Confidentially, Gareth had entered the men's room in La Louvre, sure that he'd find some clue about his missing husband. After all Carrie's plan for getting them past the obvious homophobes who ran this place worked.
That trio of snobs had given him some worry, but now inside the restroom, he felt safer. His brown eyes scanned the black and white marble that covered most of the room, catching a glimpse of something on the sink.
Quickly moving, the incognito gay man was both pleased and worried by what he'd found. It was his vanished husband's black horn-rimmed glasses, sitting there as they'd been left while their owner washed his face.
"Oh, Perry. Where are you?"
Gareth clutched them in his hand, as a flush of concern and attraction washed over him, triggering the 'were breeder' curse he now carried. There was a cracking sound as the glasses warped themselves into another shape, becoming the handle of a seeming switchblade knife.
He blinked at this new item in his hands, not sure what had just happened. But then a memory popped into his head, calming the panic he felt rising. This was his favorite switchcomb, as his finger pressed the button.
Out snapped a comb, and he felt a sudden need to run it across the top of his head. The teeth ran through smoothly through his black hair, as he watched in the mirror. It took a few sweeps of the comb, but soon a properly gelled and piled pompadour was rising up, even as it appear long sideburns now ran down to his jaw.
" 'Ey! Dat looks good."
The voice sounded like his but as if he'd stepped out of another decade and time. He tried to stop fussing with his hair but his hands had a mind of their own. The almost-white skin on them was pulled tight as a lifetime of working on engines caused them grow.
Unseen by him, his diamond- studded gold wedding band shifted to silver as it slid off his ring finger, narrowly avoiding being split by the thickening digit. It landed on a small open box that had appeared on the sink. Three silver orbs began bulging out with diamonds squeezed between them as it became an engagement ring for a certain southern doll.
The changes now began to assault Gareth's whole body. Underneath his suit and tie, his thinnish Asiatic frame was beginning to surge with muscle. The new mass pulled the clothes tight, causing them to also transform into something more appropriate for who he was becoming.
The blazer almost immediately began thickening, as cotton turned to leather. Buttons vanished and pockets shifted location, while straps and shiny new zippers ripped themselves into place. The collar grew wider, folding downward.
His button down white shirt turned grey as the front sealed up. Buttons fell away into nothing as did the long sleeves as they rolled up arms now surging with muscles. The starched collar retracted, turning elastic and caused his tie fall down. The almost complete t-shirt was clinging tight to the bulging pecs and rock hard abs that seemed to punch outwards.
In his mind, Gareth was hearing the sounds of revving motors. The cacophony of engine noise grew louder wherever he thought of another man as attractive, drowning out his gayness. Into this growing void of sexuality, some masculine and very hetero was forming, growing his knowledge of mechanics, fighting and babes in the process.
"Vroom, vroom, vroom."
Gareth repeated the words over and over, as if in a trance. Almost in response, his fallen tie snapped upwards to loop around his waist, silk giving way to thick black leather. The newly formed belt cinched tighter, as it seemed to squeezing a spray of ebony across his dress slacks. The color spread downwards, causing the material to shift black denim. This change was followed by muscle growth which caused the developing jeans to grow tighter around his thighs.
The pants' zipper ripped free and broke apart, reforming into metal buttons that closed up his fly, which pushed outwards as his average cock surged larger. He let out a slight moan of pleasure which seemed to accelerate the formation of his black boot cut jeans.
"Ugh, my hot rod wants...wants to pound dat puss..."
His dress shoes creaked and moaned as the leather reshaped itself and his feet. Thick heels emerged underneath size 12 feet, which caused him to stretch upwards in response. His spine popped as he now stood taller by maybe half a foot. He stomped his engineer boots on the marble floor.
"Yeah, yeah. Dat's right."
Gareth Johnstone was fading faster now, but the retrowave greaser that had been developing was more than ready to take the wheel
"Look out, world. Here comes the hetest cat, Garrett Garner..."
The switchcomb was again swept across his thick hair, piling his pomp even higher. He grinned, his teeth pure white. His jaw had widened, with his nose gaining a slight hook. Thick black brows hung above his baby blue eyes.
"Almost perfect, 'cause I gotta impress mah southern doll..."
His right hand snatched the ring box off the sink, while his left flick the switchcomb closed and tucked in his jacket pocket. He paused in front of the mirror, and pulled down some hair into a spit curl.
"Out of sight, and powerful like dynamite."
As he exited the restroom, the retrowave film star Garrett Garner stepped into the glare of the paparazzi cameras. Apparently, this secret rendezvous had gotten around, as he recognized that sneaky Gerald down in front.
But then his eyes beheld his southern belle babe in white, and he could feel his hot rod rev up again.
"Ow, baby. Why ya' gotta be so smoking..."
Caitlyn giggled, her voice almost a squeak. He reached over to pull her close for a kiss.
Mmmm-waa!~
He wanted to pop that important question but not in front of this impromptu crowd. Garrett beckoned to his babe and the two of them stepped outside, past the press. There was parked his chopper.
He swung a thick leg over the tank and kickstarted its motor. The rumble felt good, but her gloved arms around his waist felt better. He threw on his shades, which had once been Gareth's glasses. With a roar of the engine, the throwback celebrity couple rode off into the distance...