Ryder Goes Full Male Model, While Justin Goes Twink by kooldoggie
As time passed and the boys got re-acquainted with their Seattle skateboarder lifestyle, they seemed to grow ever more emo, making up for time lost ping-ponging through time and experiencing so many lives that weren't the black-clad artsy kids they thought of themselves at heart. Ryder, at his normal six-feet, lanky and slender-as-hell, seemed to have lost a bit of weight, making him appear even more ultra-thin at only a tight 125 lbs. Even his black skinny jeans seemed looser on him, sliding a bit down his narrow 27 inch hips, showing off a couple of inches of his underwear with the bat-winged skulls pattern flashing above his chunky, white silver-studded belt. He was again as porcelain pale as all get out, the fine boned features of his delicately cute face framed by the jet-black neck-length cut hair with the blonde streaks in the bangs, the beautiful face marred only by a few piercings, the typical snakebites in his lips, joined by a nose ring, a couple of rings through his thin black eyebrow, and the many silver rings and cuffs on his ears. He liked showing off his star tattoos on his thin but firm arms and across his torso, when the weather was warm enough, and he might even take off his shirt to show off his body art, now joined by a couple of piercings through the tight Apollo's belt, but today was not such a day. It was cold, cloudy and a bit drizzly, typical Seattle weather, just perfect for an emo allergic to the sun, and Ryder had on his tight black band T-shirt covered by his striped hoody jacket, checkerboard Vans on his size 12 feet as he skated about the downtown area.
There was a modeling shoot going on at a street corner in front of a coffee shop, and Ryder, interested, kicked up his board as he took a seat on the sidewalk, deciding to smoke a cigarette as he watched the action. There was a perfect-looking couple, woman and young man, posing as if they were on a date, hugging each other, gazing into each other's eyes, though Ryder smirked, his gaydar telling him at least the dude of the pair was most probably gay. He was pretty hot, the emo skater thought, with his wavy blonde hair above his even, symmetrical features, firm, tight muscle, nothing too big, just toned and strong, filling out his preppy sweater and Dockers. For a moment, between shots, he seemed to glance over at Ryder staring at him, and he smiled. Caught, Ryder just looked away, a light blush coming to his white face.
Ryder thought he should just pick up his board and continue his downtown adventures, but it seemed like the shoot was wrapping up, and that male model, picking up his leather bomber jacket, skipped across the street as if to catch the skater before he took off. "Hey, man!" he called out. "Cool board. Mind if I take a look? I used to skate myself. I'm Shea, by the way." But Ryder thought this was just an excuse to get to talk to the boy. Whatever, thought the emo, I'm game. "I'm Ryder," he said sullenly, but Shea smiled and shook his hand. Ryder rarely smiled, and he wasn't about to now, even if the dude, who seemed about the same age as him, somewhere in the early 20's, was wicked hot. Settle down, he told himself, you're loyal to Justin, remember?
The two chatted a few minutes about skating, before Ryder thought he should move on, and he told Shea he was headed back to his loft a few streets away. "No way!" exulted the model, on learning where Ryder lived, "I've got a loft right across the street from yours, man! I'm going home right now. Since we're going the same way, how about you stop by to see the place and have a drink. You drink, right?"
"You got absinthe?" asked the emo, hopefully.
"Yeah, actually I do!" laughed Shea. "How about it?"
Whatever, thought the sullen Ryder. It could be a cool afternoon. He shrugged in agreement and walked with the model the few blocks to his place, chatting about his modeling career and Ryder's poetry, Shea seeming genuinely interested in the skater's art. But all the time, that warm feeling was overtaking Ryder, as the friendly male model seemed more and more appealing to him, and the modeling life itself seemed increasingly attractive. Unconsciously, he was again giving himself over to the change, so that even though he nervously scratched at his thin chest and bit his pierced lip, feeling the rings coming a bit loose, he thought of his tics as just the result of his shyness around the cute dude.
They went up the industrial elevator to the loft, and Ryder marveled at how stylishly he had decorated his pad, with European furnishings and artwork. The neat quality to the place, plus the few statues of nude males, confirmed Ryder's suspicions that Shea probably swung his way, not that he was going to do anything about it. On Shea's encouragement, Ryder got comfortable, taking off his hoodie and even kicking off his Vans, letting his pale, narrow long feet enjoy the feel of the plush carpet as he sat on the couch, stretching out his thin, long limbs. "Hey, cool tats, man!" Shea complimented him on his star tattoos dancing up and down his pale arms, as well as the couple on the top of his bare feet.
Shea brought him the absinthe, dripping some on a cube of sugar. Ryder popped it in his mouth, while the model, getting comfortable, removed his own shoes and his sweater. "You mind if I take off my shirt, too, bro? I always do when I'm homeÉ"
Ryder shrugged nonchalantly, but still he stared as Shea slowly peeled off his polo, revealing the tanned, well-muscled chest and eight-pack abs, all cut and chiseled to perfection. It was causing a lump tightening in his skinny jeans, and his heart started thumping nervously, accelerating the changes. The emo skater needed to be just as perfectÉ no, better, than this hot blonde model showing off in front of him. He sort of remembered murky images of having been a high-class model, Marcello, the European stud, but Shea was of a different class, a bit more low-rent, but still far from poor, an all-American boy rising up through the fashion model ranks, but representing A&F and Hollister more than the suave, foreign looks of the European brands.
Ryder groaned, starting to realize a bit too late that he was already on his way to vanishing, and the concerned Shea thought maybe it was the absinthe. "You ok, dude?" he asked, daring to put his hands on Ryder's doubled-over sleek form, rubbing his back. Ryder just groaned deeply: "Fuuuuuck." He felt under his tight shirt, feeling the tiny abs contracting, already becoming more chiseled and thickening. Shea thought it might help if the boy got his own shirt off, and he helped the skater slip it off, revealing his skinny-as-fuck pale torso with the many black tattoos and silver piercings giving him ultimate emo cred, but the trembling, lithe muscles were expanding, getting more cut, thickening along with his abs.
Shea watched, fascinated, as the tattoos gradually faded, allowing everyone a better, unobstructed view of the perfectly built form emerging from the lithe emo. The nipple piercings fell out and vanished, followed by the navel ring and the bars through his hips. All the while, the pale complexion was darkening ever so slightly, returning to a healthy glow.
Ryder seemed to be crying, the sensitive emo resisting the overwhelming urge to become such a self-centered, more materially minded fashion hunk, and Shea let the cute skater lay his head on the model's warm chest as he sobbed, comforting him as best he could. Shea rubbed the jet-black locks, observing them getting blonder, the style changing to one a bit shorter, but the bangs remained long, sweeping down over his increasingly chiseled, tanned face. His spine cracked and lengthened, Ryder's six-feet growing up to 6'4", a couple of inches taller than Shea, while many pounds of honed muscle had to be added to the emaciated frame, just enough to give him that wicked, cut model look, ending up at 180 lbs., way heavier than light-boned Ryder had been.
The skinny jeans succumbed to the pressure of the now 30 inch waist, and they tore in several places, the bulging muscle unable to remain in such tight confines. Shea helped pull them off, noticing that the skull-patterned underwear, too goofy for anyone other than an emo or goth, had transformed into very stylish high-end brand boxer-briefs, vacuum-sealed to Caleb's perfect hips and flaring thighs. Shea now thought of his companion as Caleb, his mentor in fact, the young but successful model who had motivated him to pursue a modeling career. Shea remembered beating off to his magazine spreads, admiring the perfectly chiseled physique of this hot example of the male ideal, which he now had in his arms.
Caleb was coming together nicely now, freed of those silly tattoos and piercings distracting from his natural beauty, his perfectly symmetrical, slightly androgynous face now graced by almond-shaped blue eyes under still dark brows, his puffy, kissable lips freed from the snakebites, under a small pixie nose and a light splash of freckles on his tanned cheeks. His shoulders were broad and thick, leading to firm, buff biceps, toned forearms with a light coating of blonde fuzz and long, graceful hands. His legs were also muscular and only lightly fuzzed with blonde, the thick calves leading down to size 13 feet with long, tanned toes. The whole picture made Shea salivate again.
Caleb wiped the tears from his stunning eyes and couldn't really remember what he'd been crying about, here in the arms of his lover Shea. Justin was completely forgotten. Caleb had a perfect life as the hot beach-guy model who appeared in ads for all young men's fashion, representing the cool, relaxed lifestyle all dudes pursued. He had nothing to cry about, and he gazed lovingly at Shea, bringing him in for a kiss. He had loved Shea from the first time they had modeled together, teaching the slightly younger man so much about the world he was entering. They had moved in together shortly after, and now they would make love on this couch they had bought together, slipping off Shea's dockers, Caleb his underwear, the two perfect specimens grinding together in blissful unityÉ
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Justin was going through his own transformation, although in the opposite direction. While lithe Ryder had buffed out into a hunky male model, Justin was shrinking, turning into the perfect tiny but cute-as-fuck twink.
It happened when Justin, getting off work, went to the mall to skate around the parking lot. He decided his shredded pants were getting a bit old, falling apart in many places, and while looking cool, they wouldn't be practical for much longer, so he decided to go into the mall and shop for some new skinny jeans. He had popped a tab of Ecstasy earlier, determined to spend his time away from Ryder tripping out and enjoying the sights way under the influence. He strutted through the mall, gazing at the vibrant colors of everything, a nicely put-together sight to head-turning shoppers. While Ryder had lost some weight in the past weeks and grown rail-thin, Justin had grown a tad more muscular, his tight-fitting black clothes showing off his slim legs with bulging calves, the trim waist leading up to a firm if small chest, with wide, hard shoulders leading to nicely swollen biceps, nothing too big, just nice. His tight Panic! At the Disco shirt showed off every curve. A cute, blue-eyed pale face smirked under the typical emo haircut with the white-streaked bangs. He sort of looked like an emo musician who needed some extra muscle for the hard rocking performances he put on, as opposed to the typical skinny emo kid, but all of it was svelte and perfectly toned.
And so Justin wandered into a store that seemed to cater to the alternative crowd, where he sorted through the jeans section, trying to find the perfect pair to fit his 28 inch waist. He heard some cute giggling from behind him, and he turned to look at some cute boys who seemed to be staring at him, ogling him more like it. Yeah, Justin knew he was pretty hot for an emo, and he thought the kids were cute too, though in a very different way. They seemed total twinks, the group of 4 or 5 of them, their thick hair perfectly styled and bleached, some of them wearing blush and mascara Ð but emos got that, though the twinks' wasn't black Ð girly-looking clothing and flip-flops on their cute feet, under hairless small but toned calves. Why they were in here, Justin didn't know. This place couldn't be their style, but as he glanced about the store, he noticed he seemed to be the only emo in the place. The space was pretty dead, and besides Justin, the twinks were the only customers wandering through the racks. This couldn't be right, thought the emo skateboarder, and he felt the burning start. He was getting uncomfortable being the only emo around; maybe those twinks were better off, with their small bodies, not one over five and a half feet tall, staying lightweight and rather fem, getting their pick of the more masculine guys, as long as they submitted to their whims.
Justin groaned, the heat increased. He felt kind of drunk, but maybe it was just the rolling sensation of the E. Yeah, it made him horny as well, the cute boys triggering a serious tenting in his tight pants. No one else seemed to be around, so he just slipped off the tight t-shirt, showing off his cut, toned torso, with the scroll tattoos down the sides, a couple of star tattoos at the hips. Those tats seemed to be fading, and Justin's blue eyes widened, staying wide, almost anime ridiculous and ultra-cute, with long, dark lashes over the shimmering irises. The larger eyes glanced over at the twinks, starting to recognize them as brothers, though he tended to call them bitches, but meant affectionately. He groaned again as his height was forced to decrease, his six-foot frame descending, pounds of muscle coming off, nearly forty pounds evaporating, leaving behind nothing but skinny, toned cuteness. He stopped at 5'4", 110 lbs., waiting for his new proportions to even out, the once long limbs now boyish and very slender. The chest was once again flat, only a navel piercing remaining in his taut, flat tummy, this one with a bright pink stone. His shoulders had narrowed quite a bit to more feminine proportions, while the now more boyish face was quite androgynous, with those wide blue eyes under very trimmed eyebrows and kissable lips under a pert, upturned nose. His paleness had had to go, replaced with a light tan, and a stiffly hairsprayed mane of dark blonde locks, frosted platinum, replaced the emo cut. The silver cuffs in his ears had vanished, replaced by gold hoops and diamond studs. The skinny jeans, way too long, now pooled around his feet, much smaller, cute size 8 feet, which had to step out of the skate shoes to free his hairless, slender legs from the too-big pants. He now wore neon-pink tight underwear just covering his firm little butt and the greatly reduced package in front. Riley, as he now knew himself, wondered what had happened to his cute clothes, but the other twinks, seeing one of their own now there, fawned around him, quickly dressing him as he should be adorned, in short jean shorts to show off those toned legs, a midriff tank top that showed off his belly button with its flashy ring, and fashionable flip-flops on his feet, despite the cool Seattle weather. Lastly, they gave Riley his handbag, and he gasped joyfully seeing it returned to him. He swung it about his thin shoulder, batting his eyelashes and laughing along with his bitches. Riley felt like he belonged again, among the company of his other ultra-cute, small twink kids, stylish and flashy to the core. Some of those new friends of his, from California, had known Tommy, the twink that Ryder once had been, and they refused to conform to the murky weather here, shivering in their revealing outfits, no muscle to help warm them as well. But it was worth it if it got the looks they needed, especially from some hungry more masculine gays, and they all decided to go out tonight before their Cali friends headed back home tomorrow. Maybe some of them would get lucky.
Ryder and Justin, now Caleb and Riley, had parted ways once again, now stuck in two entirely different worlds, albeit still in the same city, and perhaps their paths would cross in time to save them from separating forever.