Jose joined up with his posse as they were standing in front of the posters at the mall movie theater.
“How about that one?” said Tomas, pointing to a poster featuring a skull with crossbones made of cannons.
“No, that’s some pussy-ass shit, cabron,” said Jose. Tomas turned in confusion and looked at Jose. He blinked once and his quizzical expression cleared. “Jose! You made it!” They bumped fists.
The rest of the gang smirked and nodded in agreement. They hopped the velvet rope and sauntered into the lobby.
Jack Burton sighed and leaned against his broom. He thought being an usher would bring him one step closer to the Hollywood lifestyle he dreamed of, but working at the movie theater was a real drag. He drummed his fingers on a trash can lid and felt his other hand compulsively drawn to the patch of hair on his chin that he missed while shaving this morning. He scratched it nervously, lamenting his disheveled appearance. Thin and weedy, with a tangle of curly hair atop his head, he resembled nothing less than an upside-down mop. He wished his locks would do anything other than erupt in a messy frizz, but at least they hid his enormous, milky white forehead.
He spotted a group of Mexican boys hopping the rope barrier and straightened up. He was about to find his manager when the lead boy stopped him in his tracks. Tall, bronzed, and handsome, the young Mexican exuded a confidence that made Jack infinitely jealous. He found his gaze wandering down the hunk’s caramel pecs and abs, visible beneath the rustling of his shift, and come to rest on his tightly packed crotch. He broke out into a light sweat, attempting to subtly adjust his pants to accommodate the stirring in his loins.
The Mexican looked up at him. Shit. Jack quickly averted his gaze. But he was too late.
“Hey maricon!” shouted Jose. ”This ain’t for sale. If I catch you looking at me again, I’ll pop your ass into next Tuesday.”
“Y-Yes sir,” said Jack, shaking with fear. He ducked into the nearest theater and sat down in the back row to catch his breath. As he settled down, he looked up at the screen. A handsome, tousled movie star was embracing a busty blonde in front of a king-sized bed. They both still had their clothes on, but Jack felt himself secretly hoping the blonde would strip down. Wait, what? Attempting to drag himself back to reality, he looked over to the handsome actor, expecting to feel himself get hard. Much to his consternation, nothing happened. In fact, the face felt boring, almost familiar. Alarmed, he stood up, intending to go to the bathroom sink and splash cool water on his face, but a high-pitched moan made him look back at the screen.
Hell yes! The chick was unbuttoning her blouse. Jack sat back down and rubbed his crotch in excitement. He felt burning shame at his initial instinct to check out the now shirtless movie star. He was no fag, and it was queers like that who were ruining Hollywood for the rest of us. His blush quickly turned to an excited flush as the girl’s bra dropped to the floor. Now we’re talking!
He leaned back and put his feet up on the seat in front of him. As he watched the movie, his hand reached up to feel the patch of unshaven beard. He rubbed it unconsciously, not noticing as it began to expand. The wispy brown hairs grew thickly across the bottom of his chin, running up his cheeks and across his face as hairs sprouted one by one above his lip, finishing off a short dark mustache-beard combo.
His eyes flashed briefly with the reflection of the projector, fading from brown to baby blue as his curly hair fell flat around his face, slowly retracting into a messy fauxhawk. He shifted uncomfortably, moving his feet further apart as his package expanded to twice its size. He kept on rubbing, licking the fuzz on his lip and delighting in his masculinity. His calves inflated like beach balls, becoming hard, toned muscle.
His thighs soon joined them, thickening like tree trunks. His black uniform shirt grew softer as it faded into a sheer white V-neck that rode up above his waist, which crumpled in upon itself into a toned V. He took a deep breath and his chest never cam back down, expanding beyond its constraints, two cherry pink nipples jutting out against the thin fabric of his shirt. A slight itch signaled the growth of a dusting of hair that sprouted between the shelves of his pecs, scattering loosely down his six pack abs.
He rubbed his chest and grinned to himself. “Damn, I look good in this scene,” he thought. He pulled his shirt back down just as the credits started to roll. He sat up and froze as the world abruptly grew two shades darker. What the fuck?!
He reached up and pulled off the Ray-Bans that had just appeared on his face. He folded them and placed them in his packet. He stood to leave just as two girls were passing. One blonde, one brunette, and both 18, they were juicy specimens. One of them was commenting about how dirty the floor was when they noticed Jack and stopped in their tracks.
“Holy shit,” said the blonde, You’re Jack Burton!”
“Guilty as charged.” He grinned cockily, scratching his sexy, trimmed beard.
The girls squealed and the brunette gushed, “You were soooo good in that movie!”
“I’m good anywhere, baby,” he said, putting his hands around their waists. “You got a minute? This back row needs some heating up and I know for a fact that the usher won’t be stopping by anytime soon.”