I finally broke down and decided to take a risk. The malls were still packed with shoppers after Boxing Week deals, but I was willing to risk bumping into a few strangers if it meant I got the chance to feel what the sick freedom of invisibility was like.
I borrowed my mom's car and drove an hour away to the larger mall because it had an underground parking garage where I could strip off and get inside without having to dance around naked in the snow. It also reduced the risks if something went wrong and I found myself naked -- and visible -- in public. Most of my grade had holiday jobs in the other malls, and chances are a naked teenager streaking during Boxing Week would make the rumor mill.
I parked away from anyone else and slipped into the back seat, going invisible before quickly pulling off my shirt and jeans and underwear. I piled them neatly on my shoes and socks and looked around once before I stepped out with just the car keys.
The garage was cold but not unbearable. Bare feet on cement was the worst part, but I quickly stowed the keys behind a tire and dashed towards the entrance.
A couple of girls babbled about the order of stores they were going to as I slipped through the door behind them and followed them up into the mall.
Inside the mall I stepped aside into a little corner away from foot traffic. I'd spent weeks imagining how this could go and even scoped out the area a few days ago when I bought mom's gift.
My skin prickled as warm and cold air currents blew around my exposed body. The noise of chatter and footsteps and plastic bags and echoing Christmas music was a capitalist cacophony, but once I adjusted and tested out waving my arms and making rude gestures I was feeling a little more relaxed in this new mode.
I took a deep breath and plunged into the current.
The best strategy I could think of was to hug close behind someone so there would be minimal chances of hitting someone crossing sideways. I felt people and their bags slip in behind a little too close for comfort, but on the whole it seemed to work and I was quickly to the other end of the mall where a large food court and grand staircase to the upper levels was the heart of activity.
The short man I was following had six bags tucked under his arms already but he seemed to be puffing his way towards a few more clothing stores. I hadn't been sure where to go so I just followed the man inside and then broke off as I got clear of the crowds.
There were racks of sale items and clearance swimwear. A few people my age were wandering about and I felt the chances of finding something of interest were high.
The change rooms were large brick installations with a back alley decor, but they didn't go all the way to the ceiling and were sturdy enough that if I could climb on top of one I could crawl around near the roof to access the stalls.
If they had been closed off, floor-to-ceiling walls, I would have been stuck trying to sneak into them individually and hiding in a five-by-five stall with another person who didn't know I was there wouldn't last thirty seconds.
The changing room attendee had her back turned to the folding counter and I quietly crawled up on the till and then onto the brick dividers. The space was not comfortable but it was solid.
The second stall in the line had a girl trying on sun dresses, which I crawled passed without a second look.
The next few were empty, but I saw a blonde head in stall five. As I crawled closer, trying not to make any noise, his full head was revealed. He was probably my age or a little older, a college kid back for Christmas avoiding his family by shopping. I crawled closer and saw his tan neck, and then bare shoulders, and finally a slim, hairless chest with gorgeous abs that he seemed to flex just for me.
The guy had a selection of sweaters and jeans to try, but I couldn't stop a smile when I saw a swimsuit poking out of the bottom. A few more careful movements and I was resting on the wall over the mirror, looking down on the perfect target.
I was officially a pervert.
I had considered the moral question of spying a lot while I practiced turning invisible. Every time I came back into the light I felt a little twinge of concern about what it would be like if I knew someone was watching me, naked, popping in and out of sight. It was a weird time in my life, not just because of the super power, but because of my parents' quick divorce and the looming end of high school, potential college applications and all that mess. I had been feeling adrift for so long that the chance to focus my energy into doing something with this power was a real thrill. Coming to the mall felt like the first real decision I'd made in months.
In my personal life I had kept up with friends, and worked up the courage to come out to them last fall. They had all taken it well, better than my parents even, and they were perfectly ok with it. The story circulated pretty quickly at school even though I had asked people not to spread it, but these things happened and it turned out to be ok. It just made it easier that everyone knew I was gay because I didn't have to keep coming out. There really weren't bullies ready to "beat up the fag" when the teacher wasn't looking. I'd received a few anonymous Snapchat messages, but only one was rude. The other two had been dick pics, which could have been bullying or flirting and I'd never figured out which, and wasn't complaining.
By the time I had propped myself on that wall overlooking the cute college boy trying on his winter sweaters, the moral concerns of being an invisible peeper had mostly settled in my mind. The goal was no one would know, and I had no intention of taking photos or videos to exploit people. That didn't make it ok, but I knew that it didn't make it too not ok to not just do it. If there turned out to be a God, I would have to answer for it. But then God would have to answer for giving a shy, constantly horny gay teenager the power of invisibility during winter.
The blonde hottie had selected a sweater I liked and put aside a few I didn't. I thanked him in my mind when he chose to stay shirtless as he moved on to the jeans. The smooth muscles of his back tensed and relaxed as he bent over and untied his shoes, putting them carefully to one side as he moved to unbutton and pull down his jeans. They hit the ground revealing dark blue boxer briefs with an unmistakable bulge; the blonde hottie had a semi.
I felt myself getting hard and I rolled back a bit further on the dusty brick so my dick lay against my stomach. I was an average 6" fully hard with a solid round head, circumcised, and with a slight upward curve. Of course, I couldn't see it, but I quietly wrapped my fingers around it's familiar shape and felt a pulse rush through.
A couple pairs of jeans and no winners and the blonde hottie was looking at all his options on the hooks around him. He was the picture of modern philosophy -- a marble-smooth body only hidden by boxer briefs and ankle socks, fresh-cut blond hair that tapered to nothing on the back and sides but fell across his forehead in a small arc, and his youthful face and sharp blue eyes focused on the problem in front of him. Which thing to buy?
I fingered the first drop of precum with my thumb and started rubbing it around the head to lubricate it. The ease of movement from one drop quickly brought another and I had soon coated my fingers and shaft with the natural lube I needed.
Then the blonde hottie touched himself. It was a casual ball scratch over the boxers at first, but then he fingered the waistband and slipped his right hand inside to adjust what had grown from a semi curving down to a half-hardon tent.
There was only a flash of public hair but just the tease brought a few more drops to my dickhead.
He rummaged in his clothes and pulled out a phone and worked one-handed with the expertise of a social teen as his other hand continued to scratch and caress his balls.
The phone screen opened on a text doc with a shopping list and then a social app. I held my breath as he swiped passed what could have been Grindr to open a web browser. The seconds passed and his hand didn't leave his shorts.
Then it happened. He typed "P" and the autocomplete gave him Pornhub.
I stroked faster.
The phone showed a series of thumbnails, too small for me to be sure, but they didn't look like breasts and over-sized butts (I have no idea what straight guys are looking for). After a moment of scrolling, his hand caressing his bulge, the screen filled with the unmistakable forms of twinky boys in tank tops and short shorts.
It was one of those fast 8teen or Helix productions without any pretense or story (necessary parts, I feel) that jump straight into a makeout session and then quickly dispense with the clothes to get to the oral.
When the first dick emerged on screen, I knew reality wasn't far behind. I watched without blinking as he pushed his boxer briefs down to his thighs. A slim, uncircumcised dick with a light blond bush, freshly trimmed, emerged into the light of the changing room stall.
I knew it was ironic to be shocked considering where I was and what my hand was wrapped around, but seeing this blond hottie strip and start masturbating in the change room was my biggest surprise since getting a superpower. Before going invisible, I would never have dared be naked in public or even slightly risking exposure.
But this boy was already stroking at full speed. He'd even jumped ahead on the video to get closer to the good part, maybe to time himself with the performers.
Lubed fingers were making quick work for me and I used my last moments of clarity to aim up on my chest so I didn't accidentally spray over the side. Even though the thought was tempting.
The blonde made his own decision and turned toward the full-length mirror. He seemed to make eye contact with himself and let the hand with the phone fall by his hip. A few more rapid tugs, clenched butt cheeks, and a suppressed grunt announced the finale.
I gasped as the blonde shot off on the mirror, three strong pumps of cum hit the glass and rolled down the surface. A second later I felt my climax start under my balls and roll up and out in pulses, spurting some suddenly visible cum onto the invisible surface of my chest and stomach. I bit my lip to keep the shudder of pleasure from making a sound and saw the massive load I'd built up over days spray out in the warm air.
As I recovered and held my cum in place so it didn't drip, I looked back down to see the blonde admiring himself and his cumshot in the mirror, the pornhub video ignored on the pile of clothes.
With all the practice of someone who has solved this problem before, he slipped his boxer briefs off the rest of the way and wiped up his mess. Then, with a ball of cummy underwear at his feet, he redressed in his jeans commando-style and re-tied his shoes.
I watched the still-shirtless blonde tidy up his clothes into two piles. Finally, as a last step, he pulled his original shirt back on and stuffed the cum-soaked underwear in his jacket pocket. Then, leaving behind a few unwanted sweaters, he unlocked the door and left, unaware of the extremely satisfied boy he'd left behind.
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