Nick woke up, his slim frame curled up in the love seat that had formerly been the sofa in his man cave. He thanked his lucky stars that at least his wife had been far too mad at him last night to let him sleep in their bed, so at least he wouldn’t have to sneak out. And he was still wearing the Simpsons boxers, so he wasn’t naked like yesterday morning. All in all, things were looking up, although it was true that the boxers with sticky with, well… He didn’t want to think about that.
He heard the sound of a souped-up motor speeding away and peered out of a pane of glass in the garage door. A tall greaser who he didn’t recognize was walking up the driveway. Without warning, he fell on all fours on the lawn as the cocky grin slid off his face and he shrank back into a slim, dark-haired youth. Ah, so Christian had been gay after all. Nick pointedly avoided watching him walk away. He couldn’t let that cursed ass make him trapped as a lazy, middle-aged ex-jock for another whole day.
Nick decided that he couldn’t leave another were-breeder walking around not knowing about it, so he snuck back inside and wrote him a note explaining everything and apologizing. He left it on the nightstand, right next to where Christian had collapsed, already snoring. He slipped back into the garage and out onto the street, stretching out his sore back as he did so.
He wondered if he was ever going to escape this cul de sac or if he was going to be trapped in a feedback loop of becoming different people’s disgusting fathers until the end of his life. He wandered down the street, wondering where exactly he might be. His phone had died long ago, and come to think of it, he wasn’t even entirely sure where it was. He’d been out of the loop for a couple days. He hoped Corey had found it and brought it back to his apartment for him. Corey… Nope. Not gonna think about it. That way danger lies.
He felt a pressure in his crotch. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not so soon! He waited. Nothing changed. He breathed a sigh of relief, then he realized. He needed to piss. Bad. He’d drank a lot last night and he felt like his bladder might explode into a million pieces if he didn’t relieve himself, and fast. He tore down the street, looking for a gas station or Porta-John that he might visit. No such luck. He was in another cul de sac, and by the looks of it, it wasn’t in such a nice neighborhood this time. Bars covered all the windows and the lawns were brown and dry.
A sign. For Sale. It was his only shot. Nick sprinted toward the empty house, found a side door ajar and ran down the hall to the bathroom. He flung up the toilet lid and pissed like a racehorse with a shudder of relief. As he waited for the stream to die down, he thought back on the past couple of days. He’d become a cocky jock, a conservative Christian, and a slobby layabout. He’d inadvertently passed on the curse to his own temporary son, he’d lost his new friend James to a crowd of Mexicans, and he’d lost his boyfriend Corey, maybe forever.
What was Corey doing right now? Was he worried sick? Did he think Nick had ditched him? Well, he kind of had, but not on purpose. He hadn’t been himself at the time. Had Corey… found somebody else? He imagined him at a club, drunk, distraught, falling into the strong arms of another guy. Maybe it was for the best. It wasn’t safe to be around him anymore. Nick finished peeing and began to shake. The image of Corey with some other dude continued running through his mind. Inadvertently, the shaking turned into rubbing. No. He could still stop this. He could…
He was standing in the club, buffeted by flashing lights and blaring music. He could see Corey and the other dude right in front of him, crystal clear, but they couldn’t see him. A record skipped. The Lady Gaga song that was playing – he couldn’t seem to remember its name – switched to a Kenny Chesney track. The bar became a bucking bronco machine and the club lights brightened, revealing wood-paneled walls. Corey was now kissing a tan girl in a string bikini, her huge breasts straining at the thin bits of fabric.
The rubbing turned to stroking. Corey’s face began to change. His eyelashes elongated, his hair fell down to his ass, his body grew lithe and curvy, and D-cup breasts spilled out of his crop top, jiggling as they moved. The two girls continued to kiss, giggling and fondling each other. Nick grunted and pumped his meat, salivating and howling with pleasure. He heard a rustling noise coming from behind him. He stopped, snapping back to reality. His penis was dripping with lust, standing straight out at an impossibly thick eleven inches. He grabbed his snapback off the counter and put it backwards on his head, just as the last of his blonde hair slithered under it, becoming a short brown crew cut plastered to his forehead with sweat.
He stepped out into the hall to investigate, tweaking his nipple as it engorged, becoming a meaty brown disc. His pecs jumped beneath it, forming two pyramids of taut meat. His hairless abs pinched toward his belly button, giving him a carefree, masculine look. He walked over to a room at the end of the hall, where he found a leather cuff wrapped around the knob. He slipped it onto his wrist and opened the door, his dick preceding him into the room. The room was bright. The light blinded him and he shaded his eyes with a thick hand. All he could see was a bed, sparsely made with only a plain white sheet and a pillow. His lust overwhelming him once more, he lay down on the bed and bean to jerk with renewed intensity.
With each thrust, his engorged dick leaked precum onto his glistening abs. With his free hand he began to rub himself, moaning, lost in pleasure. He was gone again, lost in that wood-paneled room of heavy perfume and straining bikini tops.
Light brown hairs tickled his skin as they cascaded down his meaty calves. Colorful marine tattoos blossomed on both of his shoulders. His moaning grew deeper, more commanding, more insatiable. He was getting close now. He could feel it. Everything he knew, everything he once was, all knowledge of Corey, of James, of Nick, pulsed up his shaft in a bead of white-hot ecstasy.
His eyes grew further apart, becoming beady and dim. His nose shrank, becoming straight and perfectly shaped above his thin mouth, filled with smallish, off-white teeth. A thin mustached trickled above his upper lip and his brown hair began to stretch down past his ears (which stuck out a little around his hat), forming a light, messy beard around his chin like the strap of a helmet.
It was happening now. The white-hot moment finished its long journey to the tip of his cock, which opened generously, spurting Nick’s essence all over his hairless, sweaty, glistening chest. His mind expanded with bright colors, dark hairs exploded over his forearms, and his ass ballooned about behind him in a perfect curve.
“Cut!”
The lights came off and a director stepped forward. “That was great, Rod. We’ll give you twenty minutes to clean off and recharge, then we’re gonna get another angle. Chelsea is coming in at three, will you be ready for her?”
Rod grabbed his dick, which was already stiffening again with anticipation. “Oh, I’ll be ready.”