*** Bullhole ***
Mario was barely through the door when a man with eyebrow slits pressed a white torpedo thong into his hands and shoved him toward the only changing booth.
"Um, I was just looking for..."
"Yeah yeah," the man said. "Try it on. You'll love it."
"But I was only..."
The shopkeeper closed the sad excuse for a curtain that hid little.
Mario hated being manhandled like that. With his weedy body it was simple for other boys to push him out of the way and not even notice.
The thong was a weird piece of underwear – or swimwear? – that he'd normally never consider. It said Jockhole on the side. What a dumb name.
The teen wasn't sure what to do, but he decided to try the item before leaving. The store didn't have what he had come looking for.
He only stripped down his lower half, not even taking off the shoes.
Mario regretted his laziness when it proved tricky to get the thong past the shoes, but then it was even worse to pull it past his deeply cut quads. The muscle separation was like canyons and the veins popped like lightning.
He had to stand relaxed to pull the thong up.
Surprisingly, it fit over his fat dick. Possibly an advantage of torpedo style cuts that Mario hadn't been aware of.
Rubbing his pectoral orbs, he stepped out of the booth, barely willing to admit he liked the thong he had been pressured into trying.
"Let me just scan that," the vendor said as soon as he saw him.
The lasergun beeped, pointed at the pure white fabric.
Mario lowered his hands off his chest, revealing the Jockhole tattoo over his heart.
"Welp," the vendor made. "Tag's broken. Looks like it's free. Want a razor with it?"
"Um, I think..." Mario said, looking at the mirror wall.
"Right, mohakw's already fine, etc. Bye."
The flippant shopkeeper waved at the exit and headed for the backdoor behind the register.
Mario's eyes fell on a top shelf where he spotted what he had come looking for originally.
He grabbed a dark gray baseball cap with no markings and put it on, eyes on the mirror.
The hunk lowered his hand past his pecs, revealing the Bullhole tattoo over his heart.
"Dammit," the vendor said. "That's what I get for opening shop when I haven't slept well. Um, you might want to put that hat back."
Mario turned around, his steel hard dick leaking ceaselessly through the thong. While the clothing turned transparent, he grabbed his wet crotch and grunted.
"Ey asshole," he slurred, "wanna suck my fat fuck stick?"
"Seriously," the vendor said with an eye roll. "Try one with a lighter color."
Mario grinned while precum started running out of his thong and down the deep separation in his quads. He complied by taking the hat off and dropped it on the ground.
"Imma go find an ass to fuck," he said.
"Try on a lighter one first."
Mario grinned dumbly, grabbed a white thong with a red dot on the center and put it over his head – the pouch now protecting his mohawk.
"Very funny," the vendor said, sounding tired. "Oh wow, I didn't know they still work when worn wrong."
Mari...erm, Michio stared at the shopkeeper with his narrow, slanted eyes. "Ey, whatcha talking bout? We fuck now or nah?"
The vendor came over and grabbed a white baseball cap. He took off the thong on Michio's head and slapped the hat onto the Japanese superman.
Michio cleared his throat. Looking down past the Bullhole tattoo on his pecs and the brickhouse abs, he saw his semi hard-on straining the thong's fabric.
"Maybe this isn't the right attire," he said. "I'm always rather... excited."
"This one's too light to handle the horniness, huh?" the vendor said as if to himself, while pushing a stack of pitch black caps far back on the shelf. "Let's try light gray."
Michio put on the new cap and shivered. He could really use a blow job right now. His semi hard-on was eventually going to grow full hard if he didn't get off soon.
"How are you feeling?" the salesman asked.
The Japanese hunk shrugged. "Fits my head. I think I like this cap best. But I need to get going. If I don't get to either fuck or weightlift soon I'll detonate."
"All right, out you go. Bye."
*** Checking the Competition ***
After the narrowly avoided disaster with a Bullhole cap, Ace concluded he needed a little break. Seeing changes was why he loved the job but he had grown a bit too used to it and was only rushing boys in and out.
He needed time to relearn appreciation for the Jockhole brand.
As the sun rose toward the zenith, Ace left the store behind in casual attire. He didn't need to lock up. No one could even see the place when it was unmanned – the location just slipped past the mind's eye.
The man ran his fingers through his hair as it took on the original light brunet. He didn't want to draw attention when he checked up on the competition.
Ace easily found the Elephant's Trunk. Actually knowing the location was impossible but anyone in the area looking for swimwear was ultimately going to come across it.
In this case, Ace found the store with the elephant above the door in a side alley.
Behind the register of the swim trunk filled space was a tall African with dark brown skin, bordering on true black.
"Hey," Ace said and read the name tag on the man who towered above him. "Uh Randall, I'm looking for new trunks."
"Well, you've come to the right place," Randall said with a smirk. "Need a recommendation?"
"I'd appreciated it."
Half the trunks in the shop were designed after flags of African nations. Ace was outfitted with a Namibian flag trunk – blue, red, green diagonal stripes, a little sun at the side.
The label said Elephant's Trunk Slimfit.
Ace retreated to one of three changing booths. He stripped, took a last look at himself and stepped into the trunks.
They were tighter than expected. His new dark body was slender and lean – an ebony body between hunky and athletic.
Even with his thinner hip the trunks sat tight, which was a result of his greatly enlarged genitals. The dickprint on the front left nothing to the imagination, making even individual veins visible.
There were other clothes in the booth, which hadn't been cleared out. Randall wasn't as diligent as Ace, it seemed.
One item was a red headband that said Dark Power on the front.
Ace tried it on, slipping it over his buzzcut.
When he looked at himself, his skin was deep black. Had anything else changed? Maybe his face was sharper. Hard to say when he hadn't been paying close attention.
He slipped the trunks off and tried on a different one that hung forgotten in the booth.
It was bright purple and so tight he felt like his crotch was getting vacuum packaged. If his skin hadn't been totally smooth he might have struggled pulling it up.
This one's label was Elephant's Trunk Lovefit.
His dick grew to a length that made it impossible to fit into the pant leg. The mighty mushroom tip shot out halfway to his knee and skinned back.
Ace frowned. He couldn't run around with his dick hanging out. Bad design.
Unless... Lovefit was probably similar to Fuckhole in that it bent reality around people noticing there was sex going on.
He tried the final item on the booth's hooks – a white trunk labeled Elephant's Trunk Femfit.
His package was back to a still massive but not overshooting size. His evenly black body had taken on an instinctively lascivious stance, pushing out his big ass. The torso steadily narrowed down from shoulders to hip, creating an arrow of abs to his huge schlong.
Ace returned to Randall with the words, "I think I found what I wanted."
The cashier all but waved him away and Ace left with his new trunks and headband.
Once out on the street and far enough away from the store, he bent people's perception around noticing him and stripped naked. The original clothes he had left in the booth snapped into place on his restored body and the old Ace continued on his journey.
It was a little trickier finding the Skinshop.
Once inside Ace knew why: the employee was busy with someone else, so the location had tried to reject him. These things were sometimes complicated.
Left to his own devices, Ace took a few shoe boxes off the shelves. The Skinshop was a shoe store, specialized on sneakers that didn't need socks.
The changing booth left him enough space to undress. Only when he pulled his underwear down did Ace realize that he was stripping to try on shoes.
Clearly, it was an effect of the booth. Whoever walked through the door felt like undressing. If the Jockhole only sold shoes, Ace would have wanted the same thing installed.
Fully nude, he took sneakers with dark stripes from the first box. The sub-brand was Fairksin, the model was called Grigori. There was no price tag and no size indicator.
Ace sank into the shoes as if they had been on his feet a hundred times.
His facial features were strongly Russian, with large, sharp edges and light eyes. He had skin so flawless it looked like he had to be caked in makeup. Only upon close examination did he see the mild shimmer of blue where his veins ran under the creamy skin.
He wasn't exactly twinky but the built was just shy of athletic, putting him at around 18 years old.
Ace stepped out of "Grigori" and opened the next box which was labeled Rippleskin.
The model of the blue and yellow Rippleskin shoe was Kazimir. It fit so well that Ace didn't even have to undo the laces.
The brand name was spot on. The Rippleskin shoes gave his body nearly a double in mass, with striations cutting into his pale skin from underneath as if trying to break through.
The built was perfectly teen-jockish but the utter fatlessness made him look vastly buffer than that.
Cupping his low hanging balls, Ace watched his dick grow semi hard. His sudden horniness was definitely a result of the shoes.
There was not a single hair on his head, but he now showed dense scruff, almost as thick as his pubes.
The final box carried the label Dickskin, with the white shoes inside being of the model Bogoslav.
Ace had no clue what Dickskin could mean. Were those shoes only going to change his package?
He paid close attention to his crotch as he slid into "Bogoslav".
Ace lost some height but gained a bit of overall muscle mass. His skin was no longer paper-thin, but decently shredded still. All his veins popped.
Dickskin meant his whole body was covered in bulging arteries like a rock hard fuck stick. His arms appeared cut through lengthwise by a lightning bolt of veins. His legs were more strongly separated via veins than via the actual muscle separation.
His torso was no longer a triangle but a barrel with only just visible abs that were outshined by his blue lines.
Ace wondered if he could get a cooperation between their brands going. He'd have liked a few Dickskin sneakers on his shelves.
Turning to his clothes, he saw that everything but his pants had vanished. That was fine by him.
He slipped into his gray sweatpants and... Hadn't he come in with cargo shorts? Maybe? He had let the Skinshop mess with his head too much.
Stepping out of the booth, he found himself face to face with a Russian in sweatpants. Even before looking down Ace could tell this guy had put on Rippleskin shoes.
He nodded a greeting and walked to the exit.
His semi hard dick clearly tenting the thin sweats, Ace left the store without a word while the shopkeeper was busy picking out shoes for a skinny kid.
Soon after going back to his old body, Ace returned into the Jockhole with a fresh perspective.
Next up: Becoming obsessed with lifting, turning into a muscle slave sub, and trying unusual combinations.