Crack the Code, ch. 20: Epiphany (Patreon)

Craig would never admit it, but he was more than a little relieved to be heading back to the Platinum Pony.  Out of all the strip clubs he frequented, of which there were many, it was his favorite. And out of all the strip clubs he’d been banned from, of which there were just as many, it had been the one he’d missed the most.  The Pony had the best girls, the best drinks, the best music; and, as Craig had thought until recently, the least amount of rules.  With beauties like the ones on stage, it was only natural that his hands would wander.  Besides, as he’d tried to explain to the obstinate staff, it was a compliment, really, and he was technically paying for the privilege.  He wasn’t one of the old creepers, he’d said on the way out the door.  He was only in his late twenties, still plenty fit and handsome, with a thick head of wavy, copper hair adorning the above average face that sat upon a passably athletic frame.  In other circumstances they’d be coming to him free of charge, he’d insisted.

Unfortunately, the bouncer hadn’t been interested in a debate.  It wasn’t the first time there’d been complaints, it wasn’t even the fifth, and, as had been the case with so many other illicit establishments around town, Craig had been given the boot and permanently banned.  He’d told himself it was their loss.  He was a big spender at the bar and a good tipper for the dancers, and he liked to think that he also gave them something nice to look at in return.  If they didn’t want him, he’d take his business elsewhere.

But when the text came through a few days later from his favorite dancer, a woman he only knew by her stage name of Foxxxy, Craig leapt at the chance.  She said there’d been a change of heart, that he was welcome to return, and Craig didn’t even think about playing hard to get or staying away out of principle or wounded pride; he just wanted to go back to the way things had been before.  He was also thrilled to be hearing from Foxxxy at all.  He’d slipped his number into her underwear with a twenty-dollar bill, while also copping a feel, but that had been weeks ago, and he was excited by the prospect that she’d kept it after all.  A part of him wanted to pursue things with her in the text, but he didn’t want to possibly blow his chance at returning, so he’d decided to wait until the next day when they could be face-to-face.

Now, Craig’s heart raced as he stepped out of his car and made his way through the surprisingly crowded lot.  The Pony was always busy on a Friday night, but he’d never seen it quite like this.  It was so packed that he’d had to park in the overflow lot, the crunch of the gravel beneath his feet mingling with the muted bass that thudded through the walls and wafted out into the warm evening air to join with the chirping hum of awakening crickets.  Given the amount of potential competition, Craig was more glad than ever that he’d “dressed up” for the occasion, donning a fitted black polo that showed off his broad shoulders and lean, toned muscle.  He wasn’t overly built, but the dark material hung just right, the tight sleeves making his arms look bigger than they were while simultaneously drawing attention away from the jeans that covered the brunette’s unremarkable lower half.  He’d given himself a few extra pumps of cologne before getting out of the car, adding to the potent miasma that already surrounded him, but the effort went to waste as soon as he stepped inside.

The sensory assault was overwhelming.  Craig winced, his head spinning, his ears ringing, and his nostrils flaring as the spinning lights, pulsing music, and musky melange slammed into him like a physical force.  It was so disorienting that he didn’t think about how the bouncer, a burly wall of a man he didn’t recognize, had simply nodded at him and opened the door as if he’d been expected.  Even as a regular, Craig always had to stop and get ID’ed and frisked before entry, but this time he was let in like he owned the place.

Looking around the bustling space, Craig had to remind himself that he had, in fact, actually arrived at the Pony.  The interior was just as crowded as the parking lot suggested, a far cry from the laid back atmosphere the club normally possessed.  Craig couldn’t even see the bar through the wall of people, but before he could ask anyone what was going on to bring such a crowd, a familiar voice called out next to him.

“It’s about time you got here…gonna be a wild one tonight.”

Craig just blinked at Foxxxy, feeling for a moment like the club had been replaced by a rolling ship out at sea.  The floor seemed to shift and sway, and the addled brunette was afraid he’d actually tumble until a slender hand landed on his shoulder.  Foxxxy was as beautiful as ever, with her smooth bronze skin and tantalizing curves both obscured and accentuated by a crop top and tiny, terry cloth shorts.  But as Craig stared at her in a daze, it occurred to him that he wasn’t having his normal reaction.  His mouth didn’t water.  His cock didn’t throb.  His shoulder didn’t tingle beneath her dainty fingers.  He didn’t want to reach out and stroke a hand through her long, raven hair.  He still breathed in her sweet, floral perfume and noted her impeccable makeup, but it didn’t send a thrill through him the way it usually did.  He wasn’t picturing her in bed, writhing on top of him; he felt the same way he did whenever he looked at one of the guys at the gym.

“Why’s it so crowded,” Craig finally asked when he found his voice.  It felt like the wrong question, but it was the best he could manage at the moment.

Foxxxy rolled her eyes.  “As if you don’t know.  Come on…we’ve gotta get you ready.”

Craig had no idea what the buxom beauty was talking about, but he didn’t resist as she took him by the hand and pulled him through the crowd.  His heart beat faster than ever as he saw the milling men start to take notice of his presence, acutely aware that it was him they were looking at, not the shorter, dark-haired goddess that guided him along.  At first he thought they were merely jealous, but envy wasn’t the emotion he saw behind their lingering eyes, nor the motivator behind the groping hands that found their way to his tight frame as he passed.  By the time they’d crossed the room, Craig had lost count of how many times his firm little cheeks had been grabbed, his bulge groped or his modest pecs squeezed.

“Where are we…” his question was answered before he could finish asking it when Foxxxy pulled him through a door next to the stage.  As when he’d walked in from the parking lot, the bouncer at the door just gave him a quick nod, as did Hunter from his spot in the DJ booth.  Craig was so caught off guard by everything that was happening that he didn’t immediately think to question how he knew the young DJ’s name, or why he kept catching himself thinking of Foxxxy as “Vanessa” instead.  He’d never heard the dancer’s actual name, nor had he ever spoken, or even paid attention, to the surprisingly handsome blonde in the booth, yet he suddenly felt as if he’d known them, on a personal level, for a long while.

Craig also knew where they were going.  He no longer needed Vanessa to pull him along to the dressing room, but exactly why they were headed there he still wasn’t sure.  A fog had settled over his thoughts, the dense, confusing haze blocking out the usual fantasies of a quick hookup before she took the stage.  A part of Craig felt excited, and a creeping rush of arousal had begun to make itself known, but the one thing he was certain of was that it had nothing to do with the object of his previous desires.

He smiled and waved at the other two women when they stepped inside, recognizing the short, slender ginger as Cherish, and the dark skinned statue of a woman next to her as Aurora.  Like Vanessa, Craig now knew them by their real names as well, Abby and Grace, respectively, and like his new friend, their naked, supple frames stirred absolutely none of the desires they should have.

“Look who’s here,” Vanessa sang as she scampered over to join the grinning duo.  There was a brief moment of silence as they eyed the awkward brunette, the predatory glint in their eyes making Craig squirm.

“Um…what’s…what’s going on…” the flustered man stammered, a stab of fear slicing through him as he realized just how familiar the room around him was.  He’d fantasized about it for countless hours, but he shouldn’t actually have known how it smelled, how the smooth floor was going to feel against his bare feet, and how the muffled sounds of the club outside filtered in.

“Aww, he’s so cute when he’s confused,” Grace said, strutting over.  “Come on, Craig!  We have to get you ready,” she cheered, grabbing the bottom of his shirt.

Abby hurried over and started undoing his belt, nodding.  “It’s your big night!  Did you see that crowd out there?”

“But…but that doesn’t make any…sense…” Craig sputtered, mechanically raising his arms to let his shirt be pulled free while his pants and boxers landed at his ankles.  He knew he should have been either embarrassed or aroused at being forcibly stripped in the literal heart of his fantasies, but as his hefty cock and plump balls swayed in the open air while he stepped out of his shoes and bundled bottoms, all he felt was an impossible contentment.

“It will,” Vanessa purred, slowly stepping over to run a finger down the center of Craig’s toned torso.  “A lot of girls paid a lot of money for this.  You’ve built a hell of a reputation, sweety.”

Craig blinked and shook his head, already having to remind himself that he shouldn’t be one of the naked ones backstage.  “Paid?  Paid who? For…what?”

“There’s a guy out there named the Code Breaker.  Ever heard of him?”  She paused and gestured at the other two women.  “We can make dreams come true for little boys like you, but that guy can REALLY make dreams come true.  Any dream.  As long as you can pay,” she shrugged.  “You know we talk to each other, right?  Even the girls who don’t dance here?  Finding people to contribute was disappointingly easy.”  Her eyes narrowed at that last part, her sultry voice going cold.  “Pigs like you are a dime a dozen…we know that.  We know we can’t change them all, but we can at least change you, Craig.”

The brunette’s head spun as Vanessa spoke, a fresh wave of vertigo washing over him.  He felt like he should try and hold on to something, but he couldn’t actually grab what he was about to lose.  “Change?  Look, I…I don’t know what this is, but I…”

“Call it an epiphany,” Vanessa spat.  “You’re so obsessed with us…you can learn what it’s like to be one of us.”

“Think we just found her name, too,” Grace chuckled, sliding a hand down Craig’s back.  “This ass is about to cause a lot of those for the guys out there.”

“UUUNNNnnNNGGHH…!”  Craig grunted and tensed, his back arching as a sudden pressure erupted at his backside.  He didn’t believe his eyes as he watched his reflection begin to warp in a nearby mirror, but Grace’s gripping, relentless fingers proved the impossible reality of the situation.  All Craig could do was stand there and gawk as his perky rear ballooned, inflating into a matched set of supple, gravity defying pumpkins.  The oversized cheeks made even Abby’s impressive cakes look small, easily taking the crown as the largest in the room, if not the entire town.  They looked comically huge against the rest of Craig’s lean frame, but not for long.

“Don’t forget about the tits,” Abby added, reaching up to pinch one of the brunette’s tiny nipples.  As soon as her fingers tightened, the sensation spread across Craig’s entire chest, leaving him once again unable to do anything other than grunt and stare as his proportions warped.  He briefly feared that the expanding mounds now jutting from his torso were becoming a literal set of tits, but they lost none of their firmness while they swelled and crested, eventually settling as a prominent shelf of mountainous muscle.  Like his expansive new backside, the plump, juicy pecs were far too large for the rest of his body, obscuring Craig’s view of anything below while his enlarged nipples acted as nubby lightning rods.  Even the air brushing against them sent a shiver down his spine, making it clear that even if he could fit the heaping piles of muscle into a shirt it would be a tenuous relationship at best.

“Oh…oh fuck…wait…ladies…this…this isn’t…” Craig stammered, wishing he could actually muster the panic he wanted to feel.  Instead, a growing giddiness was building at his core, an eager excitement that had nothing to do with Vanessa’s hand wrapping around his cock.

“You always said you swung a big hammer, but this is…mediocre,” she sighed, giving the barely-above-average organ a tug.  “We’ll need to fix that if you’re going to please that crowd out there.”

Craig let out a long, low hiss as his cock began to inflate.  He couldn’t actually see it happening over his cumbersome new chest, but he watched the organ stretch and thicken in the mirror, his balls following suit as he took on a literal banana hang.  Soft, his now-girthy monster had to be near eight inches, becoming so thick that Vanessa’s hand could no longer close all the way around it.  Like his fattened rear and top-heavy torso, the misproportioned monster would be difficult to conceal under the best of circumstances, though the thought of concealing himself was quickly becoming a foreign concept.

As he numbly slipped into a purple thong and stumbled back out the door, his gait now thrown by his new shape, Craig tried to tell himself that the images in his head couldn’t possibly be real.  He tried to ignore how natural his massive melons felt, shaking and rippling with each step, and how the sensation of open air against the sides of his hefty balls and barely-concealed cock didn’t even register as a point of concern.  At the same time, though, Craig knew it was the last thing he should ever be concerned about.  Exposing himself was the whole point.  It’s why he was there, why all the hungry-eyed men were there, and he was very good at giving them what they wanted.

Night after night, Craig saw himself as he was now, stepping out onto stage in all his curvy glory and basking in the cat calls.  As soon as the music kicked in he started bouncing, swaying, flexing, and writhing, moving his altered body with a kind of rhythmic precision he’d never possessed before.  He clapped his cheeks, twerked, lustily groped his ballooning pecs, and popped his hips until his cock slipped free, the whole time twisting his handsome face into a pained mask of unfiltered, open-mouthed desire.

The old Craig tried to hold on, but as he tossed the thong aside and began working his rigid log of a cock, he finally lost his grip.  He didn’t know why the men in the room were just as turned on by him as they were of the ladies, but it didn’t really matter.  He reciprocated those feelings and then some, the mere presence of another man suddenly driving him wild.  It didn’t matter their age or shape or size; they all lit him up in equal measure, sending throb after throb through his oversized showpiece of a cock.  As the last scraps of his former self faded away, the final images the old Craig saw were of Epiphany working man after man, either with his mouth, hands or ass, the one consistent theme being that he was always the one with a dick inside him.

And he loved it.  Epiphany loved the sensation of a hot load dripping off his muscle tits.  He loved choking on a fat cock while his thick rear rippled like the surface of a pond while another one hammered into him.  He loved the groping hands and the open stares.  He loved being desired, being used, and he was very good at both.

Even when he wasn’t on stage, Epiphany wore next to nothing, making a name for himself all over town as he strutted around with his unique assets on display.  The Platinum Pony was his home base, but he did guest spots at other bars and ran a thriving online brand, filling his days with erotic ecstasy.  It didn’t even spark a competition between venues as he was good for business all around, drawing in a crowd for the other girls while stuffing the tills behind the bar.

And that didn’t even include the rates for his one-on-one services.  After finishing his stage routines, Epiphany usually spent the rest of his nights, like now, in the VIP lounges.  Officially, he was simply providing “private dances,” though dancing was only where things started.  Depending how much a person paid, Epiphany was all too happy to provide a much more intimate encounter.

But as he bounced up and down on the athletic brunette’s lap, working the man’s thick cock with his heaping balloons, something about the handsome hunk struck him as familiar.  The sensation had lingered the entire time while Epiphany had stripped the man out of his polo and made him do an awkward little shimmy as he shucked his jeans.  Something about the way he constantly grabbed at his luscious cheeks and prominent pecs, and condescendingly called him “baby” and “sweety” made Epiphany feel like he knew the man.  It was possible that he’d just been a previous client, there were so many that it was hard for the curvy stripper to keep track, but it was less about the other man and more about the odd feelings his presence stirred, like something important had been forgotten.

“Fuuuuuuuuck baby,” the man grunted, his fingers digging into the side of the chair as he fought to keep from erupting.  “That ass is…magic…” he whimpered.

Epiphany grinned and looked back over a broad shoulder, his lips pursed.  “That wand isn’t so bad either,” he cooed.  Epiphany’s own club of a cock was far from the brink, but it took considerably more effort to get him off than most of his clientele.

The man’s expression was smug as he popped his hips.  “You can have it whenever you want,” he said, his hands drifting up to land on Epiphany’s thighs.

“I can have it whenever you can afford it,” the penetrated hunk corrected, giving a final twist of his hips that pulled the man over the edge.  Epiphany let out a sigh as the warm liquid blasted against his insides, already wondering what the next man would feel like.  “After all…a girl’s gotta get paid.”

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Voting Options

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Option 1: A man who stays home playing video games all day instead of getting a job unknowingly builds himself a new body in a literal character creation screen.  (shrinking, muscle growth, cock growth)

Option 2: An arrogant hunk finds himself on display all over town as he becomes the model and spokesperson for a line of hyper realistic sex bots. (stripped, robot)

Option 3: Unable to keep himself from lying, a man starts sweating profusely whenever he does, provoking unexpectedly arousing reactions from the men around him.  (sweat, straight to gay)

Option 4: A young jock working in a scam call center has his voice altered, permanently sounding and talking like a sultry sex phone operator, with men all too happy to take him up on his offers.  (voice change, submissive)