www.jeffwendorff.com.

      For the design talents and creativity, and the ability to do subtle things with colors and fonts (‘n stuff like all that there) for the cover:

      Enny Kraft (http://ennykraft.weebly.com/)

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      UnBirthday Present

      Epilogue

      Author Bio

      Steven

      December 30, 1999

      12:10 a.m.

      I got my roommate drunk.

      Deliberately.

      With malice? No, none. Aforethought? Oh, yes...of the where and the when and the how, and with what variety. The why needed no thought at all. I’ve loved Richard since the night we met, and I thought so briefly he was straight and that was why there was no spark. Instead, he’s gay...and just not into me.

      So I got him drunk. With all that aforethought except the one that mattered.

      Consequences.

      I look at the rumpled bed. The man who rumpled it, and me, is gone. Tony, I think. Or Mike or Jim or...whoever. It doesn’t really matter. He was just a trick. I don’t even have the excuse that I had to shift to his heart’s desire, and then fuck his brains out, since I didn’t shift at all. Steven, just plain Steven, went down to the river walk, and found a man whose tastes were tempered by the time he had spent cruising in the comparative cold. A man horny enough, hard enough, to be willing to use the holes of such an ordinary man, especially when the fucking or sucking wasn’t going to be in the shadows beneath either the pedestrian bridge or the traffic bridge over the river. Instead it was going to happen up here, in the warmth of a Windsor apartment.

      I wonder if Mr. Binoculars across the courtyard was watching when Tony or Mike or Jim or whoever rammed his cock in my ass and fucked me in the living room with all the drapes spread wide. Just as I was.

      The rumpled bed that has never been rumpled by Richard and me reminds me of all the beds and bars and bushes and baths where Richard and I might have rumpled each other thoroughly and well, and didn’t.

      Except it did happen. Once. Just once. In Richard’s bed. Just not with me.

      I stand naked in front of the full-length triple mirror that Richard has often mocked.

      flickertwistpain

      The change-shape that is Steven shimmers, dissolves, and with a gasp and a shudder the shape I see in the mirrors is my own. Charles. A shape no one but me has seen in nearly a century, a name no one has used for me in the time since...the night I learned an important lesson about me and my kind. I smile and it is not a pleasant smile to look at. I am not even sure that there is such a thing as my kind, or if I am just an aberration, a one-of-a-kind freak of nature. Charles. I avoid men named Charles, unless the compulsion gives me little choice, but even then I fight, though I most often lose. I do not even call myself that when naming a change-shape, if I plan on occupying it for a few years, a decade or longer.

      The devil hath power t’assume a pleasing shape. I don’t think I am the devil, or even a demon, but how would I know?

      Richard has a pleasing shape.

      flickertwistpain

      With a gasp and a shudder and a surge of pain that is never erotic, no matter what happens after, the shape that is Charles shimmers and dissolves...and reforms.

      I look at myself in the mirror.

      Is this a Richard I see before me? Come, let me clutch thee!

      I grab my cock, Richard’s cock, and watch myself stroke and get hard. I have only had this cock once, but even two queers who are merely roommates, cannot, over

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