Interactive: Make It A Double, ch. 2 (Patreon)

“Dude, why the fuck did you drag me here?”  Greg clung to the bar, stiff and uncomfortable on his stool.  His gaze only traveled between his drink, his friend, and the game on the TV, not wanting to make eye contact with any of the men around him, lest they get the wrong impression.  “You got something to tell me?”  

“Calm down, dude,” Damon laughed, punching Greg in a meaty arm as he leaned back against the bar.  He ran a hand through his short, dark hair and eyed the crowd, making sure that his chiseled pecs and tight abs were displayed appropriately against the clinging black fabric of his polo.  

The shaggy haired brunette was unconvinced, his muscled frame making the stool look small as he hunched over his drink.  “Seriously, man.  Did you know we’re in a fag bar?”  

“That’s the whole point,” Damon sighed.  “Look, the drinks are cheaper here and picking up girls is like taking candy from a baby.  Their defenses are down, bro!  You can win ‘em over before they even realize what’s happening.”  

“Yeah, cause they think you’re queer,” Greg spat.  “Which in your case…” 

“Fuck you,” the dark haired man said, taking a sip of his drink as cover for checking out a nearby blonde.  “Who cares?”  

“They probably think we’re together or some gross shit like that.”  

“I could get a much better guy than you,” Damon said, looking his larger friend up and down.  He wasn’t as built as Greg, but he was more defined, with sharp, angular features adorning his lean, whipcord frame.  

“You’re in the place to prove it.”  Greg flexed an arm, popping a prominent bicep as he picked up his drink.  “But I don’t think you’re gonna meet a guy with arms like this in here.  These ladies have probably never lifted a day in their life.”  

“All the more reason to come here!  We’re like gods to these guys...they want real men, and that’s us, right?”  Damon would never cross the line, but he was clearly more comfortable with the idea of being checked out by other guys than his larger friend.  

“If I’d known this is where you were gonna take me I wouldn’t have dressed this way,” Greg said, tugging at his equally tight polo and shifting in his plastered-on jeans.  “What if one of ‘em hits on me?” he grunted.  The beefy man was doing his best to look inconspicuous, keeping his boy-next-door face and beefy body as unappealing as possible.

“Get a drink out of it?  It’s about time WE get to use a guy for a change,” Damon laughed.  “Or just hit back.  Wouldn’t be the first time you gave one of ‘em what was coming.”  

**********

Ben bristled behind the bar, his hands burning.  He’d been eavesdropping on the straight duo’s  conversation since they’d arrived and he’d officially had enough.  It was one thing when they’d just been a pair of smug, arrogant jocks, but once the pair started joking about beating people up they’d crossed the line.  

He tapped Adam on the shoulder yelled over the din.  “Hey, I need to take a quick break.  You good here?”  

The tall blonde nodded towards the obviously uncomfortable man sitting at the bar.  “They giving you a hard time?”  Adam was easily as large as the brunette and had no problem tossing guys who thought they were stronger out of the bar.  

“Nah, they’re just douchebags,” Ben sighed.  “They’ll get what’s coming sooner or later.”  He ignored the puzzled look Adam gave him and grabbed the book on his way out from behind the bar.  The worn, brown leather was warm to the touch and seemed to vibrate in his grip as he made his way to the cluttered storage room.  

His hands shaking, Ben opened to a blank page.  “Alright, book.  I don’t know how this works...do I just write?” he asked aloud, half expecting an answer.  He took a deep breath when none came and set his pen against the page, second guessing his actions.  He didn’t see himself as the most creative person and this was definitely out of his comfort zone.  “Alright...let me think...what’d that asshole say?  They’re ‘like gods’ in here?”  Ben smiled, the ideas forming effortlessly in his mind.  He could see exactly what he wanted in vivid detail, all he had to do was write it down.  “Not dressed like that, you’re not,” he said, writing away the drab polos and generic denim.  He left them both shirtless, replacing their jeans with tiny, white paper thin running shorts.  Guessing them to be boxer briefs kind of guys, Ben instead gave the beefy brunette a neon purple jockstrap and his leaner friend a glittering, cherry red thong.  Their makeovers were capped by bright, hot pink hi-tops in place of their unremarkable boots.  

Ben felt winded when he stopped writing, a sudden commotion catching his attention.  He stuck his head out the door and saw the source; a pair of shirtless, panicking men sitting at the bar, surrounded by equally surprised patrons.  

“Fuck!  Didn’t think about everyone else,” Ben hissed, his heart a jackhammer in his chest as he frantically scribbled in the book.  The sounds of panic died down almost immediately, and when he stuck his head back out he saw nothing but a calm, normal crowd.  The two men were still shirtless and had stunned, wide-eyed looks on their faces, but no one else was reacting.  

“Muuuuuch better,” Ben said, sagging against the door and breathing a sigh of relief.  “Now let’s see what you can really do.”  

**********

“Wha...what just happened…” Greg whispered, afraid to move.  One second he’d been fully clothed, and the next he was suddenly exposed.  There’d been no warning of any kind, just a rush of air on his bare skin as his shirt vanished and his jeans became a pair of shorts smaller than his underwear.  Or at least they would have been if that hadn’t vanished as well.  He couldn’t see what he had on in place of his boxer briefs, but the sensation of his bare cheeks against the thin polyester told him it was very different.  

“I don’t….I don’t know….” Damon stammered, staring down at the chiseled torso that was now on full display for the entire bar.  The light dusting of dark hair that spread across his solid pecs and down his washboard abs drew everyone’s eye to the small shorts and bright, obvious thong underneath.  “Where did our clothes go…” 

“We gotta get outta here man,” Greg said, spinning away from the bar for the first time.  His stomach dropped when he saw the sizeable crowd, and the number of heads that turned in their direction.  He looked down at his exposed, meaty thighs and the stuffed, purple jockstrap that everyone could see beneath his shorts.  “Come on…” 

It was hard to tell who was more surprised when Greg reached over and grabbed his friend’s hand.  “Dude, let go!” Damon said, though he made no effort to resist.  “What are you doing?”  

Greg’s face went beet red as he clutched Damon’s hand in his own, pulling his friend towards the empty dance floor instead of the exit.  His horror grew when they reached the floor and he pulled the other man in close, his hands dropping to his friend’s trim waist.  “I...I can’t stop!” Greg cried, even as he started wiggling his hips and grinding against the leaner man.  

“Come...come on, man...people are staring,” Damon whimpered, reaching around to take handfuls of his friend’s ample rear.  A crowd had formed almost immediately, a sea of eager faces all focused on the beefy jock and his wiry, athletic friend.  

“Get your hands off my ass, dude!”  Greg spun in Damon’s grip, but only succeeded in letting his friend slip his hands down the front of shorts instead.  The big man gasped, pressing his plump cheeks back as Damon kneaded the pouch of his jock.  He could already feel his stout, seven inches starting to twitch and tried not to think about the solid lump pressing into his backside.  “Hey!  Don’t…!”  Greg yelped when Damon suddenly tugged his shorts down, the crowd cheering as the tiny garment was worked down his thick thighs.  He stumbled out of them, blushing as he felt his exposed cheeks shake, and turned to see a horrified Damon toss them aside.  

“I’m sorry!  I don’t know why I just did that!  I…” 

The dark haired man was cut off when Greg lunged forward.  He expected to be tossed through the air, but instead he found himself swallowed in the bigger man’s grip.  Greg’s mouth landed on top of his own, the other man’s strong tongue working its way against his.  They both writhed against each other, not trying to pull away, but to press together.  Damon felt his shorts being pulled free and felt Greg’s hands swallow his perky bubble, but he couldn’t break off the kiss.  

Greg was equally frozen, stuck in a loop of exploring Damon’s mouth with his tongue while his hands roamed over every inch of his friend’s body.  The sensation of the smaller man squirming naked against his meaty pecs should have been revolting, but Greg was already at full mast in his jockstrap, and he could feel Damon’s six inches digging into his thigh.  

“OOHhhh...fuck...dude...let me...let me go…” Damon sighed as Greg finally lifted his lips, only to drop them to his slender neck.  His lean arms were wrapped around the wider man, his fingers digging into Greg’s broad, thick back.  “I’m not...we’re not...fuckin’ fags, man,” he whined, just as a rush of tension shot through him.  

Greg felt the smaller man go tense and lifted his face from Damon’s neck just in time to watch it suddenly widen.  His friend’s face seemed to drop towards his broadening shoulders as the lean man started to inflate.  Muscle piled on top of muscle, his modest pecs ballooning outwards while his ever-growing arms started to hang at an angle.  The stunned man’s tiny waist shot outwards in all directions, widening and thickening into a distended ‘roid gut that matched his newly expanded quads.  The thong became almost invisible as Damon’s perky bubble puffed outwards into a set of huge, muscled globes, and what had once been a proud, hefty package shrunk to a short little poker barely visible between the overly muscled thighs.  

The beefy jock let go and took a step back from his altered friend, only to discover that he was in mid-transition himself.  He’d already gone from brawny to shredded, his extra bulk being replaced by the same impossible muscle that covered the other man.  He watched as his chest became a shelf of solid flesh that rested on top of his rounded muscle gut, feeling a stab of horror as he reached down and felt his sizeable rod dwindle in his grip.  He couldn’t see it over the crest of his chest and stomach, but he knew it was no larger than what remained of his friend’s.  

Greg and Damon stared at each other, looking back and forth at their twisted bodies in horrified silence.  Like their vanishing clothes, in a matter of seconds they’d somehow been turned into a pair of ‘roided out meatheads, only they knew that wasn’t an appropriate label either.  As the changes to their bodies stopped, they watched their hair grow and shape until they had perfectly styled coifs above faces that were wrinkle and blemish free.  With each passing second their body language changed, adopting an arched back, jutted-hip stance.  

“OH MY GAWD GIRL LOOK AT US,” Greg squealed.  “We’re, like, jacked!”  

“I KNOW, RIGHT?!” Damon yelled back, a limp wrist flapping as his huge arms flailed.  

“What happened to our dicks?!”  Greg tugged at the loose pouch of the jock, wincing as he felt his new flesh rub together.  

“Girl, please.  What were you gonna do with that little thing anyway,” Damon said, his eyes going wide as he heard himself.  ‘I’m gonna get my pussy stuffed tonight,” he purred, slapping his rotund new rear.  

Greg didn’t know how to process what he heard Damon say versus the pleading look his friend was giving him.  He felt like a deer in headlights as everyone stared at the two of them.  A part of him wanted to turn and run, but even as he had the thought, he no longer knew where he’d run to.  Their old lives were quickly fading away, replaced by memories of the muscle queens they’d become.  Gone were the days of being straight, former frat boys, their interest in sports and women melting away.  Now they were a pair of primping, overly built bottoms, always on the prowl to get topped and more interested in dancing and fashion.   

“I think I see someone who can do the job,” Greg winked, pawing at Damon as he spun his friend to face a pair of gawking men who were waving them over.  “Let’s get to work hunny!”  

**********

Ben stared at the men he’d changed, both nauseous and excited by the possibilities.  He was in shock, still not believing that what he’d just witnessed actually happened.  It was impossible.  There was no way he’d found a book that could change the world.  

Or had he?