Toby and I had what in our city was an uncommon dilemma- we were both tops. Our friends referred to us as the âWhat a Waste Couple,â and couldnât understand why, with the seemingly limitless supply of bottoms around us, we would choose to be together. Sometimes I wondered myself.
We were both pretty fit otter-y types, me, 29, and Toby, 32. We met at the gym, scoping each other out. We had similar builds- 5'11ââ, 165ish- and similar vibes. Our interests overlapped, as did our social circles, and both thought the other was sexy⌠but the sex had been a bit of a problem. Sure, we often would bring in a local bottom who was only too happy to be spit roasted between us, but sometimes you donât want to go through the whole Grindr âLetâs find someone weâd both fuckâ rigamarole and just wanna plow the man you go to bed with every night, am I right?
Anyway, neither of us really wanted to bring it up, and when I finally tried to address it point blank last night, Toby said he didnât want to talk about it and left. After a few restless hours, I fell asleep, alone.
I woke up coughing. There was some kind of weird taste in my mouth.
âSorry about that, boy,â I heard a familiar voice say. âDidnât mean to make you choke just yet.â
Toby stood over me, two tiny green glass bottles in his hand, one of them empty. He was dressed head to toe in leather gear- pants, jacket, gloves.
âDid you just pour something down my throat?â I asked, between coughs. I cleared my throat. âAnd whatâs with the leather?â
âJust a little something I picked up for the two of us,â he said with a smirk and a wink.
âThis,â he said, shaking the full bottle a little. âIs the answer to our problem.â He then popped open the top and chugged it.
âWhat is it? Some kind of 5 hour energy or something?â I asked. My voice felt strange.
âLast night I went to a sex shop in Chinatown and the old guy who worked there said he had just the thing for us. Two bottles- one to make you a submissive bottom boi and one to make me a full blown leather daddy. I felt like I should dress the part.â
My legs were tingling, as was my face.
âNo more jockeying for the top,â he grinned. âWeâll finally know our roles. Iâll be the real alpha, and youâll just be my little fuckboy.â
Toby stood up and looked at me. The leather outfit looked big on him.
âFeeling the changes yet?â he asked.
I was feeling something alright- my face felt itchy, not like my normal five o'clock shadow.
âYou asshole,â I said, clearing my throat. âI canât believe youâd do this.â
A look of confusion flashed across Tobyâs face.
âWhy is your voice lower?â he asked. His hand flew to his own throat and his eyes widened. âWhy â *ahem* isâŚ. is my voice higher?â
Tobyâs jacket was now positively baggy on him. He looked a few inches shorter as well. My hand stroked the scruff that was spreading across my face as I looked at Tobyâs ever more boylike features.
âWell, boy,â I said with a grin, standing up. Toby had indeed shrunk and was looking up at me in shock. âLooks like you should have paid attention to which bottle was which.â
My back cracked as I stretched and looked down at my hairy, beefier chest and ballooning thighs. My cock looked fatter, and started to swell.
Toby grew even more slender and boyish. He looked younger with each passing minute, ticking back towards his early 20âsâŚ. 20⌠19. The look on his face kept alternating between confusion and fear before morphing into something elseâŚ. desire?
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was probably 6'2ââ and close to 200 lbs. My features were darker, older, and a full beard wreathed my chin. I was every inch a leather daddy, minus the leather.
âYou look ridiculous,â I said to my now shrunken boyfriend. âThat leather belongs on a real man, donât you think?â
âUh- but.. I⌠IâŚâ
âSay, yes, boy,â I commanded. Something shifted in Tobyâs eyes.
I didnât even have to push my new fuck boy to his knees. He knew his place.
âYou were right about one thing,â I said, my hand pushing his head down even farther on my throbbing cock. âWe finally know our roles.â
My twinky boy toy moaned in agreement, his too-large pants around his ankles, his little cock hard in his pumping, leather-gloved hand.