You start to get nervous as you walk down the street. So many of these Irishmen have their eyes on you, and you know what they want to do. Fuck you and make you Irish so you can join the St. Patricks revelry. There's at least a dozen men that're staring at you while you're walking past, you need to get out of here now!
Deciding it's your only shot, you look for your point of escape. Trying to act as natural as you can while searching for any door out of here. Spotting a few shops and pubs down the street, but seeing each of them filled with Irishmen. A sinking feeling overtaking you as you get desperate for any way to avoid their lust filled look. Out of options now, you go to the nearest door that looks at least remotely safe. That being the men's restroom which sits between a pub and a bakery.
"Fuck. That's nice..."
Is the first thing you hear when stepping inside, the voice coming from the middle stall. You're not sure if this is better or worse than outside, but you decide it's better to wait a bit and see what happens. Walking into the thankfully clean rightmost stall, closing the door behind you, and waiting. Looking around your safe haven as you sit on the toilets lid and spot a small hole on the left wall. Curiosity overtaking you as your eye is planted on the opening, giving you a good view of the guy in the other stall. Though you're not sure if you should have looked, as he's stripped out of his clothes and placed his black backpack nearby. The man resting on the back of the stall and giving you a good look at his thin and wiry body. An almost nerdy look to the guy, with pale skin and curly black hair. Unimpressive in almost all aspects, and currently grunting as he strokes his erect cock. Face bright red as he continues to speak to himself.
"Fook... it's so good."
You hold your breath, his voice is starting to change. Deepening and gaining that heavy accent that the Irishmen of the city have. You're aware that this is the start of something much worse as the guy's dick starts to lengthen before your very eyes. Inch's added to the erect member, foreskin regrowing and pubes becoming a bright orange. Hand small in comparison to his tool, but that does not last for long as it too grows in size and his forearm with it. A heavy bit of bulk added to the formally scrawny man, as you see his muscles work with his movements. Skin starting to slightly tan as if by the sun, and hair growing out of his arms and pits.
His body for a moment looks odd proportioned, enlarged dick and arms with everything else the same. A rugged look at some parts but still a nerd to others. But the next to change is his chest as two meaty pecs grow out of his formerly skinny torso. Linings of orange hairs resting between his new might, and trailing down to his crotch. Causing muscle to grow and abs to form as they make their way to his pubes, before starting to spread to his legs. Covering them in a thick coating of orange as they too inflate with bulk and define into pillars of masculinity.
The only thing left of this guy is his head, but you know that's not going to last. Stubble sprouting around his chin, jaw squaring and hair changing to match the colour of the rest of him. Eyes a bright green as the new Irishman lets out a few more groans and grunts, before painting the stall's wall with a fresh load of white cream. The man looking at his discarded clothes with a bit of a grin, shrugging to himself as he says.
"Not gonna fit anymore."
Before he picks up his backpack and exits the stall. Turning on the bathroom tap as he cleans himself up, and you continue to wait. Hoping to hear him leave this place but instead hearing the sound of his backpack being unzipped. Objects pulled from the bag as he shuffles inside and grabs what he wants. The Irishman walking to your stall straight after, and kicking the door off its hinges. You vulnerable to this brawny bloke and seeing a can of beer in his right hand. Your eyes looking to the branding, reading it to yourself.
'True Irish, bring out your green'.
Though his voice cuts through your thoughts.
"Oi, Wanker. Catch."
He says before tossing the can over. You barely able to catch it due to a mix of surprise and fear. Unsettled by this situation but at the mercy of whatever this guy wants.
"Drink it."
You look to the can, not trusting this one bit. But your eyes are brought back to this guy as he places a brawny hand on your shoulder.
"Oi, drink it. Or I'm shoving my fooking cock up yer ass."
After a heavy gulp, you pop open the can and see the rich brown liquid inside. Drinking it all as the ale burns on the way down. It's extremely strong, and quite thick to boot. You feeling rather tipsy as the last drips are drunk, though your head rapidly clears by the second as the Irishman laughs and steps back.
"Come see me when you're ready. Your pal James will be getting pissed with the lads."
James steps back to the sink, putting his backpack on and leaving the bathroom. You're still frozen for a few moments, shaken by what has occurred and feeling at odds with yourself. Something's wrong and you know it, your eyes glancing for anything different and seeing a tent in your pants. Your cock painfully erect as you unzip your shorts and pull down your underwear. Seeing your manhood begging for release. Your hand reaching to give it a good stroke, but stopped as your notice your pubes. A few strands are starting to take on a ginger colour... oh no. Panic seizes control of your body as you realise what has started, that beer is making you Irish and you don't know how long you have left! You need to stop this, find some cure before it's all too late!