Ring Ring!
“Hey, Jack! What’s up? I just saw the movie, congratulations again…”
“Don’t sweat it, man. I’m not calling to fish for compliments. Bro, I just scored two bob-ass chicks at the theater. They’re down to clown if you know what I mean. I can score some blow if you want to come party with us.”
“Naw man, I need to work out tonight. Thanks anyway though.”
“Come on, you’d rather pump iron than get your dick wet? If you keep this up people are gonna start thinking you’re a fag!”
“Look man, I don’t have time for this.”
“Neither do I. If you’re not gonna come, I guess it’s more for me, then. Peace!”
Click.
Movie star Ethan Miller set his phone down on his desk and sighed. Being gay in Hollywood wasn’t an easy task. With everybody so involved in your personal business, it wasn’t easy to sneak out to the clubs like he secretly wished he could. He knew that with his chiseled body he could get any guy he wanted, but the risk of being recognized was too high. He envied Jack Burton’s ability to put himself out there and get into wild adventures, but those coke-fueled binges didn’t appeal to him.
“No, no drugs for me. My body is a temple. A perfect, lonely temple.”
Ethan laid down on his bed, staring up at the 30 foot ceiling of his cavernous mansion’s master bedroom. He clicked on the humidifier by his bed, opened up his Men’s Health magazine to the proper page, and began his nightly moisturizing routine. He rubbed lotion up and down his taut legs, his firm, hairy chest and abs, and his slender arms. Wait, what? He sat bolt upright.
Where his bulging biceps had once been, there was now skinny noodles of arms with no muscle tone at all. He grimaced, circling his skeletal wrist with a finger and thumb. He felt a sudden wave of hunger and looked down to see his abs deflating into his chest, sucking in one by one to form a flat, emaciated stomach. His chest followed suit, shrinking into a bony heap. He could count his ribs! The lush hair on his chest receded, leaving only a couple scraggly strays around his nipples, which dulled from bronzed protrusions to flat, tan discs.
As he felt a tingling sensation in his legs, he closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at all his hard work withering away yet again. He rolled into a ball and began to rock back and forth, hyperventilating. He stopped suddenly, and sniffed. What was that weird smell? He opened his eyes and noticed that the mist from his humidifier had gotten thicker. Confused, he picked it up, leaned in, and took a deep whiff. Instantly, a wave of relaxation surged through his body, calming his tension and putting him at ease. He took another deep breath as the humidifier began to blur and shift into a well-used bong.
He blew smoke expertly into the air, not noticing as his ceiling dropped lower and lower, fading from pristine white to a mottled yellow. The walls also closed in, the modern paintings becoming battered Bob Marley posters. As he smoked, his bed shrank beneath him, becoming a single with a grungy mattress, the single sheet tangled at the foot. He smiled blissfully and settled back onto his threadbare pillow. He picked up the magazine, which was now a dog-eared issue of Penthouse, and squeezed more lotion into his hands.
He began to rub his crotch as he unfolded the centerfold, not noticing as his penis expanded an inch.
“Oh, Samantha. I love jerking off when I’m stoned,” he said. “I’m so hot! Can you feel me?” He pounded away as the last of the changes took place. His short, spiked brown hair tickled as it surged from his follicles, trickling down his head like a waterfall until it hit shoulder length. His luscious beard stubble receded halfway into his face, becoming patchy and uneven as a goatee sprouted on his chin, extending into a scraggly mustache over his thin, pale lips. A flash appeared and a lip ring protruded from his mouth.
“Oh! Oh!”
His eyes bugged out in ecstasy, the pupils dilating as they dulled and became unfocused.
He came onto his own chest in a gushing torrent, but instead of splattering, his sperm rearranged into a grey knit beanie that he jammed over his greasy locks. He walked over to his closet, threw on a flannel and some ratty jeans, then headed out the apartment door in his flip-flops, ready for his next big adventure.
“Hey world, get ready for Eddie!”