Fir Hollow, ch. 11: On the Wall (Patreon)

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“At least you’ve got something nice to look at,” Ken muttered to himself, inspecting the mirror’s tarnished silver frame.  He still couldn’t believe Ruth had let it go for so little.  Normally the old woman wouldn’t budge on her prices no matter how charming, intimidating, or persuasive he tried to be.  Though they were universally unsuccessful she always enjoyed his attempts, but in the case of the mirror she’d almost seemed eager to get rid of it.  She hadn’t even spun him one of the many tales that usually accompanied a purchase from Meadow Hill.  Ken had heard her going through the routine with a younger couple over a pair of rings, and he hoped it was a sign she’d decided to drop the act with him.  He was a frequent shopper, after all.  He’d furnished a good portion of his new house with items from Ruth’s store, and despite the song and dance that went with each of them, he had to give the woman credit.  She truly did curate a unique selection, and Ken would have spent triple the amount had he still been in the city, though as of yet he wouldn’t describe any of his purchases as legendary.  At least not the way Ruth did.

Given its appearance, Ken was certain the mirror would have had a long winded history.  It hung roughly six feet in length and was ovular in shape, but it was the top of the frame that had immediately caught his attention.  The thin band of metal that ran along the bottom two thirds widened, having been intricately engraved to look like a man’s face.  There were huge, surprisingly detailed eyes, the bridge of a wide nose, and the top of a mouth that then stretched to act as the frame for the rest of the mirror.  Upon closer inspection, Ken could see markings along the side that actually looked like teeth, and the lower lip was present at the bottom.  It was ghastly, the thick layer of tarnish giving the gaping, misshapen scream an iridescent sheen.  He’d actually asked Ruth about its history, bracing himself for a rambling fantasy about its origins, but all she’d said was that he could have another thirty percent off if he was interested.

Ken wasn’t about to argue.  He’d paid as fast as he could and hauled the surprisingly light mirror away, counting himself fortunate to have escaped so easily.  Back home, he’d spent the next hour carrying it from room to room as he attempted to find the perfect spot and reveled in the novelty of his massive new house.  He eventually settled for a space on the living room wall, an odd place for such a large mirror, but he hoped it would make a statement on the rare occurrence when people came over.  He’d set his whole house up that way, loving to make a scene with his surroundings just as much as with his handsome appearance.

The house was certainly off to a good start.  It was an Old Money mansion that had sat empty and neglected for years, but despite being considerably larger than the modest townhouse he’d left, he paid less than half as much for his new mortgage.  The savings let him renovate and modernize the entire estate before moving in, and they also allowed him to furnish all those extra rooms with the antiques he was growing fond of hunting for.   He sighed and shook his head at the thought.  His joy of antiquing was an admission he made only grudgingly, thinking it a sign of his impending age.  Ken was only a few months from turning forty, an elder by gay city standards.  Though he still had the same sculpted, envy-provoking physique he’d built back in his twenties it was significantly harder to maintain.  Furthering his body’s betrayal, the wrinkles on his lean, sharp face were becoming deeper and more prominent while his thick, raven hair was becoming increasingly flecked with grey.  As someone who’d built his identity around being desired, Ken couldn’t bear the prospect of losing his lustre.  He’d already become “the hot old guy” to the younger crowd, and the men his age were either settling down, fleeing, or becoming painfully, pathetically desperate to maintain their youth.

Not liking any of his options, he’d settled on exile.  Fir Hollow was far enough away that he could rebuild without anyone knowing him, and the cost of living in the rural mountain town was so cheap that he could comfortably milk his investments for at least the next several years.  It was a fresh start, and Ken liked the idea of being the sophisticated, Big City transplant.  He could swoop into town, handsome, rich and mysterious, the biggest fish in the smallest pond.

Considering how things sometimes went in old industrial cities, he’d been nervous about potentially close-minded neighbors.  Those fears had been eased the moment he’d watched a hot, hung young man go whizzing by on a skateboard wearing nothing but a stuffed thong and sneakers.  And the scantily clad skater was far from the town’s most unique inhabitant.  There was even a thriving gay brothel, which Ken had already taken full advantage of multiple times.  The men who worked there were not only very good at what they did, they were just as beautiful as the old estate they worked out of.  Even in a city packed full of bathhouses it would have stood out, and it was a welcome reprieve from the area’s otherwise rugged inhabitants.  Ken liked butch, masculine men just as much as the next guy, but Fir Hollow had an overabundance of the type.  Everywhere he turned there was a beefy, weathered stallion, rough around the edges and as crude as they were built.  They weren’t without a certain charm, but Ken liked engaging conversation as much as he liked a fat cock.  Other than a few budding friendships with some of the store and gallery owners, he viewed the rest of the residents as firmly beneath him.  Which didn’t mean that he was above hooking up with one of the meaty miners or strapping laborers from the mill; he just thought of it as slumming.

“I don’t know how those boys do it,” Ken sighed to himself.  “It’s like fucking a town full of cavemen.  How the smell of beer and sweat hasn’t seeped into the walls of that place is beyond me.”  He cocked his head to the side as he inspected his chiseled reflection, hooking his thumbs in the elastic of his tiny briefs.  He pulled the waist down to accentuate his tight, shredded waist, relishing the sight of his smooth, bare skin.  One good thing about his relative isolation was that he didn’t need to worry about neighbors suddenly dropping by, which left him free to enjoy the novelty of sauntering around his massive new house in whatever state he wished.  He pursed his lips and flexed his carefully manscaped chest, slowly kneading his stuffed bulge while he stared at the mirror.  “I suppose I should be grateful that the men in this town are so…open…for whatever good that does me.  A horny ape is still just an ape.”  His cock starting to twitch, Ken pushed the bright little briefs all the way down and slowly stepped free, wagging the hardening organ.  He watched himself toy with his tiny little nipples, the sight of his own naked body turning him on more than anyone else’s.  It was one of the reasons he’d been so attracted to the large mirror.  It was just the right size to give him a perfect view when he jerked off.  “I should swing by the Newcomb house and see if Hector’s free later.  Poor boy could probably use a break from all these grunting brutes.”

Ken’s cock swelled in his hand at the memory of the young stud’s plump, muscled globes, but he was quickly distracted by the loud belch that erupted without warning.  He blushed as it echoed around the spacious room, and he shook his head to rid himself of his confusing grin.  “Oh my,” he laughed.  “I’ll have to watch that.  If I’m not careful I could turn into…one…of them…” he trailed off, his voice catching at the sudden discrepancy in his reflection.  When he looked down at himself his torso was as smooth as ever, but the same could no longer be said for the version in the mirror.  Instead of carefully shaved, his chest now sported a wiry carpet.  It spread out from a thicker patch in the middle, thinning as it reached up towards his shoulders and condensing as it flowed down his stomach.  It wasn’t a full pelt or a curly forest, just the natural level of hair that Ken would have grown had he not been so meticulous about his shaving and grooming regimen.  He gasped as he reached up and ran a hand over his chest, his eyes going wide when his reflection did the same and he could actually feel the hair against his fingers.

“What is this…” he stammered under his breath.

His heart started racing when he heard a simultaneous voice issue from the mirror.  “Fuck’s goin’ on,” his reflection barked.  Ken started at the sound and tried to take a step back, only to find himself rooted in place.  It wasn’t just that he couldn’t move; he couldn’t stop doing what he’d started.  Despite his growing horror, the middle-aged stud kept pumping away and groping at himself.  “O…okay…there must be some kind of rational explanation…” he stammered.

“This don’t make no sense!” his reflection added at the same time.

Ken tried in vain to let go of himself, wanting nothing more than to turn and run as he watched the changes continue in the mirror.  It was subtle at first, but after a few moments there was no mistaking either the steady swelling or his vanishing definition.  All Ken could do was stare while he bulked up, his sculpted frame gradually giving way to a beefier build.  He wasn’t exactly becoming overweight, and he hadn’t crossed into Bear country as much as he had into more average territory.  Instead of striated, separated muscle groups and a ripped washboard, Ken now had a pair of thick, brawny arms, a set of plump pecs, and a stomach that was flat and firm despite lacking its usual tank tread.  His toned thighs had followed suit, filling out and pressing against each other as they supported an ass that had doubled in size.  It was the kind of fit, though unrefined, body he would have had if he wasn’t so disciplined about his diet and workout routine.

“This can’t be real,” Ken gasped, feeling his phantom paunch instead of his bumpy abs.  “Why can’t I…stop…” he shivered, the familiar pressure building in spite of his dread.

“Shit’s fuckin’ crazy!  Can’t even stop beatin’ my meat,” his former twin echoed from the other side of the glass.

Ken blushed, trying to deny that it was his voice he heard grunting the crude words.  “Are you…me?  Can you hear me?  Can you stop,” he asked, not knowing what else to do.

“Hello?!  Hey!  Shit head!  You there?  Quit jerkin’ it for a goddamn minute and tell me what the fuck’s goin’ on!”

Ken groaned at the response, his eyes dropping when he felt a shift in his hand.  Like the rest of his body, he watched his unfamiliar doppelgänger’s cock puff and widen.  At just under seven inches he’d already been well endowed, but now he gawked at an organ that had become so thick he could barely close his hand around it, and his churning balls looked like a pair of dangling oranges.  “Jesus!  That’s huge!  What…what am I going to do with that?!,” he cried, feeling the heft of the inflated orbs despite his own body remaining unchanged.

Instead of looking stricken, the man in the mirror flashed a dull grin as he followed suit.  “I hear ya big buy,” the man said to his oozing monster.  He gave the massive, low-hanging balls a squeeze as they spilled out of his widened paw.  “I’m workin’ on ya, boys.  Git ready,” he laughed.

Ken felt nauseous as he watched the man talk to his enlarged package.  He tried to tell himself he didn’t really feel the soft, wiry hairs, or the extra bulk, and certainly not the heaping equipment between his meaty new thighs.  He told himself that it wasn’t really his voice speaking the crass language, and he was almost relieved when the man’s face began to change and shift away from his own.

Until the implications dawned on him.  As he stared, a layer of scrubby stubble bloomed on his clean-shaven cheeks.  His razor features softened while they filled out, and his delicate nose flattened and hooked slightly as if he’d been in countless fights over the years.  At the same time, the fine wrinkles on his soft skin grew into deep crevices on a weathered mug, making it clear that this version was a complete stranger to the clean-cut hunk’s usual moisturizing routine.  The altered features were further accentuated when Ken watched his hairline recede, the thick locks flattening to a scruffy, brillo pad buzz cut.

“No…no no no…” the still-pretty stud moaned, feeling the blunted features as he pawed at his face.  He wasn’t ugly, but the years of maintenance he’d poured into his appearance vanished in an instant.  “That’s not me!  That can’t be me!  I’m not one of these hillbilly morons!  I’m not some dimwitted brute who can only stand around and lift…heavy…objects…” Ken hissed, feeling himself nearing the edge as the warped image chimed in.

“Fuck yeah, man,” he groaned, his rugged new face mimicking his earlier pursed-lip expression.  “This is what some real fuckin’ man meat looks like right here.  None’a that weak, pussy shit.  Don’t know how those city fucks do it sittin’ in an office all day.  Fuck that.  Gimme some real work over that fake ass bullshit,” he laughed.

Ken was surprised to find room for his horror to grow.  He watched the changes spread to the other version's surroundings as he listened to the twisted version of his words.  Instead of a spacious room full of antiques, the altered Ken now stood in a cramped, cluttered little room.  Empty beer cans lined the windowsill, piles of laundry were scattered about, and clusters of dirty dishes occupied nearly every flat surface.  It looked more like the small living space of a trailer or a mobile home than of his sprawling old mansion.  As soon as he had the thought, a pair of sturdy arms shot out of the mirror, grabbing him and pulling him through as if it was an open window.

Ken gasped, his vision blurring at the sudden sensation of rapid motion.  He felt like he was falling despite having both feet on the floor, and his head swam from the pungent, musky odor that began to fill his nostrils.  “UUUNNNGGGG…” he grunted, clutching a hairy pec with his free hand.  His vision cleared just in time to watch as he launched strand after ropy strand all over the cluttered trailer floor, the whole building shaking with his rocking spasms.  “Whooooooo!  Fuck me that one felt good,” he panted, milking out the last drops from his fat log.  He reached over without looking, knowing a beer was waiting, and lifted it to his lips.  He tossed it aside when he found the can empty, pausing to look at his unkempt surroundings.

Kenny didn’t know why the stained, worn jeans, dirty white briefs, and dingy t-shirts laying around looked so unfamiliar.  He didn’t know why he thought, for only a moment, that he should be looking at expensive, tailored outfits and colorful little briefs.  And he was further confused when it was followed by the strange thought that his house was disgusting.  There was an impulse to clean up the sticky fluid drying on the floor, despite his usual habit of just leaving it, and the few steps from his couch to the kitchen suddenly felt all wrong.  He shook his spinning head as he reached into the small fridge and cracked open another beer, noting that it was his last one before downing it in one long pull.  He crushed the empty can in his hand and dropped it on the counter, the metallic clatter drowned out by the loud burp that followed.

“Fucked my own brains out,” he laughed, scratching absently at his hairy stomach.  He looked past the small living room and into his bedroom at the other end of the trailer.  He could see his stained sheets on the disheveled bed, a small voice in his head screaming at him that this was all wrong.  “Probably should clean this place up,” he shrugged, misinterpreting the source of his anxiety.  “Gonna need more beer first.”

He stepped over a few piles of dirty laundry, stopping at the cleanest looking one and lifting a pair of the discarded briefs to his nose.  He gave a tentative sniff and nodded, grinning proudly at the way his girthy package pulled the elastic away from his waist when he slid them on.  He lumbered back to his equally messy bedroom, but instead of pulling on anything else he parted the broken mini blind and looked at the next trailer over.  His smile grew when he saw the lights on, though he didn’t know why he felt a wave of embarrassment when he stepped out into the cool evening air.  He was just going over to Billy’s for some more beer, and he’d probably have to lose the briefs if he wanted his neighbor to give him any.  And it wasn’t like they all weren’t used to each others’ business in the park.  They all had thin walls and not a lot of interior space.  Someone walking around in their shorts was far from the weirdest thing they’d see.

Not that Kenny cared either way.  He’d already blown just about all the guys in the park and had made a name for himself with his ruggedly handsome looks.  It let him stretch his meager earnings from his shifts at the warehouse as he could cash in his body for beer and groceries.  There was an unfamiliar stab of shame at the thought, but it passed by the time he was knocking on the thin metal of Billy’s screen door.  “Hey!  Shit head!  You in there?”

A wiry brunette appeared at the door a few moments later, clad only in loose boxers and a t-shirt.  The young man raised an eyebrow as he looked Kenny up and down and stepped aside to let him in.  “Nice to see you too,” he laughed over the loud creak of the door's spring.  “What’s up?”

Kenny flashed his most charming smile and folded his powerful arms across his chest, just low enough to accentuate the prominent, hairy mounds.  “I’m outta beer,” he said, cutting Billy off before he could respond.  “And you still owe me for covering your shift last week.”

“Extra money in your paycheck already paid you back for that,” the younger man said, reaching down to squeeze the long cock that bounced against the front of his boxers.  “What else ya got?  Lucky for you Janet’s workin’ late tonight.”

Ignoring the frantic voice in his head, Kenny turned around and slipped the back of the briefs down over his ample, hairy cheeks.  He gave the meaty mounds a slap and a shake as he closed his friend’s door, pausing as he stared out over the twinkling lights of the town below.  The park sat up on a hill overlooking downtown, directly across from the old mansions that peppered the opposite slope.  They were too far away to see any of them clearly, but for some reason the familiar view filled him with dread.  For just an instant, Kenny couldn't remember how he’d gotten there, or who the wiry young man was, or why he looked the way he did.

“Gonna have to let me do more’n just look at ‘em.”

Kenny shook his head, the usual memories of his hardscrabble life in the valley coming back to him.  He shut the door, blaming his middle age for the memory lapse, and turned to see Billy’s lengthy, rigid cock sticking out through the fly of his boxers.  An eager shiver pushed his confusing terror aside as he grabbed the young man’s throbbing rod and gave it a tug, feeling like a foolish old man.  Not only was he about to get some of the best dick in town, he was also going to get a free six pack out of it.  His next shift at the warehouse also wasn’t for another two days, and he’d saved up enough for a trip to see Hector at the Newcomb house in the meantime.  All in all, it was shaping up to be a pleasant few days.

Kenny peeled out of the briefs and hopped up onto Billy’s couch on all fours, shaking his plump melons at the younger man.  His contented sigh was cut off, though, when he looked over at the full length mirror hanging on the wall.  There was nothing remarkable about the white, plastic frame, and normally Kenny loved watching himself in action, but the mere sight of it made him want to run screaming from the trailer.  “Can…can we cover that up,” he asked, nodding at the mirror.

“What?  You shy all of a sudden,” Billy laughed.  He shrugged when it became clear that the older stud wasn’t kidding and hurried into the bathroom to grab a towel.  He draped it over as best he could, giving the kneeling man a confused look.  “Better?”

Kenny swallowed hard and nodded.  He closed his eyes when Billy slipped inside, focusing on the way his brawny bulk bounced from the vigorous pounding.  It was comfortingly familiar, and after a few blissful moments he was moaning ecstatically, telling himself that the smooth, pretty reflection he’d just seen in the other man’s mirror was only his imagination.