Pink Drink Twink (Patreon)

“Compliments from the gentleman in the corner” said the bartender as he placed the girliest of cocktails in front of me. A martini glass with a pinkish liquid, and a bright neon pink cherry on a stem in the middle. I looked up at Matt, who faced the right direction and saw his quizzical look turn into disgust. “Oh, for fuck's sake. It’s that fucking leather fag again. He’s still trying to score, even after what you told him” To say I rejected him was an understatement. Luckily freedom of speech trumps hate crime laws. Matt was just about to pour out the drink on the floor, when I stopped him.

“Hey, he’s not the one who has to clean it up.”
Matt held the glass still for a few moments before setting it down next to our beers. “It’s harassment, that’s what it fucking is.”
“Good luck convincing someone that handing out cocktails is harassing someone. In fact...” I said, picking out the cherry, dumping it in one empty beer glass, then pouring the liquid into another “...it is now acceptable free booze.”
“Well, I’m not touching it.”
“You are not pretty enough to have burly men buying you drinks.”
“Thank fuck for that.”

It didn’t taste that special. Sweet raspberry with too low ABV to be interesting. But easily flushed down with another beer before we split. Matt had work in the morning, the plight of manual labor, but I had all weekend off. Despite our different trajectories after we graduated, we still enjoyed each other's company. He was a dumbass, but made friends instantly with everyone, and I made heavy use of his truck.

It was such a surprise to wake up early Saturday morning. Sure, we didn’t drink heavily, but I was normally tapping my way through snoozes in my phone’s alarm. Now I woke up earlier than that, without even setting one. I could only pretend to be annoyed though, because I felt better than in weeks. Fully rested and full of energy. I knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, so I got up and got dressed. I made a mental note to be more consistent with my gym times. I looked much leaner than I recalled, but then those things have a tendency to sneak up on you until you realize something needs to be done. Then I went to the mirror.

The pink hair is the most striking, of course, but to me the eyes are what makes the most impact. I have trouble comprehending what I see. Reflected back I see a version of myself that has been altered in far too many ways to count. It isn’t the brown-eyed, black-haired, chiseled ex-lacrosse player I was used to see, but someone with much more boyish features. My jawline is still pretty much there, but my nose is very different from what it used to be, and my eyes are greyish-blue with a sort of surprised or naive expression. What the fuck happened? 

I let my fingers run through my pink tinged hair. It felt silky smooth, like I was an obsessive user of conditioner. It must be the pink cocktail. That’s the only thing out of the ordinary I could think of. What about Matt? I rushed to the phone and picked him from the phone history. It felt like an eternity as signal after signal went by.

“It’s Matt”
“Thank fuck Matt, have you...” I stopped myself. I didn’t sound anything like I would usually sound like. I sounded like a teenager again.
“Jeremy, is that you?”
“Yeah. Is everything... normal?”
“I would say so, yes. You sound really weird.”
“I think I got something. Talk to you later.”

So some disgusting leather homo tries to pick me up at a bar. I turn him down. He hands me a potion or something that turns me into what exactly? What is his end game? It’s not like I would have sex with him, or any guy, just because I look like I’m in a boy band.

I’m confident I’m not just suddenly realizing I’m slimmer, but that too is due to the potion. I decide to not just chill all day as planned, but to go to the gym and see what the damage is. I figure I can wear a beanie to avoid looking like a weirdo.

Cardio is going great. I feel the positive energy from waking up pulsing through the body, and I’m going faster and for longer than I normally do on the treadmill. It’s like I woke up fully charged for the first time in months. As I move over to weights it turns sour quickly. I’m so much lower in weight than I normally do that it isn’t funny. I can barely do a few reps on what I would typically do 10-15 reps on. I drop to a lower weight, but now I’m tired instead and can barely do a few on the lower weight. I move between exercises, and it’s the same again and again. What’s worse is I’m getting an erection, perhaps from all the straining. It has never happened before. I give up on the set and head towards the locker room. I decided against taking a shower, not only because of my boner, but I realize I would have to take off my beanie. Instead I jog back home, which is feeling surprisingly good, all things considered.

Once back home go straight to the shower, rip off my gym clothes and throw them in a heap. I step into the shower and almost turn on the water before remembering to take off the beanie. I throw it on top of the pile, and let the water start running on my damp skin. Damn it feels good. It’s like everything is more sensitive today. My hard-on, that never really went away during the jog, perks up. I take plenty of soap and spend a good thirty minutes having the best wank in weeks, and end up pumping out liquid as if I was a soap dispenser myself. I’m so deep in trouble.

I’m struck by post wank clarity. All of this, even though parts of it is really fucking good, is because of that frilly drink. I must find that creep and confront him as soon as possible. Unfortunately it’s not even lunch yet, and there isn’t even a guarantee he would be at the bar tonight, or ever again. My plan of chilling and doing nothing for the day turns into anxiously doing nothing. I waste some time on unfocused gaming with terrible results. I’m not hungry, but eat a bowl of yogurt while browsing stuff I can’t remember 30 seconds later. Everything is just unbearable, so I put on my damp gym clothes again and leave for a run.

I’ve never been a big fan of running before. If this is another change forced upon me I’m actually kind of OK with it. It feels amazing to just ignore everything that is happening and just run at random. I don’t know for how long, but as I’m getting close to home again I start to sprint. I run as hard as I can, really giving it my all. It’s amazing. I’m soaked in sweat, panting deeply, and again have a throbbing erection. I don’t bother to reflect on any of it. I just pretend that everything is amazing, have an amazing shower with amazing soap and an amazing wank.

As I dry off myself my phone begins to ring. I know right away from the bathroom that it is Matt calling. Long ago I gave him the Nokia ringtone on my iPhone, which at some point was hilarious.

“Hi Matt” I shock myself with my voice. It has shifted even more since this morning, and now sounds even more like an obnoxious brat.
“Hey, I just came off. Are you OK? You still sound different.”
“I’m not really feeling like myself. It’s probably best if I stay in tonight.”
“OK. I have some Netflix to catch up on. Get well. Target at ten tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure. Bye.”

I walk over to a mirror. I don’t look that different from this morning, do I? What if this wasn’t a change, but a process that has just begun? That I am slowly turning into someone else. Or something else. I look at the time on the phone. Still hours until the bar opened, so plenty of time to go crazy while thinking of this.

We had been at the bar much later yesterday, but I can’t risk missing him if he is early today, and I can’t stand sitting at home anyways. I dress simply, a white T-shirt and skinny jeans, and head over to the bar only half an hour after they opened. The bouncer takes forever to check my ID before letting me in. He is not here, but then so is no one else. Besides me and the staff there are only a handful of people. I tell the bartender that I’m looking for someone and might be here a while, order a diet coke, and grab a table by the wall from which I can see the entrance.

Three hours, two daiquiris and three diet cokes later I’m utterly bored. It’s only a quarter past eight, and so much more evening left, but I feel restless and tired at the same time. We didn’t arrive until well past nine, and the place doesn’t close until two. At what point do I give up?

Just as I’m thinking that I see him. The balding man in his forties, in black leather boots, black jeans and black leather jacket. I don’t like him. It looks so fake, the leather outfit he wears. Like he is pretending to be a gay tough guy from 1980. I quickly empty the last of my drink and start approaching him before he orders anything or grabs a seat. When his gaze catches me moving his way, his face turns smug and confident.

“Hi there, puppy. Looking for daddy”
“Make it go back!”
“Make what now?”
“You did this to me, now undo it.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, puppy, or who you are”
“You were hitting on me yesterday”
“I hit on a lot of puppies, but I sure would have remembered you.”
“You bought me a pink drink.”
“You? YOU?! Well, I knew there was something to you. Have you changed your mind?”
“What did you put in the drink?”
His expression change completely.
“I don’t know what you’re raving about. I never touched it. Is this a date rape accusation, because if it is you’ll have to talk to my lawyer. There is video recording in here after all.”
“It’s... No, it’s not.”
“If you excuse me, I think I’ve had enough of you.”

What did I expect? That he kicked his boot heels together and transformed me back? Did I really not have a better plan? If this really was his doing, he probably would have been prepared for this confrontation. Ready to take advantage of me. But he looked as surprised with my transformation as I was.

I walk back home, feeling dejected, disappointed and lost. What would I do next? Is there anything I can do? Another wank for sure, because I start to get that feeling and my skinny jeans aren’t doing me any favors. With some difficulty I do my best to get out of them as quickly as possible once inside the door. I go straight to my bed, lie down and start jacking off. I’m not even thinking about something in particular. Despite only having had two drinks I’m feeling a bit tipsy, in a good way. Like my body is glowing, and lying on my bed, wearing only a T-shirt and socks, jacking off, is the most amazing thing I could do with my life. It takes like forever until I shoot my load all over the front of my T-shirt, and once I’ve done that I continue to stroke myself until I drift off into sleep.

The Nokia ring tone coming from my front door wakes me up. I’m not tired, but somewhat confused as you are when woken in the wrong part of the sleep cycle, so I’m jumping out of bed almost involuntary. There is an uncomfortable tug as my body shifts and pulls the T-shirt glued by dried cum away from my torso. In the hallway lies a pair of skinny jeans playing the Nokia ringtone. In a pocket somewhere Matt is calling. I feel my way to the phone and answer.

“Hi Matt” My voice hasn’t changed much. I still sound like an arrogant teenager on an online game voice chat.
“Hey dude. I’ll be perhaps ten minutes late. See you in half an hour.”
“Yeah. No, wait!”

He has already hanged up. As I turn and look into the hallway mirror I’m stunned. The change from yesterday is even greater than from the day before. My hair has turned cotton candy pink and all my facial features have softened even more. I look at least five years younger, and my eyes have turned into proper blue. No one who knew me would recognize me anymore. I wouldn’t. My ID is worthless, and no fake ID would ever get me into a bar. What the fuck is going on. Am I shorter? I think I might actually be shorter than yesterday.

Normally on Sundays Matt and I go grocery shopping at Target in his pickup. I don’t want him to see me like this, but I need someone to help me figure out what is going on. I look at the phone again. I’ve already wasted four minutes. I need to shower and get dressed before he arrives. I rush into the bathroom, undress and get into the shower.

It’s like time stops when I turn on the water. The warm water makes my entire body tingle. My skin looks perfect and glistens wet in the bathroom light. I can’t see a single spot or blemish, though I know I had plenty. Not a single hair, though I most definitely had that before, except for the small, tight bush of cotton candy pink pubes. The sensation is so fucking incredibly amazingly sensual I start rubbing my dick. Not a proper jerk off, just small circles of my palm against my dick. I know I’ve lost even more mass since yesterday, but it looks like I’ve lost body fat too, because you can see a faint washboard. At least there is still some muscle left. As amazing as this feels, I can’t really be upset about any of the changes. Not here and now. I’m aware I’m moaning. I sound like Cindy in pol.sci. first time I fucked her.

The doorbell brings clarity. Matt is here already? I turn off the water and jump out of the shower. While I’m frantically drying myself I look for something to wear. Strewn on the floor are funky gym clothes and a cum-stiff T-shirt. I grab the beach bag from under the sink and put on my swim trunks. The bell again. I rush over to the door and open it.

At the moment I see Matt on the other side I realize it could have been someone else. What a shock that would have been for of us. Now it was just a shock for Matt.

“Holy Shit!”
“Yeah. I know...”

The contrast is extra painful seeing Matt in his chill Sunday outfit. Relaxed jeans, navy sweatshirt on his wide upper body, hiding his muscles, but at the same time signaling that they are definitely there. He’s a head taller than me. We used to be the same height, the same build, the same outfit. Holy shit indeed. I stand there with ruffled pink hair, naked except for swim trunks that barely hides a raging hard-on. He looks bewildered.

“Matt, you must help me.”

He doesn’t answer, but I can see his bulge grow in his jeans. For the first time since I can’t remember how long I feel vulnerable. I’m literally exposed, one piece of clothing away from naked. He is standing in front of the closed door, the only way out. If he chooses to do something, there is nothing I can do to stop him. He is so much taller than me now, stronger, wider. I know the muscles below that sweatshirt of his. We’ve worked out together, so I’ve seen his chest both doing exercises and later naked in the shower. My arm is moving up his abs to his pecs, under the T-shirt, below his sweatshirt. He is frozen in place as I rub myself against his groin.

“Dude, are you alright?” Matt asks me, and I realize what I’m doing. I take a step back.
“I can’t help it. Ever since that fucking pink cocktail I’ve been...” I don’t know what to say. What isn’t obvious about my situation is unexplainable. I see Matt struggle with something, before blurting out.
“Would you mind continue what you were doing?”

Tentatively I stick my hand under his shirt again and rub against his body.
“But... Do you mind doing it?” he asks.
I don’t, I realize. But do I mind that I don’t mind? This must be part of the transformation that is happening. But Matt isn’t any random person.
“Not with you, I don’t.”
“Thank fuck for that.” He says and looks relieved.
“Why?”
“I... Sooo last Friday I might have put something in your beer that might have something to do with this...”
“YOU FUCKING WHAT?”
I don’t know what shocks me most, Matt’s betrayal or that he was able to pull off something like this at all.
“It sounded like a good prank. A few drops and you would act all... different.”
“Why the fuck would you want that?”
His eyes starts tearing up and his voice is almost a whisper.
“Because I like you. A lot.”

I’m still standing with my hand against his chest and have no clue what to do next. Fucking dumbass Matt admitted to ruin my life, outed himself as gay and professed his love for me in like 5 seconds. At least I think that’s what just happened. I slowly shift into a hug, and he hugs me back. I’m angry, I feel pity, but most of all I’m still horny. Damn all this.

Suddenly Matt breaks free.
“I’ll drink it too!”
“What? No! Look at me.”
“It’s only fair.”

I’m quickly weighing my options, and come to a decision.

“No. You did this, so I decide what is fair. You do whatever I tell you to do. You show up when I tell you to. And we’ll have sex in whatever way I tell you to.”
“Wah... We’ll...”
“You heard me. I’ve been so fucking horny all weekend from those ‘few drops’ I don’t care what I fuck anymore. I want you naked in my bed within 30 seconds”
“It was more of a dash than drops.”
“25 seconds”