The masterful @c0rruptedz brings all the ideas to the table.
The apartment was tidy, the windows were welcoming in a gentle breeze, and the space smelled of lavender, just the way I liked it. I had always been a clean-cut kind of guy–it was one of the first things that my boyfriend and I had bonded over. “Cluttered space, cluttered mind” is what they always said, and boy was it true. Having the floor swept and the bed made kept me in check.
From my phone, I heard a soft ping.
“Babe,” I called out. “Maycee’s on her way!”
“Maycee who?”
“Maycee from Psych. We have our final coming up on Friday so we're gonna do some prep work together.”
Hayden strolled out of our shared bedroom. He was twunkish; as a swimmer his build had always been sculpted and shaven. Hayden was a perfect counter to my slimmer frame, which I topped off with a meticulously-styled head of luscious chestnut hair. The amount of money and time I spent on looking sharp was embarrassing.
“I’m so sorry, when did you tell me this?” Hayden knew that he was in the wrong. I was always on top of everything.
“Hmmm…last week?” I coyly replied. “Don’t worry, Maycee and I won’t get too rambunctious.”
Hayden had been studying for his own finals, although he liked to do so in silence. “Do I know at least know this Maycee?”
“Um, maybe?” I thought for a moment. “Medium height, long brown hair, kinda loud but still nice. We have had a few classes together.”
“Wait, Maycee Evans?” Hayden’s face flopped into a frown. “Dec, I can’t stand her!”
“Really?”
“She’s siblings with Trent, one of the guys on the team,” Hayden explained. “She shows up at like every party and gets super messy. I don’t care if you want to have fun but then she always comes over to me and bitches and moans about her life. And you know why, because she LOVES gay guys. I’m talking obsessed.”
“Have you asked her to stop?” I asked.
“Yeah, and it went horribly,” Hayden sighed. “I explained that it was getting to be a bit much and she blew up on me. Full psycho. Heck, there’s probably a diagnosis for her in your textbook.”
I frowned. “I had no idea, I’m sorry. She’s already on her way though.”
Glumly, Hayden surrendered. “No, don’t worry about it. You had no idea. I’m just going to hide in the bedroom until she’s gone.”
“Ok.” A text popped up on my screen, announcing Maycee’s arrival. “I’m really sorry again.”
“You're fine,” Hayden replied, shutting the bedroom door behind him.
“I’ll bring you snacks every hour!” I shouted. Hearing Hayden chuckle behind the closed door brought a smile to my face.
—
“Holy smokes! I had no idea your apartment was so gorgeous, Declan.”
“I had no idea anyone still said ‘Holy smokes’,” I replied, closing the door behind us.
“Seriously, I’m so jealous. This place is so nice.” Maycee strolled around the main living space, taking in every piece of furniture. The white couch Hayden and I had spent hours cleaning after purchasing it online. The perfectly aligned gallery wall filled with pictures of our friends. Even the coffee table books had a particular order to which they were laid out.
“Well, should we get to this then?” I eventually said. “I don’t know about you but I’m definitely feeling worried about this final.”
“Whatever,” Maycee scoffed, approaching the dining table. “You’re one of the smartest guys I know. And the cutest.”
Maycee ended her remark with a wink. I smiled awkwardly before taking my seat, Hayden’s prior statement flashing through my head.
“So, tell me,” Maycee started as she flipped open a textbook. “Are you currently seeing anyone?”
I shook my head. “I had no idea your procrastination tactics were so impressive.”
“Hey! I’m just trying to make conversation.”
“And I thought we were here to study.”
Maycee laughed, “Can't we do both?”
“I’ll tell you what, we can earn it,” I countered. “Let’s at least do a little work before we digress. Is that fair?”
Maycee pouted before softening into a smile. “Ok…”
We studied together for an hour, absorbing as much information as we could. Sometimes we asked each other a question or two, other times we read in silence. Every now and then, I could feel Maycee’s eyes on me. If I had had any hair on my body, it would have sprung up in these instances. But I ignored her glances and continued my work. Eventually, Maycee announced that she had to go to the bathroom.
“BRB!”
The bathroom door locked behind her and within the same revolution the bedroom opened up. Hayden stepped out and made his way into the kitchen.
“Just gonna grab a few things,” Hayden said in passing.
“You know, you could just come out whenever you wanted,” I teased. “This is our apartment after all.”
“Yours,” Hayden corrected, as I did in fact willingly pay a larger portion of the rent. “And no, I don’t want to interact with her.”
In less than a minute, Hayden had snatched his snacks and refilled his water bottle. He almost made it back to the bedroom unnoticed.
“You HAVE to tell me where you got this soap!” Maycee swung open the door, revealing Hayden mid-scurry. “It’s so-”
The pair locked eyes. The tension in the room grew thick.
Hayden was the one who spoke first. “Maycee…It’s uh, good to see you.”
Maycee raised an eyebrow. “Why, because I’m sober?”
“Wow, that was fast,” I said. “Look uh, Maycee, why don’t we just get back to studying.”
“Hold up, are you two…”
Hayden and I watched as the puzzle was pieced together in her mind. Not that it was a big puzzle, but enough to momentarily silence her.
“Oh, this is just too good,” Maycee finally said. There was a darker undertone to her voice.
“Maycee, I-”
“Shut up, Hayden.”
With a flick of the wrist in his direction, Hayden’s lips snapped shut. Immediately, I knew something was off.
“Maycee, is everything alright?”
“Perfectly, Declan,” Maycee grinned. “But I think I’ll close you up for now too.”
She wove a hand towards me and my mouth instantly closed. I tried to say something in response, make any noise, but I was silenced. Hayden and I made eye contact, both stunned by this shared development.
“I’ve been meaning to get back at you for the things you said, Hayden.” Maycee’s voice had grown icy. “Because of you, I’m no longer invited to any campus parties. Trent said it ‘wasn’t healthy for me’.”
Maycee had Hayden drop what he was holding and move into the living room. It was at this point I realized I could not move.
“I honestly don’t know what Declan sees in you,” Maycee continued. “He’s one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met. Is that why you like him?”
Maycee allowed Hayden’s mouth to open so that he could reply. “Yes! I-”
“Stop.”
Hayden’s mouth slammed shut once more. I shifted my gaze between Hayden and Maycee, unaware of what was to happen next.
“Tell me, Hayden,” Maycee’s grin returned, crueler than before. “What else do you like about Declan?”
Hayden’s face was freed, but before he could speak, Maycee specified her question.
“Let’s start physically.”
“He’s my type!”
The words came out rushed, as if the truth was being ripped from Hayden’s brain.
“And what’s your type?”
“Skinny, on the shorter side-”
Maycee cut him off and then turned her head to face me. The three of us sat in silence again for a moment–two of us forced to–as we waited for something to happen. Suddenly, I felt a strange ache blossoming through my system. Although I could not contort my frozen face much, I was able to close my eyes. When I reopened them, I was surprised to find that the room had shifted. Before, I had been just below eye-level with Maycee and had had to tilt my head to meet Hayden.
Speaking of Hayden, his eyes had dramatically widened, but I had no idea why. To be fair though, I was probably just seeing things. Being well above six feet did that to a guy, everything seemed a bit out of proportion when compared to what the average human being saw. And I was anything but average. I was not one to brag but one should recognize the hard work they had put into their body. Spending night after night in the gym for over half a decade could really create results.
Satisfied by something–I was not sure what–Maycee asked her question again. “What else?”
This time, I noticed Hayden trying to keep his mouth shut. He failed: “Twinkish-!”
I had been that way for the longest time. While all the other boys had hit puberty, I missed the cutoff. For some reason, the bus decided to pass my stop.
Until it arrived a couple of years later of course. And it made up for lost time! The other boys used to joke that I was some kind of bear thanks to the pelt of hair I had. Furry legs, furry arms, a full rug up my chest and down some of my back. I had to shave my body every day for Hayden, even if it annoyed me. But by nightfall I would already have a stubble. The hair was just too dense-
“-and odorless!”
And it brought a funk with it too! No matter how much deodorant I put on, how much body wash I lathered in, how long we kept the diffusers running, there was always a bit of my natural musk hanging around. It was on the heavier side, more footy than sweaty. Hayden and I sometimes argued over it, I tried to explain that I could not block out that locker room cloud no matter how hard I tried. But I still did, for him.
“Let’s go over some mental qualities next,” Maycee said. “What makes Declan’s personality so attractive to you, Hayden?”
“He’s clean and coordinated-”
“Is he?” Mayce taunted. Had I been able to, I would have defended myself. Was the apartment not enough evidence? Did my general attitude not prove itself? If she wanted, I could have walked over to the bedroom and grabbed the stacks of planners that I kept handy.
Well, had kept handy. I had thrown them all out because they proved to be useless. I just went with the flow, wherever the wind took me. Why would I need to be so anal about everything? Money, politics, even my hair, which was just one simple scoop of product to swoop the dull brown up into something manageable for the day.
The apartment set the scene too: dishes piled up in the sink, dirty laundry scattered across the floor. I was sure Maycee had spotted the yellow stains around the toilet bowl, and the floor. Who cared about all this crap? It was just too difficult to freak out about it all when there were more fun things in life, like drinking and working out and having sex. Hayden did not agree with me, except for that last part sometimes.
“What else?”
“-he’s thoughtful!”
Hayden’s eyes were tearing up. No matter how rocky the current situation and our relationship at large were, I still felt for him. I was worried about him. I wanted to know why he was in pain, why he was so worried. I wanted to know-
…I wanted to know why he was being such a bitch. I wanted to know how much longer this stupid magical interrogation was going to take. I was getting sick of Maycee and even more sick of my pathetic situationship. Yeah, we were both gay and yeah, we sometimes fucked, but it was not like serious or anything. A hole should not have feelings attached, you know? I have more important things to care about: my wants and needs.
As if having witnessed some horrible event, silent streams began to flow down Hayden’s frozen face. God he was such a fucking loser.
“Hayden, don’t cry,” Maycee frowned. “It makes you look so messy.”
Hayden’s eyes grew red.
“Our boy Declan here is almost finished, but I think there’s just one more thing we’re missing.”
Hayden's tears stopped, the floodgates closed.
“This is kind of a leading question but, Hayden, in regards to sexuality, would you say that Declan is your type?”
“-yEs!” Hayden choked out.
“And why’s that?”
Hayden’s red face grew purple. Whatever he was about to say, he did not want it to escape.
“--because…he’s...gAY!”
Hayden gasped for breath, finally freed from Maycee’s power. I however remained frozen, forced to continue watching the scene before me. Hayden’s muscular frame was covered in sweat, his body begging for someone’s aid. Someone to tell him everything was alright. Someone to tell him he was loved.
Obviously though, that was not going to be me. It was not my fault the faggot was, well, whatever the way he was. Plus, why was I supposed to give a fuck about him when I instead could stare at the juicy breasts pushing out the front of Maycee's shirt. How had I never noticed the size of those knockers before? Despite being frozen, my thick schlong began throbbing against the seams of my smelly gym shorts.
“I hope you’ve learned something from this, Hayden,” Maycee said. Suddenly, I felt a certain looseness to my body. I had finally been freed of whatever had been holding me in place. The first thing I did was let out a juicy fart, adding to the wet, masculine blanket of stench that suffocated the room. Then, after giving my hungry pouch a hard squeeze, I shifted over to Maycee, placing an invisible line between us and the homo.
“Baby, you done yet?” I asked impatiently, slapping one of my mitts onto her soft ass and giving it a squeeze. “I wanna dump a load, pronto.”
Maycee smiled, “I think we are, Derek.” She said my name like there was some kind of double meaning behind it. “Hayden was just about to leave. After all, it's probably too messy here for him.”
I blinked, bored and too horny to play into whatever she was getting at. “Yeah, uh, sure.”
Not bothering to wait for the stranger’s departure, I picked my girl up and brought her to the bedroom. The walls were covered in miscellaneous trophies and jerseys, like the one I was wearing. Within moments, I had her on the bed with my fat cock driving deep into her, ready to unload. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the faggot watching us from the doorframe, but I did not mind giving him a free show. Not like he was ever going to get a piece of this anyway.
Cannot thank @c0rruptedz enough for this amazing prompt!
“You must be the new neighbor.” The fatherly male filled the open doorway. “Brent, I live across the street.”
“Nice to meet you,” Soren replied, wincing a bit from the overly firm handshake. “Soren, and yeah, I just moved in a couple of days ago.”
“Has it all been going smoothly?”
Brent peered past Soren’s shoulder to the mismatched pile of boxes. It was Tuesday now, and Soren had yet to open a package that was not necessary.
“More or less," Soren replied.
Brent looked like the kind of guy who boasted about the local high school football team. He practically smelled of backyard grilling. And the more he spoke, the more a loose “champ” or “sport” threatened to escape at the end of each sentence. The decade or more between them would justify the slip-up.
“Just so you know, you’re in good hands,” Brent affirmed. “The last owner, Joe, God he was a great fella. Fixed this place up real good. Always kept the lawn mowed and had a truck or two to spare when asked. Wasn’t too sure at first–kinda flamboyant, if ya know what I mean.”
A thunderous laugh burst forth from Brent, silencing Soren. Not like he had anything to say anyway. He was hoping to replace the grass with local clover so that he would never have to maintain it. His sedan could fit four people on a good day.
“Any idea why he left?” Soren asked. “I mean, this really is a great house.”
“Got too small for him,” Brent replied. “Within the few years I’ve known Joe he’s already loaded the wife up with a couple of kids. And now he’s got more coming: twins too. That wife’s been pumping out boys for as long as I can remember!”
Brent howled again. Soren added another item to his mental list of things he would not be replacing. A wife, or any woman for that matter.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Brent finished. “If ya need anything just give me a holler. Or any of the fellas on the cul-de-sac for that matter. We’ve all kinda the same run-o’-the-mill kinda guys.”
Soren watched as the fatherly figure strolled down the driveway and across the street, his posture remaining straight the entire time. After Brent had shut his front door, Soren closed his own and returned to his previous task. Working as a remote data analyst at a high-earning company had made the process of moving a lot easier. Not only had Soren been able to occasionally unload his belongings during work, but the job had made it possible to purchase the house in the first place.
The combination of work and infrequent unpacking was monotonous, and soon the sun had fallen below the horizon. Soren began his nightly routine: brushing his teeth, night-time skincare, donning a fresh robe, and tucking himself underneath the linen covers. He read from his book a bit before turning off the lamp and settling down.
A few hours later, the corner of Soren’s bedroom began to glow a faint green. It slowly began to pulse and expand, growing larger and brighter by the second. Had Soren not been faintly snoring and buried deep within his dreams, he may have noticed the strange apparition approaching his bed. His nose however did pick up on the musky scent as the green gas grew near, perching over Soren’s bed.
“Another fairy?” The green gas was disappointed. “What are they teaching men nowadays? How to put on makeup and don a skirt?”
The green gas floated across Soren’s sleeping body, inspecting every inch.
“I shouldn’t have made the last one so obsessed with breeding, then he wouldn’t have moved away. Now I’m stuck with this colorful piece of work.”
Without wasting another second, the green gas rose up into the air and then dived down towards its latest victim. It slurped itself through Soren’s nose, crawling and squeezing through the narrow passageways. The gas then dispersed throughout Soren’s body, covering every bit of available real estate. Once all was said and done, the green gas settled into its new home, planning its next steps.
—
Soren woke up feeling tight. Everything was stiff, as if stretched to a capacity that Soren was not aware of. At first, he was worried that he had pulled something, or everything for that matter, while moving. But Soren chalked it up to stress. After all, he had just made a pretty big change in his life, so it would make sense that his body was responding to these adjustments.
Once he was ready, Soren was up and out of bed, beginning his morning routine. Typically, it consisted of a shower, morning skincare, a fiber-rich breakfast, and a light jog if he had the time. The shower started off as normal with his expensive shampoo and conditioner followed by a refreshing lather, but upon exiting, Soren found himself frozen in the mirror.
Presented before him in his reflection was none other than a light stubble. A bit more than a peach fuzz, to be exact. Since high school, every part of Soren’s body had been meticulously shaved. Luckily, hair did not grow fast on him, so typically he only had to shave his face once a week. However, before him was a mask that had appeared overnight.
Deciding not to dwell on it further, Soren wrapped himself up in his robe and approached the razor at the sink. His hand reached out to grab it but it stopped mid-air.
“I like facial hair.”
“Hello?” Soren scanned his surroundings, unsure of where the strange voice had come from. After a few moments of silence, Soren tried for the razor again.
“I like facial hair.”
“I…” Soren stuttered, his lashes fluttering slightly.
“I like facial hair. I want to try something new.”
“I…like facial hair…” The words left Soren’s mouth on their own. “I want to try something new.”
In the back of Soren’s mind, the green gas smirked as Soren’s hand moved away from the razor. Instead, it repositioned itself over the array of skin care products.
“I don’t need these.” the green gas whispered.
“I do…” Soren fought back.
“I don’t need these,” the green gas ordered again. “Men don’t need these.”
“Men don’t need these…” Soren agreed.
The green gas fed Soren the new truth. “I don’t need these because I’m a man.”
“I don’t need these…because I’m a man.”
To the green gas’s delight, this new logic delicately clicked into Soren’s mind. Testing the waters, the green gas decided to take things one step further.
“I should just throw this stuff out.”
“I should just…” Soren’s arm landed on one side of the sink. “Throw this stuff…out.”
In one grand sweeping motion, the bare arm travelled across the counter, gathering up every product before forcing them off and into the open trash bin. The green gas was impressed. Typically, its victims took weeks or even months to assimilate to its commands. Its current host however was weak, malleable and ready to be shaped. At this speed, the green gas assumed it would be back on the road by the end of the week.
Blinking, Soren slowly returned to consciousness. He found his way to the kitchen and began preparing a meal. Moving back and forth between the refrigerator and the pantry, Soren slowly grabbed his ingredients. Kale, spinach, frozen mangoes, a banana, oat milk, and protein powder. He next went for the blender, but as soon as he placed it on the counter, Soren found himself returning it to the cupboard. His hands then went for the ingredients once more. Kale, spinach, frozen mangoes, a banana, oat milk. All were moved to the garbage.
“I don’t…want these…” Soren said to no one in particular.
“You are what you eat.” The green gas joked, referring specifically to the fruit.
“You are…what you eat.” Another connection snapped into Soren’s mental place, a cancerous parasite ready to feast on his subconscious. Soren took the protein powder and, after deeming it acceptable, made himself a quick drink. He then scoured through his fridge and freezer before pulling out a log of ground chicken.
“After this…I will only eat red meat…” Soren mumbled as he lit the stove.
Once his stomach was pumped with protein, Soren moved to the final part of his routine. In his closet, he found a colorful synthetic tee, matching short shorts, and a pair of expensive running shoes.
“You gotta be kidding me!” the green gas fumed.
After grabbing his things, Soren made his way out the door. He oriented himself to his music app and located his playlist. He opened it, scrolled, and then exited. His fingers then searched for a local radio station, landing on one that boasted “retro hits.” Soren joined, a dated single instantly bombarding his ears. The green gas smiled through Soren’s lips.
Soren then broke out into a light jog. Being on the lighter side, his body rarely sweated. The sun was shining, the air outside was crisp, and Soren was confident in where he was going. Which was surprising, given he was new to the town. And yet his feet seemed to know where they were taking him. Soren followed along, unaware that the green gas was directing him to a new form pf exercise. After a couple of miles, Soren found himself in front of a gray shoebox of a building.
“This will work…for now…” The words fell out of Soren’s mouth as he approached the gym. “Until I get my…own weights.”
—
Soren quickly logged into work, surprised he had made it back in time. Somehow he had lost track of time inside the gym, his body automatically moving between every machine it could. Soren had never worked out before and yet it was like he knew every movement and every muscle that needed to be worked. By the end of it, he had had to sprint home, cursing at himself the entire way.
“I am…never doing cardio…again.” Soren had uttered between breaths. “Cardio is…for wimps. Men are not…wimps.”
His computer booted to life, and soon Soren was clicking away at the keyboard. The green gas watched from behind Soren’s eyes, curious as to why anyone would be so enthused about this dull technology. Images flashed, data was inputted, links were grabbed and moved from one spot to another. It was not long until the green gas got bored and soon had an idea.
Unexpectedly, Soren felt his fingers pause on the mouse, prevented from clicking into the next cell. It took a second for them to move again, but instead of doing as he wished, they instead opened a new tab on his work computer. Four letters were entered into the search engine; no results were revealed due to the company’s privacy software.
“Seriously?” Soren said, although the words were not his own. He tried again, and again, and again, using new terms each time until eventually he found a backdoor to open up. A porn website popped up, displaying a variety of tastes. At first, Soren’s fingers glided to the tabs he often visited, but the green gas straightened him out, sending the hand to the heterosexual menu. The mouse clicked into the “vanilla” category and landed on the first video that presented itself.
Both Soren and the green gas brought the free hand to Soren’s jeans, unzipping to reveal a hard, modestly-sized manhood. Collectively, Soren and the green gas begin to stroke together but for different reasons. Although a little too masculine for his tastes, Soren took in the stallion before him. Rippling muscles, a perfect dusting of hair, a tattoo that swirls along his side.
“Look at those tits.”
Soren flinched, his gaze shifting slightly to catch a glimpse of the large bouncing jugs. As a gay man, Soren was immediately repulsed. He had never shown any interest in women.
“Look at those tits.”
Soren tried to resist, but his eyes flash over again, this time for longer. She was busty with an hourglass frame. Eventually, his eyes moved back to the man. His spectacular shoulders, his glorious glutes. Recognizing the temporary setback, the green gas decided to switch gears.
“Watch how he straddles her. Plows into her.”
Soren hesitated, but soon his eyes were locked onto the scene, following the man’s dick sliding in and out, in and out. He was hypnotized.
“Thrusting into her cunt. Wrecking her pussy.”
Soren bit his lip, panting.
“He’s a man, right?”
Soren nodded his head.
“And you’re a man, right?”
Soren nodded even harder, scrunching his toes.
“And what do men do?”
Soren orgasmed all over the desk, getting a bit onto the screen and his clothes. The green gas casually sat back, marking this action as progress. Another connection made, another seed ready to grow.
Catching his breath, Soren quickly realized the mess he had created. He instantly cleaned himself and the surrounding area up. He then proceeded back to his computer, but found himself unable to delete the browser history. Before he could worry about it any more, he found his hand reorienting itself back to his prior task.
The green gas let Soren continue his work for a few hours, but eventually it grew bored again. It did not understand how anyone could work a computer job, let alone one hidden away in a home office. Now that it knew how easily Soren was able to give up control, the green gas was eager to test its influence again.
“I want to…continue unpacking…” Soren slowly got up and moved away from his desk, leaving his workstation unattended. He approached the first pile of boxes he saw and, zombielike, began to fumble open the cardboard flaps. Through Soren’s eyes, the green gas peered inside, investigating each item. Colorful dishware, a rice cooker, some decorative kitchen assortments, basic silverware. Soren removed the silverware and placed it aside. Then his hands retaped the box and brought it to the door.
“I won’t be needing that…ever again.”
This cycle continued for the rest of the day. Opening a box, scanning its contents, removing what the green gas deemed “acceptable,” and retaping the box to be sent away. Fancy rugs, a collector’s side table, the CD collection, pride flags, pictures with friends–barely anything survived the green gas’s harsh agenda. Only the basic necessities passed, and even they hardly made the cut.
Once everything was cleared up, Soren found himself returning to his office. His hands relogged into his work computer and opened up a new tab. Amazon appeared, and soon Soren’s fingers were filling up a cart. The green gas was running up a massive tab of new furniture and appliances to fill up the home, items it deemed appropriate for the average male. Once the credit card information was accepted and the purchase made, Soren regained full consciousness. He did not act on this opportunity however, as seeing the time and recognizing just how tired he was, he deemed it best to head to bed.
—
Soren felt even tighter the next morning, but the pressure did not bother him as much as before. Something told him this weight was normal, natural for a guy like him, especially as he was getting older and already in his early 30s-
“Wait, aren’t I only 27?” Soren questioned himself.
“I am in my early 30s.”
“I am…no I’m-”
“I am in my early 30s.”
Soren got up and stumbled to the mirror. The reflection before him appeared unfamiliar. A bit longer, a bit more muscular, and notably more worn down. The ridges against his skin were sharper, tanned and stiff. The stubble he had noted the day before had grown past the five o’clock shadow stage. His arms and legs too now had their own dustings of hair. The changes were alarming.
“I am in my early 30s…” Soren whispered.
“I have always looked like this.”
“I have…always…looked like this.”
Soren’s growing fear melted away. Instead, he found himself needing to pee. Soren paced himself over to the toilet and, after dropping his pajamas, sprung out his cock. A stream followed immediately after. Typically Soren was pretty direct, but this time he missed the bowl. A lot. His instincts lead him to the cleaning closet.
“I…don’t need to clean that up.”
A wave of relief flooded Soren, the lackadaisical reasoning removing another layer of stress from his body. Without washing his hands, Soren grabbed some clothes and made his way to the car. Once at the gym, the green gas led him through every workout he would need to know before bringing him back home. A brisk shower was taken and soon Soren was logged back into work. However, he did not stay at his home office for long–half an hour in, the green gas decided it had more work to do.
“I want to go shopping.”
Leaving his laptop open, Soren grabbed a pair of shoes, his wallet, and his keys. He made his way out the front door, hopping in his car and revving the engine. The garbageman appeared at the end of his driveway as he exited; the green gas peered through the rearview mirror, watching as Soren’s old life was literally thrown out.
The first stop Soren visited was the local car dealership. The green gas took the wheel from here, negotiating the contracts and having all the paperwork signed. By the time Soren came back to full consciousness, he was surprised to find himself seated in a giant, sparkly white pickup truck. Instantly, the panic began to set in.
“This is my truck,” the green gas whispered. “I have only ever driven trucks.”
“I have only ever…driven trucks…” Foreign memories flashed through Soren’s mind. He liked his vehicles big and American-made. “This is my truck.”
Satisfied, Soren’s hands started the ignition and brought him off to his next destination: the local thrift store. The green gas had a field day, tossing almost every article of clothing it could find into Soren’s cart. Tees, long-sleeves, and sweatshirts boasting the local and state sports teams. Athletic shorts perfect for the front yard, backyard, inside the home, and around the town. Loads of baseball caps, cheap slides, and previously used socks and boxer shorts. Anything remotely masculine was accepted, becoming property of Soren after a single swipe of his credit card.
“God, I’m hungry,” Soren grumbled, sitting in the cab with the treasure trove of new clothes stacked behind him. Typically, Soren would have just driven home to make a healthy meal, but the green gas had other plans. Before long, Soren was fishing out his wallet again, handing it to the drive-through attendant in exchange for a greasy brown bag. Its insides held a double-decker burger, a pile of fries, and the largest cup of Coca-Cola available.
Soren pulled over and as soon as the truck was parked, the green gas dove in. The wet red meat burned Soren’s tongue, the pure pleasure scalding his taste buds and igniting a craving for more. The salty fries and sugary ketchup were a perfect yin-yang relationship, followed by a heavy swig of the soda. In mere minutes the entire meal, despite having enough calories to feed two people for a day, was disposed of, gurgling in Soren’s stomach. The pressure speedily built up and made for the exit.
BURRRP!
Before Soren could be embarrassed, his other end joined in.
BRRRRRAAAAAAAAAP!
The fart was greasy and uncontrollable, sliding against the bottom of the seat and rising into the truck’s cab. There was a curdled element to the funk that caused Soren’s eyes to water. He reached for the switch to open the windows but the green gas was one step ahead of him.
“I am a man.”
Soren repeated it back.
“This is what a man smells like.”
Slowly, Soren copied the instruction, processing how every word tasted in his mouth. It was distinct, sharp, like his fart.
“I want to smell like a man…” Soren mumbled, smiling groggily.
PFFFffftttt
Another squeal of flatulence slipped out, this time higher in pitch and acidity. Soren felt his nose hairs tingle, welcoming the new, familiarizing scent. The green gas smirked from behind Soren’s consciousness.
“Next stop…groceries...”
The green gas had no issue navigating the aisles of the grocery store; it knew everything it wanted. Pounds of ground beef, potatoes, basic condiments, and hundreds of dollars worth of beer. By the time Soren made it back home late afternoon, his truck was filled to its capacity. His driveway too had some weight of its own, hosting the tens of packages the green gas had proudly ordered with expedited shipping.
“My man!” Soren was greeted by his neighbor as he hopped out of his truck. Brent surveyed the damage, taking it all in. “Bet this’ll boost the local economy. Is there anything you didn’t buy?”
“A girl for the night...” the green gas replied through Soren’s lips. The words were caustic like bile. Soren had never been degrading to women before. But he liked the way that Brent laughed at his joke. He liked the validation of his fellow man.
“Are ya free right now? I could help ya bring all this stuff in,” Brent offered.
Soren’s consciousness fluttered momentarily, being reminded of his responsibilities, but the green gas silenced him.
“Sounds…good…man!”
Brent grinned, moving towards a case of beer, opening it, and tossing a can to Soren. He then grabbed one himself and chugged half of it in one sitting. The green gas had Soren do the same, the warm, piss-like liquid mixing with his lunch and bloating his stomach.
The pair worked well together, shuffling the boxes in and out. Brent admired every new item that was unveiled. “I’m so jealous!” was his reaction to Soren’s new home gym set-up. “I oughta get myself one of these.” was his reply to Soren’s new 85” television set, complete with free subscriptions to all the major sports channels. “Nice!” to the thrift finds, “Good stuff!” to the collection of music boasting country's top hits. If it had an American flag or camouflage print on it (which most of the items did), Brent gave it a thumbs up. The giant grill though was by far Brent’s favorite new addition.
“You have to host a backyard barbecue!” Brent exclaimed. “With this thing, you could feed the whole cul-de-sac.”
“I don’t know,” Soren questioned, off put by how he was at eye level with Brent. He could have sworn he was shorter.
“The neighbors will love you. All the guys are gonna dig the whole bachelor pad mansion thing you’ve got goin’ on here.” Brent waved his arms around the yard and towards the house, as if the stereotypical, masculine suburbia was instead a form of Mecca. “Trust me Scott, you have to do it.”
Soren paused, “Actually-”
The green gas pulled back the reins, closing Soren up. It knew better than to pass up on this prime opportunity.
“I like the name Scott.”
The green gas had Soren repeat this internally.
“Scott is a manly name.”
Soren agreed with this.
“I am a man.”
The green gas waited patiently for a response. He did not believe the inkling would take, but then a foul smell greeted his senses. With a lopsided grin, the green gas took the silent toot as a sign of success.
“Actually,” Soren finally continued. “I think that would be a great idea.”
“Awesome!” Brent exclaimed, giving Soren a good slap on the back. “I’ll let the fellas know. Let’s say Saturday then. That’ll give you another day to unpack and set things straight around here. We’ll bring the food and more beer, and all you gotta do is bring yourself and that beauty of a grill there.”
Squeeeeeak
“...Sounds good, man.” Soren replied with a dopey smile.
—
Friday had arrived, and Soren was feeling the weight of the week on his shoulders. And his back. And his legs. In fact, he was feeling it a bit everywhere. In front of the mirror, he disrobed, dropping the old pajamas and robe into the trash bin. “I sleep…in boxers only…” Soren said to the mirror as he investigated his morning self. The hair across his body had thickened and spread, now covering his chest and insulating his pits.
“Men are covered in body hair.” the green gas reminded. “I am covered in body hair.”
Soren’s skin, which had tinged a shade darker since he last saw it, now showed some minor signs of aging. Small wrinkles, the tiniest crow’s feet, and even some whitened tips across the hairs of his beard. Soren did not recognize these changes however: it was the green gas who was evaluating the progress. Soren remained lifeless in front of the mirror for a few seconds longer before being moved to the garage, where his new home gym lay awaiting him. The stuffy air was choking, the potent smell of plastic pleather eroding the edges of Soren’s brain.
Just like the prior mornings, Soren got to work, shuffling between the equipment slowly but assuredly. This time however, the green gas mostly sat back, only hopping into the front seat when necessary. The green gas had spent hours picking away at Soren’s being, both during the day and night. The physical effects were already visible–very much so thanks to the green gas’s magic–but the mental effects were now evident too. Soren was carrying himself in a new way. He walked with weight, purpose, as if he owned every space he strolled into.
“Grrrrrr-!”
“Men are loud.” the green gas encouraged. “Men are strong and musky.”
“-rrRRAH!”
Pffffft
Soren dropped the final set of weights, grunting happily as he was surrounded by his own funk. Satisfied, he finished his workout and found himself in the kitchen, his hands preparing a proper breakfast of eggs, sausage, and milk with protein powder. He then went out to the lawn, the green gas teaching him how to monitor the grass, check for weeds, and maintain the shrubbery. It was then they both heard a call ringing from inside the house. It took a while however for them to figure out it was coming from Soren’s work computer.
“Look who it is.” On the screen was Soren’s boss, irritated. “Where have you been, Soren?”
Soren wanted to reply, but the green gas took charge immediately. “Doing…manly things.”
The boss blinked, not expecting that answer. He moved forward: “You haven’t been online for almost 72 hours. Do you know how many project deadlines this team has missed because of your absence?”
Again, Soren tried to think of an apology. He tried to think in general. “Why should…I care about this…stupid stuff?”
The boss’s face went red. “I don’t know, maybe because it’s your job? But instead, not only have you been missing in action, but in the rare times you have visited your computer, it’s been to go shopping and watch explicit content.”
Despite the green gas’s power, Soren’s cheeks lit up.
“Yeah, I had our IT team scan your hard drive externally. I had assumed there had been some technical error preventing you from working.”
Both the boss and Soren sat with this discovery. The green gas was enjoying every moment.
With a breath, the boss started again. “It seems to me that something is going on in your…uh…personal life, Soren. I don’t want you to lose your job, but something has to change. Right now.”
Soren gulped, understanding what he had to do.
“So Soren, what do you say?”
Without hesitation, Soren stood up and turned around. Bending into a partial squat, he ripped down his shorts and positioned his hairy buttocks directly in front of the camera.
PHHHHRRRRT
The massive fart was thunderous, ripe and rotten. It took a moment for the boss to recalibrate, his mind needing to be rebooted after what had just occurred. Once he was mentally back online, the boss shook his head, hiding his anger behind a wall of disappointment.
“I’ll have HR send over the details. We’ll have you return your computer next week by mail.”
And with that, the call ended, and so too did Soren’s career as a data analyst. Soren had worked incredibly hard for his position. He had done countless internships, slaved away at offices over pointless tasks. He had spent years at the company, building up his reputation. But now that it was all over, Soren did not feel a speck of remorse.
“Now I can…get a real job…” Soren mumbled, his face curling into a smirk. The green gas brought the work computer back to life and began typing away, Soren’s fingers switching between local postings for construction sights, plumbers, electricians, and other manual roles. The credentials needed were not an issue, and the pay would not be either. Soren felt the need for a physical job, a real man’s job. It was like this need had arisen out of nowhere.
It was almost noon by the time Soren had submitted his last application. As a reward, Soren decided to cool off.
“How do men relax?”
On his own, Soren glided over to his search history, pulling up the porn website he had visited a couple of days earlier. He was about to return to the same video, the one underneath the heterosexual side of the website, but his fingers regained control, instead pointing to a new topic. “Degradation.”
The scene booted up almost instantly. This woman had a pear-shaped body, her breasts already fully exposed. At the start, she was on her back as the brute of a man approached, hopping onto the bed and spreading her open. Soren’s eyes widened at the sight of his fat cock drooling with precum. But then, the man shouted at the woman, calling her a degrading name. Soren’s fattened hog proudly grew to full mast at this.
“You like that, you fuckin’ slut?”
“Men dominate women.”
Both Soren and the woman let out a groan, but for different reasons. After a quick dive, Soren’s hand fished out his heavy rod. Unbeknownst to Soren, the green gas had nearly doubled the size of the manhood in the time they had spent together.
“Beg and squeal for me, bitch.”
“Men own women.”
Soren’s mouth fell open slightly, his eyes fluttering back. The green gas filled his brain with new memories where he was in the same position as the man in the video. Thrusting back and forth, his heavy balls smacking the lips of her-
“Bitches like you are only good for shoving cocks into.”
“Men breed women.”
Soren’s face began to sweat. He felt his eyes growing glassy, his brain becoming foggier. It was like everything was becoming simplified, reduced to tradition norms.
“You want my thick fat cock?”
“You want my thick fat cock?” The words left Soren’s lips without hassle.
“You want to be my fuckin’ bitch?”
“You want to be…my fuckin’ bitch?” Soren felt the heat rising.
“You want my fuckin’ babies?”
Soren’s throat closed. He did not want to say it. He did not want to be this way. The green gas pushed harder.
“You want my fuckin’ babies?!”
“You…want my fuckin’...babies?!” Soren shouted. He was almost there. The pressure was becoming too intense.
Cockily, the green gas made his final move.
“Men are straight.” The green gas finally addressed him directly. “Are you a man, Scott?”
—
“I tried to warn you guys,” Brent shrugged. “This is simply the best house in the cul-de-sac.”
“I knew ole Joe made some major improvements but damn!”
“You’ve only been here a week and have practically invented paradise.”
“Kevin, anywhere that has an unlimited stock of beer is paradise for you.”
The group of men all laughed, their amusement rumbling through their stomachs. They continued to survey the interior of the home, having spent a good deal of the get-together outside around the massive grill. John was impressed by the scattered art hanging on the walls–hunting memorabilia, sports posters, and generic political imagery. Steve was a big fan of the signed football on display. Jason could not get over the bedroom.
“You can fit a California King in here?”
“I bet the ladies love it,” Kevin chimed in.
“How many do you have at once?” Steve asked jealously. “Two? Three?”
They all made eye contact with the home owner, awaiting a response.
“As many as I need.”
The men howled, and Scott cautiously joined along, becoming more comfortable by the minute. The green gas hovered above the conversation, invisible. This was Scott’s final test, to see if he could fare on his own without it. So far, Scott was doing well.
“Boys, when I first met Scott, I wasn’t so sure.” Brent led the crew back to the yard. They were greeted by the smell of grilled meats and propane. “I’m telling ya, there just wasn’t something…uh…normal about him, ya know?”
“What do ya do for work, Scott?”
“UPS driver, package delivery,” Scott gruffly replied as he took a seat. “I start Monday.”
The men nodded, impressed.
“So that means during the day I can use the set-up in your garage, right?” John asked.
The men laughed again, a boisterous chorus. Scott soaked it all in, absorbing their energy. For a man of his age–being in his later thirties–there was nothing he enjoyed more than spending an evening with the boys. Drinking beer and talking crap. The comforting cloud of musk and masculinity blanketed over them. Scott was comfortably dressed in a well-worn hoodie that disguised his furry muscle gut and a pair of beaten athletic shorts that displayed his thick, carved legs.
“Have ya got any ladies in your sights yet, Scott?”
Scott grew pale, although it was hidden behind his beard.
“Have y’all been to the dentist recently?” Kevin jumped in. “There’s this new hygienist, I think her name was Stacey? Got an awesome rack on her!”
Jason scratched at his sack before chiming in. Scott copied, lifting his leg a bit to allow out some flatulence. “Is that the chick with the blonde ponytail? I tried hitting her up but that bitch swore me off after she saw my ring.”
“What a shank,” Brent replied. “Guess our sole bachelor will have to move in for the kill. Scott, what do you say?”
All eyes turned to Scott again. The green gas held its breath.
Scott smirked, “If I’m fuckin’ this bitch, she’s gonna have to clean a lot more than just my teeth.”
Scott was met with a thunderous applause. Whoops and hollers. The green gas joined in the fanfare, even though it was unheard. Scott was filled with pride, but unfortunately, he was also now incredibly horny. All this talk about teaching that insolent twat a lesson had him boned up. But he knew that would have to wait. After all, the night was young and there were many more cans to crush. Bros before hoes, as they say.
“It’s a yes or no question, Cody,” Elias pushed, interrupting the trashy reality show playing on the television. “Do you want to take things to the next level or not?”
Cody groaned. “Why does it matter so much to you?”
“Because I want a relationship, not just some…” Elias flushed. “whatever this is.”
Cody did not have commitment issues or anything. He was just nervous, and he got more so when interrogated.
“You’re hesitating, which means you're already leaning one way,” Elias pointed out aggressively. Despite his assertive personality, Elias did not have the frame to match. He was toned with a boyish flair. Cute and a great top, but not manly, making his arguments unnecessarily whiny. “If you don’t believe me, why don’t you just consult your AI therapist. See what the robot has to say.”
Cody turned pink, slightly embarrassed by the callout. But he was also feeling stubborn. “Fine.”
Standing up, Cody moved towards the side table where his phone was plugged in. He yanked the phone off the cord and with a grunt, resituated himself in the chair across from Elias, rather than sitting beside him like he was before. With a few clicks, Cody had the AI app opened, its search bar shimmering.
“‘Do I want to start a relationship with Elias?’” Cody read aloud obnoxiously as he typed away. However, Cody had not actually entered in what he said, instead inputting:
How can I get Elias off my ass?
The AI quickly replied back:
To confirm, the prompt is "Get Elias off of Cody's ass?"
Cody chuckled to himself; for some reason watching the robot curse was a little funny. Elias made a face, but he let Cody continue.
Thinking…Adjusting biometrics…Reframing skeleton…
“Have you got an answer yet?” Elias impatiently asked, his attention having returned to the television.
“It’s thinking,” Cody replied, looking up. He noticed something off about Elias’s posture. Was he a bit taller? Or actually, a lot taller? Cody could have sworn Elias was around average height before, but now he looked to be at least above six foot. Possibly taller still.
And had Elias been working out more? When they had first met, Elias had said he would only go to the gym a couple times a week, just to stay in shape. Now though, there was definitely some definition poking out across his body. His arms were looking wider, his upper chest more pronounced. Even his jawline had widened a little bit.
Aligning interests…Recalibrating vocabulary…
The uncanny feeling continued as Elias’s hair reshaped itself before Cody’s eyes. The mid-length curls were sheared back and tightened along the sides. The clothes Elias wore were rearranged too. The stylized crop top drained of color, lengthening into a cheap, sporty synthetic blend. Elias’s jeans loosened their grip around the thicker legs, joining the grayscale as a pair of nondescript sweatpants.
“God these bitches are so annoying, bro,” Elias suddenly said, referring to the reality show. His vocal register was lower than before, a bit emptier too. “Mind if I change it?”
Cody was unable to speak, but it did not matter. Elias grabbed the remote without waiting for a response and switched to a sports channel. Cody was still processing the fact that Elias had used the word “bro.”
Converting subject…Resetting environment…
What had he done? All Cody had had to respond with was “I think so”–it was as simple as that! Overall, Elias had been a great guy. Kind, easy on the eyes, provided great sex. This new version that the AI had created though was jockish, plain and vanilla in every manner. At least Elias was still gay, but he was no longer Cody’s type, despite the hefty pouch hidden beneath gray sweats across the room.
But then again, Ethan was always tossing around the phrase "no homo." He worked out religiously and listened to country music constantly. Every other word that came out of his mouth was an abbreviation or acronym. Cody was not even sure if Ethan knew what abbreviations or acronyms were.
And Cody was only ever attracted to straight guys. Who could resist the jock’s empty-headed mouth-breathing? Or the fact that he was constantly fondling his junk? Ethan had all the manly habits and smells too. As if summoned by the internal remark, Ethan casually lifted his legs up and plopped his massive soles onto the coffee table. Cody’s dick got hard immediately.
“Fuck!” Ethan shouted at the television, watching his team miss the shot. “Yo, Code, snatch me another beer?”
Cody, with his eyes still trained on Ethan’s feet, nodded. “Of course.” He then stood up, dropping his phone. The abandoned screen silently flashed.
