“Let’s go to a gay bar,” you say.
“Well, what kind of gay bar? Jake asks, “There’s a few to choose from around here. Not one of the usual ones I
hope, with all the twinks.”
“No...how about, well, let’s go someplace a bit kinkier?” you say with a smile.
“Ha, sure thing. There’s a hot leather bar down the street. We can start there...and then maybe hit a
bathhouse after that, if you’re feeling really adventurous.”
“Ha, well, I doubt I’ll be that brave.”
“Oh, you never know,” Jake says, twirling the gun around his index finger, “But, first things first, neither
of us is dressed for a leather bar, and you have a price to pay, right? Well, this one’s pretty cheap,
actually.”
He levels the gun at you and shoots, and then shoots himself, and before you know it, both of you are clad
head to toe in leather and rubber--not new leather either--leather that looks good and lived in. It feels
really good actually, as you run your hand down the skin tight rubber shirt stretched across your belly down
to the leather pants you’re wearing. Really...really good, and before you know it, your cock is hard as a
rock.
“Yeah, I don’t think you’ll be wearing anything other than leather and rubber for a while--I went ahead and
changed your closet too.”
“What, so I’m just going to be some fetish freak 24/7 now?” you ask.
“Well, you’re dick doesn’t seem to mind,” he says, palming your erection through your pants and smiling, and
it’s all you do to stop yourself from raping his mouth out in public--but that come later, you figure.
“Alright, well, now that we’re dressed, let’s go,” you say, and after a short walk, the two of you arrive at
the bar. You go in first, showing the bouncer your ID, which you notice has kept perfect pace with all of your
transformations, and you go in, but Jake get’s held up.
“Sorry man, this licence is expired,” the bouncer says, handing it back, “I can’t let you in.”
“You’re kidding me,” Jake says.
“Nope, sorry.”
“Come on, I’m obviously over 21.”
“Doesn’t matter--we got busted last month for having a minor in the place. Bouncer lost his job, and we got a
huge fine. Management’s got a new zero tolerance policy--nothing I can do, buddy.”
“What’s the deal?” you ask Jake, and he scowls.
“Look, you go on in, get a drink, check out the crowd. I’ll handle this,” Jake says quietly to you, pulling
out the slobifier, “I think he might just need some convincing.”
“Aww come on Jake, he’s just doing his job, can’t the slobifier just fix it?”
“Nah, it only makes you more of a lazy ass--it can’t retroactively get me a new licence. Look, just go, I’ll
be in in a minute.”
“Look, don’t be a jerk, Jake.”
“Dude, just let me handle it,” he says, and pushed you away, turning back to the bouncer.
You shrug, and head over to the bar, buying yourself a beer, and then head deeper into the club, a bit
disconcerted by the fact that you’re a head taller than most everyone else in the bar...and everyone is
noticing that too. In fact, everyone seems downright scared of you, and you don’t blame them--you’d probably
be scared of you too. You end up against the wall by the dance floor, already on your second beer, and you
realize that you’re too chicken to talk to anyone, and no one’s going to talk to you, because they’re all
shitting their pants at the prospect of hitting on the giant thug clad all in leather, even though you’re
probably their collective wet dream. It doesn’t help that all this gay stuff is completely new to you. It’s
enough to have you soured to the whole idea by the time Jake finds you.
“Hey, what’s up? Why aren’t you dancing?”
“How’d you get past the bouncer?” you ask.
“Oh, just...changed his priorities,” Jake says, and points to the bouncer, or he was the bouncer--now he’s
next to the bathroom, begging everyone who passes by to use him as their urinal.
“Dude, that’s pretty fucking harsh.”
“Aww, lighten up--I at least made him like it, didn’t I? Still, don’t avoid my question. Why aren’t you
dancing?”
You sigh, and hesitantly relate your anxieties about the place to Jake, feeling silly as hell as you do so,
because it’s all idiotic. When you finish, Jake just shakes his head at you. “God, I made you dumb as a brick,
but you still shut yourself down. Just get out there and have fun for once in your life!”
“It’s not that easy,” you say.
“Sure it is,” Jake says, “Look, you want some help? I can make things a bit easier, if you need me to adjust
the handicap for you. Or you could just man the fuck up and hit on someone like a normal fag.”
You eye the slobifier, knowing that whatever you ask is going to have a price. Maybe you should just man up
and dance with someone.