Ghetto Thug Dylan Turns into Cute Twink Tommy by kooldoggie
Dylan was feeling good, in his element, like nothing could get him down. He was finally confident everyone in the hood feared him enough to just leave him the fuck alone. Despite the jacked muscle, the aggressive posturing and steely glares he gave everyone, young Dylan was deep down inside nothing more than a gentle, artsy gay boy, loving to go on stage and perform hip hop in the ghetto clubs, hoping to one day get out so he could pursue his dreams.
But for now, the jobless kid was content to stand on a street corner, leaned up against a brick wall, feeling the hot summer sun warming his bare pecs, the glare flashing from his gold chains. Sweat had started to trickle down his rock-hard, deeply grooved abs, wetting his exposed boxers, and so he removed the doo-rag tied around his scalp, mopped up some of the sweat, going bold enough to pull down his boxers a little and wiping the sweat from there, momentarily exposing his thick cock, which glistened with precum. He wiped some of that off too. Dylan didn't give a fuck who saw. He sighed and smoothed back the spiky, bleached-tip brown hair, knowing he was by far the hottest boy in the hood.
He gave a wicked smile as he saw his boyfriend approach, the Latino thug Naldo, one of the few who had broken ranks with the gangs who frequently jumped Dylan, Naldo finding the muscular white gay boy just too sexy to resist. Naldo was now shunned by the homophobic gangs, but he knew that Dylan would protect him. The just turned 18 gangbanger, wearing tight jeans and an open leather vest that showed off his sleek, hairless brown torso, sauntered up to Dylan and planted a passionate kiss on him, the two dueling with their tongues for a few moments. Both knew none would bother them, for Dylan had worked hard, pumping up his body at his garage weight set for years to make sure he looked swollen and dangerous enough to be left alone. Young Dylan had promised to take Naldo out tonight to one of the gay clubs, now that he was of age, and though the thuggish kids really weren't fond of the usual gay club music, it was a special hip-hop night, so they were sure to have fun. They pressed their bare chests together as they stared lovingly at each other, the young Latino gently rubbing the steel-hard, tattooed biceps of his white boy love.
Before heading out to the club, the two returned to Dylan's place to escape the late-afternoon sun, where they could smoke a bowl and relax. Dylan also took the opportunity to strip to his boxers and pump up a little more with his heavy bench press, making sure he was in top condition, Naldo spotting him as the sweaty boy grunted. Those swollen biceps, triceps and pecs now looked veiny and fierce. Dylan was not a boy to mess with. The white boy, feeling the aggression flowing, then took the smaller boyfriend back to his room and topped him, making sure Naldo moaned up a storm just the way Dylan liked.
When the evening was appropriately late, the two headed out to the club, walking the several blocks to the gay district. The hot sun had left the streets with a lingering warmth, and so the two had opted to leave their muscle shirts in the back pockets of their jeans, Dylan proud to show off his pumped muscle, Naldo his sleeker, more model-perfect form. Dylan's low-slung, baggy jeans still nearly slid off his legs, showing off a fresher pair of neon pink boxers.
The club was hot and crowded, most of the other boys shirtless as well, and the youths jumped around like mad, reveling in the thumping beat of the hardcore hip hop. But something was stirring in Dylan now, for he was starting to feel out of place here. He had noticed that he was probably the only wigger in the place, most of the other white boys just cute, barely legal twinks, skinny and baby-faced. They enjoyed mingling with the thug crowd however, and several even had felt up Dylan's hard muscles as they danced past him, giving him a hardon that obviously poked at his underwear, well above his studded belt.
Dylan groaned, having to stop dancing a moment as he put his thick arms around Naldo for support. "You ok, babe?" the 18 year-old whispered in his ear. Dylan whimpered, his tone slightly higher, a sound so unlike the aggressive thug that Naldo grew more concerned. He ushered the well-muscled white boy toward a more secluded corner. Dylan's electric, greenish-brown eyes seemed unfocused, his pecs heaving in respiration, but it seemed the pump he had worked to get for the evening had already left him. Those harsh muscles seemed just a touch softer now, though still very much jacked. "What's wrong? You need to lie down?" Naldo continued. Dylan blinked, and his eyes seemed a bit bluer. "Um, I dunno," said Dylan, sort of sounding like a little kid. He slumped against the wall, and Naldo just held him, trying to comfort his boyfriend. Dylan put a slightly leaner arm around him, but the white boy thug sighed as he felt himself letting go. Dylan wasn't to survive here; he needed very much to be Tommy, and young Tommy was a twink to the max, barely legal but very much a little boy, who maybe always would remain one. He loved dancing and excitement and was thrilled by everything the way a little puppy would be. Dylan groaned out of sadness, not wanting to let go of the hard-won muscle, the fire in him that had made him king of the ghetto, but he was starting to disappear more rapidly...
As Naldo watched, fascinated, the colorful tattoos that had sleeved both Dylan's arms slowly faded away, leaving clean, lightly tanned smooth skin. The muscles were retracting, the many bulges softening, until Dylan looked almost as sleek as Naldo, a just-starting-out fitness model, but he was not done yet. Tommy was utterly boyish, fit but not really into working out with weights. The once steely greenish-brown eyes had grown softer, friendlier, larger...and sea blue, blonde lashes lengthening over them, his lips poutier and utterly kissable. The much leaner, blonde-fuzzed arm took off the backwards-facing Raiders cap Dylan had been wearing, finding it now inappropriate. The revealed spiky bleached hair was growing shaggier and blonder, the buzzed sides growing in with fresh, bright blonde hair, bangs starting to fall into those lovely eyes. Although unnoticed the way he was slumping, Dylan lost some height, winding up at 5'8", the weight rapidly dwindling as most of the muscle washed away, no longer necessary in the protected, all-play no-work world that Tommy inhabited, nothing left but very sleek, teenage limbs, skin free of tattoos other than the tramp stamp on his slender lower backside. He also liked the cute little gem pierced through his taut navel, below a shallow six-pack nowhere near as fierce as the hard-grooved eight-pack Dylan had sported. The piercings had fallen out of smaller, pinker nipples, the once large, round pecs deflated to small, smooth, flat planes only lightly etching his chest. Tommy gasped as his smaller, delicate hand, the gangster wristbands replaced with gold bracelets, felt up the boyish, smooth muscle. Naldo noticed the high falsetto tone of the new boy in front of him, nothing like the deep sultriness of the lost Dylan.
Tommy's hair was nearly there, a perfect salon cut of thick, wavy blonde hair that hung over his stunning eyes and pert, pixie nose, the face no longer hard and angular but soft, delicate, perfectly teen. The nose ring once again had migrated, this time circling the left side of his lower lip, while a diamond stud was in one ear. And the thick gold chains that had circled Dylan's thickly muscled neck were reduced to a thin gold loop from which hung a heart charm.
Young Tommy looked down at the stupid, thuggish baggy jeans, and he needed them off, needing his cute clothes back. He pushed them down his boxers, which now had become tight, pink briefs, but as the oversized pants came off they revealed much more appropriate, tight, acid-wash jeans rolled up to show off the boy's nicely toned, hairless calves. The high-tops had vanished, to be replaced by high-fashion sandals on his cute, nicely-shaped size 9 feet. He took the shirt out of his back pocket, which had become a more form-fitting nearly sheer tank top, and slipped it on over his skinny frame, sighing in that high voice and stretching the very sleek, toned arms above his head. Tommy loved his life, and he bounced back on his feet, an exceptionally cute, 5'8", 115 lbs. twink, just starting out. The large blue eyes were innocent but very vibrant, and they looked at the shirtless Latino stud. Tommy purred and ran his delicate hands across his sweaty naked chest, saying, "I need you, Naldo. Let's go outside!" Naldo felt a stiffness in his jeans. He'd always been a bottom, especially dominated by Dylan, but something now pulled at him to top this little white boy twink. He needed to, now!
And so they slipped out to the side alley, private enough that the 18 year-old gangbanger could have his way, pulling down Tommy's jeans and briefs, pushing his leaking cock into the firm little white butt. Tommy gasped but controlled his volume. His beautiful eyes closed as he purred in pleasure, enjoying every stroke as all memory of the hood was washed away. This was just another hookup after all, with a sexy Latino boy. When Naldo came and groaned, leaning up against the twink, he slumped against the much smaller kid and made out with him. Then, Tommy pulled up his pants and sauntered away, as a confused Naldo wondered what had happened to his boyfriend Dylan, or if there even had been such a person in the first place. Maybe he had just come here alone for his birthday, looking for a white boy hookup. "Thanks, sexy!" blurted out Tommy in his boyish, excitable voice. "It was fun, but the evening's young!" And he snapped his fingers at the stud, sauntering away to continue dancing and maybe find another hookup before the morning came. Perhaps he could even find some sexy emo boy, the thought suddenly came to him...