A Thursday In The Life

Hey guys - thanks for the patience on this one. Enjoy!

-Derek

------

I woke up with the bellhop again.

I don’t usually sleep with the same guy twice, but I hadn’t spent much time with him yesterday, just a minute in the elevator where I turned him from a law student into a slutty gave gym rat, and then again when I’d brought him up after coming home from NEON.  And, of course, the couple of blowjobs in between. I’d given him a great ass, and honestly… I’d been so tired we hadn’t actually fucked yet.  But I wanted to enjoy the bubble butt.

My next client was only a couple hours away, down in Indiana.  I figured I’d take a little playtime after I finished my morning coffee.  I make bad decisions before coffee.

Of course he heard it brewing and climbed out of bed, wrapping his thick arounds around me and resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Hey,” he said. “Wanna grab a shower? I could use a good fuck and we’ve got like… really good water pressure here.”

“Sure thing,” I chuckled. “I bet you’ve checked every shower in this hotel.”

“Mmmm... pretty close,” he shrugged.  “What can I say?  I’m a slut!”

“And I need a shower,” I said, giving him a peck on the lips.

He hurried off to the washroom and adjusted the taps.  I watched him go, enjoying the beautiful body I’d given him.  Wide shoulders leading down to a narrow waist, capped delts, thick legs, and a pair of asscheeks that I couldn’t wait to split open.

I ducked into the shower with him and he ran a bar of soap across my body, lathering me until I was slippery all over.  Then he dropped the bar and started rubbing my shoulders.  I moaned as he worked through my tension.  It had been a weird couple of days, and I was grateful to finally relax.

“Turn around,” he whispered. I did, and he dug his fingers in deep, helping my muscles release. He kissed the back of my neck and shoulders, then I felt a finger graze against my hole.

“Whoa,” I said, jerking away. “I’m a top."

“No way,” he said, confusion painted over his face, “Then why’d you make me a top too?”

I tried to remember back to what I’d said in the elevator when I changed him, but… did I seriously forget to mention he liked getting fucked?  I’d said something about him being a slutty gym rat, and I mentioned he liked to suck cock, but...

Damn, I couldn’t believe it.

“I guess there’s only one answer,” he growled playfully in my ear. “Use that magic you got… make you into a bottom.  Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Not gonna happen,” I said, drawing a hard line. “But I could change you again?”

“I’ll meet you halfway," he offered.  “Make us both vers.”

I took a few seconds to think. I don't normally use my power of myself – just the once. My first transformation, giving myself this hyper libido. Since then I’ve discovered my power is only good for one thing, changing a man into a cock hungry himbo… and once I started someone down that road, they always arrived at the destination.

I knew it was only a matter of time until I slipped up and finished the job on myself.

But making myself vers… that wasn’t too far down the slippery slope. And he had such a hot ass… And it’s not like I’d actually let him fuck me...

“Okay,” I nodded, twisting off the tap.  “Let’s do it.”

I walked him out of the shower and wiped the mirror with a towel. My hand was already busy weaving the spell on both of us.  I know, I could have just cast the spell on him and made him think it was his idea, but... I’ve got a weird idea of honour, okay?

“Look at that ass," I said, pointing at his reflection. “No way you’re just a top.  You’ve got to be vers.”

In the mirror, his reflection shifted slightly, that stance gay guys have where you just KNOW they can take a dick.

“And look at that ass,” he said playfully – my ass bubbled out in the mirror – “That guy loves to give AND receive. You wanna be that guy, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. And suddenly my ass was real, trembling and desperate for a cock inside it “And you wanna be that guy, don’t ya?”

“Yeah, let’s do it," the bellboy agreed, flexing has ass as new desire overtook him.

We got back in the shower and I fucked him til he screamed.

---------

I was drying off when I saw a text from Greg – “Hey man… sorry, kinda forgot in all the excitement last night, but are you gonna do something about these busboys for me?  I’m happy to take care of the band, but… I could really use a couple new gogo boys.”

“Shit,” I texted back. “Sorry Greg, totally forgot.” I checked my watch, it was almost ten. “I can squeeze ‘em in this morning.  Any chance you can get them in the same place?”

“They’re actually boyfriends,” Greg texted.  “Stop by their apartment? I’ll let them know you’re coming!”

He sent me a pin. I was distracted trying to fit my boxers up over my massive new ass. I finally just tried to yank them on but they tore right down the seam.

Two minutes with the mirror and I could have a whole new wardrobe, but… I’d done more than enough magic on myself. I didn’t want to gain momentum. The last thing I need is to magic myself up some boxer briefs and boom, I’m renting out my ass on the West Side.

I squeezed into my jeans commando. My cock was clearly visible, but whatever... it was better than wearing a pair of my signature pink briefs. They were cut for an XXL ass though...

“Hey,” Greg texted. “Gave the guys a heads up – they’re stoked to get swole!”

“On my way,” I replied, grabbing my bag.

The bellboy slapped my ass on the way out the door.  My knees felt weak.

----------

The address wasn’t far from NEON, so I left my car in the club parking lot and walked. I could feel my ass jiggling with every step. Like I say, I make bad decisions before coffee.

The guys lived in a fifth story walk-up – a small sign claimed that the building was historical, but that just meant nothing was up to code. Charming, y’know? At least these giant glutes made the stairs easy.

“Hey,” a young man in his twenties said, opening the door and welcoming me inside.  “You must be Greg’s friend?”

“Jake,” I said, offering a handshake. The guy went for a hug instead. When he finally broke it off, his boyfriend, or possibly his twin, was standing there with a bemused expression. They were dressed in the same style – hoodies and pyjama pants.

“I’m William,” the hugger introduced himself.  “And this is Tyler.”

“And Greg’s explained what I do?” I asked.

“Sure thing,” Tyler nodded.  “That’s why we applied to NEON in the first place. You pay your dues for a while, but eventually... well, I guess it’s when you come to town,” he laughed.

“All the guys at NEON are so hot,” William clarified.  “And we figured, hey, maybe if we work there... it’ll happen to us too!”

I chewed on my lip for a second. Did they actually understand the consequences? But then again, they weren’t the client. Greg was, if there was a client at all. And Greg’s instructions had been clear – he wanted these two zapped into a pair of gogo boys.

“Alright,” I said. “We’re gonna need a mirror.”

“There’s one in the bathroom,” William said.  “Do you want a beer first?  Or we have tea?”

“Sorry,” I told them.  “I’m kind of in a hurry... let’s just get started.  I’m thinking gymnast or swimmer’s bodies, maybe some pole dancing skills, and a fuckton of charisma... that sound good to you guys?”

“Well, actually... I’ve got a special request,” Tyler said, blushing red. “I know Greg just wants a couple new gogo boys, and... we’re down for that.  Really! But I was hoping you could make me a top while you’re at it?”

I felt my ass twitch with anticipation. Shit, was this the way it was gonna be from now on?

“Sure,” I said. “Whatever. Both of you?”

“Just Tyler,” William said. “We flipped a coin and I’m gonna stay a bottom. I really love him, but... we kinda messed up on compatibility.”

“We both said we were vers,” Tyler admitted. “And I’m sick of playing with toys.”

“Okay, sure,” I agreed. “Look in the mirror. Let’s start with the hair.”

William was brunette. Tyler was blond. They both looked confused at the question.

“Okay, let’s make you redheads,” I said, pointing at the mirror.  Their images changed instantly, giving them both a fiery shade of red, and the pale skin that so often went with it.  “See, here’s how it goes. We talk through the change, you’ll see the preview here, and then... boom, we’ll make it permanent.  K?”

“And for the style... let’s say –“

“High and tight,” William cut me off. He glanced over at Tyler’s amused look. “What, it’s hot!”

“Done,” I said, weaving it into the spell with my hand.  In the mirror, their hair shortened, fading down to nothing on the sides. I left them with stylish quiffs on top. No need to make them look like they just got out of basic training.

“Wow,” Tyler said. “Okay, sold.”

“What about clothes?” William asked. “I mean, should we strip down, or...”

“Don’t bother,” I said, integrating a new idea into the spell. “You won’t be wearing much for clothes – just a pair of square cut trunks for our new top,” I said, pointing at Tyler.  “And a jockstrap for Will.”

“It’s William,” he corrected me.

“No,” I said, wishing people would learn the rules before playing expert.  “You’re William.”  I pointed at the mirror version. “He’s Will.  And that’s Ty beside him.”

They looked over their mirror images, two skinny-fat bodies packed into revealing underwear.

“Don’t worry,” I told William.  “Let’s start with a dumptruck ass for you. A bottom’s got to look the part, doesn’t he?”

I couldn’t help but notice Ty’s as his eyes flickered down and glanced at my bubble butt. No way in hell was I going to start bottoming though – a guy like me wraps a lot of his identity up in being the top. Don’t ask me why, we’ll have to talk about toxic masculinity.

In the mirror, Will’s ass grew into a massive pair of globes. He could give me a run for my money.

“And big legs for both of you,” I said, steering the change as quickly as I could.  “Absolute tree trunks, aren’t they? Even those perfect diamond calves. Smooth, of course. No-one wants a hairy gogo boy.”

Their hair fell away in the mirror, dropping from their legs and their torsos.  A dusting remained on their forearms, and of course I left their beard untouched. Facial hair is always in style.

“Did you forget about our upper bodies?” Will snorted.  “We look ridiculous.”

“I’m getting to it,” I promised.  “But just for that, you get a tattoo.”

“Huh?” He stared at his image, but he couldn’t see anything.

“Don’t worry about it,” I shrugged. “You’ll love it... when you find it. Let’s do chests! I’m thinking big round tits, wide shoulders, and heavy triceps.”

The changes reflected in the mirror and William forgot all about the tattoo.  He was busy eyefucking Will, wondering just how long until the two of them would be fucking with those bodies.

“Damn,” Tyler said, giving me a grin. “I mean… I could fuck anyone I wanted…”

“Yeah," I agreed. “Especially with that giant cock, right?”

Tyler’s grin grew even wider as his bulge became ridiculous in the mirror, like the reflection had distorted, but only under his briefs.  William’s mouth hung open, looking at the image of his boyfriend, now the owner of a giant dick.

“That looks like it’s gonna hurt...” William said thoughtfully.  “Maybe we don’t need like... giant cocks?”

“Suit yourself,” I shrugged, watching Will’s dwindle under the jockstrap. If he was three inches hard, I’d be shocked.  Still, that massive ass defined all sense of proportion, staying right where I put it.

“That’s not what I meant!” William shouted angrily.

“Words are so hard,” I said with empathy. “Especially for a couple dumb sluts like you.”

“Huh? What?” William said, blinking in confusion. “No, I’m not a dumb…”

“Yeah,” Tyler protested. “I’m not like... like... dumb or whatever...”

“Not a dumb... dummy... slutty...” William kept talking.  “Like a dumb... I’m a dumb... dumb... slut!”

“Yeah!” Tyler agreed, his head fogged past the point of no return. “I’m like... super dumb! Super slutty!”

“Will’s gonna be an idiot cockwhore, aren’t you Will?” I asked the dumbfounded redhead. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yeah,” he nodded eagerly, too befuddled to protest.

I blinked and there he was, a dumb muscleslut with a massive ass, his beautiful body covered only by the tiniest of jockstraps. He stared at Ty’s cock in the mirror, already starting to salivate.

“And Ty, you’re nothing but a fuckboy, right?” I asked. “Compared to Will there… you’re a facing’ genius. Just listen to your cock, it knows what you need.”

“Yeah…” he said tentatively, repeating the word until it made sense.  “Yeah... yeah... I mean… yeah!  For sure dude, my cock is boss!”

“Time to become Ty,” I told him.

And there he was, a muscle top, next to his dumbslut boyfriend.

---------

I was just passing Chicago city limit when my phone rang.  My goddamn agent again.  I got ready to swear on speakerphone.

“Alan,” I said. “What could this possibly be? I’m running HOURS early for my next appointment.”

“What happened with Montgomery?” Alan said, fuming over the speaker.

“I did the job,” I said.  “Turned his rival’s kid into a himbo, no chance Spencer Shaw will take over the family business.”

“You were supposed to be subtle,” my agent pointed out.  “Did that escape you?”

“Funny thing,” I chuckled.  “Montgomery wanted subtle, but my second job of the day... you didn’t even vet it, did you?  It was Peter Shaw, Spencer’s big brother.  He didn’t want Spencer taking over the family business either, and he wanted to do it by making Spencer the biggest, dumbest, blondest himbo you’ve ever seen... and we do what the client asks for.”

“DAMMIT!” Alan shouted, loud enough that the phone’s speaker made him sound tinny.  “Goddammit Jake, why didn’t you call me?”

“Whose woods are these, I think I know,” I quoted.

“What?”

“I don’t work for you Alan,” I said, snapping a little too much.  “How about you do your fucking job and make sure we don’t have conflicts BEFORE they’re on my desk?  I did the best I could.”

“Yeah, while... your best has Montgomery pissed at us.  Mostly you, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to buy my apartment building and demolish it.  If you’re still in Chicago, get out now.... I think he might actually send out a hit squad.”

“Let him try,” I chuckled. “I’ll send him back the Village People.”

---------

A couple hours south of Chicago, there’s a town called Lafayette.  To be honest, I can’t see it on the map without that Orville Peck song ringing through my head.

The house was a McMansion across from a field, the kind of street that looks like they forgot to build the other side.  There were six cars in the driveway, so I parked down the street and walked.

An older man answered the door.

“Tim Houston?” I asked, glancing at the name in my texts.  “I’m Jake.  I’m the guy who...” I stopped, noticing his wife puttering around behind him in the kitchen.  “Uh, can we talk here?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, waving me in.  “I’m Tim, this here’s Jessica.  We’re hoping you can help us with our kid.”

“Kid?” I said hesitantly.  “I’ve got strict rules.  21+ only.”

“He’s twenty-six,” Jessica said, wiping her hands on a dish towel and coming to join us in the living room.  “They just... they never stop being your kid, you know?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any,” I said, shaking my head.  “But I’ve heard that.”

“We’ve got three,” Tim grunted.  “Chelsea is a doctor, Megan’s got her own PR company, but Jacob... he’s not doing so well.”

“It’s those internet people,” Jessica chimed in.  “He was always such a nice boy...”

“He’s had his problems,” Tim nodded.  “But we love him.  Want the best for him.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” I confessed.  “You’re familiar with my work?”

“Yeah, we read your whole website,” Tim said firmly.  “Talked about it for weeks.  Prayed on it a few times...”

“He won’t leave the house,” Jessica said, trying to make this make sense.  “He won’t listen to me, won’t listen to his sister at all, and...”

“He called her a bitch,” Tim said bluntly.  “Excuse me honey, you know I don’t like that language, but there it is.  Jacob says all women are manipulative bitches who can’t be trusted.  He was never too popular with the girls, and after he found those websites...”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Jessica admitted.  “He said they were showing him how to take responsibility for his life.  Make his bed, clean his room, that kind of thing.”

I stayed silent.  Their son had gone down the red-pill rabbit hole.  I’d read a few articles, seen a few people being idiots online, but this was the first time I’d been hired to fix one.

“The damned boy says he’s an alpha,” Tim snorted.  “Won’t even leave the basement.”

I nodded in understanding.  The silence was heavy.

“So... can you help him?” Tim said hopefully.  “When Jess got pregnant again... and a boy, I was so excited!  Figured we’d play catch and sneak a beer and we’d be meeting a girlfriend by now... instead I got this lump of coal!”

“Tim!” Jessica admonished him.  “He’s still our son.”

“I know, I know...” Tim sighed.  “I just get so angry.”

“I can make him someone else,” I told them, watching the worry lines ease with even the promise of hope.  “But you’ve read my website.  That’s what I do.  By the time we’re done, your son will be gay –“

“I don’t give a damn if you make our boy gay,” Tim snapped.  “This is America, he can date whoever he wants.”

“Okay...” I said.  “But it’s not just gay.  He’s going to be less intelligent... a lot less intelligent.  And he’ll be sexually promiscuous.  Sure, he’ll be happy, but... uh... are you ready for your son to start bringing home guys from the club and fucking them in your basement?”

“Oh hell kid, we’re not worried about sex,” Tim snapped.  “Trust me, we got three kids.  And as for making our kid into a dummy, well... he’s not thinking to clearly already.”

“We just want our Jacob to be happy,” Jessica said, looking me deep in the eye.  “Whatever you can do... it’ll be a blessing.”

“Okay,” I said, after a long minute of careful thought.  “I think I’ve got a plan.”

“Thank you son,” Tim said, reaching out and shaking my hand.  “We’ll be up here if you need us.  Jacob’s down in the basement... you go on ahead.”

He pointed at a door.

“Why don’t I make us some coffee,” Jessica said, saying my magic word.  “For after?”

I nodded and headed for the door.

----------

“Jacob?” I called, stepping down the stairs.

It was dark down there, with only the glow of a monitor sending cold blue light across the room.  A sullen young man was slumped in a computer chair, scrolling mindlessly.  Luckily for me, there was a mirror mounted on the wall near his computer, reflecting his angry face.

“What?” he snapped.  “Don’t tell me... another shrink?”

“Nothing like that,” I smirked softly.  I tried to think back to the articles I’d read about these sorts of guys.  “Actually... your parent did some more reading.  Listened to some podcasts.  They get it now, and they hired me to help.  I’m a looks-maxing coach, and if you can walk me through what you want, I can make sure they pay for it.”

“About fuckin’ time,” Jacob snapped.  It was funny, I could hear the same inflections that Tim used, but angrier.  Darker.  “I’m high status, I should look like it.”

“Okay,” I nodded, taking a seat where I could see him in the mirror.  “You wanna look like Thor, I can make it happen.”

“Thor’s bullshit,” he said angrily.  “Women are programmed to be attracted to that Hollywood product.  You gotta have GAME, or they’ll leave you for a guy who does.”

“Game?” I said, starting to weave the spell with my hand.  “You want to be a winner, don’t you Jacob?  It’s more than just the body, you want the charisma.  The respect.”

“Damn right,” he said, glancing at me for the first time.  “No offence dude, but you don’t exactly look alpha.”

“You think Michael Phelps swim coach looks like Michael Phelps?” I asked.

“Who?” he laughed and googled.  “Dude, that guy’s so old.”

“Who were the alphas at your school?” I asked.  “I mean... did you go to college?”

“College is a scam bro,” Jacob said, parroting what he’d heard on some podcast.  “Like I wanna pay tens of thousands to get fucking indoctrinated?”

“I mean... I think your parents would pay,” I shrugged.

“Yeah, whatever dude,” he sneered.  “They just want me brainwashed.”

“So alphas,” I said, getting us back to the topic.  “Who were they, at your school.”

“It’s such stereotypical bullshit,” he complained.  “The jocks were like royalty at my school brah.  The quarterback was king, y’know?  Any chick he wanted, like that!  Fuckin’ garbage.”

“Don’t tell me,” I said, seeing my opportunity.  “One of those guys who wears a letterman jacket everywhere, right?  Like he just had to show off?”

“Yeah,” Jacob agreed angrily.  “I tried out, but his Dad’s the coach or something.  Totally unfair.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, watching his reflection.  A letterman jacket makes anyone look good.  “And I bet his genetics were elite too.  Square jaw, perfect face, muscles before he even hit the weights, right?”

“Oh dude, he’s the worst,” Jacob agreed, his reflection shifting to match my description.  He wouldn’t be winning any bodybuilding contests with the minor amount of muscle I’d just given him, but it was a definite win compared to the doritos-and-mountain-dew body he had in real life.

“And I bet he got every opportunity,” I complained back.  “His parents paid for his gym membership, his expensive haircut, even his car, right?”

Jacob’s reflection bulked up as we talked, going back and forth on the details.  Almost two hundred pounds of prime American beefcake was showing up in the mirror, with voluminous brown hair and a cocky grin.  He’d owned the field for all three years of high school, and then another four in college.  Sure, the letterman jacket was just a memento now, but he was still royalty.  He’d be that way til he died.

The keys to a Corvette showed up on the desk beside him.

“Mr. Casual,” I said, hating on the high school alpha some more.  “I bet he always looked effortlessly stylish.  Ripped up jeans and a plain white tee, but he pulled it off, didn’t he?”

“Look, dude... I don’t wanna talk about how some other dude dresses,” Jacob said, starting to push back just a little.  “I mean... I don’t wanna sleep with the guy or nothin’.”

“Sure you do,” I said.  “When you see an athletic guy, all you wanna do is fuck his hole.  Show your dominance, right?”

“Uh...” he said, his mind stalling out at the concept.  “I mean, yeah, you gotta show dominance, but...”

“That’s right,” I interrupted.  “Gotta dominate his butt.”

“No, that’s not...” Jacob stammered.  “I mean... sure, I’d wanna fuck him, but it’s just dominance, right?  Not like I’m a fag.”

“Of course not,” I agreed quickly.  “You’re a top.  Nobody fucks your hole.  Not unless it’s you with a dildo, right?”

“Yeah!” he agreed enthusiastically.  “I mean... wait... I mean...”

“C’mon man,” I cajoled him.  “An alpha like you, you’ve got to be a top!”

“Of course I’m a top!” he practically shouted at me.  “Gotta show the guys some dominance, right? I’m leader of the pack, of course they all wanna get my cock in there!”

“Yeah,” I agreed.  “Show ‘em who’s boss.”

“Yeah,” he smirked.  “And if I wanna take a dildo or two a night, big deal?  That’s a dude’s G-spot up there bro, only cucks are gonna turn that down!”

“Look over there,” I said, pointing at the mirror.  “That guy looks like a real alpha jock, doesn’t he Jacob.”

“Huh?” he said, glancing at his reflection.  “Yeah, that dude fucks for sure.  Hey... what the fuck, how’s it doing that?”

“That’s Jake,” I said, ignoring the question.  You think Jake spends time on the computer?” I asked.  “I mean, he’s probably pretty busy getting laid.”

“Yeah bruh,” Jacob chuckled.  “That guy barely answers his texts, unless he’s lining up a booty call.”

“Good thing too,” I led him along.  “Dumb jocks like Jake don’t read or write, they just lift and fuck, right?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jacob said, reaching his hand down and gripping his cock through his oversized sweatpants.  “You don’t gotta be smart when you’re the alpha...”

In the mirror, his reflection repeated the words after him.

“You don’t gotta be smart when you’re the alpha...”

In the mirror, Jake gripped his dick too.

“You don’t gotta be smart when you got a huge cock,” the said together.

“You wanna be Jake, don’tcha?” I asked.

“Hell yah,” the said together.  I blinked, and Jacob was gone.

Replaced by Jake.  The football star, still fucking his way though every guy in town.  Gay, straight, who cared?  They wanted to worship that quarterback cock.  I looked around the basement – trophies, a pool table, a massive bed with a big bottle of lube on the nightstand...

My hole twitched as I stared at my latest creation.

“So, uh... I got plans,” Jake said, giving me a weird look.  “But like... since you’re here anyway... you want me to tag that hole before you go?  You did one hell of a magic trick there, I figure you earned yourself a little action.”

I tried to resist, but I’d done a great job with this one.  The two-day stubble.  The cocky grin.  The way his bulge was dominating the room...

Hard to believe that he’d been a loser just a few minutes beforehand.

“You’re right,” I said, trying to match his unshakeable confidence.  “I did good. Plow me with that alpha cock”

My hole needed a good pounding, it had needed one all day, and now... I couldn’t hold out any longer.

“Good boy,” he grinned.  “Get out of those clothes.”

I stripped off my t-shirt and jeans, hearing a low wolf-whistle when he saw my half-hard cock flop out from behind the zipper.

“Damn,” he said with cock appreciation.  “I thought I saw your cock loose under there.  I love bein’ right.”

“And I love bein’ fucked,” I echoed back.  Truthfully, I haven’t taken a cock since I was about twenty-three and figuring myself out, but I’m a sucker for rhythm and rhyme.

Especially rhythm.  I kneeled on the bed, then got down on my elbows, presenting my hole to Jake, the alpha jock.  He didn’t take long, giving me a quick lubing with a beefy finger, then sliding his thick cock between my aching cheeks.  He acted like this was all routine, just a quick fuck to break the monotony of his afternoon.  He pounded my hole over and over, matching his rhythm to the aggressive sound of house music blasting from a bluetooth speaker.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he growled in my ear.  “You’re a good boy, ain’tcha.  Deserve a good fuck...”

“I deserve it,” I moaned, my face mashed against his bedspread.  “I need it.  Pound me harder... harder!”

Every thrust made my ass shake more.  Fuck, I didn’t know it’d feel so good.  If I’d know... maybe I would have gone vers sooner.  Hell, maybe I’d go all the way, leave a trail of tops in my wake...

He blew his load and I blew mine.  He didn’t bother kissing me or anything after, just tossed me a damp washcloth and told me to get cleaned up.  He left me down there, the basement door open as I overheard him tell his folks he was headed over to Brad’s, and then they were gonna hit the bar later.  Don’t wait up.

A couple minutes later I emerged from the basement, my legs still a little shaky.

“We can’t thank you enough,” Jessica said.  “Would you like a coffee?  I think we have cake!”

---------------

I stopped at the A&W in Indianapolis. I don’t know how he found me.  It’s not like I publish a flight plan.

Of course, I recognized the muscle immediately.  He was one of mine, a himbo that I did for Montgomery two or three years ago.  Two hundred and forty pounds of shred, all wrapped in leather.  Mr. Montgomery had been going through a Terminator fetish at the time, and I’d made this guy look as close to Arnold as we could get without a copyright lawsuit.

“Nice night for a walk,” he said, quoting a line from the movie that made up his vocabulary.  It was a fake accent, but he didn’t know that. I'd imprinted it right over his original southern twang.

He sat down across the table from me and stole a fry. His right hand was never visible, tucked under his jacket.

“Do you have a gun?” I asked, trying to look casual.  There were families sitting in a couple nearby booths, and the last thing I wanted was a panic.

“The Uzi 9mm.”

Another line from the movie, and not a likely gun to be carrying, but... take that as a yes.

“And I assume Montgomery sent you?”

“Get out.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. He had one hand under the table, but so did I. I was already weaving a spell. “See, I know you didn’t always want to be a terminator, did you?”

“Fuck you, asshole,” he said. That accent was kind of annoying. I’d have to get rid of it... but this wasn’t the time. I could barely see his reflection in the window – this wasn’t the time for a complicated transformation.

“I think you always wanted to be a beach boy, didn’t you?” I grinned, watching as he started to shift before my eyes.  “Nothing but a speedo and a gym membership, that’s all you’ve got, right?”

I blinked.

He still looked like Arnold in his prime, but his gun was gone, along with the rest of his clothes.  I knew I only had a moment while he figured out what happened, so I acted fast.  My tray hit him in the face, showering him with root beer and fries. I moved quickly, making my way towards the door.

Behind me, I heard that annoying accent again, probably speaking to one of the people in the restaurant.

“Your clothes, give them to me.”

I made it to the Interstate.  Hopefully he’d lose the trail.

--------

I called Alan. I’m not good at asking for help – I wouldn’t live on the road if I could actually work with other people…

But today?  Today I needed someone on my side.

He didn’t pick up.