User:Triskelelynx\Leathermancer

It was her boots that caught his eye.

She wore a flirty sundress and Army-regulation tanker boots. Rather than laces or zippers, they were closed by a long strap of leather that spiraled around her calf up to a buckle near the top.

Tanker boots had a special significance to Jacob. In Kuwait during the first Gulf War, frustration with an especially ill-fitting pair led him to discover his ability to manipulate leather with his thoughts. Jacob was a leathermancer.

It was the first really nice day of spring, in an upstate NY lakefront park. As usual, winter had been long, cold and gray. So, on the first warm, sunny day, Jacob and seemingly everyone else went to the park. No one paid any attention to the older-seeming gent behind the salt, pepper and cayenne beard, glasses, and Greek fisherman's cap, as he pretended to read the paper on the bench.

What he was really doing was playing with other people's leather. The guy in the suit's new oxfords were pinching, so Jacob made them a little softer. The kid in the leather hi-tops would have blisters by the end of the day, so he made them fit better. He was limited by physics - he couldn't make leather with his mind, or destroy it, but he could change its shape and texture. He could also work other materials, but leather was always easiest.

Then he saw the girl in the tanker boots. She was a medium height brunette, average in looks, and maybe 25 or so in age. Then she looked at something behind Jacob, and he was entranced by the vivid ocean-blue eyes framed by her dark wavy hair.

Jacob decided he had to do something special for her. Luckily, her Army-issue boots gave him plenty of leather to work with. Most women's boots are made of thin flimsy leather that gave him few options.

He decided to fix the rubber sole first, since it would take more of his energy. He stared at the low, blocky heels, and pictured a tapered three-inchers instead. Then, he reached into the back of his brain, gathered up some energy, and willed the heels of her boots to look like the picture in his mind's eye.

The woman let out a little squeak as she was suddenly lifted two inches higher. Jacob smiled behind his paper, and started the next step. He grabbed the tops of her boots with his mind, and pulled them up. When he stopped, her legs were wrapped in perfectly fitting, soft black calfskin leather from toe to mid thigh. The spiral strap wrapped around, making the leather conform to her every curve. She yelped, and looked around wildly, as if making sure no one saw what just happened.

Jacob buried his eyes in his paper, glancing up after a minute to guage her reaction. She was looking down, prancing around a little bit, plainly admiring his work. She should be freaking. Boots don't just change by themselves! A bit miffed that his practical joke had not worked the way he hoped, Jacob decided to try something he had never done before.

He reached out with his mind, grabbed some of the extra weight she carried around her waist, mentally divided it into four pieces, and pulled it down. She started to screech in pain, then clamped her mouth shut and grabbed onto a light pole for balance. He continued to pull the adipose tissue down until they were where he wanted them, then converted their mass to muscle and bone. Her legs were now about three inches longer, and her waist noticably thinner. He took a little more tissue, and this time dragged it upwards. He didn't make her small breasts much larger, just rounder and firmer, and added enough connective tissue to keep them that way through the years. Then, with a light touch, he toned and firmed her body, adding strength, yet leaving enough softness to keep her curves. With the last of his power, he tailored her dress to fit her perfectly.

He slumped on his bench as she ran towards the parking lot. She stumbled the first few steps, unsure on her new legs, then ran with the grace of a gazelle despite the heels. He watched her until her could no longer see her, then folded his paper and walked home.

A few weeks later, he was back on his bench, pretending to read the paper and playing with other people's leather. A harried mother was attempting to herd four whining kids towards the park exit. The narrow strap of her heavy purse was cutting into her shoulder, so he reached out with his power and widened it. He couldn't do anything about the kids, but he could remove one source of irritation from her day.

He got up, folded his paper, and turned to walk home, only to find his way blocked by an attractive young woman - the one he had changed back in the spring.

She was wearing the thigh high tanker boots over snug white jeans, with a dark blue shirt that perfectly matched her eyes. Most off-the-rack clothing was to snug here, or too loose there, but her jeans and top looked like they were custom made to her measurements.

"I wanted to thank you for the boots," she said.

"How did you know it was me?"

"I'm a witch. Once we knew to look, my sisters and I found traces of your work all over town. Still, I wish you had stopped with the boots. I mean, I like looking like this, but..." She trailed off as another woman walked up next to her. A Nordic beauty, she had hair like sunlight and eyes like the sky.

"We've learned a lot from examining your work," said the blonde, but you should have stuck to being a magical cobbler."

A rich, throaty voice said behind him. "Magic must never be used on another person without their consent, except in cases of self-defense or defense of another. This law may not be broken without going unpunished." He turned around to see a woman with skin like sunshine on mahogany, standing tall and proud like a Nubian princess. He looked around, and saw that he was being surrounded by women, all of them gorgeous, and all deadly serious.

The last one to arrive had white hair and a young face. Traces of crow's feet and laugh lines were the only indications of her age. She said, "We are the sisters of the Cayuga Lake Circle of Witches. We are, in number, twelve. We are one sister short of a coven." She had accent he couldn't place. European, he thought.

"Had you not used magic on our sister, we probably would have befriended you, to teach and learn what we may from you. Now that choice is taken from us. Your life is forfeit to the Goddess! What she will do with it, I do not know. Pray she is merciful!"

With that, he felt a surge of power from all around him. The witches were passing their energy to their priestess. He had never considered the possibility of other magic users, and had never given any thought to magical defenses. The priestess guided the combined flows of eleven witches plus her own at him. It brushed past his feeble shielding attempt like it was tissue paper, and struck him full on the chest. He was surrounded, trapped by its power. He tried to scream, but his vocal chords were instantly paralyzed. He tried to run, but fell first to his knees, then onto all fours.

The power gathered at the crown of his skull and went downwards, remolding it as it went. He could feel it forcing him into a new shape, as he did with leather, as he had to the stormy-eyed girl.

He felt his eyeballs sag as his facial bones shifted, then they grew to fill the larger voids in his skull. His teeth fell out. He could see them, with their old silver fillings lying on the ground in front of him. Smaller ones grew back in their place. Still, the power crept downward.

His shoulders, once the broad, powerful shoulders of a soldier but diminished by age, grew narrower still. His ribcage followed it, popping and creaking as the bones found their new places. Still, the power crept downward.

He could see it now changing his arms, smoothing away the roughness of age. His gray arm hairs fell out and were replaced with fine downy ones. His chest felt odd, weighty, almost like the pecs he had in his Army years, but not. He looked down between his arms, and saw soft, rounded shapes growing there, hanging downwards. He realized what the Goddess's punishment was. She was taking his life, and giving him a new one. Still, the power crept downwards.

He felt abdominal his organs shift as his waist contracted and his hips swelled outwards. A mass of red hair, the color of his in his youth, spilled down around his neck, and he lost sight of what was going on. Still, the power crept downwards.

He almost vomited when it reached his crotch. His testicles were being drawn up into his abdomen, squeezing through openings smaller than they were. He fell the rest of the way to the cool grass, nauseated from the pain. He could feel them move up through his abdomen to take positions a few inches below and to either side of his navel. Due to the pain, he hadn't feel the other changes down there. And still the power crept downwards.

She felt his legs shift, his feet shrink, and then it was over. Where a middle aged man had stood, a young woman lay, breath heaving. She slowly becoming aware of the little things. The feeling of her arm pressing on her breasts. The way her legs felt, lying close together without squeezing the boys. The tightness of her men's pants around her hips, and the bagginess of her t-shirt.

She rolled over into a sitting position, and a small Asian woman, radiating elegance, said, "Let me help you with that." With a surge of power, she reshaped Jacob's worn, poorly fitted men's clothing into new woman's wear, even remembering to flip the fly and button of her jeans onto the other side. There was no denying she was braless under her knit cami top, and chunky heeled Red Wing work boots came up to just below her knees. "Oh, I almost forgot!" she said, and Jacob's briefs rearranged themselves into panties.

Desparate for some vestige of her former life, she reached into her back pocket and fumbled for her wallet. On her license, a young, red-headed woman named Jackie stared back at her. Her date of birth was January, 1991, when Jacob had been in Kuwait.

The priestess said, "Help her to her feet. It is the Summer Solstice, and it appears we have a new sister to initiate tonight."