Getting Jacked (Patreon)

Matthew woke up in his messy bed, as the morning sun lit his bedroom way too early. He was old enough to handle a party without getting completely hangover, but he still felt pretty raw. He needed breakfast, shower and plenty of water. As he got up memories of last nights party started to return to him. He had been invited out by his friends to a house party near campus, and Matthew immediately said no. He wasn’t fond of parties generally, even when the age and types of people matched him, but a student party at his age and size wasn’t his idea of a good time. Matthew at 24, just about to turn 25, would be older than probably everyone there. He was also proudly, openly gay, currently trending towards a bear, and would stand out like a dogs dick. He had a the beginnings of a beer belly, which looked smaller than it really was on his 6'5 frame, and thick arms and legs, all covered in light brown fur. He didn’t believe in cutting and went to the gym to get strong. While he kept the hair on top of his head short, his face was covered by a dense, black beard. He was also hesitant to come because of his interests. He enjoyed looking at Video games and social politics. He was deep into Zelda and Pokemon, but also a fiery activist online, fighting misogynists and homophobes alike. All commonly mocked.

However recently he felt he had become less and less sociable doing his tedious, life consuming office work, and Jon at the office had really pushed him to come along. He was almost the right age and was friends with Sarah who threw the party. It was an open invitation to college frats and sororities, as always with house parties, but some younger people also showed up from other schools, again as always, so the place had been packed.

Memories of the night slowly came back to him as he got up and changed into cargo shorts and a plain white T-shirt. He remembered uncharacteristically having a blast at the party, where he got drunk on beer and shots with some frat bros and started flirting with some guy. It probably wasn’t going anywhere, but the mood had turned awkward as soon as a posse of shitty little fuck boys had filed in. There must have been half a dozen newly minted 18 year olds, all wearing trendy clothes and accessories. At some point he think he heard the leader of the pack, Jacob or something, call him a faggot. Perhaps he just looked like someone who would say that a lot.

Apparently he had continued drinking more jäger bombs, because all his clothes from yesterday were scattered across the bedroom floor. He slowly begun picking them up. When he picked up his jacket he could feel something shift inside one of the front pockets. He fumbled to find the opening and produced a small box. It looked like one of the cheaper jewelry boxes, like when you buy a $9 tie clip or something. He turned it around, but it had no text on it, opened the lid and a poorly folded sticky note popped out. Matthew unfolded it to read a hastily written message.

Jack,
these might look better on you

/Jacob 

So this was left by that damn preppy douche, but who was Jack? Did drunken Matthew agree to hand over the box to someone or had it just been stuck in his pocket by mistake? Matthew put the note down and looked inside to find two gaudy ear studs. Even he could see that they were no where near made out of gem stones or even crystal. Cheap knock-offs that didn’t differ much from wind shield shards put on a pin. No, these where magnetic, not using pins. In a way it made them even worse. Such stupid, worthless things.

As he was turning the piece of glass between his fingers, he got an impulse. No one would ever know. He removed the magnet from the cut glass piece and placed them on either side of his right ear lobe, and then repeated on his left side, without looking in a mirror. He wanted to surprise himself with how he looked.

It wasn’t really a surprise though. He looked every bit as dumb in the bathroom mirror as he had expected. Oh, well. He pulled on the stud and the magnet on right ear with one hand to remove them, but it just painfully pulled his ear. He tried using both his hands to pull them apart, without success. Fuck, how strong are these things? It actually started to hurt a bit. Matthew was thinking through what he had in his tool box. This would be the most stupid and embarrassing way of getting ear piercings. Was this some sort of crude practical joke between Jack and Jacob?

He hurried back into the bedroom to dig out the toolbox from under the bed. The pain was getting worse by the second. Sharp pain was shooting from his ears into his head. By the time he entered the bedroom the pain echoed throughout his entire body. Matthew’s head started getting dizzy and his eyes got blurry as
they watered up. He stumbled a few steps more before falling onto the bed and spasming as his body started aching all over. It wasn’t just the piercing pain shooting through his nerves, though it was still there. There was a dull, relentless pain in his bones. All of them. He felt like he was going to explode. The skin burned like sunburn and felt taut like a sausage.

Matthew’s breathing got rapid and shallow. His body was soaked in sweat. He was dying right now, that he was sure of. He had lost pretty much all control over his limbs, as he was shifting around and twitching. Not even given the decency to go out with the roar, he thought, as his attempts at calling for help or scream in agony got translated into short yelps, like a tail trodden house dog. Wasn’t this how chemical warfare toxins worked? All nerve synapses randomly firing, causing loss of motor functions and unspeakable pain?

He was anticipating losing consciousness at any moment. Wishing for it was perhaps more to the point, as he thrashed around on the bed. Perhaps it was the other way around, he thought. Perhaps the skin was shrinking, wringing him out like a wet rag. He certainly sweated as much. His mind was all jumbled by pain. There was something else coming out besides sweat. A yellow tinted goo, like he had covered himself in snot.

He rolled over on his back and gasped for air. Wait! He could move again? He tentatively felt his chest through the goo. Still there, still his. He tried to shout for help, but just managed to wheeze out a toneless whisper. He tried again, and halfway through it broke into high pitched shriek, and he felt a sharp pain in his throat, like his vocal cords snapped. Before he had time to panic about it, his whole body was shot through with pain, and he arched his back as the muscles contracted. It was a searing pain, at least as bad as the first wave. Then, added to that, came a stinging pain all over his skin.

It stopped as suddenly as it started, or perhaps he had finally blacked out for a moment. He couldn’t tell. He was just thankful all the pain had stopped. What the fuck had just happened? He lied completely still in the ruined bed, fearing the next assault of pain. It smelled like the intestine bin in a slaughter house. When minutes passed and the only thing happening was the muck covering him going cold, he hesitantly got up.

Even before standing up he could see and feel that his body had drastically changed. Flat belly, flat chest and markedly smaller. The now oversized, soaked cargo pants fell to the floor with a slosh. The bed looked like someone had given birth in it. Or foaled. Apparently the blurriness had left him too.

He slowly made his way to the bathroom. While he was careful to not touch anything, he left a snail trail of wet footprints and droplets. He almost fell twice, once when his foot slipped on the floor just outside the bedroom and once when his now too large underwear got unstuck from the goo on his thighs and fell to his ankles.

The mirror image in the bathroom wasn’t very helpful, given his messy state. He was about a foot shorter than before, but other than that he looked like he had mud-wressled in brown, hairy jell-o. He stepped into the shower, pulled off his final piece of clothing, the now brown T-shirt, and made an attempt to swipe the muck off him, like you would clean slush off a snowboard. Seeing his slow progress he decided to just turn on the water and clean properly.

The drain water had a disgusting color, taking a surprising amount of hair with it, as well as chunky bits of god knows what. The water revealed him looking thinner than he had been since perhaps he was 14. His floppy man boobs had turned into flat, firm pecs. His beer gut had melted down into a fit torso with vague lines of abs. As the water revealed his skinny fit body, it washed away almost all his body hair, leaving just a hint of fuzz around his dick. Seeing this, he reached his chin, only to discover his beard was gone as well.

Any other day that would have been a big deal, but now it was just another detail, as he kept staring down at his pale, thin body. He ran his hand down the front of his chest and abs. His tiny, skinny twig of an arm. It surprised Matthew how good his skin felt. Soft, sensitive, smooth and without any imperfections he could see. The water felt amazing hitting his skin and running down his body. He started to get an erection.

That just got him angry. His dick was easily half the size of his old cock, perhaps even smaller. It was shorter, it was thinner, and though he had wisps of pubic hair both his new dick and marble pouch were smooth and hairless.

He shut off the water, did a 5 second rush dry with a towel and stood before the mirror for the first time. Fuck! Matthew had had sex with many different body types, jocks, bears, athletes, overweight. This right here, an anorectic muscle wannabe, was his biggest turn off. He looked in his late teens, short and thin with hints of lean muscle. His smooth, hairless skin made him look even younger. He saw nothing that reminded him of his old self. Even the belly button was different. There was nothing for him to like either. It was like someone had precision tailored every detail just the way he hated the most. His hair had grown! Even though he was just out of the shower, everything except his tightly faded sides and back stood straight up, as if he had been styled as a douche since infancy.

He hated all of it. The smug, not quite handsome face that looked unable to grow facial hair, framed by the earrings on either side that sparkled like they were taunting him.

“Ah fuck, get off me!”, Matthew shouted in a high pitched, adolescent voice, as he yanked the stud. He hated his new voice. He hated the shitty studs. He hated the body they stubbornly were attached to. Perhaps he could cut them off, and that would turn him back? Wasn’t that the plan before he changed into… this.

He went back to the bedroom to look for pliers, taking care to not step in any gunk on the floor. Coming back into the bedroom it looked even worse than he recalled, leaving it just half an hour ago. It was an horror show. That gave him pause messing with the ear studs. That’s when he saw the sticky note again. Of course, he should try to talk to Jack or Jacob. But he didn’t know them. He hadn’t even seen Jack and could barely describe Jacob. Man, it was hard to think clearly. Perhaps someone else at the party could describe Jacob? Sarah should know! It was her party, and he should have her number in the forwarded invite on his phone.

After many signals Sarah finally answered the call. She sounded tired, but upbeat.
- This is Sarah!
- Hi, it is Matthew. Can you describe Jacob?
God, he hated his voice. It was childish and annoying.
- Who?
- One of the young, preppy dudes.
- Look, I have no idea who most of the people were, or what they looked like. I think I got a note from one of them though. Would that help? Hang on.
The line went silent for a few moments and then she came back.
- I have a note for Jack. Do you know him?
- No. What does it say?
- It says: appointment at Manila Massage at 2pm. Shower first.
- Does it say how I would get there?
- Sorry.
- Thanks anyway.

He found it in the map app on his phone, and not that far away. 12 minutes estimated travel time, and it was hours until that appointment. He felt relief that at least he had a plan to follow. He looked around at the damage. The sheets were probably ruined, as was the duvet and mattress. The floor was just tiles and plastic, so a mop and a squeegee would do. He could probably wash the cargo pants and underwear, but he could stand inside one of the legs now. Oh, right, he was still naked with a semi hard on.

Matthew winced at the sight of his new dick. It was the size of his thumb. No, he realized, his former thumb. He stepped over to his chest of drawers and started rummage for old stuff or tight stuff that might fit. The black speedo briefs he hadn’t used in years actually fit him now, as did an old compression shirt and adidas hot pants, though loosely. Lucky he hadn’t thrown that away. With a pair of flip flops, although too large, he would at least be able to walk outside.

Matthew didn’t have the reach he used to, so cleaning out the bed proved to be much harder than he thought. And he didn’t have the arms and height he used to, so he opted to go several rounds with the icky sheets, duvet and pillows. He felt super self conscious being outside looking like this. It didn’t help that his hard on was hardening and clearly visible. He wasn’t as strong as he used to be either, so the wet mattress was a bit of a struggle to keep away from his body. “Stupid fucking body”, he said to himself. At least he had plenty of stamina.

Even cleaning the floors took longer than expected, as he was getting more and more distracted by his penis rubbing the inside of his speedos. Eventually he gave in, stepped into the shower and started to jack off. It felt good. Really, really good, but he was unable to climax. None of his go to fantasies worked. Instead of starting to browse his porn library, he decided to just step out of his shorts and speedos, and shower the groin in cold water. That did the trick well enough for him to clean the rest of the floors.

With an hour to kill before he needed to leave, he enjoyed another hot shower, as instructed, and then aimlessly idled in the apartment. He checked the fridge for food, and decided he wasn’t hungry. He went through his clothes more thoroughly. Some of the now over sized shirts looked “cute” on him, but found few useful things. He ended up playing some silly phone game, which he used to loathe, until it was time to leave.

Again he felt self conscious and exposed next to his F150 truck. He had no problem climbing into it. But he had to climb. And after plenty of adjustments it was still a challenge for him to manage driving.

The Manila Massage was easy to find, in the basement of a residential building. There was a small waiting area with two chairs next to a cheap looking table top sized fountain just inside the door. A small Asian women appeared from one of the inner rooms. Well, actually they were pretty much the same size, save for some obviously enlarged breasts.

- Jack Hoff?
- What?!
- Are you Jack?
- No, I’m Matthew Goodman.
- Aaah. Your friend made a joke. Very funny.
She made no expression showing she felt it was funny.
- Well, Matthew Goodboy, follow me.

She lead him back into a larger darkened room with lots of carpets and futons on the floor, but hardly any furniture. Clusters of candles placed around the room was the only sources of light.

- Don’t be nervous. Here, drink this.

She poured something from a crystal decanter into a shot glass and handed it to him. He downed it. It tasted like it contained sugar, vanilla, peach and alcohol, in that order. He found it much less revolting than he should. Different palate he guessed.

- You can get undressed and put your clothes here and then lie face down here.

She motioned first at a stool and then at a thin futon on the floor.

- All clothes?
- Yes, sweetie.

She smiled and left the room. Not really sure what he was in for, but too committed to back out, Matthew stepped out of the flip flops, pulled off his shirt and froze. He sported a raging hard on. He carefully pulled down the hot pants and speedos. As he placed himself on his belly on the mattress he felt light headed as the alcohol hit. This was the gift that kept on giving. 12 hours ago he would jäger bomb anyone under the table, and now he got tipsy from a thimble of liquid candy.

After a minute or two he heard the lady enter again, and the sound of a glass bottle. Then he felt her hands starting to rub his back with oiled hands. If the shower had felt good, this was heavenly. He’d never had anything that smelled remotely like this on him before. Peach, again, and some flower. But it felt too good to care. She worked his neck, his arms, his legs and almost slipped a finger in his butt, before going back to his back.

- Now, turn over on your back.

Matthew did, and his mouth fell open. She was naked. Matthew just stared at her body. Slender and hairless, like his, but bronzed and with huge breasts that jiggled as she applied oil to his chest. His eyes were transfixed on her nipples, bouncing around in front of him. It wasn’t until she had moved on to his arms, and he looked at her belly button and neatly trimmed bush, he realized his mouth was gaping open. She then moved on to his legs, and to his horror he realized his dick stood right up, next to where she rubbed his inner thigh.

She looked Matthew straight in the eyes and started to give him a hand job. It didn’t take many strokes until he exploded with pump after pump of cum on his chest and abs. She smiled and started to rub the cum in the oil.

- That one didn’t count.

She then straddled him, facing him, and started to ride his cock. Matthew was surprised he was still hard. He looked at her in amazement and tipsy confusion. He once had sex with a girl to see if he was gay or bi. He had only managed to get hard when he pretended she was a young boy, and felt really shitty about it after. But now, seeing this Asian woman bobbing up and down on his dick, he felt hornier than even at LumberCon last year. He loved the way her boobs moved. The way her hair moved. The way his dick felt. The tingle in his body. The smell of peach and sissy blossom. Right then and there he couldn’t think of anyone he would rather be than Jack Hoff losing his virginity in a very happy finish by… did he even know her name?

Jack was super confused as he exited Manila Massage. It was like he couldn’t remember anything from before he came, pumping cum into the Asian lady. Apparently having super happy ending with her had been a birthday gift from “Jacob” and the lady refused to take his credit card. That could all be true, he couldn’t remember when his birthday was, but the really confusing part was the credit card. On one side it said “Matthew Goodman”, but as soon as he flipped it he had no idea what name was on it. He knew he should recognize this Matthed dude. He kept flipping the card and almost walked into someone standing in his way. He looked familiar. Was this was Jacob?

- Happy birthday! Who’s a shitty little fuck boy now?
- What? Who?
- Don’t worry about it… Hey, what do you say we drive to the mall and buy you some new clothes? Give me back my truck key, and we’ll go in your car.
He motioned towards a purple Honda Civic with a big spoiler in the back. Jack handed over the Ford key that he’d found in his pile of clothes.
- Well, I… You know… I think I might have fucked my brains out.
- Sweet, dude. Just what I paid for.
- I’m serious. I can’t remember a thing.
- Well, I guess you’ll just have to trust me until it comes back. Get in.

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