The hotel room

by Animus

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Added: Apr 2003 6,960 words 11,615 views 4.5 stars (11 votes)

Taylor walked down the hall looking for his room number. He had been driving forever to get to Orlando for the conference this week. A meeting had gone long and he ended up missing his flight. Nothing else would have gotten him here on time so he ended up leaving last night and driving here. This conference was an opportunity he didn't want to miss. He was the only employee of his corporation attending the conference so this gave him some great opportunities to network with his colleagues and develop some good connections. Being the youngest guy in the office this would give him an edge he could use. So he was finally here and the events began with the keynote speaker at 5:00pm, that gave him a few hours to get some rest.

He continued down the hall and saw a maid opening the door which happened to be his room. She glanced up from her work as she heard him approach.

“Oh, I'm sorry Sir, I haven't had a chance to clean up this room yet. If you like I can make arrangements for another room for you.”

“No, I really don't have the time. I just need to get some rest. I'm sure the room will be fine, you can clean it up tomorrow.”

“But Sir”

Ignoring her plea, Taylor slipped past her linen cart into the room and shoved the door closed as he passed.

The curtains were closed but there was enough light filtering in for him throw his bags off to the side, strip down, and crawl into the king sized bed beneath the rumpled sheets. After setting the alarm on his watch Taylor turned to set it on the nightstand. As he did so his foot brushed against something down towards the end of the bed. Hooking his foot around it Taylor pulled what felt like something fabric up where he could grab it.

From beneath the sheets he pulled up a crumpled pair of boxer shorts. Staring at them Taylor thought back to how as a kid he would steal other people's underwear in the locker room at the YMCA. Something about wearing another guys underwear was just so intense for him. Maybe it was the cooping of something so intimate. Something so private, worn so closely, and then they were his to be worn so closely.

Flicking on the light he looked them over. Pretty basic gear, white cotton boxers. There wasn't a tag on them to identify where they might have been purchased though. A bit worn on the backside so they must have been a bit old. There was even a few stains on the front slit where the guy could have been a bit better shaking after urinating. As Taylor looked at them closely he drew them to his face to take in the scent of the man these belonged to. A warm flush stirred his penis as he breathed in the heavy musk of manscent off of the boxers. Taylor slipped them on and turned off the light, rolling over to get a few hours rest before the dinner tonight. As he drifted off the last thing he remembered was the boxers spreading a contented warmth across his midriff.

Taylor slipped into his seat at the dinner table just before the lights dimmed. He had just finished at the registration table, the little old ladies running the show there a bit put out at being delayed from leaving. He didn't care though. Looking around the room he could see a few of the top players in the industry arrayed at the different tables. No one important was among the older men he shared the table with but that didn't matter, he'd have ample opportunity to network during the week.

With introductions and announcements over, the meal was started. Taylor shifted in his seat a little, the boxers were itching. When he had woken up he looked himself over in the mirror. The boxers were a size or two too big for him but he decided to keep them on for the rest of the evening. Now he just hoped the itching wasn't coming from some lurking venereal disease

Seeing the hotel room with the lights on after waking up he was almost sorry he hadn't let the maid make arrangements for a different room. The bed was a rumpled mass of sheets, the comforter thrown on the floor. The ashtrays in the main room and the bathroom had cigar butts in them. Fast food wrappers and empty beer bottles filled the garbage can by the table. The refrigerator even had a six pack of bottled beers left in it. All of it contributed to the stale musky scent of the room he must have been too tired to notice before. He really would have preferred a non-smoking room

While he was dressing Taylor noticed the front of the boxers had a wet spot. Had he dribbled after using the bathroom? He couldn't remember what had transpired. Had he tried to recreate the actions of the original wearer of these boxers? He didn't have time to dwell on it though since he was going to be late for dinner if he dawdled.

A waiter's inquiry drew him out of his reverie and he found himself asking for seconds before he even realized it. Wiping up the gravy left on his plate with a roll he was surprised to realize he really was still hungry after finishing the first serving. Why was he so hungry? The first serving shoulda been more then enough food for him. The waiter set down another plate before him and Taylor started in to it. Blankly watching the activity of the room he suddenly realized he had been chewing with his mouth open. Pausing for a moment he finished chewing normally, then settled back into finishing his meal.

Taylor flicked on the light switch and stepped into the hotel room. He had given up on the social after the dinner. All of the good old boys were a little too tightly knit tonight. It will be better in the long run to hit them after the smaller focus group when you've had time to interact with them already. Besides the beer at the bar bit it tonight. Maybe things were just off in general. Normally he'd go for a Gin and Tonic, if he went for anything at all.

Pulling off his dress clothes, he stripped down to just the boxers. Glancing in the mirror he saw the waistband of the boxers were being pushed down by his distended belly. Damn he had eaten a lot hadn't he? Three full meals and then snacking at the bar. Not to mention the Gin and Tonic and two beers he'd had. While he wasn't in gym shape he was surprised at the small belly he saw on himself in the mirror. Even at 27 Taylor still had a trim blonde boy next door looks, but now he was looking like some ex-jock. A tired ex-jock he thought as he moved closer to the mirror and looked at his face. His eyelids were drooping some and his face looked a bit haggard.

Well let's just get settled and turn in he thought as he grabbed his suitcase and garment bag off of the couch and turned to the closet. Sliding the doors open he found a pair of engineer's boots and an empty garment bag. He'd have to let the staff know that some items got left behind. As he pushed the garment bag aside something slipped out of the bottom, looked like a T-shirt. Bending over to get it he was thrown off balance by his full gut and smacked his head on the back wall.

“God Damn It!” he shouted as he lumbered back. “Fuck it.” He pulled on the shirt and trudged over to the refrigerator and grabbed one of the beers. Twisting off the cap he downed a few gulps and then held the cold bottle against his forehead as he slumped into a chair. The sharp pain had fallen off so he moved the bottle away and took a few more swigs of the beer.

“Now that's more like it,” he thought to himself as he looked over the label on the beer bottle. A pleasant warmth spreading from his gut, a good sensation as he worked his cock with a hand down in the boxers. He finished off the beer kicking it back and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he went to toss out the bottle. Slouched in the chair his gut was pushed up, straining against the ribbed white fabric of the tank top undershirt he was wearing. He definitely looked like the a beer bellied ex-jock now. What was with the hand down in the crotch? Pulling it out he rubbed a hand across his stomach, the warm sensation kicking in again and spreading across his torso and down his legs. Felt good.

“Looks good,” he thought as he rose from the chair. He could feel how even the slight change in weight had caused a shift in his center of gravity. Probably why he fell over and slammed his head in the closet. Didn't look half bad though. The gut and the tank top undershirt complimented his physique. Helped him look more masculine, more like a guy instead of a queer. Walking over to the mirror at the small sink he wet down his hair and slicked it back. His blonde hair was too full though, didn't really carry the look right.

Turning back to the room Taylor picked up one of the longer cigar butts from the edge of the ashtray and bit down on it at the corner of his mouth. Definitely felt right, looked right too. With more of a definite lumber to his step he walked back over to the fridge and pulled out another beer. Popping it open he sat down in the chair again and drank it down. A sensation spread through his body from his stomach and he wasn't sure if it was the beer or something else. It didn't matter though, felt good and he was enjoying himself.

Taylor woke up hearing a door slamming down the hall. Glancing groggily about he saw the cardboard case for the six pack at his feet and the bottles arrayed around himself. Standing he stretched out the kinks and looked over at the clock. “Shit, I'm running late.”

Dressing hurriedly he pulled on some casual clothes over the boxers and undershirt. He pulled on his loafers and could barely fit his foot into them. No way he was going to spend the whole afternoon in tight shoes. Grabbing the boots from the closet he slipped them on and headed out the door.

Later at one of the breakout sessions Taylor could hardly keep his mind on the speaker. The tingling/itching had returned and spread over his entire body. To make things worse it felt as though none of his clothes were fitting right. Finally he couldn't take it any longer. Grabbing his briefcase he headed out the door, maybe some fresh air would help.

Passing through the lobby he stopped at the small shop and bought a pack of Marlboro's. He wasn't a smoker, didn't care for it after trying it out in college, but damn if that didn't feel like just what he wanted right now. Out in front of the hotel he lit up a cigarette and began to walk around the grounds for a while.

As he lit up another cigarette he noted that the boots were working out pretty well for him. Seeing them in the closet he never would have thought they'd fit him, too wide. But now the well worn leather was feeling almost as though he'd broken them in years ago. Down by the street he saw a street vendor selling hot dogs and decided to go buy a few.

After finishing three hot dogs and smoking four cigarettes he headed back to his room. Dinner was going to be served in about an hour and while he didn't care about the conversation anymore he sure cared about the food. He had pulled off his shirt and was about to undo his pants when there was a knock at the door. He wasn't expecting anyone since the do not disturb sign was up on the door. He hadn't remembered putting it up but at least it kept the maid from coming in this morning and cleaning things up on him.

“Yeah,” he growled as he opened up the door. He gave a deep cough to clear his throat and stared expectantly at the young man before him.

“Sorry to bother you Mr. Bozzelli but they said at the office that you needed these and we were already late.” The young guy held up some clothes on a hanger wrapped in a dry cleaners plastic.

“Sorry, boy, you've got the wrong man.”

“But, Sir, this is room 218.”

Taylor looked the guy over and then drew back to attention. Giving the kid a flat stare he said, “Look, I'll take them and turn them in at the desk. I have some other things that belong to this Bozzelli that got left in this room.”

The kid looked relieved as he turned the clothes over to Taylor. “Thanks man.”

As the kid headed off the maid came from around the corner. Seeing Taylor she stepped over, “Oh Sir, would you like me to straighten up your room now?”

“Nah, don't worry about it.” He began to turn back into the room when he thought for a second and turned back. “Hey, you know anything about this Bozzelli guy?”

“He's a nice enough man. Always stays in this room when he's in town. I think he's some kind of sales rep, does something with those 18-wheelers or something. Why?”

“Nothin', just curious. What was he like?”

“I'd say late 40's. He is about your height but stockier. He's a bear of a man, broad. Really short dark hair, mustache. A nice enough man like a said, if kind of garrulous. Don't know, never really saw him much since he never let me clean his room while he was staying here. That's why I'm surprised you haven't wanted the room attended to, it's surely a mess.”

“Nah, not a problem. Thanks,” and with that he closed the door.

Finishing dressing he headed off for dinner. Remembering to grab the pack of cigarettes off the counter as he snagged his room key. Tucking them both into a pocket he flicked off the lights and head down off downstairs.

The dinner had been a bunch a crap. Some stir-fry shit that did nothing for him. Lighting up a cigarette as he stepped out of the hotel entrance he headed down the road to look for some decent food. Passing a news shop about a block from the hotel he decided to stop in. Looking around the place he strolled the aisles glancing at covers and headlines and found himself at the back counter. Along the back wall was a humidor.

“May I help you Sir?” An older gentleman behind the counter queried as he stepped up.

“Yeah I was looking for—”

Raising a finger, the older gentleman stopped Taylor in mid-sentence, “I know just what you're looking for.” He stepped away and came back holding two cigars in his hand.

Taking them, Taylor, was a bit confused.

“They are what you wanted Sir, aren't they?”

“Uh yeah, but I wasn't even sure… ?”

“Boz?” someone exclaimed nearby enough to make Taylor turn and look.

A young man at a nearby newsstand was turning to face him. In his early 20's the kid was a jock in jeans and a sweatshirt. Clean-shaven and healthy looking he caught Taylor's eye, but he really wasn't his type. The kid had a surprised look on his face that settled down to embarrassment and disappointment. “I'm sorry, your voice, you sounded just like a friend of mine.”

“Not a problem,” Taylor growled out. Hearing his voice come out deep and raspy again he cleared his throat and nodded to the kid as he paid the guy at the counter. Turning to leave, he noticed the young guy was already gone.

Taylor pushed open the door to the hotel room and juggled his items to hit the light switch. He'd found a good mom and pop dinner down the road and ate a good fried chicken dinner while he was there. He left with four burgers and fries and picked up another six pack of beer from a convenience store on his way back.

Stripping down to just socks, boxers, and the undershirt he settled down to the burgers and a few beers. He couldn't understand why he was so hungry, but he didn't mind because the food was tasting damn good lately. With the last swig of his fourth beer he settled back and pulled one of the cigars out of the breast pocket of his jacket on the back of the chair.

He blew out a thick cloud of smoke and lounged back into the chair. The spicy cocoa flavor of the cigar was rich and relaxing. This was exactly what he had been looking for. A few long draws on the cigar found the warm tingling feeling spreading across his body again. Relaxing like this just felt right. Why hadn't he done something like this before? Just being able to enjoy some good food, good beer, and a good smoke. This was a life he could get used to, leaving all the cares of his hectic day to day behind. This Bozzelli had the life, Taylor wouldn't mind spending the days enjoying these simple pleasures. Wouldn't mind one bit.

Finishing off the cigar he set the butt in the ashtray and rose from the chair. He was feeling really relaxed and figured he might as well just turn in. In the bathroom he shifted the boxers a little after taking a piss and looked himself over in the mirror. “Damn,” he breathed out as he looked himself up and down. He hadn't realized he looked so bad, he must be sick. His features had taken on a puffy look and were almost sagging. The only other time he looked this bad was when he'd had a real bad flu and his face got really puffy. His eyes were heavy lidded, drooping in the corner and giving an angled fold over the eyes. His hair looked dark and flat, you would hardly realize he was blonde. Beneath the thick dark stubble which covered his jaw he could see jowls along his jaw line. His skin looked ruddy too, even down into his undershirt he noticed as he pulled it off.

Taylor was sure he wasn't feeling well as he looked over his chest. The skin was ruddy and thicker in places too, no rougher. His fine chest hair looked darker too like the hair on his head, darker and fuller in some patches too. What concerned him though was that his chest and arms didn't look nearly the same at all. His torso appeared broader and everything had a bloated, almost flabby appearance to him. His gut was not nearly as pronounced as it had been the other day, even though he'd eaten as much if not more food since then. He still had a gut, he wasn't flat by any means, but he looked almost barrel chested now. His breasts were somewhat fuller and not nearly as muscular, they even hung down a little. The same was the case with his arms. The upper arm shook a little as he shrugged his broader shoulders up and down. As he moved a hand to rub it down his chest again though he could feel a strength in his arms so looks were deceiving.

To be honest though, now that he thought about it, he felt even stronger then he did before. As he stepped back and took stock of himself he honestly felt strong overall, not strong really but solid. He liked the feeling, liked it a lot. In fact he didn't feel sick at all. He had to be though. This bloated appearance and ruddy tone must be the signal of something. Being sick would explain his voice too, his throat must be sore. Glancing in the mirror again though he rubbed a hand over his gut and the warm sensations waved across his chest again. Maybe he was just having a rough time from the overnight drive here, a good night's rest would probably take care of things. With that he flicked off the lights and turned in for the night.

The room was glaringly bright when he woke up ravenous. “God damn it. Overslept again,” he thought as he climbed out of bed. Glancing at the clock he saw it was already 11:30am. Well he'd missed out on the day but hey, at least there was a luncheon for his society in half an hour. He started to get dressed, only really caring about getting something to eat. Pulling on his dress pants he realized as he pulled them past his hips that they weren't going to fit in his bloated state. Tossing them aside the dry cleaning hanging in the closet caught his eye.

He trudged over to the closet and ripped the plastic open. He hadn't paid any attention to the clothes yesterday but was pleased to see a suit coat, pants, and shirt on the hanger. Pulling off the pants and tossing the rest on a chair he looked at the tag on the pants, size 38. Well better then nothing. He was almost dismayed when they fit him just right. Well, just right under his gut that is. As he held up the shirt he was sure the collar would make it look like he was swimming in the clothes, but at least he'd be comfortable instead of wearing something too tight. The coat was a light brown and the pants were a heavier fabric and a dark brownish/black. Stylish in a Sears kind of way, not Taylor's tastes but he looked good enough. Throwing on a dark tie he had brought he finished dressing and headed out.

Lunch was served promptly, for that he was grateful. The chicken breast sandwich was skimpy, but at least it was meat. As he started his second sandwich he glanced around the table. One of the wives was staring at him as he ate. “What?” he growled out, hardly pausing to transition from chewing to speaking.

Flustered she looked about but no one was really paying them attention. “Oh, are you feeling well? You don't look well at all.”

“I'm fine,” he said and went back to his sandwich. “Thanks,” he said almost as an afterthought, a few crumbs falling from his mouth as he said it.

His hunger was beginning to be sated and he was relaxing some more. Dessert was served and the cool pudding they handed out was a pleasant contrast to the warm tingling settling over his body. As the speaker came out to address the society he kicked back in his chair and relaxed. He really wanted to undo the top button of his slacks and relax and rub his gut contentedly but he knew he shouldn't. A few minutes into the speech Taylor began to fidget, the tingling felt as though it had changed gears somehow, revved up. It was still pleasant in it's own way but it was also distracting. Finally he couldn't take it any more and he left to head back to his room.

Trudging down the hall he was almost driven to distraction by the sensation coursing over his body. The walk seemed to take forever and he pushed open the door to his room with the weight of his body, almost too drained to walk he stumbled over to the bed and collapsed.

He flicked his eyes open as he felt a surge of tingling course over his body. He had no idea how long he'd been out but it was getting dark outside the window. Stumbling out of the bed he walked through the gathering darkness to the bathroom. Turning on a light he drew in a breath. Looking back at him from the mirror was a stranger.

He didn't recognize any of himself in the man staring back at him from the mirror. His hair was dark black and a thick beard touched with grey at the jaw covered his face. He was old. He began to raise a hand to his face and stopped to stare at the wide palmed, rough hand before him with it's short fingers. Dark hair ran thinly across the back of the palm and up his sleeve. Pulling away from that he touched his face and felt the rough fingers brush across his skin, his eyes widening in the mirror at the sensation and seeing the motion mimicked by the man in the mirror. What had happened to him?!

A wave of sensation course across him again and he jolted from the rush. Fixing his eyes on his reflection in the mirror he could swear he could see his features changing before his eyes. Turning his head and leaning closer to the mirror he watched as crow's feet pushed themselves to deeper lines at the corner of his eye. Even his eyes had changed. Gone were the light hazel pupils and bright eyes, he looked back at himself with dark brown eyes that looked dark and slightly fogged and they were surrounded by dark lashes. His nose was smaller, pugged even. Thick lines ran from the side of his nose to just outside the corners of his mouth, and his broader fuller cheeks pushed them into nasibold folds. He frowned and they increased in depth and folds lined his forehead, his dark heavy eyebrows creasing together as well.

In panic he pulled off the coat and shirt and was shocked to look at the barrel chested bull of a man standing before him. Dark curly hairy dusted his shoulders and moved on to his back. His chest was covered with a dusting of the dark hair as well. His ruddy skin was flushed even more from the shock. If he had to say it his chest was built like a barrel, strong and powerful jutting before him. Dropping his pant he was shocked to see his legs like strong logs supporting him.

He was old! From the wrinkles on his face to the weathered skin on his hands and body. A few mottled brown spots dotted his forehead and his chest. The grey in his beard was almost more shocking to him. His body was strong but out of shape. A layer of fat and flab covered him. With a tired sigh he ran his hands over his face but pulled them away again as he felt their roughness across his skin. Looking down at his hands he saw strands of the black hair, his black hair, hanging from his fingers.

“This has got to go away,” he rasped out and stumbled out of his pants and into the room. Pulling clippers from his bag his ran into the bathroom and began shearing the dark hair off of his head. Clumps of dark hair fell to the counter some from the shears, some just falling out. With all of the hair shorn off to stubble he began attacking the beard. With most of it gone he stopped again as shock overwhelmed him again.

His hairline had receded back from his forehead and the dark blue/black stubble left formed a pointed “V' peak. Brushing away the hair with a hand he felt a smooth bald spot at the back of his head as well. With just a thick black mustache left his face revealed heavy jowls and a double chin! Frowning, his fuller lower lip pursed a bit and drew his attention to his mouth. Even his teeth had changed! Short dense teeth were there now, no sign of his pristine white teeth showed here. Some were even yellowed with tobacco stains.

Another wave of sensation coursed over his body and he felt weak again. Walking slowly out of the bathroom he stumbled a few times and then collapsed on the bed. Shock and the waves of sensation had drained him entirely and he passed out.

Coming too in the darkness Taylor hoped for a second it had all been a dream but even in the dark he could feel the strange body he was in. Though it was becoming harder and harder for him to feel a difference now. He almost couldn't remember what his body used to feel like, he'd always taken his body and appearance for granted never paid that much attention to how his body felt about him.

What was he going to do? He couldn't just show up to work in a different body. How could he explain changing from a young executive to a lumbering bear of a man. Everyone would think he was insane, no one would take him seriously. He was positive from the rough hands and changed teeth that no finger print or any other medical method would ID him a Taylor Bradewel any more.

As he ran a coarse palm across his gut and up his chest he realized he kind of liked the strong bull he had become. The nights of beer and cigars, not worrying about the office or the politics were alluring in the relaxation they offered.

“Well, if I'm cursed to live in this body I might as damn well enjoy it,” he said as he rose from the bed. The sound of his voice actually exciting him in it's garrulousness instead of shocking him even more.

Staring at himself in the mirror Taylor examined all of his features from all angles. He began to really get excited by the fact that he didn't even recognize any aspect of himself in the man he saw. Striping naked he wasn't too pleased at how out of shape he was. He looked like a linebacker gone to seed with his broad build and gut. He had something of a bubble butt but actually found his new build and the way he now moved amusing.

The amusement and excitement seemed to be having another effect on him as well he noticed as he looked down at his stirring cock. He cupped his cock in his rough hand and watched it flush with color and get hard. His cock was thick now, and to get a good look at it he had to use his reflection since it was hidden under his gut. His balls were heavy and hung low, and his crotch was filled with a curly black hair.

His cock was flush and hard now and he was surprised to find it kind of short. He had been six inches cut before but this body was five inches, five and a half if he was lucky. He didn't think an inch would have been so noticeable. Maybe it was his stocky build and the roll of abdominal fat that contributed to the impression of being short. His cock was thick though, he wasn't even able to really get his hand all the way around it. As he experimented he ended up stroking and was pleasantly surprised at the sensation. He was a lot more responsive now then he ever was before and it felt great. Bracing his legs he began to jerk off and realized he was incredibly horny. Spitting on a hand to smooth his strokes even more he took the other hand and rubbed it across his gut and his chest. As his hand brushed over his nipple he took in his breath at the pleasure he felt. He began to pinch and tease his nipple with the other hand all while he stroked his cock.

He watched himself in the mirror jerking off. 'Himself.' The realization again that he was now that man in the mirror sent an excited jolt through his body and he moaned softly at the pleasure of it. He watched his hands moving over his nipples in his reflection. Both nipples were flushed, big and round, nothing like the small nipples he'd had before. They never offered the pleasure and sensation he was experiencing now. He twisted one roughly and came with a shout as pleasure shot through him like electricity. His stout cock was like a cannon as cum pumped out of it hitting the mirror before him and then arching lazily on to the counter as his cock left off cumming with force.

He was breathing hard and his body was on edge with sensation. Still basking in the afterglow every sensation his new body offered him was electric. From his legs brushing together to the sensation of his barreled chest brushing under his arm and pushing them up slightly with it's girth. Leaning forward he braced his arms up on the counter and let the sensations course over him. Even watching his bulky muscle move and tense on his new arms excited him. Catching his breath he gave a whoop and looked up at his new body in the mirror. A slight sheen of sweat covered him from head to chest. He liked the look of it, gave a sheen of power and strength, and he realized he didn't look half bad for an older man. “This isn't going to be half bad if it's always like that.”

Grabbing a towel he wiped off the sweat and then cleaned up the counter. What now he thought. Glancing up at himself in the mirror he felt his cock stir again and realized he was still horny. With a smile and a wink he said, “I'm goin' out.”

Covered in sweat, hair, and cum he'd have to shower first though. He grabbed his shaving kit and shaved off the stubble of the beard but left the mustache. It looked right that thick black mustache on his bulldog face. He trimmed it a little neater and then climbed in to the shower, reveling in the way his body felt so solid and strong as he bent and moved. Lathering sent new sensations going for him again and he ended up jerking off another time. He'd never had that kind of drive or stamina before.

After finishing in the shower he put on Bozzelli's suit again since it was the only thing he had that would fit. He stepped out of the entrance to the hotel and pulled out his remaining cigar, bit off the end, and lit up. Everything was feeling good. The breeze across his scalp exposed by the shorn hair was new to him, but it felt right. Even the weight of the cigar in his hand felt proper.

He took a long walk around the area of the city the hotel was in. Smoking his cigar and enjoying his new body. Just enjoying the experience was so relaxing. He walked with a clear conscious none of the stresses of the work day to dwell on, no details to worry about. So lost in his drifting thoughts the occasional glimpse of himself in a store window gave him a real thrill to rediscover the new man he'd become.

Why did this happen though and why look like this? This older man wasn't someone he'd exactly desire to be. Maybe it's got something to do with the boxers and the clothes. Was this what that Bozzelli looked like? Who knows. It was who he was now, unless he was going to just change back again sometime. With all this weirdness going on who could say. He wasn't going to dwell on it though, why not just enjoy what fate has dealt him.

After nearly two hours he ended up back in the neighborhood of the hotel. The cigar was nearly burnt down so he headed off to the news shop he'd bought the cigars from before. The older gentleman wasn't there but the clerk was able to identify the cigar from the ring he'd saved and he ended up buying a whole box of them to have on hand.

Leaving the store with his purchase he was about to head back to the hotel when he realized he could really go for a beer or three right now. He wanted to stay out though with his new body, not just grab some beers and head back to the hotel. He vaguely remembered a gay bar in the area so he picked his direction and set off.

The bar was a neighborhood place it seemed. A mix of patrons hung out playing pool and drinking at the bar. He ordered a draft and took it over to a booth nearby the pool tables so he could watch the game.

He was watching the game wrap up when a voice pulled him away from the play.

“Long day at the office?”

Taylor looked up and saw the young jock from the news shop staring down at him. “Huh?”

“You're all dressed up for being here at the bar. You must have really wanted a beer to come out without getting out of your monkey suit.”

That confirmed it, he must look like this Bozzelli, this guy obviously recognized him from some previous encounter. Taylor didn't know what to say.

“Yeah, must've been a long day, you look kind of out it. Is it okay if I join you?” he asked as he held up his beer.

“Uh, Sure.” As he replied the kid sat down next to him on his side of the booth, forcing him to move over with the weight of his body. He placed a hand on Taylor's leg and began massaging his thigh, all the while looking him in the eyes and smiling.

Taylor didn't know what to do. Bozzelli and this kid must know each other, know each other well enough for him to be getting so close. This kid was half his age… What was he thinking? This guy was maybe just five years younger then him. He wasn't his type anyway, he was only attracted to guys his age or a few years older. As the kid was dropping his hand to continue massaging inside his thighs he had to admit his interest, and his cock, were stirring. What did this kid see in him, in Bozzelli, though?

He didn't have time to dwell on it because with another shift of his hand the kid was rubbing his hand over his cock and Taylor almost levitated off of his seat.

“Hey, relax,” the kid said placing his free hand on Taylor's shoulder and then running it down his chest. “You are strung up aren't you? I think I can help you relax though”

His mind began to race wondering what these two did together. His hard on was raging now and he was definitely getting aroused by the activity and his train of thought. Hell, the way his body had reacted from just jerking off having sex must be incredible. He had decided to go out and have some fun. So why not let this kid, who's obviously more then willing, show him a good time?

“What'd you have in mind?” he asked the kid in a deep, low voice.

“There you go. I was thinking we could go back to your hotel room and see what came up.”

“Well now, what guarantee do I have that it's going to be worth my time?”

He couldn't believe what was going on. His voice, his words, even his accent was different from who he used to be. That didn't matter though, a sweet electric pressure was building in his cock and he needed to release it. Leaning over he cupped one broad hand behind the kids head and forced him into a kiss. Shoving his tongue into the kids mouth and shoving their lips together hard. Just as suddenly he grabbed the kids hair and yanked his head back and said in a growl, “Let's go, boy.”

The kid caught his breath and then smiled. “Yes, Sir!”

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