Brat-B-Gone: Gentlemen’s Edition Vignettes

 Originally posted on Tumblr: July 8th 2023

Original A/N:Hey everyone, I didn’t have one good long story so I wrote three short ones. 

 

WE NEED YOU!

Dalton stared at the ad on the opposite wall of the train station. He swung his legs back and forth dangling in the air. He wasn't interested. He didn’t care. What was Brat-B-Gone anyway?  There were people handing out samples of the stuff at the station entrance. And yet even if he looked away, he found his head slowly turning towards it

The promoter outside all but shoved the stuff into his father’s hands. And even though now the two were sitting peacefully now, preparing to go on a trip. Dalton found his mind still thinking about the small jar of stuff sitting in his dad’s bag.

“Dad, what’s Brat-B-Gone?” Dalton asked.

Mr. Perkins jerked his head up, close to dozing off. He caught the ad his son was pretending not to stare at. A small smile crossed his lips. “Brat-B-Gone is a joke gift like snakes in a can, or a whoopie cushion. You buy it for fun.” 

“Fun for what? What does it do?”

“Well, I think parents can use it to mess with their kids, to make you behave when you’re acting up. Like water in a spray bottle when a pet acts up.” Mr. Perkins pulled the sample out of his book bag.  “Though this looks more like cologne than the usual stuff. Guess that’s why it's a Gentlemen's edition. Must be an entirely new collection.”

“Can I try some?” Dalton asked. 

“Buddy, we’re going to be hiking in the woods for a few days.  Now I know I said it’s water but suppose there's something sweet laced in there. You don’t want the animals to smell you, right?”  Mr. Perkins asked.

Dalton pouted but nodded his head. Mr. Perkins smiled and rubbed his son’s head causing Dalton to giggle in response. The father tucked the small bottle away in the front of his backpack. He clasped his hands together, “Now I have to run to the bathroom, how about you?” Dalton shook his head as his father stood up and disappeared. 

He sat quietly on the train station bench, His eyes looking around: The departure times, security, people weaving in and out between walking crowds. Eventually Dalton’s eyes landed where they truly wanted to go. The Brat-B-Gone ad. Such a weird funny name. How could Dalton not be curious about it?

Dalton had to rub his eyes. The ad had changed. There was now a hand pointing at him. Well maybe not him specifically, but it sure felt like it. Then there were the words at the bottom now reading “WE NEED YOU!” Dalton looked away. Though there was no way to prove it, he felt the ad was talking to him. A sensation deep in his gut that wouldn’t go away. Was it fear, excitement? But the ad couldn’t be for him even if it was a joke gift, he wasn’t a ‘brat’ His father had never once called him anything like that. No adult had. So, there was no way the product was for him. Still, Dalton couldn’t stop his eyes from peeking over. 

There was a big sigh from Dalton. He had been good for 5 mins before reaching into father’s backpack and pulling out the small vial. Dalton wasn’t sure how to even use the complicated thing he turned upside down, around. There was a Spritz sound, Dalton closed his eyes as wet particles clung to his face. By the time Dalton opened his eyes he noticed the one spray used up the entire sample. He was going to be in so much trouble. He tucked the vial back into his dad’s bag making sure to shove it to the very bottom of the front pocket.

Once that was done Dalton was left sitting feeling stupid. The boy didn’t know what he expected but he sure didn’t get it. His father was right, it was nothing more than water, maybe a hint of some kind of man cologne. He looked at the ad again and chuckled. “Brat-B-Gone who would believe that?!” then he thought to himself. What kid would be scared by just water in a bottle?

He had really fallen for the trick, prank, whatever Brat-B-Gone was? So interested in nothing. He swung his legs on the bench as his eyes went back to the stupid ad. Dalton froze.

The ad’s background had changed color, the words were missing, and over in the corner, was that … him? That was his blond hairstyle and the same shirt he was wearing. The boy looked around the train station. Was no one else seeing this? The ad was calling out or maybe even taunting him. He didn’t like it. Dalton considered going to find his dad, but then he felt it. A tug on his legs. Not a hand pulling on them from the ankle, rather a push outward from within. His thighs quaked and his calves spasmed as the bones in his legs began to lengthen until his feet were firmly on the ground.

“What the?” He didn’t get much time to consider it as there was a shift in his back. His spine began to grow. Dalton had no choice but to arch it trying to get comfortable–no use–His spine and legs were determined to stretch all the way there. Dalton’s feet connected with the ground as his head seemed to slowly inch towards the sky.

“Um, excuse me,” Dalton tried to get the attention of a woman walking by. She never looked up once. All he wanted was to get someone else to look at the poster, to know he wasn’t crazy. Though whatever voice left his mouth didn't belong to him. It was deeper than normal. He sounded like one of his cousins; a disgruntled teenager. And a word like disgruntled how did he even know the meaning of that word? Was his mind changing too?

Dalton’s eyes expanded upon seeing the ad again. Gone was the question mark. All that was left was the silhouette of a man in the center with a hand still aimed at Dalton. There was no longer a question, undoubtedly it was a statement for him. Then there was his picture off to the side with the same words he had spoken a few moments ago. The ad was taunting him.

Bending over Dalton grabbed at his stomach, his muscles were tensing and relaxing. His spine hadn't given up on its growth, pushing the boy’s shirt further from the hem of his shorts. Abs began to appear on Dalton’s elongated torso. It was slow at first but as they rose, they carved out deep indents growing larger with each passing second. 

Clenching his teeth, Dalton felt the veins in his neck rise to the surface pumping in tandem with his heartbeat. His neck thickened with every pump. The rushing blood traveled through his arms, causing them to bloat as his shoulder stretched out bigger than a linebacker. His biceps and triceps inflated as muscle size came into existence from nowhere. Dalton’s chest responded as his pectorals grew out. His breathing became too tight. His chest needed more room, but the shirt he was wearing was constricting him; It was too goddamn small! A tear appeared in the cotton shirt, then another as Dalton’s chest insisted upon its own existence and prominence.

“GGGNNNAAAAHHH,” Dalton roared as two pecs tore his shirt asunder leaving his chest full on display along with his ab. Sweat, gathered from the heat of growing, trickled down his pecs onto his glazening 6 pack. The two halves of his shirts hung, ruined, now mimicking a buttonless vest and just as useless on Dalton’s frame.  

Dalton peeked an eye open. How come no one was saying anything? They weren’t even looking and He was so used to people looking at him. Dalton shook his head; he had no idea where that thought had come from.  

He was a model, people stared at him all the time, and Honestly? It felt good! How could it not? People were always staring, they had never seen someone so huge.

What were these thoughts in his head? Dalton could tell it was his voice, rather his New voice and it was evoking emotions and feelings he didn’t have before.

His thighs quaked, and his calves flexed involuntarily. They doubled, tripled, and then Quadrupled with muscle mass his own father didn’t even have. Dalton couldn’t fight the wave of ecstasy. His eyes were closed, and he had a smile on his face throughout the process. By the time he opened his eyes he’d realized somewhere throughout the growth his feet tore his shoes and socks apart. Now there were just big heavy man feet in their place. He rotated his ankles and wiggled his toes. They were certainly connected and definitely his. He stood up on them and almost tumbled back from the Dizzying spell he got. He was high up in the air, the true effect of all that growing. “Like a skyscraper,” He laughed as he spoke to himself. The world really was different up here; The top of everyone’s heads was in plain view for him.

 When he started to get his bearings, he took notice of his shorts, Once properly adorned on his body, now it was scrunched up at his upper thighs. Dalton tried to pull them back down, but his thighs would simply not have it. They were too muscular, too massive, too… manly. The word rang in Dalton’s head. It sounded good. It sounded right.

While Dalton got enraptured by a singular word, his ass began a new expansion. The back of the shorts began to disappear between his two cheeks, as the musculature devoured the material. Two white globes spilled into the world as Dalton was starting to get the hint of a wedgie. Meanwhile the front of Dalton’s shorts was handling its own changes. A lump was growing in Dalton’s crotch. The button holding the shorts had long since popped off and the zipper had come all the way down. The lump spilled out over the zippers opening. His nuts were expanding, brimming with newly created sperm flooding his own system with extreme levels of testosterone. Then there was his dick. 

The lump, hanging freely, grew less uniform as Dalton’s cock lengthened. It stretched tight against the now uber-small under stretching out the cartoonish designs along the way.  The waistband of Dalton's underwear was now stretched absurdly far from his body. From that gap, pubic hair exploded out, a bush then a forest. Blond hairs piling on top of each other. Then brown hair appeared, then another and another. Dalton’s eyes went wide when he saw all of his pubic hair begin to darken, taking on the same brown hue.  

There was a smell in the air. A good clean smell. “Almost…sophisticated?” Dalton thought. Not that sophistication had a smell, but Dalton could just tell. A level of class was deeply intertwined within the aroma. And just like that Dalton found his eyes going back to the ad.  

The ad was blank? The masculine figure at the center was missing. Though there did seem to be an annoying kid in the corner. Who was that supposed to be? At the same time, unnoticed, Dalton’s cock broke free of the underwear, throbbing madly in the open. 

“Wait,” Dalton said out loud as he spun on his heels, cock swaying with him. Where the hell was he? A train station. How did he get here? He had a thousand questions and no answers. The last thing he remembered was being at a Brat B-Gone Photo Shoot. Then, he was here. Dalton finally looked down at himself. “WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?!” The only thing he had on… well he really couldn't tell what was on his legs, looked more akin to scraps than wearable clothes. His cock flexed and precum dripped from the tip onto the cold floor. The man was oozing testosterone 24/7. No one cared.

The smell returned.  There was a faint scent from what had dripped out of him but there was a stronger source of it. Dalton lifted up his left armpit revealing a bushel of brown hair. He leaned in and took a whiff. A powerful clean smell took over his nose. It was him; the smell was emanating from his body. As he checked his other armpit the ad on the wall began to change, a blue slit appeared in the center and opened into a Diamond.  Dalton didn’t notice though he was too busy serving his upper body to notice when a matching blue hue took the remains of his former underwear and wrapped it around him. It started by cradling his immense package protectively then moving on and securing his ass. The seams perfectly sew themselves together. Now he was a man who had much more mystery about what lay underneath though the sheer size left little to the imagination. 

Once Dalton’s underwear was remade for his bigger body, the color spread to his shorts. Gradually the blue lost its saturation, turning into a cool gray tone. The shorts began to pull out of his ass with more length. It spilled over his thighs, knees and shins till it was at his ankle.  The halves of his former shirt dyed one color red all at once, then began to move back together. It spread across his broader chest and back sealing up, only this time as a new shape material completely. Gone was the cheap polyester, replaced by a silk dress shirt. 

A prickly sensation overtook Dalton’s jaw. He ran a finger over it; stubble had appeared and was growing rapidly. Even his upper lips were joining it with a mustache. In a matter of moments Salton and a full brown beard that went and spread into his head hair over taking it. Not that Dalton could see. A tightness on Dalton’s chest appeared as the shirt tried to seal his pecs away. Dalton grunted and in refuse pushed back, in turn his pecs grew again making the top three buttons of the new short fly off. His chest out on display permanently was much better. 

Dalton looked down at the ground. He was in dress socks one minute, then wearing brown dress shoes along with them the next. A strange sensation overtook Dalton that something was off, but it quickly died away as a golden bracelet and arm band weaved themselves onto his right and left wrists respectively.  Dalton looked up and caught his reflection. He smiled; he looked good though his reflection didn’t smile back. that unnerved him before he realized he was looking at his most recent ad he did For BRAT-B-GONE. Weird to see it when he was heading out on a camping trip with his friend. Dalton sat down on the waiting bench.

“Hey, you’re never going to believe this, but the bathroom stall door locked on me. Couldn’t get out at all” Luke Perkins said, approaching Dalton. He bent over going into his bag, when he noticed the front pocket was unzipped. “Hey, did you go into my bag?”

“Why would I do that, Luke?”

Luke dug into the pocket only to retrieve a small empty vial. “Oh, crap I think that BRAT-B-GONE spilled in my bag.” He searched for a wet spot without finding it.

“You know I did an ad for them, right?” 

“No duh!” Luke joked Pointing towards an ad on the wall. I saw it the minute we walked in here.

“Can’t believe they made you the face of a whole new product.” Luke studied the ad a bit longer. “Who’s the kid model they got?”

“Not sure,” Dalton answered. “Thanks to the wonders of photo-editing we don’t actually have to be in the same room for our shoots.” 

“Okay smart ass.” Luke rolled his eyes.

Dalton looked over at the ad tilting his head. “He does kind of look like you though. You got a secret kid somewhere?”

“What?! No way.” Luke brushed off Dalton’s statement, “Besides I hear that cologne’s got a powerful smell to it. Should probably come with an R rating.”

“Pffttt, don’t believe what you read on the internet. I was there in the studio with the product. It kinda reminds me of myself except not as good. Which I guess makes sense because if it was on me it’d be rated XXX.” 

 

The Last Boys’ Night Out

Jerome collapsed on the double bed, right next to the hotel window. Seven floors up he got a pretty sweet overview of the city and nighttime it only made the city seem more alive. All the lights on down below, Jerome couldn’t wait to explore it. He closed his eyes for a moment. 

The bathroom door opened as his friend Manuel stepped out of the bathroom, one towel around his waist, another resting on his shoulder as he dried his hair.

 “You took a shower, that quick?” Jerome tried not to stare. This weekend was about girls not Manuel. “

 “Jerome, you fell asleep for an hour man.” Manuel snickered. “After that plane ride I needed a shower. But don’t worry, I won’t tell any of the girls tonight about your bedtime.”

 “Dick,” Jerome smiled as he launched his pillow at his best friend. It connected perfectly with a loud Plop.

 Manuel pulled the pillow down, “Okay, no need to be so childish.”

 Jerome rolled his eyes as Manuel tossed the pillow back, “Again with that? You’re only a day older than me. If anything, you act more childish than me.”

 “Hey, not my fault I came out 24 hours before you; the world couldn’t wait to meet me.” Manuel sat on his bed across from Jerome. “As for the childish bit, maybe that was true before, but not tonight. Tonight, I become a man.”

 “Just because you’re turning 21 doesn't make you any more of a man than you were before.”  Jerome stated. Manuel was on his dramatics again. 24 hours before? He knew they were barely 6 hours apart. But even with all that embellishing, there was something Jerome liked about listening to Manuel weave a story propped on his “alternative” facts.

 Manuel sighed, “No dude I’m talking about sex. After tonight neither of us will be virgins.”

 Jerome stifled a laugh. He wanted to sleep with a girl, he truly did, just as badly as he wanted to sleep with Manuel, but he was sure neither were going to happen for him or Manuel tonight. However, Manuel pouted, misinterpreting the chuckle thinking it was solely directed at him. 

 “I’m serious just look…” Manuel went over to his suitcase as Jerome respectfully didn’t look at his rear. Manuel walked back carrying a small jar and a small glass bottle. In Golden letters across the branding Jerome read BRAT-B-GONE: Gentleman’s Edition. It was hair gel and cologne, respectively.

Jerome sat up, “Where the hell did you get that?” 

“I swiped it off my Uncle,” Before Jerome could comment Manuel held up his hand. “Don’t worry he has lots of stuff.  Companies are always sending him things to endorse.”

“But isn’t Brat-B-Gone a spray?” Jerome asked.

“That’s the thing apparently, they’re branching out into this new line specifically for men of a certain style and class.” 

 “I don’t know, wasn’t there like a big news story that Brat-B-Gone shouldn’t be used willy nilly especially on young people, meaning US?” Jerome emphasis

 Manuel twisted his face thinking, “I don’t know, maybe I didn’t really care at the time.”

 Jerome couldn’t chastise Manuel for that because he also didn’t care enough to figure out why people were told to be careful with Brat-B-Gone. It was a headliner in the news, but they were college kids with other things on their mind.

“Anyway, I doubt any of it meant anything.” Manuel waved his hand dismissively. Jerome shot him and are you sure?’ look. “Jer if any young person was affected or had some kind of allergic reaction to this don’t you think THAT would have been the headline? Have you ever heard of anyone actually using it?

Jerome had to think about that. It was odd. Some people bought Brat-B-Gone, but he never heard stories of people using it. One of his neighbors, a real jokester on the block, bought it as an April fools’ prank. But why? Wasn't like him and his wife had any kids. Maybe having the can itself was the joke. Though in his head Jerome could almost picture his neighbor laughing describing how he was going to use it before revealing a trip to Disney World.  A trip for who?

“You there?” Manuel snapped his fingers.

Jerome nodded. 

“Anyway, I only know older people that have this stuff. I think we should use it too, Could help us out.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Jerome had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

Manuel shrugged, “Suit yourself, but I actually plan on getting laid tonight.” With that Manuel disappeared once again into the bathroom, exiting a moment later with a smile on his face. “Try to guess which one I used.” Manuel asked. 

Jerome thought it was obvious with how normal curly Manuel's black hair was matted down, but there was also a fragrant smell wafting from Manuel. “I can’t decide if you just wet your hair to throw me off, or if you used both products.” 

“I’ll never tell,” Manuel said with a wink. “Now get your ass in the shower so we can go out.”

At 10:30 pm both boys were dressed and ready to spend the night in the town. As the two boarded the elevator they tucked their keys deep in their pockets. They knew the agreement. Neither of them were to return back to the hotel until they had gotten laid. Manuel had even insisted that they share rooms so that neither would sneak back.  On their descent down, Jerome couldn’t help but steal a few glances at Manuel. He was looking good 

The duo had their usual ‘on the town outfits’ graphic T-shirts, a good pair of blue jeans, and tennis shoes. Though Jerome couldn’t figure out for the life of him why Manuel had decided to continue with the slick back hair-look. Not that Jerome was complaining, Manuel looked sexy either way. “I’m such a fucking simp.” Jerome thought in his head. 

Club “Bump & Grind” was the ridiculous place Manuel had decided the two of them would find the girls of their dreams. Well girls, for the night. The club was…underwhelming came to mind for Jerome. Nothing more than a bar with a dance floor in the middle. Sure, there were some college aged people here. But Jerome could tell it had to be the place local students went to because they could easily get in with fake IDs. 

“Alright let’s do this,” Manuel put his hands on Jerome’s shoulders, “You are one sexy mother fucker and you’re leaving here with a smoking’ hot girl tonight.” 

Jerome then put his hands on Manuel’s shoulders, “You’re irresistible my dude. The girls are going to be fawning all over you.” The two boys' faces broke into smiles and laughter before getting serious again. It was time.

Manuel immediately bolted towards a girl standing by the wall. Probably the first girl he spotted coming in here. Jerome watched as the two talked, but the exchange ended with the girl laughing and walking away. 

“Ouch,”  Jerome turned away to pretend like he didn’t see the rejection. In an effort of solidarity Jerome figured it was his time to get his heart broken. He also had his eye on a girl just off the dance floor. As she passed by him, Jerome bucked up and asked, “Hey, you want to dance together when you go back out.”

“Sorry, I’m just here with my friends tonight to have a good time,” She continued walking on.

“Okay that wasn’t the worst rejection,” Jerome said, building himself up. The thought of even asking out a guy crossed his mind, but if Manuel spotted him that would be hard to explain. 

The night wore on and Jerome made no luck with any of the girls he encountered on the dance floor. He thought he’d at least be seeing Manuel quite a bit in the club but it filled up quickly with bodies pushing past each other. Dejected Jerome finally exited the dance floor. He needed to build his mental strength back up before talking to another girl. He started to walk to the bar when he paused. Manuel sat on one of the stools, one foot on the stool’s bar, another on the floor, chatting up not one but three girls. Jerome was shocked because the body language for it all was quite telling. Manuel had a smile on his face while he talked with his arms crossed. The girls on the other hand all had smiles on their faces nodding along to what Manuel was saying.

Jerome wondered if Manuel had sneaked off back to the hotel to change his clothes. Manuel’s shirt looked the same but it was looking kinda tight in the arm area. Not to mention both of them had on blue jeans  earlier but Manuel's jeans looked black. Jerome decided to approach the group. As Jerome got closer he noticed that Manuel’s shirt wasn’t a size too small, making his arms look bigger, Manuel’s arms actually were bigger. In fact, his whole body seemed bigger. Not that Jerome would have considered the normally fit Manuel skinny by any means previously, but now Manuel was thicker. There was a heft and heaviness to his powerful movements. 

Jerome considered his eyes playing tricks on him, after all Manuel’s jeans did appear to become tighter the closer Jerome got. Jerome’s eyes went to Manuel’s ass. Manuel was sporting a full dump truck, indented by the side of the stool due to the way he was sitting on it. Something was definitely weird. Jerome knew Manuel's’ ass. He’d seen it many times. Manuel had a cute little booty that Jerome even personally dubbed a bubblegum butt. Not as big as a true bubble but certainly noteworthy. Whatever ass Manuel was dragging now people could write a whole essay on. Jerome finally considered he was mistaken about the person he was approaching and that Manuel was somewhere else. Then the guy locked eyes with him. Definitely Manuel no mistake.

“Hey bud,” Manuel waved him over as Jerome was still a few feet away. Cautiously Jerome approached but  Manuel wrapped an arm around his waist pulling him close. “Ladies, this is my best bro, Jerome.”  The fact Manuel’s hand was at his waist and Manuel’s  face was close to his crotch was not lost on Jerome. 

 “We were just talking about you!” Manuel said excited having not released Jerome from his hold.

“Good things, I hope.” Jerome joked back to the ladies.

“He was saying that his best friend’s, A stud and how good you are in bed.” One of the girls answered. 

Jerome blushed, thankful his skin was dark enough, no one would ever know how embarrassed he was. “Oh well—

“Although,’ One of the girls, a blond cut him off, 'we were asking about HIS exploits.” The girls’ attention and eyes drifted back to Manuel. 

The last girl, a cute Korean, leaned over and danced her fingers up Manuel’s thigh leading up to his. Jerome’s eyes widened. It looked like Manuel had stuffed the front of his pants. Maybe he had gone back to the hotel, because the shape in his pants couldn’t have been penis. No effin’ way. 

Suddenly Manuel sprung up onto his feet before the girl could reach her prize. “We'll be right back.” Manuel pulled Jerome away from the bar. The moment the two were in the male restrooms, Manuel fanned himself as he turned his head to make sure the bathroom was empty.

“Dude, This gentleman's stuff really works! I've been getting flooded with girls who are jonesing for my cock all night.” Manuel grabbed his package and shook it. “It’s like I attract cock hounds or something. Did you see those girls out there?” Manuel’s face was ecstatic.

Jerome laughed and playfully said, “With the way you stuffed your pants, go figure they might be a little horny.”

“Who stuffed his pants?”

“You dude.”

“Why would I stuff my pants?” Manuel pulled at the collar of his shirt, “Is it hot in here?”

“Dude we both know that’s not your dick.” Jerome said ignoring the second question/

 Manuel got a confused look on his face. Instead of responding he unzipped his pants. Out flopped his large fat brown Latino cock. Jerome’s mind went blank. What the hell was he staring at? Who attacked a python on his best friend? Jerome never leered at Manuel’s cock he thought that'd be a personal step too far, but he certainly caught glimpses of it. This cock did not belong to the young man Jerome had come to know. And yet there it was with two testicles behind it that were…growing larger?

“Hey, are your ball–

“Jer, how could you forget how big my cock is?” Manuel chuckled, stuffing it back into his pants.

“Wait, where are your underwear.?” Jerome asked, completely forgetting his other question. 

Manuel stepped by him to wash his hands at the sink. “Dude, you know I can’t wear underwear when I wear jeans. Not enough space in the crotch…What’s with the heat in this place.” Manuel suddenly lowered his head closer to the sink, cupping his hands, he splashed himself and let the water run over him. Manuel turned back to Jerome, water clinging in his hair, “Now listen these girls already want me, but I think we can get them after you too. Play our cards right, we might lose our virginities in a five-way.”

“That's not a thing.” Jerome said, “pretty sure anything over 4 is just an orgy.”

“Welp, sounds like fun for us.” Manuel threw his arm around Jerome and led them back out into the club. There was a really amazing scent coming from Manuel. It smelt like the product from earlier but a bit changed?  As if Manuel's own natural smell had mixed with gel or cologne to create something new. Jerome looked at the side of Manuel’s head, and it wasn't wet any more. In fact, it didn’t look wet at all, rather there were gray streaks on the side of Manuel's head, but that didn’t make sense.

The girls were still waiting by the bar talking amongst themselves. When they greeted the boys again their attention didn’t seem as instability fixed onto Manuel anymore. Manuel sat back down.

Jerome was impressed that they all seemed to have a nice conversation. The girls weren’t as obsessive about Manuel before he left the bathroom. Although Manuel was certainly the one leading the conversation. Jerome was in awe, but also jealous. He’d never seen his friend be so confident when dealing with women.  Manuel was spinning a web, and the girls were happily caught in it. 

“You know, If you girls made out that’d be the hottest thing.” Manuel said. Jerome was caught off guard; he didn't know Manuel was into girl-on-girl action. The girls began to rub on each other's shoulders seductively, “We can do that,” The blonde one stated. “But what will you boys do for us?”

“What’d ya want?” Manuel asked. There was something about the way he brought his hands together in front of his op. the way he rubbed them, his cocky smirk. 

“One good turn deserves another,” The blond said. “Why don’t you two boys make out and show us how it’s done?”

“And none of that quick peck stuff either. We want real- making out!” The Korean chick cut in.

“Deal!” Manuel shouted. Before Jerome could even process the exchange, Manuel was on his feet staring Jerome in the eyes. Was this a dream? It had to be. No way was Jerome going to let this dream pass him by. He must have been still asleep on the hotel bed. He pulled Manuel in and locked their lips. Mini sparks were going off in Jerome’s heart, lit into a blaze when he realized Manuel was kissing him back earnestly. Jerome’s hand found Manuel's face and cupped it all the while mashing their tongs together. In all his excitement Jerome pushed Manuel back onto the stool like an over eager puppy. 

Jerome was only able to stop himself when Manuel cooled him off by unlinking their mouths and kissing along his face. “That’s enough dude,” Kissed his cheek . “They liked it,” kissed his nose.“It’s their” turn,” kissed his forehead. Jerome remembered the purpose of the make out and was too ashamed to turn to the girls but when he did the girls had already started. His crotch was planted firmly near Manuel’s and when his dick twitched for the girls Manuel turned to him.

“This shit’s hot, right?” Manuel asked.

With his head swimming, Jerome dove back in and Manuel didn’t try to push him off. Jerome peeked an eye open to see the girls were definitely doing their fair share of staring. 

“NNNGGHHHH!” Manuel’s kisses stopped as he began to groan. Jerome stopped immediately, recognizing his best friend's agony. He backed his head up away enough to ask, ‘what’s wrong’. Though before he could even get a syllable out, his face was pressed against bare skin. Jerome was so shocked he jumped back, only to realize he had just unburied his face from Manuel’s chest. 

 Somehow Manuel had just grown. Not just upward but out. His shirt was gone, resting on the ground and his chest was resting out. It had all taken place within a split second. Jerome looked over to the girls, who didn't seem to notice. His eyes went back to Manuel. Manuel’s entire chest was heaving, pecs going up and down. The pecs were off putting and tantalizing enough on their own, but then Manuel’s jeans shifted into dress pants.  

Jerome pinched himself in the cheek and it was time to wake up. Nothing. Jerome tried it again this time closing his eyes. When he opened them, he was still in the club. No this was absolutely not going to fly. 

“You look like you're about to throw up Jerome,” Manuel said as if he was unfazed by his own sudden transformation. “Ladies, would you mind stopping for a moment? My friend and I might have to go back to the restroom.” Right on cue the girls stopped. Jerome was stunned how they listened to him

“Fine, but if he throws up, I’m not kissing him.” The brunette spoke up.

Manuel beckoned her closer with his index finger then put it under her chin, “Of course you won’t because you’re going to be making out with me, right?” The girl smiled fully smitten as Manuel removed his hand and stood up. Jerome’s mouth dropped watching as Manuel rose to a new height that had him only at Manuel’s chest. Just earlier that night the two had been eye level shoulder to shoulder. 

“Well then let’s just do it now,” The girl winked. 

Without even waiting for an answer Manuel kissed her, putting his back to Jerome. Thanks to Manuel’s wider back he couldn’t see the girl but could definitely heat her moans from the pressure. It was a knife in Jerome’s heart. And he knew that he shouldn’t be mad. Of course he knew that! The whole night was about getting women and Manuel was doing just that. Though when had Manuel become such a smooth operator? Where was the loveable try-hard Jerome had come to know? Jerome rubbed the sides of his head. His mind must have been scattered with what little alcohol he had. It was time for him to call it a night. 

Jerome knew he couldn’t return to the hotel room, but he couldn’t stay here either. “I’m gonna head out.” He clapped Manuel on the back as he walked by. The two bodies making out stopped the girl was dazed drunk off kiss and Manuel… Manuel. Well Jerome didn’t know who he was looking at because it certainly wasn’t his friend. This guy had a strong jaw, thick eyebrows, and growing stubble whereas Manuel only had boyish charm to compensate. 

Jerome couldn’t believe it. Had Manuel actually left while Jerome had zoned out? When had this other guy stepped in? Jerome couldn’t ruminate on it because the man slowly pushed the girl away with one hand. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt and wiped his mouth. Had Jerome been less shocked by the interaction he would have noticed the mustache pop into existence.  

Looking back onto the dance floor Jerome wondered if Manuel was out there moving in the sea of bodies. He wandered back into the crowd, no longer paying attention to the people at the bar. Jerome was pushed and prodded, amongst the sweaty grinding bodies. Loud music flashing lights. Jerome hated all of it. He just wanted Manuel to have a good time, maybe lose his virginity, and get buzzed, but there was no way his friend was going to get any girls in this place. 

20 minutes later, Jerome was released from the feral dance mob, facing the bar. Manuel was still nowhere in sight but the one thing that caught Jerome's attention; a crowd of dudes were at the bar. Not unusual in itself, except for the fact they were all ignoring the girls sitting around them clearly waiting to be bought drinks. Instead, the men’s attention was all on one guy at the center of the bar talking up a big storm, seated and facing away from the bar towards the dance floor. As Jerome approached and recognized the guy, he’d mistaken Manuel for earlier. Though the mystery man looked like he was wearing a completely different outfit, a business suit to be exact, not even remotely close to Manuel’s. The suit’s black jacket was thrown over the bar chair while the top of his white dress shirt was unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. Everything he had on looked stuffed to the brim, and like a second layer of skin, rather than actual clothes. How had Jerome even confused them earlier?

The talking stopped but Jerome didn’t notice, in fact It wasn't until the mystery man got up Jerome noticed the man’s attention was on him. The guy set down the whiskey glass in his hand onto the counter and stood up sauntering over to Jerome. All the other guy’s eyes seemed to instinctually go to the man’s ass and Jerome wished he too had been standing on the other side.

“I saw you earlier tonight. I’ve been waiting to talk to you.  Dr. Torres.” The man went straight into an introduction and held out his hand. 

“Jer…Jerome,” The young man shook the open hand and was surprised when his palm wasn’t crushed. It was a firm but gentle handshake. Dr. Torres gave a knowing smile.

“I’m quite good at handling my strength.” The man answered. “Tell me, what is a handsome young guy like you doing alone tonight? Waiting for your girlfriend or…” 

“My friend and I were planning to lose our virginities tonight.” Jerome didn’t realize what he said till it left his mouth. There was something so comforting, so familiar about this man he blurted it out. 

Dr. Torres laughed, “Well that’s quite the plan. I’m a college professor and I teach Sociology of Sexuality, perhaps I could help you out?”

 Something about this, Dr. Torres, his looks, his smell, made Jerome’s head go fuzzy. BUT He couldn't just leave. He had to find…what was his name? Hard to think when a hot man had Jerome in his gaze. Leaving a friend without saying anything was bad, but perhaps it was about losing his virginity that could help him apologize later? Maybe he could use some of that Brat-B-Gone and really impress this guy?

 

Come As You Are

“Henry, time to wake up.” His mom gently shook him awake from the front seat of the car. Henry briefly opened his eyes and pouted. It had just been a dream. He tried to drift back to sleep but then his dad started softly knocking on the car windows, disturbing his peace.  Henry grumpily got out of the car as his father rubbed his curly brown head.

“You can’t go to sleep before the party.” Mr. Whitlock smiled. “Don’t you love parties?”

“Of course he does,” Mrs. Whitlock answered, reaching back into the car to pull out a pie. “Remember he ate most of his chocolate cake last year? I’m glad I cut his friend's slices first.”

Henry blushed, he hadn't meant all that cake, but what did it matter? This wasn't a fun kids’ party. This was a stupid stuffy house party the new neighbors had decided to hold. Not that he was going to tell his parents he heard them say that. Though when one lived out in the country, with most people owning farms, the term neighbor was a bit loose. Their new neighbors, the Crumpletons, happened to own the biggest plot of land with the hugest house. All that space meant they lived extremely far out, even the billboards on the way out here were blank. 

Henry closed his eyes; he and his dog Buster were both lying in the field under the summer afternoon sun. There was nothing like enjoying a warm summer breeze with a trusted pal by your side. 

“Don’t fall asleep standing up now.” Mr. Whitlock tried to contain his laughter as Henry snapped awake at his voice. Together the family made their way to the large front doors There was an elaborate knocker Mr. Whitlock used, to no avail.

“This was definitely the time on the card.” Mrs. Whitlock said. 

“Don’t worry honey it’s not you, I'm sure they’re just counting all their money for the 5th time today.”

“Shhh, don’t talk like that in front of Henry,” She said, laughing, breaking up her voice, “They’re son is Henry’s friend.”

The word friend was a stretch, they were classmates. Henry tried to once share his lunch with the boy and got a scowl in return. He had even called Henry simple once and that ticked off Mr. Whitlock.  Maximilian Crumpleton had issues with all the other kids in school too. Henry heard his dad say “the party was happening to make amends and flaunt wealth.” Henry didn’t hear anything about a birthday so why would there be cake?

“Henry, tie your shoes.” Mr. Whitlock whispered. The door opened at that exact moment. Out stepped Mrs. Crumpleton in a long black dress and gold necklace.

“Oh my, it’s the Whitlocks! Wonderful to see you. Though I must ask what’s with the outfits? This isn’t a costume party.”

The smile on Henry's dad’s face fell, “These are our clothes.”

“The invitation said the dress code is to come as you are.” Henry’s mother finished.

Henry stood behind his dad. He recognized his parents’ tone of voice from whenever he was on the cusp of getting in trouble. It was weird to see it directed at someone else. Though Henry didn’t understand the problem with their clothes. His dad was in a flannel, blue jeans and boots. His mom had a dress on and flat shoes. Henry had a blue shirt, overalls, and untied tennis. They wore these all the time. 

“Yes, come as you are, but we assumed even the people who lived here at least had decent clothes for…” She stopped speaking, “My apologies, this isn’t about attire, this is about building and mending bridges. A wonderful opportunity for families to get to know each other and our sons to make up. “Mrs. Crumpleton opened the door to the house. There were tons of people dressed similarly to her moving around. The Whitlocks walked in and immediately got looks and stares. 

“Maybe we should leave. We are clearly too underdressed for this.” Henry’s mom said.

“Nonsense, they’ll get over it.” Mrs. Crumpeton led them to the backyard of the house, where a giant pool was waiting. Henry tugged on his mom’s arm to point. Mrs. Crumpleton went on “Perhaps you guys can borrow something from our closet…as for your son… MAXAMILIAN!” She shouted. 

Henry hadn’t noticed the body swimming around in the pool, but caught sight of Maximilian exiting. The other boy jogged up to them.

“It seems our guests came a little unprepared. Please help get their son looking ready for the party. It’s the least we could do.” Maximilian rolled his eyes before nodding for Henry to follow him. 

“We don’t typically advertise our charitable works.” Maximilian snickered once they were away from the adults. “But I guess your parents are the only other people my parents can stand,even with how you all dress.” He walked up the stairs with Henry reluctantly following behind. Henry wouldn’t have been trying so hard If he hadn't seen his parents doing the same. When they walked into Maximilian' s room Henry’s mouth opened. It was three times as big as his. 

“Don’t get anything dirty.” Maximilian disappeared into a walk-in closet. HIS OWN walk-in closet. Truth be told, Henry was a little scared to touch anything in the room. The bed was made up, no shoes toppled over, or toys on the floor. Did Maximilian do anything here? The room wasn’t just neat. It was devoid of fun, 

“Got it!” Maximilian stepped out of his closet wearing gloves and holding a can. 

“Where are your clothes I’m going to borrow?”

“My parents don’t like it when common folk borrow our things. They got tired of my grandparents saying it’s hard to get the stench of the lower class out.” Maximilian presented the can in his hand “We use this for other people's kids now.”

“BRAT-B-GONE:Gentlemen's Edition? Never heard of it.”

Maximilian gave a chuckle, “Has anyone in this backwaters town heard of anything that costs actual money? This will help you look more presentable. My parents had me use it lots of time before moving here like for… and ….” Maximilian got a confused look on his face, then shrugged, “Well the thing is half empty so I must have used it on someone. Now come sit in front of the mirror.”

Henry didn’t want to but his host was insistent. When Henry finally gave in and plopped his but on the floor he asked. “How come you’re wearing gloves for something that’s going to go in my hair?

“Question after question, give me a break.” Maximilian then ignored Henry and gathered a nice glob of hair gel from the can before plopping it onto Henry’s head. The rich boy's fingers began to massage into Henry’s scalp and pull at his hair. “Tsk, tsk all these curls have got to go. Who comes to a party with unbrushed, unkempt hair?”  Maximilian pulled at Henry’s curls untangling some and unfurling others. “A refined man combs his hair back like a 1950’s—

“I don’t care.” Henry interrupted. He was trying his best to be good for his parents, but Maximilian was challenging that every time he opened his mouth.  Maximilian opened his palms and pulled Henry’s head back as he put the gel through the hair. One strand of hair refused to go back and curled on Henry’s forehead. The moment Maximilian stopped, giving the slightest inclination he was done Henry hopped up and walked out of the room. Henry thought his hair looked ridiculous, as if he was pretending to be superman. Maximilian probably did it on purpose so everyone at the party would laugh at him.  

There was a loud thud as Henry fell back onto the floor; he had collided with someone. “I’m so sorry, excuse me sir.”  The stranger turned around from his conversation with two other female party goers and offered Henry a hand up. 

“Aren’t you a respectable little guy?” The man said.

“I don’t know if little is the right word...” One of the females said. “Be nice.” the other two laughed”

Henry, however, felt a tingle on his spine that traveled down to his legs.Then it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“John Headon, this is my wife Sarah and her sister, Ruth.” The man pointed to himself then to the women on his right and left respectively. “Our families both do a lot of inner city building, home remodeling. Our marriage was practically a merger of the companies in itself. What do you do?”  The man and his compatriots’ eyes eagerly looked towards Henry waiting for an answer.

Henry could only think to say his parents were farmers, but instead what came out of his mouth was, “I do a lot of philanthropic work.” Henry’s hands flew to his mouth; he had no idea why he said that. “But it’s true though.” Henry heard his own head voice say. Henry realized he was only reminding himself of a fact he knew all along. 

Ruth chuckled trying to hold her hand over her mouth.

“What’s funny?”

She shook her head and waved her hand. “I’m sorry it’s just the thought of you being a philanthropist is so absurd and funny. I mean can you even spell that word, little one?” She said with a sneer.

“I’m not a kid.” Henry’s mouth was moving before his mind could catch up. He had been upset for not believing him, but he certainly didn’t mean to challenge an adult with a lie. “I just have a youthful face.” Henry’s mouth continued moving. Then the adults began to look weird, were they shrinking? No, that wasn’t it. Henry looked down. The ground was slowly getting further away from him. There was a shift inside him, his bones and muscles changing. Finally, he was feeling his growth. He felt his shoulders begin to press tightly on his overall straps as his legs heaved up higher every second. There was painful discomfort on his toes until Henry heard his shoes explode as his feet plopped out still growing. Henry felt a heaviness overtake him as his body’s muscles began to expand swelling out his outfit. One strap snapped as the metal fell to the floor with a soft clank and the other snapped right behind it. Thankfully Henry’s thighs and legs had grown big enough to prevent the overall’s sliding down. On the downside, the seams of his pants were completely ripped by his ever-growing size. The top half of the overalls hung limply over Henry’s waist.

Henry’s head was hazy. It started from where the hair gel had been applied and seeped into his mind with a numbing sensation. Just like the rest of his body Henry’s mind was also growing, with it came knowledge. But this was so much more than simple maturity, there was an elegance to it. Henry was becoming cultured, classy, and refined; A true gentleman. The color from Henry’s polo drained onto the overalls, like a watercolor painting. Henry had to squat a bit as his ass cheeks began to press out the seat of his overalls. A proper man’s ass entered the world having destroyed whatever underwear he had been wearing underneath. Henry staggered trying to stand up straight but John held him steady.

“Sis, I think you're wrong. I don’t think he’s ‘tiny’ at all.” Sarah gave a knowing glance toward Henry’s crotch which had a sizable lump in it.

“No, I…I wouldn’t. I didn’t mean to imply that you…” Ruth was nothing but stutters, “I don’t even know why I had said such a thing to begin with. It’s purely uncouth to speak of such things.”

Uncouth? Henry wanted to be surprised. He knew what that word meant, but he couldn’t be. He had gone to Harvard after all his vocabulary was immense. What kind of businessman would he be if he couldn’t show a pompous crowd he knew just as many words as they did. Meanwhile the top of his now blue overalls began to sink into the lower half. Henry’s ass got hidden away as well as his legs. The overalls were shifting into dress pants fit for a man.

His shirt was left a stark white unable to come past his pecs, mimicking a crop top. The shirt stretched down on its own, as rips and tears along the sides sealed themselves back up. The material of the shirt itself was changing and morphing, snuggly fitting Henry around the biceps Eventually the shirt tucked itself in and was no different than a polo you’d find on a common rich frat bro. Henry looked down at himself and how his breathing made his VERY LARGE chest and shirt move up and down. “I have to go.”  Henry said, hand on his forehead.  He stumbled to the back of the house, none of the guests bothering to help him. He caught himself against the back door standing up. He needed to find his parents and…

“Ohh!!” a man bumped right into Henry and spilled red wine all over his white polo. Instead of cascading down, the liquid got drawn into the shirt and began to dye it a pink color. It spread all over as the shirt morphed once again. Additional buttons popped into existence flowing down the entire length of the shirt. The sleeves extended, swallowing up Henry’s arms and coming together around the wrist connected with cold cuff links. There was a tightness on Henry’s chest just before, it expanded not once, not twice, but three times forcing the top of the now pink dress shirt open and new cleavage on display. Henry noticed but was much more worried about his investments than his predicament. Even the person who had bumped into him was more concerned about the broken glass than the red wine it contained getting sucked into Henry's shirt. 

“What investments?” Henry muttered to himself. A minute ago he wouldn’t have even know what the word meant, but the answers were all there in his head. He knew exactly what investments. He squatted down and helped the other guest pick up the remaining pieces of class before heading out back, his balance finally stable. 

He spotted the party’s hostess talking to a familiar man and woman… HIS parents! How did he almost forget that? “Trina.” Henry heard his mouth say, once again on auto pilot. Mrs. Crumpleton looked over to him and smiled, waving him over.

“Mr and Mrs. Whitlock, I want you to meet, Ethan.” Mrs. Whitlock patted Henry's shoulders as he looked at her confused. Who on earth was Ethan?  And why was he introduced to his own parents? His dad was wearing a borrowed suit jacket over his outfit and his mom had on a sweater. It helped them look not completely out of place. “Ethan is one of the richest bachelors in this county and he’s a model.  My husband and I were floored to learn about it when we met him.”

“Hopefully not a bachelor for too long.” Henry’s body replied, but the voice, that wasn’t his voice. It was too deep and hearty, stronger than his dad’s. “Looking to have some kids of my own here too.” Henry was screaming inside his head, what was he going on about? He rubbed his eyes and his pare–Mr & Mrs. Whitlocks face blurred for a second. Ethan had a strong sense of deja vu come over him but faded as he realized he definitely hadn't meant the Whitlocks before.  Unlike everyone else at the party there was nothing pretentious about the couple. The Crumpletons and their guests always had a snobbish air about them that the Whitlocks seemed to lack.

Ethan was always close to telling the Crumpleton family to lose his number, but there were contacts at their parties he could use to help out charities and non-profit in his network. He could suffer 2 hours if it meant more funding for people working their ass off on the frontlines. Often Ethan wondered how he got mixed up with people who only cared about money, when that was probably the thing he cared the least about in his work. The Whitlocks were people who lived in the ‘actual’ world and were able to talk about things they hoped to see in their community. Mrs. Crumpleton had not-so-secretly snuck out of the conversation about the community. Before Ethan knew it 3 hours had passed, he needed to get home. He excused himself from their invigorating conversation.

“Hold on, don’t forget this.” Mr. Whitlock stood up, removing his jacket and passing it to Ethan. “Thanks for letting me borrow it from the party. You saved me from the onlookers.” Ethan curiously accepted the navy-blue suit jacket. Was it black earlier? Ethan honestly couldn't remember, but it must have been his. It did match his pants after all. He said his goodbye and hopped into his Toyota prius pulling away from the Mansion. As he drove his eyes spotted a billboard. A picture of his silhouette on an ad for BRAT-B-GONE: Gentlemen’s Edition. Ethan chuckled; he completely forgot he had even done an ad. He took modeling gigs here and there but honestly, he could even remember doing the shoot, let alone what the product even did.  Also, not that he’d ever say it out loud, but the Photoshop they did for the young model onto his picture wasn't the best either. Ethan laughed to himself, “Where’d they even get that kid from?” The smile stayed on his lips even as he drove past.