Waters of the Rosewood

 The truck pulled up to the coordinates, just a slight hint of the sun peeking through the top of the forest canopy lighting the surroundings. Fernando had travelled 837 miles, even hitchhiking the last leg of the trip when the GPS lost service around Island Pond. Hopping down out of the truck, the stout truck driver handed Fernando’s backpack to him, a concerned look on his face.

“Son, are you sure this is where you want to be dropped off? There isn’t any cell service for miles, and the closest town is almost 10 miles from here. No one is gonna know you’re out here…” Fernando smiled, tossing the bag over his bony shoulder.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, this is exactly where I need to be. I appreciate the ride!” The old man nodded, shaking his head as the door shut. Fernando watched, a smile across his face as the truck pulled away, leaving him alone in the forest with only the sound of wind and rustling leaves remaining. He put his hand into his pocket, pulling out the stained, frayed piece of paper that had the coordinates scribbled on them. It had been an absolute bitch to get them, and he’d already come this far.

44°52'36.3"N 71°50'19.6"W

At least from the Google Map he printed out, nothing even resembling a river was anywhere near him. Yet, he trusted the young man he’d gotten the coordinates from. He could still remember Trey’s smiling face, and the warmth of his strong chest against him in the bed.

His short stint in Columbus was for a holistic healing convention, but nearly every night was spent with Fernando. What started as a week long convention turned into a month before Trey was called back to Minneapolis, but within the pages long love letter he’d left for his new one and only was talk of a river in rural Vermont. In the white mountains, off any road, trail, or map ran a lost river. Only once a year, on Halloween, did it’s dry river bed reinvigorate. The waters were a murky rose pink, mimicking the color of the blossoming cherry tree from out of which the waters impossibly flowed. Trey had written of the esoteric healing powers of the river, as he was well familiar with first hand. His genuine and sole request before he was to hear from his love again, was for him to find the river for himself. Thus, driven nearly mad with love for a man he barely knew, Fernando took his first steps off the dirt road and into the forest, and into the unknown.

Sunlight barely penetrated the thick canopy of the forest; moss and ferns littered the ground beneath him. According to his directions, the coordinates lay about a mile or so off the road due west, and at the bottom of a valley. He thought about the reality of his situation, heading into the unfamiliar wilderness in search of a river unknown even by the locals around it. Was he insane for leaving Ohio? Was he crazy for doing so on the account of a short term fling? But Trey wasn’t just a fling. In those few weeks, it seemed to Fernando that he’d seen into his soul, and with every single breaking twig underneath his boot, his journey would end in Trey’s powerful arms once again.

The topography began to shift downward in a rapid fashion, and Fernando had taken notice. Before long, he’d already toppled forward, and rolled headfirst down the steep ravine. Landing on his back, small rocks and falling dirt cascaded atop him before the forest fell silent. He turned his head gingerly to the left, and disappointment overwhelmed him. There, next to him, was the dry gulch of a dead river. The yellow and brown leaves covered the round rocks once pounded by powerful rushing water, now forlorn and thirsty. He sighed, covering his face with the mud-stained palms of his hands. It seemed he was too late, or worse yet, he was trolled.

Just as the embarrassment and sadness began to take hold of him, the hairs on the innermost part of his ear began to tingle. It began so faint, it was barely a sound, but it was present enough for Fernando to take notice. He turned his head once more toward the riverbed, and saw the leaves blowing upward in the wind. The quiet sound of a babbling brook began to approach him from afar, as the stones began to become wet once more. He quickly brushed the twigs and dirt off of him, and stood there along the shoreline in awe. The river was slowly filling with water.

Fernando let the heavy weight of his backpack fall to the ground behind him, as he sat atop a boulder and watched the river flow once again. Just as Trey had mentioned, the water was a stunning and cloudy pink, unlike anything he’d ever seen before. In just fifteen minutes, the river was filled and calmly trickling down into the valley. A single tear fell from his eye at the incredible beauty of the sight, and he felt compelled to touch the water. He knelt down at the bank, and dipped the tips of his fingers in. To his own surprise, the water felt pleasantly warm for a brisk Vermont October. Warm enough, in fact, for a dip.

He sat down on the boulder and began to shuck his clothes from his lanky body, tossing them on top of his backpack. There, in full au naturale, he began to wade into the water. The warmth was enveloping, comforting, soothing, and by the time he was midway through the river, he was only up to his thighs in the rose colored water. His feet were tingling, the smooth rocks seemed to get smaller and smaller underneath him. Worrying about the very valid concern of leeches, he pulled his legs up out of the water to inspect. As he did, he was shocked. Where the water had touched him, his skin had become silky smooth to the touch. Hair had begun to sprout out of his formerly dry and varicose legs, and he’d even added a touch of muscle to them. He pulled out of the water quickly, grasping his foot in his hand. They had most certainly grown significantly, likely up at least two sizes. Returning his shivering, air chilled leg back into the warm water, he looked at his hands, dripping pink.

He could see his fingers start to stretch outward, and smooth out. Looking closer, he could even see the grooves of his fingerprints slowly shifting around in a psychedelic dance. This was the power of the Rosewood river, a bygone fountain of youth. No moment could be spared, as Trey had mentioned the river existed only for as long as a few hours on that particular day. Fernando slowly fell to his knees in the water, letting it’s warmth overtake him. He began to feel his pulse, the blood flowing effortlessly throughout him as he grew and shifted. There was no discomfort,nor was there any fear, Fernando felt secure and safe in the river. Safe enough to submerge his head beneath the shifting surface.

Beneath the waters, he let himself float downstream, the gentle flow of the river taking him wherever it pleased. The world began to feel smaller than before, every inch he moved made him feel stronger and significantly calmer. Fernando held his breath beneath the steady waters of the river but it was not long before his lungs were burning. A tugging within him almost compelled him to open his mouth and drink from the waters. With a gasp, he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the water and was filled not with the fear of drowning…but with the breath of a new life. It dove into him. It wrapped around the core of his heart and soul and bade him to surrender to the life giving power that was swelling his body. He jerked within the waters, arching into the power that coursed through his veins.

He could feel every inch of his body being caressed. It was as though Trey’s hands were roaming him, sliding over his expanding form, tracing over every curve of broadening muscles that spread over his body. The feeling of fingers sliding over his pectorals made him moan. The sensation of his serratus and lats expanding, of hands brushing over his torso filled his mind with the vision of Trey atop him, staring down at him with adoration. This was the gift of the river. Life. Happiness. A revelation of the future ahead with the man who had captured his heart so thoroughly.

Fernando felt the warmth and tingling spread to his groin. His eyes flew open as the length and girth of his manhood stretched and expanding. Unable to resist, he slid his hands down the rippling, muscular frame of his new body and grasped his length in his hands. Warmth continued to fill him and he stroked, following the tugging sensation between his legs and watched as he grew in size. His brain was flooded with the moments of passion shared between him and Trey. Every gasp. Every kiss. Every tender touch his beloved’s broad hands had visited upon him. He could feel it. He could taste it. With a shuddering gasp, Fernando could feel his balls balloon with a throbbing pulse, he was shaking with the force of his orgasm.

As rope after rope of his seed pumped out of him, all he could feel, all he could see, was Trey’s face and his lips, kissing him softly and promising what awaited them. He believed those promises, because now he had the power to make them a reality. With a long sigh, Fernando watched as the milky essence of his seed joined the rest of the river, the price of the river’s gift

His head burst forth from underneath the milky waters, the fresh air of the forest deeply filling his lungs. Opening his eyes, he glanced down at his hands, now nearly triple the size they had been before. His firm bottom had come to rest on a larger stone on the bottom of the riverbed, so he was able to lift his legs and feet out of the water, and float stationary against the tide. Intricate designs graced his powerful legs and broad feet, matching the beauty of the ink which now graced his strong pecs and shoulders. A neat beard and a full, velvety head of hair framed his youthful, masculine face; only vaguely resemblant of the cratered, sickly visage he once owned.

He let himself lounge there in the waters, feeling virile and stronger than he’d ever been. He’d have a little bit longer before the river would dry up once more, only to return in precisely one revolution of the sun. He smiled, thinking of his love, of their impending reunion; knowing all too well that this was just the beginning.