There was a feeling of comfort surrounding the man. Surrounding him was nothing but massive trees as far as the eye can see. It was beautiful. Comforting. It felt just like home for someone like him. A massive, hairy hand clasped onto the axe. The worn wood sent another pang of familiarity through his nerves. Over a decade, almost two, of use and it's still going strong. With a strength he didn't think he had before, he lifted up the axe and began to eye the tree. A noticeable indent was within the tree. So many years of work finally coming to a climax. He hauled the axe backwards and paused to savour the moment, and with one last swing… ---------------------------------------------------------- From what was once a previously unconscious state, verdant green eyes shot open. Forced open, rather. An annoying buzzing had started to go on and off. "Grrhg… I thought I had turned that off…" A young man laid on his back and stretched an arm out to a nearby counter before promptly slamming a fist down on a button, one that belonged to his alarm clock. He stared at the ceiling for a moment. A strange, foresty smell lingered in his nose, accompanied by glimpses of a forest within his mind. A part of him knew this was from a dream he had last night, but he couldn't quite remember much else. He wished he was able to stay asleep longer to find out. The man sat up and scratched his stubbly chin. "Today's s'pose to be my day off," he muttered to himself. This is Victor Marshall, and this was indeed supposed to be his day off. To be more accurate, it was his week off from work. And he was hoping to get a little more sleep in, in comparison to a normal weekday. But it was unlikely he'd be able to get back to sleep now. Resolving to reluctantly start his day, Victor sluggishly ran through his morning routine. Brushing his teeth, showering, aimlessly checking random sites for any updates. After showering he haphazardly threw on a navy blue hoodie, black sweat shorts, and some plain white socks. He didn't even bother to comb his hair, deciding to keep it in the messy style that he had preferred over the "prim and proper" style he felt obliged to have for work. After one last glance at Twitter, Victor shut off his phone and headed down to the kitchen to prepare himself some breakfast. He had a lingering mood for pancakes that he couldn't quite place the origin of. But finding them to be a little too work intensive for having just woken up he chose to just scramble a few eggs and call it a day. Once breakfast was all prepared Victor took a seat at the kitchen table and pulled out his phone again. A realization was beginning to dawn on the young man. He had nothing to do on his week off. While sitting around and aimlessly wandering the Internet had seemed to be an appealing expenditure of time, something was welling up inside Victor. He wanted to do something… more. Unfortunately he didn't have too many options. His friends all still had work at their own jobs, and he wasn't too interested in doing something by himself like watching a movie or continuing one of the numerous game playthroughs he has hanging in the air. Twirling a fork in the air, Victor tried to think of something to do. Suddenly, a message notification pinged on his phone. Glancing down he saw it was from his father. DAD Hey, kiddo! Heard you got a week off! Victor tapped the notification and responded. YOU Hi dad. Yeah, got some time off. still trying to find something to do to spend that time. DAD I don't have too much in mind, but I hope you can come up with something. Helpful, Victor thought. DAD Actually come to think of it… Do you remember Uncle Lance? Victor tilted his head. Uncle Lance… He couldn't quite put a face to the name, but it was familiar. YOU not very well. DAD I expected that. I think the last time you saw him you were still a little tyke. And that was what? 20-something years ago? YOU Good job on making me feel old there, dad. DAD Not as old as your old man! And definitely not as old as Lance would've been! Victor smiled, but he had to get his dad back on track… YOU So who exactly is Lance? DAD My older brother. He was such a great guy! He worked as a logger. Specifically at this cabin he owned all those years ago! Although after he went missing the ownership was transferred to your pa over here. YOU er, missing? DAD Yeah… we never quite got the details of it, unfortunately. But that's beside the point! I think that cabin would be a nice vacation spot for a bit, if you're interested. Victor looked up from his phone and thought. It might be nice. Getting out for a bit. Although he was still a little curious about Lance's disappearance. But judging by the conversation switch it appears his dad might not have wanted to speak too much about it. After a few seconds he looked back at his phone. YOU alright, yeah, I'm interested. send the directions if you have them. ---------------------------------------------------------- The cabin was located in a northern portion of his county, specifically a heavily forested region of it. Victor chose to only pack a few extra sets of clothing and his laptop. His father had assured him that the cabin was still well kept and that he had tried to "modernize it" a little in the event he ever decided to stay there. Although knowing dad, modernizing might be a stretch. The actual drive there was lengthy, almost half the day to be precise. Over the course of hours Victor watched as city skylines shifted to heavy forestry, packed highways dispersed into nigh-uninhabited roads, and the touch of humanity faded away as he went further up north. Once he got far enough his car was coaxed off the road by a dirt path wide enough for vehicles to pass through. Victor started to drive onto the path, his eyes occasionally looking away to take in the forest. Massive trees towered over the pathway with the sun shining through the cracks in the foliage. The only signs of fauna was the sound of chirping birds that echoed through the branches. Something about this forest felt welcoming to Victor. Welcoming and familiar. Ten minutes after entering the forest his car started to pull up to a clearing. A few birds flew up from the ground as he stopped, and his eyes started to take in where he was. Victor got out of his car and started to inspect the location. The clearing itself was the same packed dirt as the path save for a few patches of grass starting to sprout through. A log cabin stood in the middle of it surrounded by the dense forest. As for the trees, all of the trees looked fairly similar… except one. It was a tree that was beside his car. It was just as tall as all the others, just as thick too. But on the side of the tree facing towards the cabin was a dent. It was as if someone had been heaving an axe into it. Etched above that dent was a set of lines, seven to be exact. "Must've been uncle Lance's work…" Victor muttered to himself. He placed a hand on the etched lines, a feeling of familiarity yet again running through his veins. He felt almost entranced… but he broke out almost instantly, shaking his head. "That was weird." Disregarding whatever just happened Victor went to the back of his car and pulled out the dufflebag containing his items before heading into the cabin. The sound of the dirt crunching beneath his sneakers as he did so felt oddly calming. Flicking a lightswitch Victor found that the cabin had only a small layer of dust and next to no cobwebs. Once he walked in he found himself in the cabin's living room. Inside it was a sofa with a small table beside it, and a fireplace in front of it with a few empty vases perched above it. On the left to the living room was a kitchen that seemed fairly modern containing a functional stove, microwave, and blender positioned adjacent to a kitchen island. As for the right there was a bedroom with a large, comfortable looking bed covered with a red plaid patterned blanket. Beside it was a bedside table and a door that presumably led to the bathroom. Victor heaved the dufflebag onto the couch and started to look around a bit more. This place had an air of age to it, but it still had the touch of something recent. All the wood and carpets looked clean (or as clean as something with a slight layer of dust can be). And the touch of technology was almost non-existent, yet the kitchen was new and there were a few power outlets. Victor's eyes locked back onto the shelf that was above the fireplace. Between the vases was a framed photo. Walking towards the shelf and taking a hold of the picture frame, Victor found the image to be of a man. He was rather large, a mix of muscular and fat. The man was clad in overalls and a flannel, the first few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his hairy chest. He seemed to be rather hirsute in general judging by his arms. One arm was holding an axe over his shoulder. He sported a thick beard with specks of grey on the chin, short hair that was greying at the sides, and a face that looked to be weathered. Through it all he sported a great smile, one that seemed to be of pride. The man's smile made Victor smile. "This must be Uncle Lance," he said to himself. The man looked so happy. So jovial. Seeing this image alone had made Victor wish that he had met Lance. Placing the picture back onto the shelf, his eyes then caught onto something on the wall. It was an axe. Although the blade was rusted and the wood looked extremely chipped. Victor started to walk over to it, knowing it to be the axe his uncle used. He felt overwhelmed with something. A feeling that maybe he too could wield that object. But the moment the skin of his hand touched the handle he was forced to retract his arm, hissing in pain. He spat out a "Fuck!" as he started to hold his wrist. "Must've gotten a splinter!" What had possessed him to touch old wood! He moved into the bedroom and started to look through the bedside table's drawers. He wasn't sure if a pair of tweezers would be in this place but he could only hope to find one. Unfortunately, a few minutes of hopeless drawer searching had been fruitless. No tweezers could be found, and strangely he found that his finger no longer hurt. Upon closer inspection, the splinter was gone… Victor chose not to think too much about it. But now that he was in the bedroom, curiosity started to bud inside him. Not too much was on the bedroom's tables save for another picture of Lance, this time with a younger Westley- er- his dad. Beside the doorway was a dresser that contained numerous briefs, jeans, and suspenders. And next to that dresser was a closet. Inside the closet were only flannels, all with plaid patterns. The only differentiation was the color of them which usually ranged from red, blue, green, and brown. Victor took hold of a flannel. It looked so new, yet it still seems worn a little. And there was this smell, this musk coming off of it. It made his mind feel a little hazy. Hanging the flannel back up, he decided to stop skulking around his uncle's former living place and take a well deserved rest. Unfortunately, once he sat down and pulled out his phone he found the cabin had no reception. The last thing he had received was a text from his dad telling him to have fun. Victor shrugged and placed the phone on the table beside the couch. He thought about pulling out his laptop and maybe forfeiting some of his downtime in order to work on some work documents, but he decided against it. Maybe sitting back and taking in the sounds of the outside would be good… The light of the evening Sun shone through the window as he began to relax. The bird chirps had slowed down, replaced with the rustling of the trees in the wind. The smell of the forest penetrated his olfactory senses again as he drifted into an almost daydream-like state. The feeling of longing to meet his uncle started to enter his mind. But he also felt like this was how his uncle spent his days when he wasn't working, just taking in the reality of where he lived. Perhaps this might be a great week for him after all. What felt like minutes to Victor was actually a few hours, with the Sun having now set and the darkness of the night now visible outside. The light of the cabin gave a sweet sense of solace, though. Victor blinked and peeled himself off the couch. He turned his head to the kitchen and saw the time of day. After all of that he somehow felt tired and his muscles were starting to ache. He got up and started to head towards the bedroom. While passing a window his eyes caught a glimpse of a deer in the clearing. Another aspect of familiarity for the man… After reaching the bedroom Victor kicked off his shoes. But without even removing the rest of his clothes he instantly collapsed onto the bed with the sweet embrace of sleep taking him not even a few seconds later. ---------------------------------------------------------- Victor's muscles continued to ache as he slept, which had caused the entire cycle to be discomforting. Every few hours he'd toss and turn while grunting, muttering in his sleep on how he should probably be a little less intense during his work. Unbeknownst to him his aches were caused by something else. Something settling in his body. At first it was growing pains. A slow growth spurt occuring in his sleep, bones in his arms, legs, and back lengthening with each passing hour. There were times he'd hear a soft crack in a joint or in his back, an event that forced him to think again about work. About not overworking himself. The growing pains were accompanied by muscle aches. While his limbs lengthened, they also bulked. Muscle mass growing in his arms and legs. His pectorals subtly increased in size while abs began to form. His hands were catching up with the changes too, growing larger and meatier. His fingers were basically sausages now. There was a point in the night where Victor resolved to sleep on his back. Loud snoring started to escape his throat at this time, having replaced what was once his quiet sleeping behavior. His noticeable musculature didn't last very long after that. With each inhale came a bit of bloating in his body. Fat started to accumulate on his belly, his hoodie starting to ride up it as a result. A set of moobs soon melted out from his pectorals. Many of his features had also grown softer, his arms and legs looking thicker while his face looked chubbier. Another aspect of discomfort was then added in the form of itching. Victor placed a massive hand on his belly as it began. This was due to hair starting to grow out of his body. A treasure trail was growing up the middle of his belly. Thick hairs were growing on the back of his hands and all over his arms. A bushy mustache grew out of his upper lip while the remainder of his facial stubble grew into a short beard. And as for the hair on his head, it looked to be shortening and darkening. All of this new hair was a deep black instead of the brown he once had. A wave of changes then washed through his clothing. All of them grew to become a little bit more fitting on his body, but a few more adjustments had to be made. One of the sleeves of his hoodie began to roll up. Splotches of plaid-patterned red started to appear in the blue fabric. The hood itself began to shrink into more of a collar. Even a few buttons emerged while the beginnings of a split formed in the middle of the hoodie. The legs of his sweat shorts grew longer while the fabric thinned. And despite the fact he wasn't wearing his shoes, they were experiencing multiple shifts too: deepening from white to brown, the topline rising, and the overall look of them growing bulkier. It was here the changes were beginning to slow. Specks of grey were starting to shine in some portions of his hair, the palms of his hands seemed a little rougher, and his height had finished increasing significantly. His clothing had also paused mid-changes. Victor huffed as something began to shine in his eye. It was sunlight. How was it morning already? He blinked his eyes, mind still feeling tired. Last night was… severely uncomfortable. Maybe it was because this was a new place to sleep? As he shifted around his bed the springs creaked under his weight. Did they do that before? He could've sworn they didn't… He draped his legs and stood up off the bed. He caught a glimpse of his footwear, which now looked like a weird mix of sneakers and leather boots. But he didn't have too much time to dwell on that because he really needed to go to the bathroom now. Each step to the bathroom felt heavier than he remembered. The wooden floorboards would sometimes creak beneath his feet. Come to think of it, everything felt heavier than before. He unintentionally placed a hand on his belly and felt the thickness of it, which forced him to look down to see how big he's gotten. He… he wasn't always like this was he?? And why… why did his hoodie look partially like a flannel. Walking into the bathroom then brought him to a mirror, face to face with himself. Wider, chubbier face; thicker facial hair; black instead of brown hair; so much was… different. "What… happened last night…" he asked himself. His voice was so deep. Gruffer than it was before. He looked down and undid a few buttons of his hoodie-flannel to find that his chest had gotten hairier. "I wasn't always this hairy was I??" A headache started to emerge in his mind. He was so confused. "Uuugh… get a hold of yourself, Vic… Vi…" He forgot his name. He placed his two meaty hands at the sides of his head, letting out a few ragged breaths as he did so. His head was swimming in thoughts- his body, his clothing, his name, even his own memories. Everything is conflicting with itself! But something was there trying to reassure him everything was normal. Everything was fine. "C'mon… Vin… Vince, everything's fine," he told himself. He's been living in this cabin for a few… months was it, now? Nothing about this should be out of the ordinary! He was snapped out of the chaos of his mind by the sound of his stomach rumbling. He gave his tummy a knowing pat while smiling weakly. "Maybe I should follow up on that cravin' yesterday and make myself some flapjacks…" ---------------------------------------------------------- "Nothin' like the smell of flapjacks in the morning!" He wasn't quite sure how this oven got here. He could've sworn it wasn't there last he checked! But he didn't care too much. He somehow knew how to use it, and he could still make that sweet smelling breakfast that always made his day better. Especially after that morning he had! The sound of Vince's weird footwear clomping on the ground of the cabin was slightly off putting. He was still a little confused about everything in general, honestly. His mind felt hazy, like something wasn't there yet. But maybe that's just the last remnants of sleep. Maybe after filling his belly and getting some energy he'd feel better! It took a few more minutes to fully prepare the remainder of his meal, but soon he found himself with those fluffy flapjacks. Once they'd been accompanied by a small slice of butter and some syrup he knew everything was ready. The moment he shoved a forkful of flapjacks into his mouth he was practically assaulted with flavor. So fluffy, so buttery, so sweet… it was as if he were trying these for the first time! And as Vince continued to dig into his breakfast, a new surge of changes ran through him… Another round of fat started to pile up in his belly. If he stood up he would've noticed he was losing all sight of his legs and feet. His shoulders then broadened in order to keep up with his new body shape. In spite of that, his body wanted to persist. Bouts of strength radiated from his core and throughout his body. And even though it wasn't visible under all of that fat, he was gaining another burst of muscle mass. Specks of hair grew out all over his chest, with a thick thatch of it now visible from the portion of unbuttoned shirt he still had. His beard grew out becoming larger, thicker, a proper beard for someone like him! The hair on his head continued to shorten, however, and his hairline seemed to recede a bit. His clothing caught up to the changes too. The other sleeve of his shirt rolled itself up. The remainder of the hoodie shrunk into a proper collar. The splotches of plaid spread and got rid of any remaining blue while also thinning the fabric a little. More buttons trailed down the shirt until it became a proper flannel. Even a breast pocket emerged on the right side of the split. His sweat shorts could no longer be called that. The legs had grown so long they went a little above his ankles, the fabric changed to be a little thinner, and belt loops had manifested around the waist. A brown leather belt soon slithered around the man's waist before promptly buckling itself. And that wasn't the end of it's changes as straps slunk up the front and back of his body, snaking and branching in order to change those pants into suspenders. His footwear had finished their own changes too. The material changed completely into hard, brown leather. The topline reached pretty high, halfway up his lower leg. Shoe strings materialized and clasped the lip of the boot to his leg snuggly. His mind clicked right when two clicks rang from the straps of his suspenders fastening themselves onto the pants. Licking what food remained off his lips, the burly bear of a man gave himself a good look. He smiled. "I don't think I've eaten like that in a decade! Always makin' yourself proud, eh Vance?" He didn't care that his body looked different. Or his clothes. Or even the fact his voice was so deep and powerful. With his plate pretty much cleaned off he rose from his seat and took a look around. That air of familiarity he had yesterday, that was all because this was his home. It had been for a good while. He couldn't get the years right, but he knew he'd been here for a long time taking in the nature of the world around him. Then a new memory popped up. Something he'd been wanting to do for a long time. His axe hung mounted on the living room wall. Wood worn, metal rusted. He couldn't remember how it got like that. He could've sworn he used it yesterday… Vance clasped onto the axe and lifted it from its perch. Holding onto it… it felt so different… In mere moments Vance's body changed for one last time. Where his hands met the axe his skin calloused and scarred with years of work getting put in them in seconds. More and more greys speckled into the black of his hair giving his body hair and beard a salt and pepper look. Grey also settled into the sides and back of his head hair. His hairline continued to recede a little, stopping right before it would be considered balding. And the remainder of his head hair shortened for one last time into a soft mat of hair. His face weathered and aged. Crows' feet indenting themselves into the ends of his eyes, wrinkles forming in his face, and a few stretch marks emerging through it all. It would settle to what would presumably be his late 50's, if he could remember his age properly. As for the axe, it underwent the opposite. The wood fixed itself by smoothing up and filling in chips, but it still retained a bit of wearing to it. Rust chipped off the blade and dissipated, the blade ending up looking cleaner and functional. This was the axe that Lance knew. Hauling the axe over his shoulder Lance smiled proudly. He knew what he was doing today. The lumberjack headed outside and took a moment to breathe the fresh forest air. It smelled like his dreams, he thought. Then he headed towards where the road met the clearing. A big red pickup truck was visible on the road. But that wasn't what he was headed towards. He was headed towards a tree. The tree. It was bulkier in comparison to the rest. The trunk was really thick. A sign of it being really old. Likely older than him. The tree had a wedge in it, years of hacking away at it signified by this wedge alone. The seven lines above that wedge each stood for a year. He's been working on this tree for seven years. "And today I'm taking you down…" ---------------------------------------------------------- There was a feeling of comfort surrounding the man. Surrounding him was nothing but massive trees as far as the eye can see. It was beautiful. Comforting. It felt just like home for someone like him. A massive, hairy hand clasped onto the axe. The worn wood sent another pang of familiarity through his nerves. Over a decade, almost two, of use and it's still going strong. With a strength he didn't think he had before, he lifted up the axe and began to eye the tree. A noticeable indent was within the tree. So many years of work finally coming to a climax. He hauled the axe backwards and paused to savour the moment, and with one last swing… The sound of breaking wood could be heard as the tree started to fall into the forest behind it. Lance bellowed, "TIMBER!!!" as it did so. Finally, it was complete. He'd give one of the guys a call tomorrow to pick it up. It should have a good lot of lumber considering its size and width. Taking a look at the sky he saw that it had already become evening. This work was always so time-consuming, but in a good way. He enjoyed it. Once Lance was back inside his cabin he hung up his axe for the day. The man mused on how one of his buds would always tell him he'd always get the job done faster with a chainsaw. Maybe they were right, but something about heaving an axe at the trunk felt like it carried more weight to him. He took a seat on the couch and let out a content sigh. Another day of work done, now it's time to relax a little and listen to the world around him. Although he did notice a few peculiarities, like a duffle bag he couldn't remember owning and a… cell phone on the desk… He picked up the cell phone and pressed the power button. Somehow it's battery still hadn't died. He instinctively unlocked the phone, Lance unsure how he ever knew the password. The last thing that was open was a message application to someone named "Dad". And for some reason, seeing the word dad reminded him of his brother Westley… It brought him back to that picture on his nightstand of him and his brother. Maybe he should take some time to visit him… ---------------------------------------------------------- Less than a week since Westley sent that last text to Victor. He kind of felt bad for neglecting to mention the cabin would have no signal. He wasn't sure why he brought up his brother's cabin in the first place. Considering Lance had gone missing there twenty years prior with no evidence as to how it happened wasn't really reassuring. But it was oddly compelling to do so. His son needed something to do and he was happy to provide… Westley sunk into his slightly oversized polo and looked over at a picture of him and Lance. He really did miss him… As if on cue he heard the sound of a car pull up outside his home. He had assumed it to be his son's convertible but after a cursory look out the window he found it to be an all too familiar pickup truck. He walked outside in confusion. They never found the truck either so why would it be outside his house? He heard a door slam all-to-hard before a figure stepped out from behind the truck. Clad in a flannel, suspenders, and leather boots; and just as hairy as he was when Westley last saw him; alive and walking towards him was Lance. The bearish man let out a hardy laugh. "There's my favorite brother! It feels like it's been years since I've last seen you!" Westley stepped back a bit, awestruck. "Lance? I thought…" He wasn't given a chance to finish his sentence as he was scooped into the warm embrace of his older brother. A slight headache formed in his head as all recollection of his brother's disappearance faded away. Lance let Westley out of the hug and smiled. "You thought what?" Westley looked down for a moment. "I uh, don't remember… But a part of me feels really glad to see you…" Lance placed a hand on Westley's shoulder. "I knew you missed me!" Westley smiled. "Yeah. I did…"