Description A harried traveler on a multi-leg international trip starts getting free upgrades every time he tries to get his seat assignment, and they aren’t just to his cabin class.
|Updated||15 Jun 2019|
“One moment, sir,” the attendant said, brows furrowing as he scanned his screen. Behind him, the legend under “Chicago O’Hare” had already switched to “Pre-Boarding.” Another agent was making barely audible announcements as the attendant typed some more.
“I’m sorry, sir, it looks like your seat in business class was accidentally misassigned to someone else.”
Garrett McIntyre hated confrontation—and looked it; he might be a star software engineer headed to an international conference representing a Minneapolis-based Fortune 100 firm, but anyone asked to guess his job by looking at him would land on “junior accountant”. He’d had numerous people tell him he looked like the “before” version of Steve Rogers. Which was ridiculous—everyone knew Steve Rogers was blond.
This time he was ready to fight back. He was only at the start of three long legs before he even got to the resort business center in Goa, and already his trip was screwed. He squared his narrow shoulders, trying to look taller than his true 5’6”, and adjusted the messenger bag slung over his shoulder with his laptop and tablet in it, pretending he was girding his loins like a Biblical warrior. Before he could say anything, though, the attendant unexpectedly added, “There’s a seat free in first, though. Will you accept a free upgrade?” He looked up from his screen and offered Garrett a friendly smile.
Garrett blinked. “S-sure,” he agreed.
The attendant nodded and started typing again, and a moment later was printing something. “You’re all set, Mr. McIntyre,” he said. “You’re boarding with group one.” He handed Garrett the newly printed boarding pass. “Here’s your gate pass with your free upgrade, sir. Have a good flight!”
The moment Garrett’s fingers touched the new boarding pass, the universe seemed to twist to the left somehow. He wobbled, his mind spinning, and his pulse kicked up a notch in alarm. Was this what seizures were like? He didn’t know. Then, suddenly, everything swam abruptly back into focus. The world was clear and normal again, and he was staring dumbly at the attendant, who was staring right back at him with an “Is there anything else?” expression. It was the same moment as before, except—was he looking down at the attendant? The other man flicked his eyes behind Garrett and then back at him. Garrett quickly nodded and got out of the way.
All the way through boarding Garrett couldn’t shake the idea the something strange had happened to him, but it was only on catching his faint reflection in the thick plexiglass of his first-class seat that he realized he looked… better. Like someone had taken his face into Photoshop and used the “handsomer” filter on it. Glancing down, he realized with a shock that it wasn’t just his face—his whole body was longer and fitter under his (resized?) blue polo shirt and navy slacks. He was lithe and muscled like a gymnast stretched to pretty-damn-tall. He had to be over six feet now—it was hard to tell sitting down—and built like a Greek statue.
Holy frijoles, he thought. How did I end up looking like the “after” all of a sudden? He had trouble tearing his eyes away from his newly sexified body as he shifted under his well-fitting clothes. In fact just the sight of himself was turning him on, prompting him to realize his dick had also gone from unimpressive to unforgettable in a heartbeat, just like the rest of him. The hell? It was like his whole body had gotten an—
Fuck. That couldn’t be right. Could it?
As the plane started accelerating for take-off, he glanced over at his seatmate in 3C. He was raven-haired, handsome, and obviously ripped—he looked like the lead in some sexy “teen” drama series, and for all Garrett knew he was—but when Garrett looked over, his hunky seatmate quickly looked away, biting his lower lip shyly. Had he… had he been checking Garrett out?
It was the same when he changed planes for Delhi at O’Hare. Somehow, his seat assignment was snafued again, and Garrett now understood that probably his whole trip had somehow gotten fucked up. By a stroke of fortune, though, there was once again a seat going spare in first.
“Would you like a free upgrade, sir?” the severe-looking older woman at the gate asked him. He nodded mutely. When she handed him the new boarding pass this time he hesitated just a moment, then took it.
The world twisted to the left. His head swam. And then—a new normal. He blinked, catching his breath. “Sir?” the attendant prompted curtly. Garrett looked at her, then at the hand he still had extended to take the boarding pass. It was his right hand, which was weird because his right hand, like his left, was in his pants pocket.
The attendant’s look escalated to a glare, and Garrett hurriedly got out of line. He watched in awe as his front right hand fell to his side, still gripping the boarding pass, while at the same time he clenched his other right hand where it was buried in his pants pocket. He slowly turned to look at his left side. Of course, the change was symmetrical—one tanned, thickly muscled arm in back with the hand shoved in his trousers, the other resting lightly against it. It felt nice, and looked incredibly hot to Garrett, like coming home to a fantasy he’d never known he’d had. A warm glow of arousal washed over him and he felt his monster dick starting to chub up in his boxer-briefs—along with the other one nestled against it.
He traversed the jetway in a daze. There was more, he knew. He felt strong and full of energy, like he could drop right there and do a thousand push-ups. His guessed he’d gotten another pass or two with the Photoshop “muscles” filter. He ducked instinctively to enter the plane, so maybe he was up a couple more inches. But he couldn’t get over the big changes. He took his seat in first class, but once situated and buckled in he didn’t know what to do with all his hands, so he just sort of rested them on top of each other.
To Garrett’s surprise his seatmate was the oddly bashful teen-drama hottie from the flight to O’Hare. After they took off, he struck up a conversation. “So, what do you do?” the stud asked him. “I didn’t get a chance to ask before.”
Garrett had never had a guy chat him up before, and found himself wishing his upgrade hand included a handbook, or at least a mental download of the Top Ten Tricks You Need to Know to Live as a Multilimbed Sex God. “Uh, software,” he said, trying not to sound nervous. Then he slapped himself mentally. Complete sentences, jackass! “I’m a software engineer for Burgess-Garcia,” he added quickly.
His seatmate smiled. He had a carefully trimmed dark goatee that seemed to exist just to up his handsomeness and frame his beautiful grin. “All those hands must make it easier to code,” he said, then offered his own. “Carter Mosley. EMT, on my first vacation in three years.”
Garrett consciously selected the right hand that was resting on top and took the one Carter proffered. “Garrett McIntyre,” he responded, and they shook, not immediately disengaging. He heard himself ask, “So, you taking that vacation… alone?” His cheeks heated instantly, but Carter gave him a look that was at once tentative and saucy.
“Maybe not,” he said, his big smile turning crooked. Then he glanced at their hands and asked, “Can I shake the other one, too?”
They talked quietly, wanting to do more, until the captain abruptly announced that there was a mechanical fault that was diverting them to LAX where they’d have to change planes. Garrett was relieved—the sexual tension between him and Carter had been building like crazy, and more than once he’d considered getting up to jerk off his mighty cocks in the first-class toilet. At LAX Garrett got the same story about his messed up seating on the new flight, and, once again, was offered an upgrade. He almost said no, it having occurred to him for the first time that a confined airplane was maybe not the ideal venue in which to undergo unexpected increases in height and size; but Carter was standing next to him.
He took the new boarding pass. World twists, head swims… new normal.
He was holding two boarding passes, he noticed. He glanced up to see, standing just behind his very sexy new friend and towering a good foot over the 6-foot-3 EMT, another four-armed, extra-handsome, thrice-leveled-up Garrett, in the same blue polo and slacks. Their eyes met, and Garrett shivered with the possibilities. They looked down to see Carter biting his lip again as he looked between them, his eyes smoldering with limitless arousal.
“We have a couple hours before we board again,” Carter said softly.
They found a private bathroom in the first-class waiting area, and the three of them fucked like gods. As they headed back to the gate, slightly disheveled and not even close to sated, Garrett remembered something. He still had one more leg, from Delhi to Goa. And he was pretty sure that meant one more upgrade.
Both of the six-armed, three-legged, seven-and-a-half-foot muscle-god Garretts flanked the conventionally handsome and very well-built Carter like bodyguards as they approached the hotel’s front desk. By some impossible coincidence Carter was staying in the same resort, which was fine with Garrett—he wasn’t losing sight of him anytime soon, and both he and his “twin” urgently needed to be alone and naked with the sexy EMT.
Carter checked in without issue, but when the two Garretts moved to the desk and gave their IDs (both identical—Garrett had no idea how that worked and didn’t care), the agent’s face fell. “I’m sorry, sir,” the man said. “There is a problem with your reservation and your room was accidentally given away. We do have one of the executive suites available, however. Would you like a free upgrade?”
Both Garretts smiled.