Somehow you make it to the park, despite the many distractions. The two legged, sexy, scantily clad distractions... and the increasing urgency in the lower regions of your seemingly permanent wet suit. Maybe if you just stepped off into the bushes, or an alleyway for a little relief...?
The park, so near the beach, is even worse, as the scent of the sea assaults your nose, mingling images of surfing with images of sex, until the two are almost inseparable and you are on the verge of climaxing yet again. How many orgasms can a guy have in a day? Finally you all but collapse on the edge of the fountain, just before 8:00.
Then an incredibly gorgeous individual bends over directly in front of you, to retrieve a dropped something from the ground, and your young and horny body loses it completely. Climaxing, you tumble backward into the fountain, soaking your clothes, and rinsing away the evidence of your earlier eruptions.
Panting, gathering your wits, you lie in the cool water of the fountain, glad that there isn't anything in the fountain to stimulate you. (Well, there is the weathered, corroded, green statue of a soldier from some old war standing at the center of the fountain, but he isn't at all attractive....)
'What in the fuck's wrong with me?!' you silently wonder. 'I don't recall being all horny and shit like this last time I was this age! Then again, this wasn't me at this age...'
Still pondering, as best you can with this young mind and body, you overhear a conversation.
"Is he here?! I don't see anyone waiting, at least not like you said he'd look!" demands a voice, a voice which sounds familiar, yet different than you recall. More..., effeminate?
"He is here," reassures a deep, rich voice you don't recognize at all. "I be sensing him. He just be scoping us out, I would reckon."
Splitting your long, blond hair, you raise your blue eyes over the edge of the fountain and see... Doug, your old supervisor from years ago and a large, muscular black man in a white suit and top hat, strolling towards the fountain?!
But, you couldn't stand Doug, and he couldn't stand you, and when the job ended, the one thing that the both of you could agree on was that the pair of you could easily live the rest of your lives without seeing each other again! Plus, as far as you knew, he was definitely NOT gay! It seemed impossible that he could be your secret admirer!
Well, there was one way to resolve this!
You slowly haul yourself out of the fountain. Not exactly the kind of beginning you would have hoped for, but it would have to do. Luckily they don't spot you right away, and you can strip off the pants, shirt and undershirt before they see you and lay them at the fountain's edge to dry... MAYBE they won't notice them....
"Ah, there he is," announces the black man, right after you straighten up. "I recognize the suit we sent."
"Are you certain?!" pesters Doug, squinting in your direction, quite clearly checking out your young, athletic body, and liking what he sees. He has more gray than black hair these days, and his thin mustache seems to have been poorly trimmed and he apparently has not shaved in a few days. Nor bathed. And he probably should have changed his clothes sometime in the last week or so...
In fact, he is not in the slightest attractive to you, and, if you had any attraction to guys at all before, you realize that you now are strictly straight!
"Please, just go over and make sure for me!" Doug was pleading, partially hiding behind the large, black guy, pushing on him slightly, urging him your way.
"Okay, okay," laughs the black man, starting towards you. "I can do that I suppose!"
He strides up to you, a large grin on his face. Everything in his manner broadcasts that he is in on some great joke that neither you nor Doug know-- and clearly the joke is on you both.
He comes up to you.
"Hello young human," he greets you cheerfully. "My shy, male friend would like to know your name."
You are about to angrily demand why and what is going on, when it occurs to you that you do not actually recall what your name is. Apparently, your face is broadcasting your predicament.
"Hmmm. It would seem that suit is more effective than my sister told me it would be," the black man observes, rubbing his chin. "Your new self would not have fully blossomed by now, but your old self has probably ebbed."
Your mind struggles for a moment longer.
"Trent?" you ask as much as answer. Somehow it sounds right, yet wrong.
"That would be your new name," states the man, glancing back at Doug, then at you. "How did you get that suit?"
"It, uh, like showed up at my door, all unexpected," you reply, still anxious that you recall your old self, except for your name..., where you lived, and your age. Surely you were older than, uhm, 14, weren't you? "And I was totally certain it wouldn't fit, and put it on and it did fit, and now I'm living with my brother and surfing and shit."
That really hadn't come out like you'd planned, but it seemed like the only way you could express yourself.
"Well, then, you are the one!"
He waves for Doug to come over. Doug starts towards you, and, to your dismay, he is sporting an obvious, raging erection in his tight, filthy jeans.
"An old acquaintance of yours would really, really like to hook up with you again," says the muscular, black man, all but laughing.
"But..."
You gulp, and try again.
"But, he, like, isn't into guys!" you protest, trying to put the black man in between yourself and your old supervisor. "AND NEITHER AM I!"
"Ah, but things change!" corrects the man, smiling. "Especially when one angers a lady with the favor of the Loa!"
"What?!" it takes you a moment to process what the man said, distracted as you are by the fact that Doug seems to be trying to figure out just what he wants to say to you while admiring your butt and package through the tight wet suit. Suddenly you find yourself wishing you'd left on your soaked pants. "But I totally haven't done anything to any voodoo priestesses!"
"Oh, but not you," the black man replies cheerfully. "She only barely remembered you. Actually, I think she might have liked you, if only vaguely. He, on the other hand, really got her mad!"
Doug seemed to suddenly realize what was being said, and looked, as if for the first time, at the pair of you.
"Wha--? What did you say?"
"Ah, now is the time I do some explaining," answers the black man. "You, Doug, not only fired my follower, but you called her a 'fat cow', a 'cunt', and a number of other things she found hurtful."
'Yeah, that sounds like Doug all right!' you think, remembering the late nights in the warehouse. Doug had always seemed less than aware what effect his words had on other people, or even, exactly, what words he had used.
"So she contacted me and my brethren, and called in some favors, and granted us others--"
"But, but you said I had a wish!" Doug protests, his eyes flicking between the man-- Loa, evidently, and your body-- now he was checking out the way your hair fell on your shoulders, almost making you wish for a buzz cut. Almost.
"Oh, that was true, but we had set things so your wish was all but guaranteed to be what we had already chosen," explained the Loa, a broad, shit-eating grin on his face. "You see, we Loa really like creative revenge so, quite simply, we felt it would be amusing to mess with your life. You insulted women and had a beautiful wife, so we made you have no interest in women-- when did you last call your wife, just out of curiosity?
"On the other hand, we do not like you much, so we gave you an insatiable crush on someone who would have no sexual interest in you-- quite frankly someone who can't stand you, and someone you can not stand.
"We then made it so that you would think it was your own idea that he would be perfect if only you had a wish to use on him, to make him physically your ideal-- an underage, horny surfer. (That was mostly because my sister owed me a favor, and had a magical suit she was not using, but never mind that.)
"So, when I pored myself out of that bottle of olive oil, my dead Doug, I was no genie coming to grant you a wish, despite what I said, I was but a humble, vengeance seeking Loa!"
He then burst into laughter, laughing harder at Doug's shocked expression.
"Uh," you venture, once the magical creature has calmed down some. "What about me?"
"What about you?" asked the black man, seemingly genuinely curious. "You have got a new, younger, healthier body. Prettier, too, I might add. You seem to have a pretty good life now, better than most folks."
"But, I can't get this suit off!" you protest, gesturing down the front of the suit. "I got a weird, pervert stalking me! And I can't keep my mind off anything but sex and surfing! I'm totally flunking all my classes! And I can barely remember who I am, was, whatever! And, uh, well, stuff like that!"
To your embarrassment, your voice cracks towards the end of your outburst. The Loa looks amused.
"Well, as for him," it begins, gesturing towards where Doug is standing, seemingly stunned by your words and the words of the mystical creature. "It would be very much against the law for him to act upon his urges, and your society has such a thing as a restraining order. Boys your age often have trouble keeping their minds off such things; however, for you those urges returned rather suddenly, and your transformation takes time to stabilize. If, in the long term, it still is a problem, I suppose you could try castration. If you would like, I can volunteer my services for that, since I would not mind the practice. For your classes, you could always try applying yourself, young man! And the suit-- well, Doug could always take it off, if you agree to have sex with him-- or you can wait. For a suit such as that, once the transformation is complete, you should be able to take it off like any other, mundane wet suit-- for that is what will be. Once you are finished changing."
"Finished changing?" you ask, not certain what you think of that.
He waves his hand.
"Please, no more questions. I only have use of this body for the day and night, and would like to experience as much as I can before the time expires. Now, I have a brothel to visit. Good bye!"