“You know, why don’t we go out?”
“Out?” Jake asks.
“Yeah, out. Let’s go have a few drinks at a bar. Come on, I’m thirsty, and you’re out of beer,” you say, which
was true, but you did have an ulterior motive. To be honest you still weren’t quite comfortable with being
“gay” yet, and while you definitely wanted to have some nice, nasty sex with Jake...in your head you just
weren’t quite ready to take the big jump just yet.
“What, you don’t want to fuck?” Jake asks?
“No, trust me, I totally want to fuck...” you say, “But...well...look, this is still kind of all new to me,
you know? Come on, let’s go out and have some fun. I know how much you like flaunting your slobby self in
public, after all.”
Jake smirked, “Yeah, I do love that I suppose. Alright, I guess we can go out, but don’t think that means I
won’t get you in bed by the end of the night.”
“I promise we will still fuck later,” you say, laughing.
“Trust me, I’m going to make sure of that,” Jake said, hefting the gun, “and this will be coming with us.
Still, there’s a matter of payment, before you head out that door. I want to make sure that everyone walking
by on the street is going to freak out when they see you coming.”
“What, you’re going to make me an even bigger slob than this?” you say, blowing a plume of cigar smoke in
Jake’s direction, “Give me your best shot.”
“Ha, you and your limited imagination, I have something way sexier in mind than that,” Jake says, fiddling
with a few dials before pulling the trigger. The beam envelops you on the couch, and the first thing you
notice is the heat--your entire body feels like it’s on fire, especially your bones and your muscles, and as
you sit there, you’re growing. Not just taller, but bigger, and muscular. Your eyes are shut against the pain,
and it feels like forever before the pain eases up, and a new sensation overwhelms you--a vitality and
strength like you’ve never felt, and you open your eyes, flex your bicep, and see that your entire arm is
covered in a riot of tattoos.
None of the images look all that professional or well made. Hell, if anything they look outright
stereotypical--the kind of tatts someone who’s not all that smart would pick out so they could go around
looking tough--flames, snakes, skulls--you name it, it was on your arms...and your chest...and your legs. You
pull down the fly on your bleached jeans and yank the yellowed jockstrap underneath to one side, and find that
ever your dick is tattooed, with a snake, of course.
Still, you look...hot. Don’t you? You flex again, and grin, and notice that...well...you’re not sure exactly.
Like you’re just not thinking all that clearly, or well, or fast, like usual. You grin at Jake, flashing the
gold teeth you’ve gotten to replace the one’s you lost in bar brawls, and say, “Holy fuckin’ hell mate, what
the fuck did’ya do tah me? I’m a fuckin’ freak!”
“Nah, you’re just a slobby thug,” Jake said, coming over, and sticking his nose in your pit and taking a deep
breath, “Nice and musky, just how I like them. And not too smart either,” he said with a wink.
“What the hell’s that supposed tah mean, fucker?”
“It mean’s you’re dumb as a brick, dude. Hell, I went and made you illiterate even.”
“Ill--what? What’s that even mean? Ya know I hate it when ya use those fuckin’ big words like a fuckin’
faggot.”
“It means you can’t read.”
“I can fuckin’ read,” you say, confident, but when Jake challenges you to read the back of the DVD case of a
movie he left sitting out, you soon realize that he’s not joking. You can’t read--in fact, just looking at the
letters gives you a headache. “Aww who gives a flyin’ fuck ‘bout readin’ anyway--I can get by without it.”
Jake laughs, “I bet you can. Come on--you should see the rest of you in the mirror.”
You heft yourself up off the couch and find that, while you and Jake had been about the same height earlier,
he’s now almost a foot shorter than you, and the ceiling is almost uncomfortably close to the top of your
head. “Fuck man, how fuckin’ tall did ya make me?”
“Seven feet or so? I don’t know for sure--the gun’s not all that exact.”
“Fuck--I’m a fuckin’ giant.”
“A dumb fuckin’ giant,” Jake says with a laugh, and before you even realize what’s happening, you have him by
the neck against the wall, sputtering.
“You fucking bitch, if you call me fucking dumb one more time I’m gonna beat your skull against the wall until
you’re so fuckin’ retarded you’ll be shittin’ yerself, do you fuckin’ understand me!?” You shout in his face,
spit flying everywhere.
“Yeah...Yeah man, I get it...just, calm down, alright?”
You take a few deep breaths, surpised at your own reaction, and let him go. “S--Sorry mate, I guess I kind of
fuckin’ lost it, eh?”
“No, I...I guess I gotta be more careful, since I made you that aggressive,” Jake says, “Go on, take a look.”
“You enter the bathroom, smacking your head on the top of the doorway, and see that Jake wasn’t kidding--your
face is way different. You can’t get past the piercings at first--just...all of them. It looks like your face
has metal everywhere it could. The tattoos stop at your neck, thankfully, but you have a short mohawk dyed a
deep red, and a thick goatee the same color around your mouth. There’s a few scars across your face too, and
your nose looks like it’s been broken a few times and poorly set. You look like a thug. You look...fucking
hot, you have to admit.
“Well, ain’t no mother fucker gonna mess with me looking like this,” you say with a grin.
“No kidding,” Jake says, so, shall we get out of here? If you’re going to murder me, I’d rather you did it in
public--better spectacle that way.”
You blush, a little ashamed at flying off the handle earlier, and so you push Jake up against the wall,
pinning his hands over his head and roughly make out with him, grinding your cock, your snake, into his gut,
feeling him moan at bit, and surprised that he’s liking the fact that you’re taking control. Jake, it seems,
might be more of a sub than you thought, you think with a grin, wondering if you might get to fuck him later,
after you get back. “Alright mate, enough snoggin’ let’s go get smashed!” you say, and drag him out of his
apartment and out onto the street. Sure enough, everyone you pass gives you a wide berth, and after a couple
of blocks, you actually like you’re new tough guy persona, and scowl at people you pass, enjoying the fear in
their eyes. Jake has to ask the question twice before you even hear him.
“Hey, where are we going?” he asks.
You stop, and shrug, “Uh...Not sure. What kind of bars are around here?”
“Well, there’s quite a few. Tell me what kind of bar you’re interested in, and I’ll lead the way.