Caleb found himself standing in complete darkness. Then, with a click, the whole place lit up. Caleb whirled, blinking in the bright light.
“Power still works,” Dustin said, “I never told you, did I? My dad works as a real estate agent. He showed this place off to a prospective buyer and turned the power on just for the weekend.”
“So that’s how you got the key,” Caleb said slowly.
“Exactly!” Dustin grinned and hustled past him.
Caleb realized he was in a small kitchen. There were fryers and a flattop stove. A cooler loomed to the left and a small bathroom to the right. In front of him were swinging doors that led to the club proper. Caleb glanced around scuffing the linoleum floor and noticed that everything looked clean. No grease stains. For an old, abandoned biker bar, nothing about this seemed normal.
“You coming?” Dustin asked, poking his head through the double doors.
“It’s clean.” Caleb said.
“Yeah, we had a crew come through, dust it, degrease it, vacuum.” Dustin explained. “There’s some damage,” He pointed up to where a ceiling tile had fallen out, some pink insulation poking down from the hole, “But if they want to fix that, it’s on the buyer.”
Caleb mentally kicked himself. He was getting too worked up over this, of course Dustin’s dad would have cleaned the place up before trying to sell it. Sighing, Caleb rolled the cooler forward into the main bar area.
The carpet was plush burgundy and the wood here was polished walnut. Bright brass rails ran around the entire room. Off to the side were some bathrooms and a corridor that led to a manager’s office. The booths were plump and covered in burgundy leather.
The more that Caleb looked around, the more he realized that not everything about Josh’s story was made up. It had been set up like a pentagram. The bar was in the middle, completely empty, of course, just the pillar where the drinks would have been stored on shelves. Well-upholstered barstools circled it. Around the bar were the booths, a stage in the far corner, and stripper poles set up around it.
He turned and saw a placard on the wall that read: ’Heckfire Club: A Gentleman’s Club for the Not-Very Gentlemanly’
Caleb took a breath and realized he could smell the typical bar smells over the aroma of lemon-fresh cleaning agents. That dank, spilled beer smell was everywhere, slightly fruity and sour. Along with the alcohol scents, he could smell stale cigarettes. There were vents in the ceiling for smoking. Which was odd, since smoking in bars had been illegal for, like, ever.
“How long ago was this place shut down?” Caleb asked.
“Uh, it closed in 1994.” Dustin said. “like, almost thirty years. Good condition for a vacant property that’s sat this long without new owners.”
“It almost looks brand new.”
“Yeah, dad said the place was a dump when he first saw it after it closed.” Dustin shrugged. “Said he’d never seen a place get better over time. But like that missing ceiling tile, there’s still stuff wrong with it.”
Caleb setup the cooler and glanced around.
In the corner was a jukebox, old-fashioned. Next to it was a cigarette dispenser. Definitely old-timey. Caleb wondered if there were still packs of cigarettes in it. They were probably stale by now, but vintage ciggies was a fun thought. He didn’t smoke, not normally, but he kinda wanted to try one from here if he could.
“So where is everyone else?” Josh asked.
“They were waiting to see if we could get in,” Steve said.
Caleb shot Steve a look. Steve smiled but looked away. Caleb’s heart fluttered. They might not have long together, but maybe tonight he and Steve would finally hook up. And Boston wouldn’t be so bad, he could go to community college there…
They sat in silence as text messages were sent to their friends. Maybe twenty people would show up, Caleb guessed. Not a lot, considering how many people had already moved away.
“Tracy said she can’t make it.” Dustin snorted, “Bitch.”
“Yeah, the girls are all giving me the run around,” Josh spoke up from his phone. “Looks like it’s just the guys.”
Twenty minutes later, a crowd of guys from the Junior and Senior class piled in. Everyone was dressed as bikers. Someone setup a sound system and music blared. More beer and vodka piled up on the counter and soon the party was in full swing.
“That it?” Josh called to Dustin over the din of high school partiers.
“Yeah, last group.” Dustin replied.
“Close the door, then,” Steve said.
Dustin got up and went through the swinging doors. Steve and Josh sat at the bar and drank some beer. Around them, people were hanging out, laughing, and drinking. Someone was smoking. The air remained strangely cool despite so many people crowding into the room.
“So, I’m really glad we get to have tonight, at least,” Steve said, his voice raised to be heard over the music, rubbing Caleb’s thigh.
Caleb let him, his cock hard, “Yeah. You know I’ve had a crush on you for years, right?”
“I’ve wanted you too.” Steve smiled.
Then a foam football smacked Caleb in the head. He was shoved forward, spilling his beer onto the both of them. Steve stood up, wiping himself off and cursing.
“Sorry, bro!” A Junior that Caleb barely knew-Ben, maybe-smiled apologetically and threw a foam football back to someone across the room.
“Party foul!” Someone else yelled.
“Ah shit!’ Steve said, frantically dabbing his costume, “It’s gonna soak in!”
“You’re soaked?” Caleb glanced down as himself. His entire front was completely wet, “I’ve got a wet crotch.”
Steve rolled his eyes, “I’m going out to my car for a towel. Be right back.”
He lumbered off.
Caleb felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Josh asked.
He was carrying a garbage bag. Josh sat down where Steve had just sat. Caleb wanted to protest, but it didn’t matter. Steve could sit on his other side if he wanted.
“Fine. Just some beer spilled over us.”
“I saw.” Josh said. “Here, just change into your costume.”
Josh handed Caleb the garbage bag. Caleb grunted, feeling how heavy it was. He opened it up and saw a fatsuit and some clothes piled up inside.
“You bought this stuff for me?”
“Well, it was supposed to be MY costume, but since you didn’t have one…” Josh patted the pillow under his shirt, “I kinda made do.”
“Thanks Josh,” Caleb said sincerely.
He got up and went to the bathroom.
As he walked past the booth at the end of the room, he tripped and stumbled, catching himself on a rail. The bag went tumbling under the table of the booth. Caleb cursed and looked up to see who he’d tripped over. A kid stood there, wearing a fake leather jacket and a bodysuit that gave him a serious beergut.
“Sorry, pig,” The kid growled, his voice muffled by the big bushy beard covering his face, “Let me help you out.”
The kid reached under the table and pulled out the garbage bag, handing it to Caleb.
“Thanks,” Caleb rolled his eyes, and then shivered, feeling icy cold. He could see his breath puff in the air in front of him.
“Don’t thank me,” The kid’s gray eyes sparkled.
Caleb lugged the garbage bag into the bathroom.
The inside of the men’s room was nice, if not a little odd. There weren’t any urinals, just a big trough to piss in. But there were showers and towels along with the normal bathroom stalls, like one would find at a truckstop. Caleb lugged the garbage into the handicap stall for the extra space, then locked the door. Dumping out the contents of the bag, he inspected what he had to work with.
The first thing in the pile was a strange, flesh-colored rubber bodysuit.
It looked like real skin, with patches of sun burnt skin on the arms and shoulders and the top of the hood where it would go over his head. Even stranger, as Caleb handled it, it felt unnervingly real, a pelt of curly, rusty red body hair covering the chest, belly, back, curling down the arms and legs. Colorful tattoos covered the rest of the skin, some of them rather lewd.
Caleb fumbled with it and found the zipper and a hook to pull it. The back opened up, allowing Caleb to step into the feet of the suit. He pulled it up around him, the fat suit sagging unrealistically. Caleb zipped the suit with the hook and studied the fat for a moment. While the rest of the suit seemed uber-realistic, the fat was simple foam rubber padding.
He lifted the hood over his head, covering up his hair. It looked like a proper bald cap. Caleb searched around and found a fake beard, the same rusty red color as the ‘fur’ that the suit had. It came with some glue, so he glued it carefully to his face. It looked good enough, though he thought it didn’t quite fit with his boyish face.
Caleb lifted the huge cushion that made up the gut and saw his cock sticking out through a hole in the crotch of the suit. It looked like the cushion of fat around the crotch had absorbed much of his length, making it look smaller than it actually was. He actually couldn’t believe how hard he was, honestly, the dickhead red and throbbing, dripping precum onto the floor.
He heard the door open and shut as someone piss into the trough.
Caleb held his breath until the guy left, the door closing behind him. Then he looked through the clothes. There was no underwear, just a jockstrap. Caleb wiggled it on, grunting as he pulled it up around the waist of the suit. A pair of very large jeans were next, looking scuffed and time-worn. He gave them a sniff. They smelled nice, but were incredibly dirty, like someone had deliberately rubbed dirt into the threads, rather than them having gotten soiled from use.
They came with some suspenders, though Caleb let them fall around his hips until after he put on the shirt. It was sleeveless and a shade of gray that only occurred after bleaching something clean over many years. He pulled it over his head, having to work it to get the fabric over the enormous fake belly he now sported. He tucked the voluminous shirt into his pants, tightening the belt. Then Caleb slipped the straps of the suspenders over his shoulders. They pulled his jeans up past the overhang of his fake gut, giving him a rounded look.
He had to sit down on the toilet for the socks and a pair of muddy leather boots. It was hard work having to tie them with the huge cushion in the way, but he fumbled his way through it. The final touch was the grungy leather vest that seemed to merely outline his vast gut. Caleb shrugged that on, though it was much harder to fit his fat arms through the sleeves.
Finally finished, Caleb hoisted himself up out of the toilet using the rails and huffed over to the sink.
It was a decent costume! Hell, now that Caleb was looking at it, it had that uncanny valley effect going on. It was realistic, but obviously fake. The tufts of rusty red fur poking from the collar of his shirt, the beard. But the fat didn’t move realistically at all, and he could see wrinkles in the bald hood where his hair had bunched up. Still, it was good enough. Better than a pillow stuffed under his shirt.
Caleb snorted and walked outside, having to kind of waddle to make it work.