Author's note (He's Baaaaaaaaaaaaack! That's' right after a short hiatus due to a miscalculation of a certain spell I was stuck in the 16th century for awhile, but I met this fantastic French occultist with a knowledge of time travel and a body that would make you think of all 7 deadly sins. Well, in reality I was traveling I had to puck up and move during august and September to a new institution of higher education and that kept me pretty occupied but since then I've been blowin off class work to write more segments "Of that Old Black Magic" Series. A lot of people expressed concern over the "to be concluded" at the end of "When I fight authority" and even though I do plan for the next story to be the last in the "Old Black Magic" Series. I doubt it will be the end of Damien's adventurous. So don't worry, he's still got his books and I still have an updated version of Microsoft Word.)

P.s. (AbsMan420 Recently e-mailed me asking if he could write a continuation of the "Let's Get Physical" plot. When Tom E-mailed me and asked if he could expound on the characters in "Let's Get physical" I was slightly ambivalent but after seeing the outcome I am glad that some one has managed to tell the story of "mark's" transformation from cocky bully to...well you'll see. But If any other E-writer is interested in using the characters in "The Old Black Magic Series" go right ahead, all I ask is that you let me preview it before posting it.... Oh and you try to avoid using the Damien character directly, Me and D go way back So I'm callin Dibs but as any good MC writer'll tell ya I'm susceptible to suggestion...)

P.s. (I know huge Author's notes are mostly an exercise in vanity and I'm sorry :) But if you haven't it's probably a good idea to read "that old black Magic", "What's in a name", "The Time Warp", "Let's Get Physical", and "When I fight Authority", in that order, I hate to break up a set.)

Waterloo

(Special Thanx to MichaelRbn for giving me a suggestion and an erotic fantasy I just couldn't get out of my head)

The Waterloo was a dive. There was no mistaking that fact. It was a dying breed of bar, where the pool tables were darkly lit and the stench of beer and vinyl mixed with the bad attitude of the waitress, to recall an era of time gone by. It was the kind of bar where a barroom brawl was expected like clockwork, well it would have been if the bar wasn't almost completely vacant. The day of the Waterloo had come and past.

Somewhere between 1983 and the present day the clientele of the Waterloo dwindle off to just a few hapless drunks off the streets. The days when heavy rockers would bring in their over hair sprayed girlfriends and drink like there was no tomorrow were gone. "If I have to work one more shift in this hell hole I'm going to stick my head in a god damn oven." Deana Said to no one in particular.

"Tell ya what," came a heavy voice from the end of the bar, "I'll turn on the gas for ya if ya promise to kick me out of the nearest high rise window." Deana smiled at the joke and walked toward the disembodied voice.

At the end of the bar sitting in the shadows was a cute college age guy with dark hair and bangs that hid his eyes. It seemed like his baggy black shirt was hiding a tight build but as he was almost completely slumped over the edge of the bar in misery she couldn't tell. "What do you have to complain about you DECIDED to drink here, I'm the one who has to punch a clock to keep these roaches company..."

The guy put his head up and looked around for what must have been the first time since he came in, "yeah this place is a dive." He agreed and then slumped quickly back down in disinterest. "When you said roaches were you talking about insects or clientele?" he asked worriedly eyeing the floor.

"It's a toss up." She said as she put down her tray of empty glasses and took the stool next to the kid. At 29 she could call him a kid. She had been working for so long she felt 62, she still had her looks even if she had put on a little weight to the front and back, that's one of the danger's of bussing people's orders around all day sooner or later you start to look like an actual bus. "What's your problem kiddo?"

He sat up a little and looked at her through squinted considering eyes, his bangs moved and she was taken back by just how blue and almost dangerous those eyes seemed. But after a minute he smiled gratefully at her and slouched back down. "Nothing" he moped. "Look a pretty boy like you doesn't find himself at the waterloo without someone dying, someone Lyin', or someone cryin' now which of those is it?" She asked as she pulled her long dark hair up into a makeshift ponytail.

He gave her a long stare and said, "It's a toss up."

"Oho a comedian." Deana offered. "Well Mr. quick response, it's me or the beer coaster take your pick. Personally I think I'd be a better conversationalist."

The guy laughed a deep rich laugh the kind that sounds like the person only uses it on rare occasions, like just one laugh is a holiday or something. "I don't know the coaster was telling me the most fascinating things about mutual stocks. I'm Damien."

"I'm Deana, waitress, barkeep and indentured servant of the waterloo. So now that we have been properly introduced..." Deana gave him the once over and said point blank, "What's her name?"

"Her name? Oh...it's not like that never mind," he said as he slumped back down obviously dismissing her.

"Alright then what's his name?"

The man arched up right like a lightening bolt, "what makes you say that?'

She chortled a little at his surprise, "listen kid you're not going to shock me I've been around the block enough to know what the real world is like. Anyway big saucy broad like me had played the hag to many a fag. now are you going to tell me what your problem is or am I going to go back to giving the rats vodka stingers."

There was a minute when Deana looked at the blank and somewhat intimidating stare that she had the distinct feeling that she had made a major mistake sitting down next to this strange guy, but then his crystal eyes lit up and he laughed again, that same exhausted exuberant burst. He tipped his glass to her and said "You're good people." He took a swig and then began to tell her his sad story, "I've been kind of flirting with this guy....It's not really a relationship but I'm growing attached to him."

Deana began collecting nearby bottles, "...and he doesn't know you exist right?" He chuckled a self-depreciative sigh, "Oh no he knows alright, Christ does he know." "So what's the problem? Break out the soft lights, the Barry white records and the KY then."

Damien smiled with confused eyes, "I think I would..."

"But?" she offered wiping her hands on her pants.

"But he doesn't have a clue who I really am, I've done some really heinous things that he doesn't even realize or couldn't even begin to understand.... And I did some of it to him." He answered rolling the beer in his hands speculatively. Deana gave him a long flat look, "Are you Jewish?"

He looked startled, "no."

"Catholic?"

"Hell No!"

"Then what is with all this guilt?" She asked matter of factly. "If he don't know it and it ain't gonna hurt him why even worry about it? Unless of course all the things you did will come back to haunt you."

"Oh it did come back in my face." He laughed, not the happy relieved laugh of before a darker malicious chortle. "But I took care of it."

"How did you handle it?"

"I turned the guy who was going to rat me out into a gay bike cop out of a Tom of Finland colanders." He said it with the straightest face she had ever seen.

He was so ridiculously serious that she had to bust out into a deep-bellied gale of laughter. "You're a nut." She laughed even harder.

And for some weird reason her healthy laughter made Damien want to join in, "Yeah it is kind of crazy when you think about it." He added.

"HEY KEEP IT THE FUCK DOWN! We're trying to tune up assholes!" a gruff and unfriendly voice screamed at them.

They both turned abruptly and for the first time since stumbling into the Waterloo Damien noticed the five guys lurking in one of the far off back corners of the large bar room. Deana brushed them off nonchalantly; "If you want those guitars to sound better get someone else to play them!" she yelled then turning back to Damien. "Ignore them."

"Fuck you Fat bitch." Came another catcall.

Damien stood up to defend his new found companion but she put a firm hand on him and pushed him back down, "It's no big deal It's just RANCOR, It's a no-talent band that plays here on Tuesdays, They're as harmless as they are useless."

"This place has live talent?" Damien asked stunned.

"Well I wouldn't call it Live and I definitely wouldn't call it talent but back in it's hey day the Waterloo was one of THE clubs for heavy metal bands on their way up," she paused looking around, "And well now it's the last stop for Wannabee's on the way out." "Their band's name is Rancor?" He said in disbelief as he could begin to hear the clumsily strumming of an electric guitar and the uninterested tapping of a drum set.

"Yep, You see that lanky crackhead looking blonde over there?" She pointed to a tall white man whose hair strangled down his back and was as blonde as it was greasy. It was kept out of a drunken and tired face by a worn bandanna. He sat idly as his band set up, his skeletal form hanging loose on a chair, "That's Diesel, he used to be huge back in the 80's, back in the era of the hair bands, now he just does horrible vocals for those guys, and the cadaver on the drums..." She pointed to a man who looked to have the body of a 40 year old and the face of father time, worn from hard living and bad Karma. His Frizzy dark hair flew carelessly around as he unmotivatedly tapped his drums. His Tour T-shirt was stained and his jeans looked as if there were three good stitches holding them together "That's Kline, the two of them were in the same band until they got into Coke and Heroin and all kinds of legal trouble then they both got booted out." She gave him a crooked smile, " They absolutely hate each other but now they have to be in this shit band together to pay rent. It's hilarious."

Damien observed the pair of washed out rockers and then noticed a bulky thugged out white boy carrying in a speaker, "Who's He?"

"Mike? Doesn't seem like he belongs with those losers do he? Looks like that new brand of white rapper rocker huh?" They both inspected him with interest. He was short but built broad and wore the typical gold chains backward hat and baggy sports clothes of a white boy trying desperately to be ghetto. He must have noticed because he raised one Vein dissected and hairy forearm to give them the finger. "Yeah he wishes he was, he's as talent less as the other two...now Ryan he's got a talent I suppose but he's in the wrong damn band."

Damien saw the boy she was talking about, a sickly looking pale guy off in a corner plucking a bass looking to the world as sad and morose ad Damien felt. He was nondescript and palpably geeky, wearing flannel that seemed to coat him head to toe. "He looks like the reanimated corpse of that guy from nirvana."

"Pretty much, " she offered dismissively, "He writes great but it's wasted cause they won't use his stuff and he's too much of a puss to stand up to any of them. They push him around like a rag doll" She paused considering, "I'd pity him but he's so arrogant about his deep moody song writing I think he deserves it."

"Wow there's a starting line-up." Damien laughed. "But who's the brute with the amp?" He asked pointing to the large ripped and bleached blonde thug lugging in sound material. "That's Diesel's younger bother he works as there roady...I think his name's Frank he's a bigger Dick then them all put together, and as if just to emphasis that point the frank kicked the seated Ryan hard with one thick corded leg.

"Priceless." Damien observed.

Damien stared at the dangerously gorgeous brute. "What ARE YOU GAWKING AT BITCH?" The tattooed and scarred hulk yelled.

Damien considered "Nothing much." He answered.

"That's what I thought fucker!" And then he went back to moving the huge speakers.

"Frank don't you have some naive little punk rock chic you should be doing statutory things to?" Deana yelled back.

"Shut up you fat bitch." The ogre roared back as he continued loading.

"Yeah Deana Shut-up we're about to do our set." Ryan whined at her, his hair falling into his face for the one-thousandth time.

"C'mon let's get this over with," Diesel rasped from the barstool he was perched on, his hands clasping a bottle of Vodka tightly.

Kline laughed violently making his huge bush of black hair shake; "Yeah diesels' got a hot date with three hot guys, Jack Daniels, Mr.. Smirnoff and Jose Quiervo."

"Fuck you," Diesel spat as he took a swig from his bottle.

Mike began grumbling from behind them all his heavy Brooklyn accent and harsh voice raising above the others, "I bet if Diesel was queer we'd be topping the fucking charts."

"What?" Diesel yelled.

Mike put looked up, his heavy brow disguising the contempt in his eyes, "Only fucking Queer ass boy bands are making it these days, with their faggy clothes and fiery dancing. Nobody likes good music anymore man just queers in tight clothes."

"True dat man!" Frank grunted.

"Fuckin' homo's ruin everything!" Kline agreed.

Back at the bar, as Deana watched the rag tag band in disgust, Damien began to bang his head against the bar in frustration.

She turned to see him successively smacking his head against the bar's surface sending his black bangs up and down sharply, "Hey I know there music sucks, but you don't have to knock yourself unconscious! You could always leave baby doll."

He stopped smacking his head and just put his head in his hands with a tired expression, "I think I'm some kind of magnet!" He said darkly with a look of universal impatience.

"Huh?" She asked confusedly.

"If there is a homophobe in the tri-county area I'll find him and he'll mouth off in front of me.... It's like some kind of god damned curse. It's like ignorant straight boys fucking see me coming!" He was almost yelling now. " I mean I made a promise and I planned to keep it but it's like I have this sign that says, "All Bastards please spew your opinions here.""

Deana looked at him skeptically, "honey, I think you're flagged."

"Oh never mind anyway, I obviously have some work to do." He spat angrily getting up from the bar like a petulant child who didn't want to do his chores.

Deana still didn't comprehend, "Thanks for the company though," She smiled.

"Oh don't mention it," He answered and then considered and gave her a slight kiss on her rosy round cheek, "Thank you for the advice Deana, I'll consider it, and Deana...Your good people you deserve better then this dump."

"Hey honey, I know that, you know that, but that and a quarter will get ya...well hell it won't even get ya a cup of coffee. See ya round baby doll."

And with one last look at Deana's sad smile Damien left the waterloo and went through the darkened bar and out on to the street with Rancor playing him out on his exist with a charming little ditty about heroin, crack whores and angry pimps. Damien was out in the street in front of the waterloo staring at it's greasy windows and seeing the pleasant but pained waitress listen to the ridiculous hate-corded into music being spewed by the rag tag bunch of schoolyard bullies and burned out assholes and he began to reconsider.

It was just one little spell.

One little flash and he wouldn't have to worry himself about this anymore.

But he had promised.

Gino would be disappointed in him.

And suddenly that thought angered him since when did he care what someone would think? He answered to no one. He did what he wanted when he wanted it. Period, but still behind the heat of agitation was a nagging voice that said he had promised. He had promised Gino that he wouldn't go around sapping his fingers and changing people's lives with his hocus pocus for awhile.

"Fuck that." Damien spat as he raised both hands in the air. He stood like he was worshipping the clear night sky, arms stretched in a wide arc as he muttered under his breath. With a flash of lightening he dropped his arms back to his sides, and the accompanying thunder was just in time to punctuate his wicked little grin. The perfect skyline that had been dotted with hundreds of stars now began to darken and bleed rain like a running inkpot. A sudden and arcane rain. He lit a cigarette and stepped under the overhang just as the rain began to pelt down onto the sidewalk. It didn't take long for the band to come stumbling out drunkenly.

"Fuck you man," Diesel rasped knocking errant flecks of straggly hair from his eyes, "I still got it, it was your fucking rhythm it's off beat.

Kline the frizzy haired and obviously fried drummer raised a hand as if to strike at the other man. "My drum's are fine you prick." He growled.

"You've never been able to keep up with me man!" Diesel spit at him.

"Fuck you." Kline returned halfheartedly. How imaginative Damien thought. "You want to settle this shit now crackhead?"

"Who you callin' a crackhead you dope fiend."

"You bitch," Kline roared as he grabbed the blonde man with both fists.

"Mother-!" Diesel began but quickly stopped as Kline put him down.

Kline let him go and walked away morosely, "you're not even worth it dickhead, forget you."

"Whatever," Diesel said as he walked in the opposite direction. Both of them soaked to the bone in the rain.

"Yo I'm out ya'll," Mike yelled as he grabbed a cab and headed to a hip-hop club down town, but not before he too got noticeably wet.

Last out came Frank and Ryan. Well Ryan came flying out with frank laughing menacingly from behind him.

"You tripped me." Ryan accused.

Frank was walking away laughing, "What are you gonna do fairy cry?"

Ryan pulled himself up and gave the looming form of the muscle-bound roady the finger as he walked away. Ryan turned to leave in the other direction and came face to face with the strange guy from the bar. "You don't have to take that from him,"

Ryan looked at him sullenly, "What's it to you?"

The guy shrugged, "Nothing I just thought you should stand up for yourself, poindexter." Ryan pouted brushing off his flannel coat, "He thinks just cause he's so big and dumb that I'll just take it."

The man in black looked at Ryan with a wicked Cheshire cat grin. "But if you were big and stupid you wouldn't have to put up with all that bullshit."

Ryan considered glumly, "yeah but I'd be just another Neanderthal dickhead like Frank."

The guy in black considered, "That's right," then he paused giving Ryan a flat look, Life's full of tough choices, In' it?"

This guy was a genuine nut. "No I'd never want to be one of those fucking no brained gorilla's."

"C'mon think it over. No more mopey sadness. No more heavy heart." The man in black circled the gaunt songwriter taunting him on, "instead of being bullied around you'd do the bullying."

"Then I'd be what I hate most I'd be big and muscled and...hot and ...and..." Ryan was losing his train of thought at the stranger's taunting.

"Blissfully ignorant my friend."

"No I don't want to be a big dumb ox."

"Yes you do." The voice was more command then suggestion.

Ryan stuttered back, "Yes I do."

The strange man walked away with Ryan's agreement silently humming to himself happily a song that sounded so familiar...it was from the 70's. Ryan wanted to move and keep talking to the charismatic man and black but he just couldn't seem to come in out of the rain. Later when he finally got it together to move back toward the room he was sharing with Frank he felt like his steps were heavier and he found it hard to concentrate...

I was much Later that after the band guys were long gone and Damien had wandered off that Deana Slipped out the back entrance of the waterloo haggard and beat. She mentaly swore as she pulled her tattered jacket up around her neck to keep out the unexpeted rain. She had of course forgotten her umbrella. As she meandered home soaking wet she wondered if her day could get any fucking worse.

Frank stumbled into his hotel room stupidly. He had spent the night at a bar on the south side and had gotten into two or three fights. His nose still showed signs of dried blood. It had been broken so many times in so many fights that it had the strange handsomeness to it that marked him as a rough neck. IT was Frank's kind of night, lots of brew and lots of violence. He rubbed his thick and hard cock through the denim of his pants...too bad there wasn't any pussy.

"Now don't go and get started without me, bitch." A harsh and commanding voice echoed behind him.

Frank spun as fast as any man could when he had the mass that frank did. His back was so built it made his cut biceps arc outward like he was stretching. "Who the fuck?"

There was a man sitting on frank's bed. And not just a regular guy, this guy was huge. The man had to be at least 6'4 and weigh the same as a truck. The guy looked like a line backer for the 49ers with a neck the size of his massive square jaw and shoulders that were so wide and round he looked like he had a football players shoulder pads on under the tight Abercrombie t-shirt he sported. The guy had pec's wider then frank's back. Big round mounds of hard plate like flesh that jutted out proudly from an abdomen that was more trunk then body.

The man's thighs were the worst though. He was wearing a pair of cut offs so every huge bundle of over gained muscle in the man's leg bulged like crazy. The tear in his thigh alone was enough to make frank think the man could pull a redwood up by the roots easily.

He was dressed in a preppy gap fashion, with his t-shirt and designer cut offs. His dirty blonde hair was cut in the surfer pageboy so his golden locks fell into his dark eyes.

The preppy football player looked at Frank darkly, "I thought I'd find you here sweet cheeks." He said in a gruff but commanding Alto voice.

"Who the hell are you?" Frank asked

The man grabbed his arm and before Frank could pull away from the vice grip, he said with a smirk, "C'mon sweet cheeks, you know you're too little to take me on." Frank felt his center of balance twist from beneath him, suddenly his vision shifted and the intruder wasn't looking up to him but slightly down at him and the hungry look in the muscled boy's eyes was more intimidating then before, "Alrighty sweet cheeks, get out of those clothes for me." the strange dark haired man almost ordered.

Before Frank could react by cold cocking the cocksucker in the jaw he was removing his dirty sweat stained t-shit over his big biceps. Undressing like he was told too. He knew he shouldn't be getting naked in front of this queer but for some reason he just couldn't stop himself, he had thrown the shirt to the floor and was fighting with the belt around his waist when the guy told him as he looked at his hair in the mirror, "you know if you weren't such a little tramp and didn't wear all that tight girly shit it would be easier for you to get undressed."

There was that strange blur of vision again and suddenly Frank felt like the circulation was being cut off from all over his body, he looked up at himself in one of the wall mirrors and realized somehow he was completely dressed again...only in some body else's clothes.

His huge drastically ripped guitarists body was stuffed into an outfit that was obviously ten sizes to small for him. A pair of shiny black plastic pants held in the girth of his muscular thighs just barely restraining the huge calf and thigh muscles without busting their shiny seams. The top of the pants were cut in a feminine way so that the waist scooped down in front to reveal the cut beauty of his gorgeous groin, waist and hip bones. The affect was put off a little by the fact that his massive bush was sneaking out of the top lewdly. His big harsh Abs was left exposed by the tight little crop top that stretched ridiculously over his heavy pecs. The bright yellow top looked like a woman's sports' bra or some fruity shirt. It had a dragon emblazoned on it in sparkles.

The extra small clothes would be revealing on a man whose size they were mean to fit but on Frank's massive build it looked like he was not only wearing revealing pussy clothes but the clothes of a five year old girl. He looked ridiculous. Every inch of pale rock hard skin that wasn't exposed daringly was barely covered in straining fabric. It was comical.

The burly football player crossed his massive guns across his chest and smiled hungrily, "You look real pretty tonight sweet cheeks, but you're taking to long...let me help you. Come over here and let your man take care of you sweet thang."

Frank's blood boiled who. He seethed. White rage made every muscle thickened vein tense in fury. Who the fuck was this guy to treat him. The shit-kicker he was, like some little girly bitch. He was going to put this pansy ass in the fucking ICU but as he stalked over to his victim he realized that he wasn't stalking. The plastic pants creaked loudly under the stress of Frank's exaggerated sashay. His large manly ass flicked back and forth as he strutted femininely to the man's side. His big meaty ass cheeks flicked up and down more invitingly then a call girl on a slow night. And his shoulders arched and fell with the precision of a super model. If seeing this big scary man in those ridiculous clothes was funny watching him flounce around and prance like a teenage girl was hysterical.

The football player put his hands on the bulging bow of frank's completely bare shoulder's, here let me get this for you, it most be impossible for you to get off.... you and your jewelry..." he laughed deeply...masculinely.

Frank's air supply suddenly seemed to be cut off and his head snapped to see his reflection. As he spun he heard the clink of metal and realized that his arms were covered in dozens of clanging bracelets. The strangling sensation was coming from a choker that encircled the width of his bulky thick neck. It was black and looked like it would break under the strain at any second. It had a little silver charm on it that said, "bitch". Two medium sized hoops hung from both ears making him look even more like he was going to a costume party dressed as a little fag.

Because even though he was dressed the part, no one would think that this big muscled brutal man was really the person he was dressed like, it had to be a gag.

"What are you doing to me? He growled in frustration and confusion," the big muscled jock only smiled until his dimples looked like they were going to burst, "nothing babe just playing our usual game," he gave him another look and tisked, "and don't use that gruff tone it makes you seem angry."

"Of course I'm angry...I ieeeeeee." He grabbed his bull neck and the choker that confined it, "what's wrong with my voice?" The big man asked in what was now a high soft-spoken almost shy timbre. The voice of a quite young teenager. An flamboyantly effeminate young teenager."

"Nothing hot ass, that's the way your voice has to be if you want to hit all those high notes in our songs."

"Me sing? I don't sing...Singing's for girls and queers..."

The big ham face smiled again, "but babe you love to do girly things sometimes you're just a big sissy and about the fag business..." Again the man who seemed his same size overpowered him easily and began to grope at his. And then put one hand luridly around his acheingly and embarrassingly hard dick, "as you can see that's not up for discussion."

"Oh stop!" Frank lisped as he felt a deep blush creep over his craggy cheeks. He tossed his head like a cheerleader and swiveled saucily away from the grope. All the while desperately trying to get control of his body back, but he was loosing the fight terribly do to the fact that the more that he acted like a girly little bitch the more he started to like it!

Alright baby lets quit playing games I'm ready to let you ride my monster...saddle up bitch." The heavy brow arched down hungrily and the thick snake like veins on the jocks neck pulsed intently. Frank was terrified. His first inclination wasn't to hit the preppy poster boy, it was to shove his painfully confined ass toward the intruder in hopes the man would grab him and fuck him like an animal. His whole body began to ache with a horrifying need to have the other man's coarse lips over every inch of his own body. He wanted the guy to use him like he himself had used so many women.

Frank stood confused and bewildered. He was completely lost. He stood there in front of the big man whose size and height didn't much out strip his own, eager horny and desperate but at the same time repulsed, disgusted and pissed. In only a few short seconds he had been robbed of his masculinity forced to wear ridiculously tight clothes that looked pathetic on his hulking frame and he suddenly was behaving like a girly bitch. And worst of all he had never been this hard in his entire life.

"Don't be shy baby," The man moved forward his every motion a liquid flow of mass and density. Frank found himself noticing the sexy way that the big guy's thighs rubbed across each other and the way his meaty ass moved up and down. He was putty in the bigger man's hands.

The guy was right up against his sweat soaked back. Frank could feel the hard nipples and rippling flesh of his big fat pecs, and then he could feel a hot breath in his ear, "I know you're really frank sweet cheeks, but now I'm the cocky prick with the attitude and muscles and I'm going to fuck you into my little cream boy...how's that sound?" Frank was confused. "Huh?" He gasped sexually unconsciously gyrating his hips hungrily.

"It's me Ryan..." The guy admitted and suddenly Frank understood why the guy looked so familiar, he moved in shock but with one massive paw Ryan brought franks own strong jaw against his own and forcefully kissed him. Devouring the other man's mouth angrily. It was more show of superiority then kiss.

Frank's mind was at such a loss for explanation that he just shut down and let his hot and aching dick do his thinking for him, so when Ryan's big hands pulled down the leather pants and with one big imposing thigh brushed his legs apart. He just moaned, his huge from spent and bent over the bed.

Ryan smiled dumbly and thrust his huge dick into Frank's virgin ass. Frank growled in pain but still made no move to escape the others mans aggressive embrace. Ryan pounded on pumping harder and harder fucking the other man savagely; getting out all the bullied aggression that had dogged him for so long. He fucked frank raw and loved every minute of it.

And underneath him lying grunting on the bed frank began to change. His Tattoo's melted away into his skin; leaving not even traces of the dark inks to mar his beautifully and immaculately tanned arms. His muscles softened becoming the tight defined muscles of a young man. Loosing hid brutish bulk his waist narrowed waspishly making the size of his bubble butt seem exaggerated. The tight waist spread in a perfectly symmetric V into shoulders that were broad but graceful. And his pecs seemed more like firm round tits then the mounds of chest muscle they were. He looked like the stereotypical gay boy in every urban neighborhood. Muscularly thin, pretty and petulant. Ryan let go of his boy's ass without getting off, saving his load for later. Frank stirred on the bed, his white blonde hair spiking up in a daring style and his trashy clothes and excessive jewelry now clad his smaller more effeminate svelte party boy body.

"What happened to me?" "Nothing TJ baby."

"Who's TJ?" Frank asked in a soft timbre that was nowhere near the powerful roar of his old voice.

"You are sweet cheeks."

"No I'm not I'm frank...I'm.... I'm..."

Ryan grinned a wide grin the split the broad jaw wide, "Not anymore, from now on your TJ my little slut...or I won't let you at my dick no more." Ryan put the thick piece of flesh in his large hand and swung it tauntingly at the now smaller and less imposing frank.

"But...but..." Frank whimpered. He knew this wasn't right. That he was Frank and that he wasn't a queer and that something was terribly wrong but something in his libido and his crouch took over. No matter how much he wanted to fight it, he had to agree with Ryan because he was just so horny. He needed this big hunk's cock. He lusted for the big hunk's body. He wanted to be this man's slut.

TJ fell to the bed and arched his back femininely and grabbed his legs with an acrobat's precision he raised his creamy silk thighs into the air revealing his ass to his the man who had made him into his slutty vain little lover with the force of his big cock, challengingly, "c'mon on baby work me out."

Ryan put to big meat hooks around the pole of his big dick, "Pushy aren't ya!" Ryan used his thick arms to hold TJ's graceful legs in the air, the man who once looked like a bouncer now looked much more like a ballerina.

The sweet looking boy on the bed winked lecherously and sighed, "you wanted a slut hunk, now you have one."

Ryan fucked him three ways to Sunday. Bending his willing and eager body over the bed and ripping into him doggy style, skewering the big bubble but harshly, while all TJ could do was squirm to take more of the massive dick and scream hungrily, "Fuck me baby, Fuck me!"

Ryan roared above him, flexing and posing as he beat his cock into the beautiful ass. A sexual monolith with his heavy body and heavy cock. Ryan was in heaven with the big mounds of muscle pressing against him, dominating him, making him submissive and compliant.

He begged for it, and tried to let his hands, thighs and legs touch as much of Ryan's god like body as he could.

Kline was in the rental car for all of about two minutes before he heard the sound of police sirens and the extremely familiar glare of blinking lights, "bloody hell man," he mumbled over the cigarette clenched between his lips. He doused the cigarette on the floor of the car completely ignoring the ashtray and put the open bottle of bourbon that was his only companion in the glove box. All he needed tonight was to be hassled by some fucking pig.

Back when the band was at it's best Kline would run into about three hundred angry pigs a night and each one could be ignored or sent off happily with a wad of cash but now that they were in the gutter of both the charts and life, he had to avoid getting into trouble. There wasn't a record company to bail him out anymore, or anyone else for that matter. He would start bar fights, riots drive drunk as a sailor his bad boy attitude was legendary, he was the greatest bad ass of his fucking day man. As he sat in his run down car he thought back to the night he totaled a vet while driving down sunset strip. Those were the days wind in his hair, needle in his arm, and some hot bitch in his lap. He almost killed himself that night and when the doctor told him he almost died Kline laughed in his face and took a shot of tequila from the bottle the band had brought him. Back when their records were selling like water during a fucking drought he didn't have a goddamn care in the world. It was irresponsibility and bad ass behavior in spades...but now, Kline took a disappointed look in the rearview and examined himself, now things were pretty fucking shitty.

Back in his hey day he was the greatest drummer of his generation and every hot little teenage slut had a poster of him grabbing his leather clad dick and looked at it with lust. Now he sat in a run down car, his bushy hair all out of place, framing his head like an unruly bush, his face no longer that of the sexual predator who had sex with a new girl in every town. It was the face of a tired aging has been, and the scar that laced down the side of his face, a reminder of the accident, only made things worse. His once lithe and tight body was developing a paunch and woman who used to line up to suck his dick now looked at him with disgust. Yeah pretty Shiite, and now he couldn't even relive those moments by taking a couple swigs and going driving. Sure drunk drivin was reckless and shit but who the fuck cares he certainly didn't.

"Do yah no how fast ya'll were goin back there boy'a?" The cop said in a tight southern accent.

"You're the one with the radar gun pig." Kline spat.

There was a tightening of the jaw but that was the only reaction Kline could illicit from the stony handsomness of the cops face, "Ah right, ya can get outa tha car now," Kline fumbled with the door handle and stumbled drunkenly onto the dark gravel of the highway, his ten-year-old acid washed jeans scrapped as he struggled to stand up and he had to straighten his has so the mop of frizzled hair didn't obscure his view of the wide and imposing police officer.

"Ah'm gonna have to ask ya to face the car with both o those hands on the hood." The menacing man growled.

"I fucking, hiccup, guessed so..." He had done this thousands of times over and over in all fifty states and the routine never changed, the cop patted him down with his heavy leather gloved hands and then told him to turn back around.

"Aright boy now gimme your license," The officer ordered.

"Why the fuck do you keep calling me boy?" Kline asked the man who was obviously ten year's younger then him, "And don't you know who I am?" He asked.

"What?" The cop asked, a strange look crossing his face.

"I said..." Then the weirdest thing happened suddenly his voice seemed to change and instead of the harsh hard driven bass he asked the question in a good nature light baritone, "don't you know who I am?"

There was a couple minutes silence as the cop kept staring at him with that strange confused expression but it suddenly disappeared and his craggy countenance was broken by a tight smile, "Of course I do your one of the members of that band," Kline was ecstatic at least someone remembered him and the band after all this time, "What's it called oh yeah...U Got Male."

"What?" Kline asked suddenly shocked sober.

"You're one of those guys singers in that band, you do all those pop songs and dance right? You're Kyle right?"

No I don't that's pussy shit I'm in a rock band you queer that what's he wanted to say; instead he answered confidently, "yeah, that's me."

"Ah thought so."

NO! My name is Kline and I play drums...and carry the baritone line in harmonies...No I don't know how to sing, I play drums...I took three years of singing lessons..."yeah it's hard for me to not get recognized."

Kline center of gravity felt off, like he was stumbling not because he was drunk but because he wasn't used to his body, He mechanically looked down at his driving licensee and a stranger stared back, Kyle Kline, 24, blue eyes, black hair. That wasn't his first name or his age...and the picture certainly wasn't him either, the man who stared back from the picture hand short cropped hair in a preppy crew cut, that shined glossy black with gel. He was young too, about what the age had said and he was strikingly handsome. More handsome then Kline hand ever been. With white teeth a smile that seemed fixed on his face and broad shoulders that belied a muscled body. And the eyes sparkled with a bright blue happiness and sweetness in a way that Kline's gray eyes never had. Awe shit I'm so fucked up...He thought, "Excuse me officer but I think I need to sit down for a minute."

He made a few powerful strides to the car and half collapsed back into his seat, What's going on I feel so strange...and then he saw the man from the license again...only now he was staring back from the rear view mirror. Awwww shit...."Oh gosh..."

Smooth features, a Roman nose, strong jaw and meticulously styled black hair...he looked like all those frat boys he had mocked growing up.... No he had been in a Frat before joining the band...

"Are ya ahl-right son?" the cop asked putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh yes, just a little dizzy I think." No I'm not all right I'm ...I'm...I'm Kyle Kline oldest member of the band U Got Male. No I'm not I'm Kline I dropped out of high school when I was fifteen I....I was the president of my frat and left college to be in a boy group. I was a Loser! I was voted most likely to succeed! I have a beer belly and track lines, I work out 4 times a week and have a strict diet.

Kline looked into the mirror at the happy handsome and youthful face and started to remember what it was like to be Kyle and he liked it. He started to slowly accept he was Kyle, He slowly wanted to be Kyle. Big strong strapping Kyle with his good looks and big smile. Kline was a dirty has been Kyle was young and clean cut, he was everything Kline never was.

With a confident smile at himself in the mirror Kyle flashed his pearly whites and good attitude and destroyed any last vestiges of the repulsive old rock band metal head he had been. His Leather Italian shoes landed firmly on the ground and he stepped out smoothing his dark Dockers out around the bulge in his Dick that the muscled and hot cop had given him, he adjust the loose flowing blue shit he was wearing over his wife beater T-shirt. The shirt was blue to accentuate his eyes; the wife beater was tight to accentuate his big round pecs and his tiny wasp like waist. "I'm feeling much better now officer, " he answered happily in a smooth and soothing voice that dripped with genuine charm.

"I'm glad boy," The cop answered with his deep southern brogue. He let the mirror glasses he was wearing slip to the edge of his nose revealing his beautiful eyes, "Ya mind if I make ya feel Mighty betta," He licked his sensuous goatee' encircled lips.

Kyle put a tentative hand on the rising crotch of his khaki's, he loved it when an older man wanted to seduce him. At 24 he was far from old but he was the oldest member of the group and the other guys treated him like their fucking big brother. It was nice to be in the firm hands of a man in control. It was nice to be in firm hands period.

He unzipped his fly and released his pink cock from the confines of his boxer briefs, and the cop immediately went to his knees. Kyle felt two hard-gloved hands on his ass and suddenly his body came alive with the electric sensation of another man's mouth smothering his cock head.

Kyle sat back and massaged the cops shoulders as he went to work on the rigid cock the sprung out from beneath his well-ironed Dockers, Kyle arched his back in ecstasy, the cop was good damn good. He wasn't in the habit of letting random men suck his Dick. That would be stupid and irresponsible but being a heartthrob had it's advantages and one was when you could make a guy throb take advantage. He was always careful and his boyfriend Darien knew he sometimes got a blowjob from the occasional fan. Kyle began thinking of Darren and wondered if his young lover had put on his Pajamas and gone to bed yet. It was murder trying to get Darien to full around after he had put on his Pj's....

Diesel was sitting alone in the motel room flipping through the porn channels. He could vividly remember the good old days when he had any number of stupid groupie women buck-naked and happily spreading their legs for him in adoration. He brushed a lock of fried peroxide hair of his eyes and pushed it behind the skull and cross bones bandanna he was wearing. Who said rock was dead?

He was still alive and kicking. He looked at his reflection in the seedy mirror, at 35 he still hand it, he was still whip thin with his craggy jaw and hard eyes. He still had the reedy legs that looked great in leather. And he could still wail better then any guy he had ever known. Sure the lines around his eyes and mouth weren't just from hard drinking but from age now too. But he was still the rock god he was ten years ago...ten years...had it been that long since they're last hit their last real tour? Fuck it back to the porn.

He massaged his cock through the ripped jeans he wore and watched as some bitch was getting cored by a big prick. He watched with intent interest as they showed a close up of her cunt. Yeah this dirty whore really liked it, just like all those big haired sluts he used to plow with his big Dick. Yeah he could see all those pussies now he thought lasciviously...and then suddenly he had a new errant thought, he looked at the obscenely tight shot of the girl being fucked and said infanticly, "ewww gross."

Diesel caught himself and looked around...shit where the fuck did that come from? He loved dirty nasty fucks, that's' what hem lived for nasty sex and rock and roll. He shook his head sending blonde hair falling around his narrow shoulders. He brushed it off and went back to watching the porn now they showed the hoe being rammed from behind and the fast passed action made Diesel want to peel back the dirty denim of his jeans to grab his rod but suddenly he saw the scene in a different light. He heard his gravely rock voice saying to the open air, "oh that poor woman, they are objectifying and using her, how sad." His once ramrod Dick felt limp against his leg and he found himself moving to turn off the video.

"What the fuck is going on?" He said out loud again.

He put his head in his hands to steady himself. Was he loosing his mind? He had heard of guys who did acid and LSD who years later just snapped something in their back and went crazy or some shit, but then suddenly he put his head up and wasn't worried anymore, "Oh that can't be it," he said confidently to himself. "I'd never do drugs they're bad for you." He heard the words come from his mouth but couldn't believe them. He had done every drug in the book, you name it he tabbed it, shot it up or smoked it. Just to assure himself he went to say, Bullshit I've done all kinds of fucking drugs, But what came out in a gravely voice was, "Illegal drugs would be bad for my body, I'll never do them." No1 Diesel thought he had done heroin back in Toronto and coke in New York and..or wait was that LA...no maybe San Deigo..It was so hard to concentrate.

Shit what the fuck is wrong with me he thought, but what came out was, "I don't feel too good." Then he heard the porno and it drug him back to reality, the poor girl was having sex with two guys at once and they were saying the rudest things to her, one man called her an F-ing c word and the other called her a whore, they were being so mean to her and they were swearing so much it made Diesel's ears burn.

No! He swore all the time. He did didn't he? I fucking cuss shit, that ain't fucking nothin', but again his voice translated "Swearing makes you look dumb and rude." And he was to confused to notice that his voice was less gravel and more smooth then before. Something was wrong he was losing his mind first he didn't want to see this cunt get dicked and now he didn't want to fucking curse? What was that shit? His head was swimming but he pulled his fried brain cells together to focus his thoughts,

All right, he thought, I just got to get my head together, I mean I really am fuckin revved to see this slut get her cunt ripped open by some guys cock, his now lighter and softer voice said however, "It's a shame these unfortunate people have to show they're privates on television.

No he wanted to see pussy, no vagina...And tits...breasts...what was going on his mind was so cloudy...

He put his head frantically in his hands and noticed that his long trade mark hair was no longer wrapped around his anxious fingers. In shock he turned to the mirror and things got so much weirder. Instead of seeing his tall lanky 34 year old frame covered in a torn concert T-shirt and jeans with a red bandanna pulling his greasy hair back, he was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a tight little neon blue shirt that said bad boy. And what was worse was he didn't even look like himself, his hair was now short enough to only fall into his eyes and instead of being the bleached split ends of before, it was a lustrous shiny natural gold. And the lines of hard living and age seemed to be melting away as he looked on, Like he was getting younger, His fragile mind seemed to break under the pressure and he suddenly had the strong urge to cry. He had never been so over come with emotion before, he felt frustrated but instead of wanting to hit something or get into a fight all he wanted to do was lay down on the bed and cry his eyes out.

He was holding back the tears but his chest was heaving up and down under the tight Lycra of the shirt with the effort to not cry.

He never cried only girls cry...he was a man he had never in his life...the other guys were always picking on him for being so sensitive they were really going to ride him if they caught him balling again.

The frustration and confusion rolled over him mixed with a thousand other intense emotions and he began to sniff loudly.

His sobs only got worse however when he got up and looked at himself closely in the mirror, now he could see he was definitely loosing his mind, the baggy jeans now had a chain hook down the pant leg, and something in his head told him it was a wallet chain. He was wearing a necklace made out of rope...no hemp.

There was a faint whisper in the back of his mind saying I look like a fucking little pretty boy bitch, but he said in lilting velvet tones through his exquisite tears, "I'm so cute." Even when he was a 19-year-old kid Diesel wasn't as beautifully handsome as the kid he saw in the mirror wasn't. The face behind the blonde bangs was the face of an angle, only shadows of Diesel's care worn craggy face remained. The sultry eyes, light brow, up turned nose and sensual lips replaced all the lines and age.

Where Diesel had been a tall gangly rock Lothario the kid in the mirror had the tight body and slightly round muscles of a high school basketball player or swimmer. He wasn't built but at lest you could see definition in the overly tan arms that crept out of the constricting blue fabric, and the decal "Bad boy" was pushed ever so slightly outward by the arcs of his round pecs. The Baggy pants were loose only in the legs, they should the immaculate perfection of his young pert bubble but explicitly, Diesel looked like the picture of a young nubile teenage man.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to be a crybaby?" said a deep voice from behind him.

Diesel turned abruptly from his strange reflection and muzzled a sickly whimper when he saw the man in the doorway. Framed in the glow of the open door like an angel was a large broad man with the most gorgeous eyes Diesel had ever seen. He looked like an Abercrombie and finch Clark Kent and he was smiling a wide beatific grin.

It was Kline fucking bastard no it was Kyle,.... He hated Kline...but he trusted Kyle. "Kyle, what...what's happening to me?" Darien asked in his angelic voice. His lithe shoulders shaking with confused sobs. He pushed his golden bangs out of his face with a flippant swat of one hand. "I feel so strange."

The man in the door dropped the blue shirt he was wearing to the ground and raced to Darren's side, wearing only a tight wife beater he gathered Diesel up into his strong arms and held him tight. At first Darren felt he should resist the tight affectionate grip of the other man but soon the thick corded arms started to feel safe, the feeling of the man's hard warm exposed skin felt welcoming and his cooing whispers of comfort felt sweet. "I'll take care of it baby, just tell me what's wrong. I won't let anything bother you baby."

Darnel's posture changed that from a rigid stick to melted butter. He melted languidly into the bigger man'' fierce embrace. He began to hold him back putting his elegant arms around the crook of the bigger man's neck and intertwining his young legs with the muscled thighs hidden behind the perfectly pressed Khaki's. "Oh Kyle, I'm so glad you're here...I love you so much..." he crooned somewhere between thankful statement and beautiful melody.

Darren was glad Kyle was there. Kyle his handsome and buff lover of two years, the love of his life, his partner, his boyfriend. He loved Kyle with the big puppy dog heart of a teenager just first out on his own 19 but still with the mentality of a school girl doodling names on her notebook. Kyle was the humpy older man bigger and stronger from age, who protected and loved him.

Kyle took the fragile blonde's head in his big hand and lifted his chin up, "I never want you to be unhappy ever. I want to keep you shielded from anything that would hurt you." The sincerity and fervor reflected back in the crystal eyes could not be denied. But Darren being the flirty little trouble maker he was couldn't help but angle more compliments from his big strong boyfriend, "Sometimes I don't know why a big 24 year old frat boy like you puts up with an immature little kid like me."

Kyle grabbed him by the shoulders and made him be serious, "You are the reason I wake up happy every morning, you're my whole life's happiness Darren. I love loving you more then anything else." And he meant every word of it. "I love you, I love you're laugh, I love your voice...And I love," Darren felt the big masculine hands grab his voluptuous ass in a two handed squeeze that gripped so much meat that it made him yelp, "...you're cute little ass."

"And I love you...and you know why!" Darren began doing his trade mark dance steps gyrating his groin into the large bulge in front of Kyle's Khaki's making the older man blush.

"Do you want to fool around a little before we got to bed?" Kyle asked from underneath the sultry arc of his dark well-groomed eyebrows. His hunky torso packed tightly into a wife beater that showed every curve of his mature manly body.

"Of course I do, honey." Darren answered as he pulled off his shirt and began to unbuckle his jeans. Kyle caught his face in both big hands and looked down at him with deep adoring eyes, "but not too late we have a gig tomorrow and you need rest, all right baby?"

Darren dropped his pants and gave his boyfriend a play full swat, "You're always such a stickler for the rules, you make me feel bad."

Kyle threw back his head and laughed a deep rich sexual laugh, and pulled the wife beater of revealing his muscular wide chest and thin sensual waistline, Darren ran his hands across the slabs of his large pecs and tickled the light brushing of hair that ran down his lover's chest to an enticing bunny trail. Their chest smacked against each other as they embrace, Kyle's large muscular older and more developed pecs against Darren's smooth tight chest.

Kyle was Darren's older brother boyfriend, and lover all in one, he couldn't be happier, he broke off the cock jumping kiss and jumped on the bed shoving his boxer brief clad bubble but into the air while he kneeled on his hands and knees. He began to rock the luscious ass back and forth with the trained skill of a dancer and a boytoy and asked giddily, "So are you going to fuck my ass or tuck me in?"

Kyle walked on his thick and hairy legs; his own briefs doing little to hide the hungry Dick that entered the black fabric of his Calvin's obscenely. He came up right behind Darren and grabbed the boxer briefs and ripped them down his smooth legs and put both big commanding hands on the lead singes beautiful ass, "I'm going to make love to you baby," He answered smoothly

Darren did a fluid turn and sat down onto Kyle's monster Dick, they had done this so many times before it seemed but for some reason Darren felt like it was somehow new to him. It never once occurred to him that Kyle was once Kline the hard living guitarist and he was Diesel the sleazy lead singer of Rancid and that they had once hated each other. All he felt was intense pleasure as he bounced happily up and down ad Kyle rubbed his shoulders and tits as their lips fought with each other, making hot passionate love like any other queer couple their age would.

Kyle's hard cock speared Darren as he bounced up and down on his Lover's pike. The hard cock filling the young man's hot and needy ass. Kyle kept to firm hands on Darren's sweaty and tight torso to steady him on his lap, and between clenching his jaw in ecstasy and nipping at the teens hard and pointed nipples he would groan deep and low. Darren was free to let his hands roam all over the wide area of Kyle's broad and more developed back. Letting his fingers play across the bigger man's shoulder and then clutching his arms tightly when he we thrust into deeply. Massaging the other man's sexy neck or letting his hands play against Kyle's powerful granite thighs while impaling himself on the cock he loved. Letting the thick piece of flesh penetrate him over and over while he sighed and whined for it like a virgin girl with her first taste of sex. Throwing his head back in lust and shutting his eyes in exquisite agony. All the while fucking up and down and kissing in between hard pounding thrusts of Kyle's pelvis.

There voices mingled in lust and pleasure as they repeatedly told each other in throaty grunts and sweaty screams, "I love you!"

Mike splashed the cold water from the faucet over his face, practically drowning himself in the men's room sink. He looked up from the enclosure of his big thick hands at his round face and square strong jaw. Mike had always been a hard core no frills man, he rarely took much stock in how he looked, a pair of Jean shorts, a T-shirt and a baseball cap were usually needed to get by. Tonight he wore a T-shirt that had had it's sleeves cut off at the shoulder so it revealed his broad and wide shoulders and exposed his thick arms covered in abrasive tattoo's of every shape size and offense. He had always been what you would call stocky, big arms, stout legs, barrel chest and it pissed him off to no end that he was the shortest man in the bad. Well, the bad period pissed him off, When he signed up into their line-up last year they had promised him that they would let him take Rancid in a new direction, with heavy back beats and more rap influenced rock, but he had yet to see those fucking changes.

Mike stared at his tired face in the mirror. A hard almost thuggish face, round and hard the face of a schoolyard bully grown to stocky man hood, he still had time to get. He was still young. Compared to the decade that most of the other guys had on him. At 24 he could still form his own band with heavy raps and turn tables the hard core roughneck shit that he wanted. He slammed one meaty fist down into the water, yeah there was still time.

He was so tired of listening to these burned out rockers talk about the good old days when chicks were ten deep waiting to get to them, like they were so great. He wasn't any slouch either. And bitch would be lucky to be on his dick, sure he wasn't to tall but he was thick and built like a brick wall of meaty muscle and tendon, so what f he had a little gut...must girls think that's sexy... Guys who were all muscle and 0-bodyfat were all queers anyway; women like a guy with a natural man's body

Most of the original band members thought his idea's were to pop and were just a fad. They were wrong hardcore rap rock was in they were just to drunk or stupid to notice. They thought rap was just a black thing or a ghetto thing. But mike knew that you didn't have to be a stupid fucking minority to be a good goddamn rapper, you didn't! "I can rap just as good as some kid from the fucking hood," mike swore at his angry bulldog like reflection in the mirror.

And his idea's for heavy beats weren't pop influenced they were just current everyone wants music you can move to..."Everyone wants music they can dance to." Mike stated confidently...Wait that wasn't what he meant.

HIs whole body suddenly felt a shiver as the music rushed through him like electricity. His brawny form began to sway back and forth to the hard beats and high rhythms in wild and frantic ways that his solid male pride would have never let him do before. Mike had always thought guys who danced crazy in clubs were show offs and queers but now he understood the inclination. The long bathroom mirrors caught his every movement, as the beefy hard as nails whiteboy began to twist and turn gracefully but in perfect time to the almost supernatural music he watched himself stupefied at his new found ability to dance. His expertise at moving to music with any kind rhythm was previously extended at bouncing up and down heavily and throwing his hands in the air in hard jabs. All the ghetto kids who said he couldn't rap were the same ones who said white boys couldn't dance, and that pissed him off too...but now for some reason he thought he looked really good. He saw himself grooving in the mirror and was actually a little pleased...

The stocky man in the mirror flowed seamlessly with the melodies, when the music got fast his bulky shoulders darted up and down, when it slowed he turned with attitude too much attitude...like a woman or something...as his movements became more intricate. He brought one denim short-covered hairy leg up and stroked it as he turned, with an agility he new his stumpy thick thighs didn't possess and realized something was drastically wrong.

The reflection in the mirror began to show him the more and more flamboyant hand movements that his tattoo covered arms were making, he looked like some chick dancing or a fucking queer... his leg was up in his hand again and then he was twirling femininely...what the fuck was he doing...He was dancing out of control.

He should stop soon this was getting out of hand, but mike couldn't help thinking that it would be easier to keep dancing if he wasn't wearing all these big baggy clothes.

Now why did he think that? He loved his thug style, he was keeping it real with the baggy shorts, the jersey, the Tim's...But if he had tighter shorts and a close fitting shirt it would be easier to move...

His fluid dancing was interrupted, as mike felt extremely uncomfortable, like his body was being constricted all around. One quick look in the mirror showed him why. Tight little denim shorts clung painfully to him now. His big hairy thighs burst forth from the cut-oaf's like sausages with a broken casing, and his barrel chest was wrapped up tight in a Lucre shirt with a tie dye pattern. He looked fucking ridiculous. Like a queer from the 70's or something.

What the fuck is goin on! His mind reeled, "Ohh girl I'm looking fierce." He said instead and unconsciously smiled satisfactorily at the man dancing in mirror. Looking at the ultra-tight suffocating clothes he sported mike realized that his dick was harder then it had ever been in his entire life. It's length tracked across the denim lewdly testifying to the world how fucking turned on he was.

He was horrified and he still continued to dance.

I look ridiculous! Mike's mind scream and then he said out loud, "I look ridiculous!" At least it came out right this time. He did look ridiculous all bursting out of these pansy ass tight scraps...yes he'd look much better if he were lithe and thin like dancers should be with big tight muscles and no body fat at all...completely hot and ripped...no that's not why he thought he looked stupid...he thought it because...

But the music was already at work.

Where Mike had always remembered being big and thick but short he now saw himself in the mirror with a completely different genetic code. The man in the mirror looked like Mike, but as he danced mike realized that something had changed. As he grooved and moved he watched his tight biceps stretch and move the fabric of the shirt like it was his skin showing every movement of the rock hard arms and their deep wells of muscles. His legs were so long they seemed to stretch for miles out of the flimsy denim. He had seen guys in high school with legs like these track stars with legs that could sprint faster then the wind. But his gorgeous thighs and calves were thicker then those had been more cut and thicker...not a runner's sculpted legs...a dancers. His taunt form stared back at him.

As he pirouetted and slipped into a back turn with a kick mike noticed that his long flexed legs had stretched his body a good half a foot. Still, he would now stand the height he had always wished for, at lest 6'1 or 6'2 which was gargantuan to the stature Mike used to possess. And what he gained in height he lost in weight. Instead of thick his body seemed long. Long muscled legs lead into a thin almost delicate torso, who's every ridge pushed forward like rocks under his tight shirt. Impossibly muscled long arms moved around his face sassily. The square somewhat chubby face had thinned out to looked delicate and strangely feminine/ Compared to the brutish heavy brow and square jaw Mike used to have. His now aquiline jaw, high cheek bones and highly arched eyebrows seemed positively pretty, girlishly so. The thick linebacker neck was now as thin and graceful as a swan's and sashayed the beautiful face back and forth impertinently. Like a bitchy girl would flick her head.

Mike realized that something drastically wrong had happened but he was so caught up in the feel of his streamlined body moving beneath him that he didn't really care what had happened, it just felt so damn good to move his body to the music.

His dancing changed then becoming more suggestive and fining away to even seem filled with more attitudes, He bent over, turned and ran his hands up and down his cut groin. Traced fingers up his bulging calves as he twisted showing off his ass. He watched himself look so damn hot moving and was turned on. Very turned on.

He watched his supple movements with more interest. He had great flexibility but he still didn't have that inbred gift for dance like other guys seemed to have. He watched technically studying his dancing detachedly the way he used to watch himself fix a car or ride a dirt bike. He turned, and swerved...That's what it was! He couldn't swivel his hips or move with the sensuality that those Latin heartthrobs did in music videos' and stuff...They moved like they're fucking waist wasn't connected to anything. And then Mike realized that he had made another mistake.

He danced and he could feel himself changing again.

The man in the mirror was no longer the pale white of the Caucasian suburb boy who wanted to be hard, he was a deep tan, a Carmel that was smooth as silk. A sensual color that looked like the color of hot love. The hard, heavy lidded blue eyes that looked at contempt at the man in the bar were now almond shaped pools of deep erotic bed room brown and were circled by natural dark lines that made them look like the painted eyes of an Egyptian prince. Flawless skin stretched across cheekbones so defined they couldn't be called anything short of exquisite. The high aristocratic, ethnic cheeks framed lips that were so big and sensuous they seemed permanently pursed. All this hung under dark meticulously manicured arched eyebrows. The brown buzz cut that mike had arbitrarily had since thirteen had grown into jet-black thick Cuban hair that was cut in a devastatingly stylish roman cut.

Mike look upon the impossibly beautiful face as it moved and posed to the music and noted absently that his ears were dangling big hoops that caught the light when he moved. That made him happy.

Mike watched as the gorgeous Cuban boy moved. His creamy skin accentuated the Adonis's every move and thank god mike wasn't covered in all that gross hair. Like any true dancer Mikey shaved religiously so that he was always sleek and gorgeous.

Mike was bent over and bouncing his ass rhythmically; bizarrely pleased that along with the spectacular beauty and rhythm of a Hispanic man he also had a well-shaped ghetto booty that stretched the fabric in the ass of the denim cut-off's dangerously. A big ass on his tight body. So now he could be bent over or have his long nimble legs flung over a guy's shoulders when he was filling his bubble but with dick. Because everybody knows gay guys are the best dances.

Mocha hands were grabbing the expanse of the ass when the music suddenly stopped. Mikey stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. A thin glaze of sweat glistened off his body giving him a sexy shine. He thought absently how glad he was that he had decided to go with the 70's retro look. Sure it was queer porn sheik and the other guys in the band told him he looked flaming in it but at least he worked it out! He was looking fierce. He flicked a tie dyed nipple absently as he fussed with his hair. He knew he should have worn more eyeliner. Oh and these shoes were phat but they were killing his toes.

Mikey gave himself a lecherous vain and sexy smile in the mirror.

Mikey put one ultra tan, perfectly manicured finger into his mouth and then slid it along the edge of the out line of now uncut thick Hispanic cock, his nice coffee colored dick was so much better then the stubby white one he used to have. Everything was better now that he wasn't that short little bull of a man. Now he could finally let loose and dance, where tight clothes and show off his gorgeous muscular dancer's form. He giggled flamboyantly at the thought of him Mikey of "U Got Male" as an aggressive pudgy white rapper instead of the peurto-rican dancing god he now was. He vaguely remembered wanting to rap but every time he tried to concentrate on that he just wanted to shake his ass or move along with the pounding dance beats in his head. He loved his ass a big round booty that drove men wild. It was a dancer's ass well formed and muscled but with just enough fat to make it a bubble but he loved touching it now that he had it. He wanted other men to touch it now too. He took the hand that was gently stroking his Dick and ran it across the wide expanse of his ass cheeks and lower thighs, I'm such a queer little slut he though absently...good.

Too bad the other guys in the band were all pretty much attached.... Oh well more dick for him. He strutted out of the Men's room of the Meat Market like the high riding queen he was and went right to the floor looking for a hot body to keep him warm that night.

After careful selection he settled on a double dip, not his first, of course. But he took this couple home. Two other Latin guys...Because for some reason Mikey was feeling the hot blood of his heritage a lot tonight and was hungry for other island men like himself. One guy was this huge bodybuilder named David...but he pronounced it strangely...and the other one was obviously his wifey, he seemed a little jealous. But he didn't have any arguments later when Mikey showed them how limber he really was as he took the bodybuilder wheel barrel style and sucked the pretty shorter guy upside down... It's good all that dancing made him so flexible.

The show was in full swing. Boys were dancing wildly in every corner of the crowded dance floor. Exposed torso's, flamboyant hand moves and half-naked conga lines proclaimed to the world that this was one wild gay bar.

"I can't believe you wanted to come here!" Gino exclaimed loudly trying to talk over the thumping music he put one huge arm around Damein's elbow protectively.

"Well you said you wanted to try and ya know get to know each other better, and since the only thing you really do is work out and party I thought I'd pick the activity we could do together where I had the option of consuming large amounts of alcohol." Damien answered eyeing the bacchanal of the club suspiciously. He had asked Gino out on purpose trying to interject some level of normality into their bizarre pseudo relationship. But he was reconsidering the intelligence of that decision.

Gino was in his element gorgeous adored, a sexual god. He was wearing a baggy pair of skater pants and a tank top so tight Damien was convinced they'd have to cut it off of him. Damien feeling adventurous opted for a flame-designed shirt with a pair of tight ass hugging pin stripe black pants. He assumed they were ass hugging because since he had put them on Gino was unable to keep his hands from roaming all over the flesh of Damien's rear. Even now as they stood locked together, the Italian giant Adonis and his dark counterpart, he could feel one of Gino's massive paws searching behind his back tracing a trail down the cleft in his ass.

Damein shook the hand off his ass irritably, he felt defenseless in this sea of gorgeous boys, rock hard pecs and superior attitudes. Especially in the uncomfortably tight clothes. He just wanted to be back in a baggy shirt and jeans with a cup of coffee and a three hundred-year-old book on Heretical Spanish Alchemy. Was that too much too ask? "Maybe we should go?" he said tentatively into Gino's ear.

Gino was busy excitedly scanning the crowd and scooping the scene, "Why? We just got here!" He was happy as hell.

Damien was about to angle for another escape when from behind him he heard, "GUUUUUURRRRLLLL!!!!!"

They both turned. "D, D, D,D, D....Hmmmm you looking fierce chil'. Has dis big sexy piece of man given you the makeover you so desperately needed?" A sassy voice hollered at them.

"Good evening Gabriel," Damien answered with a long-suffering frown and began to fidget with the confining cloth of his fiery shirt.

The hot little Latin hairdresser was dressed only in a pair of Cutoff Shorts and a sheer tank top. His red tinted hair glinted with sparkles and he looked devastatingly sensual as usual, "Good evening Gabriel." Damien said patiently.

"Listen here nosferatu don't roll your eyes up in your head like that, I am not like those easy going queens you live with. I will wupp your white ass. I was just sayin that for once you look hot, Sarah Plain and Queer." Then he smiled and turned to Gino with a florid turn and put one mocha hand across the expanse of Gino's jutting pecs. "And how are you, Big sexy piece of man?" he asked obviously flirting with Gino.

"I'm fine Gabriel, How's David?" He asked with his wonderful dopey sincerity.

Gabriel considered the room with a diva twirl, "Oh he's around here somewhere, I sent him to the bar to get me a Singapore Sling."

Damien sighed heavily "Gabe that's such a girl drink."

The beautiful Puerto Rican arched his shoulders angrily, "what's your point?" He asked with pursed lips. "And didn't I tell you not to call me that horrible name? I've told you a thousand times My name is "Gabriel, say it, "Gabriel", it's poetry it's smooth, it's "Gabriel." The entire time he spook his hands were moving with his fingers wagging.

Damien laughed ironically and went back to tugging on the shirt.

"What are you guys doing here anyway?" Gino asked as he began to gyrate to the music. He put one hand on the slope of Damien's hip and the other on his shoulder and started thumping to the music.

"We were invited," A heavy and thick voice answered from the crowd. Just then the sea of faceless tanned bodies and bleached hair parted reveal a massive Latin bodybuilder wearing only a pair of leather shorts and thigh high leather boots. In one hand he carried a beer and in the other an ostentatious glass with an umbrella and what seemed to be a whole fruit bowl hanging off the edge.

"There's my Boo!" Gabriel screamed excitedly and launched himself into the circle of his lover's arms.

"Adios Mio, Mi Cortisone, Watch the damn drinks baby, do you know how hard it was to get through all those dancing guys without spilling these?" David said.

"Aww I'm sorry baby, But it couldn't have been that bad, " he looked up at his massive over the straw of his drink with big innocent eyes, "I bet they saw those shoulders and that chest coming and just fell down in awe."

David chuckled a hearty masculine chuckle that rolled down the depths of his huge trunk like chest, and swooped his boyfriend up into a passionate kiss. Their red lips fought against each other for a long time before David turned to Gino and Damien and said, "Now do you see why I love him so much?"

"Yes!" Gino agreed adamantly

"No!" Damien snidely answered at the same time.

"Don't worry D, Some day you and Gino'll be as happy as me and my baby are." David said smiling as Gabriel licked the side of his massive trap.

Damein coughed uncomfortably and quickly changed the subject making Gino visibly annoyed, "what do you mean you two were personally invited?"

Both Latin lothario's gave him a wicked cat-that -ate -the-canary grin. "You know that hot boy group, "U got male" is performing tonight, right?" David asked. Gino began to smile the same lascivious smile, "yeah" he said interested.

"Well you know the hot Cuban boy Mikey who does most of the dancing?" David continued teasing him along.

"Yeah!" Gino's grin was even bigger.

"Well guess who we took back to our place last night!" Gabriel screeched unable to stand the pressure. His hands clapping widely in self-pleasure.

"No way!" Gino yelled slapping David on his wide back, the two buff He-men looking for all the world like two football pals discussing a good play. "Damn right man," David answered, "we hooked up with him last night at the "Meat Market" and he told his band was performing here and that we could get in for free!"

"And we automatically jumped at the chance," Gabriel continued, "I mean you know how fucking EXCLUSIVE the WATERLOO is."

Gino nodded vehemently making the large mounds of pec muscle jump up and down, "Yeah I was so siked when Damein told me he could get me in here. I'd been trying to get in here for the past month with no freaking luck."

Damein smiled looking around the once dingy and now ultra hip Waterloo nightclub. Dirty walls and been replaced by huge mirrors and broken glass murals of different party scenes. Bad lighting was replaced with wild strobes, flashing colors and disco balls. All in all it was a vast improvement.

Gabriel gave Damien a skeptical look "How did you get tickets?" he asked, with emphasized disbelief on the "you".

"You know there are things about me that you people don't know." Damien said darkly his eyes getting the dark mysterious cast they took on when he was being cryptic.

Gabriel gave him a bitchy look, "honey if your talking about that tired red robe in your closet and the virgins you've been sacrificing in the backyard on fool moons, We know and frankly we think you need to see a shrink. " They all laughed at his joke.

Damien was sardonically silent and then with a proud grin he stated to all three boys, "I know the band."

"Yeah right," They barked.

"Alright ladies why don't we just back off of Damein...I don't care what criminal act or magical conjuration it took for him to get tickets to this I'm just glad he decided to bring me." And then Gino expanded his huge arms and grabbed a suffering Damien into the bow of his embrace, kissing the nape of his neck seductively.

"LADIES AND... Er....WHO ARE WE KIDDING! GENTLEMEN LISTEN UP!!!" A brassy voice boomed over the loud music and the entire club suddenly stopped. All the dancing men turned from their revelry and looked toward the stage. A drag queen with long blonde hair and a Charlie's angel style outfit addressed the crowd from a raised stage that sat behind the bar. "Allow me the humble pleasure of introducing you to the proprietress of club Waterloo, the first lady of the cities nightlife, the queen of flowing liqueur, the muse of modern entertainment the diva divine herself...."

"Oh for Christ sake!" a bawdy and familiar voice yelled from off stage. And then a woman in a flowing black gown that twirled with attitude around every movement of her zaftig figure charged on stage and grabbed the mike. Her hair was done in a semi-French revolutionary style, high with cascading ringlets and fell onto her amply exposed breasts. "That bull shit could have gone on all night!" She turned with a radiant smile of delight toward the crowd. Deana was luminescent as she held the microphone haphazardly. "How are we all doin tonight!" She asked coltishly batting impulsively long lashes. Her buxom form bounding across the stage challengingly. "If ya didn't know, my name's Deana and the Waterloo is my dive!"

The crowd went wild; guys were screaming and clapping.

"So if you have a problem with the service, or the booze or anything at all, don't be afraid to come right here to the source herself and tell me how you feel!" she smiled beatifically making the layers of sparkle eye shadow around her eyes seem even more radiant, "And then I will personally see to it that...you are thrown the fuck OUT!"

The crowd laughed and went wild again bathing in her brassy humor and bold persona.

"But half you bitches are OUT enough for the whole damn city, so it doesn't really matter do it?" She giggled and the crowd of half-naked guys, club kids and drinkers laughed with her.

She scanned the crowd and for a second her eyes lit up with pleasure and then she returned to addressing the whole swishing her skirts with a diva's audacity, "ya know the next time I say a prayer to have this hell hole full of hot sexy men who only want to dance and make love...I'm going to be more God damned specific!" They roared with laughter.

"Do you here that honey?" She asked to a specific member of the adoring throng.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea until there was just a direct eyeline between the diva holding court on the stage and a shyly smiling Damien. "Hey, how was I supposed to know you wanted them to be sexy, horny, dancing STRIAGHT men?" He answered archly. He moved forward pressing toward the stage, everyone in the club including his own shocked friends and Gino staring at him, "And really Deana it's your own fault you said you wanted them sexy and able to dance and you know damn well straight boys can't dance, they just convulse in time to the beat." T

he crowd laughed and cheered. Damien reached the stage and Deana extended one elegantly gloved hand toward him and helped him up.

"Oh honey you're so right straight boys would just get on my nerves! They'd just want to listen to that rock shit and talk about pussy. Hell if I wanted to here people talk about pussy I'd open a dike bar! I want to here about Dick!" She said slapping him hard on the back.

Laughter cascaded through the large club and Damien smiled a pleased grim looking around at the faces of all the happy club boys. As the guys laughed and talked to each other Deana leaned over and clutched Damein's hand tightly, "I don't know what you did babydoll, but thank you." Her round doe eyes, covered in luxurious makeup seemed ready to tear up, "you are my Fairy godmother for sure...Thank you.."

Damien stared at her touched, or at least as touch as a person who constantly professed to be the recipient of an unsuccessful heart transplant could be. She turned back to the crowd and was again, the consummate hostess and entertainer." and speaking of dick Babydolls do we have five great ones for you! And they just happen to be attached to the hottest boy band in the nation!"

Now Club Waterloo was like d-day, guys were screaming and hollering ripping at their clothes and practically foaming at the Mouth. Deana now had to practically scream to be heard over the excitement, "For you entertainment tonight club Waterloo is proud to present the only openly queer boy group or the only ones with enough balls to admit!" She laughed and so did the club, "The five men who are currently breaking the top twenty with their dance single "Sensitivity" Kyle, Darren, Ryan, TJ and Mikey of "U GOT MALE!!!!"

The lights in the club began to swirl around the stage as from behind the streamer curtain behind Deana and Damien five figures emerged. They were all in various forms of undress but each wore a costume made of skintight leather.

Kline stepped into the light first wearing a blue leather bomber jacket that did little to cover the large planes of his bare chest. His pants were skin tight blue leather too and clung to his body so well they made his ass look like it was two luscious blueberry bubbles. His heavy package was clearly displayed and its low carriage was impressive enough to elicit gasps from nearby audience members.

Next came Darren.. He head on a pair of orange leather overalls and nothing else, his young well defined torso seeming even more impossibly stream lined in their baggy girth. He had on an orange leather backward cabby cap and a lot of sparkle makeup. He minced forward seductively and grabbed Kyle's hand quickly as if the quick separation of their introduction was too much for him to bare.

Next came Ryan looking very sexy if not imposing in a pair of red leather chaps and a red leather harness. His huge body builder's body strained against the confining leather like it would burst the seams at any moment. Every move of his over bulked frame undulated with muscular definition. He swaggered to the front of the stage like the meaty prize bull he was his heavy thighs rubbing together and his hips rolling like sweaty muscle sex on legs.

He was followed quickly by TJ who sauntered suggestively up next him on bright leather boots with a 6 inch heal and covered his impossibly long legs up to mid thigh. His Go-go boots did less to cover his gorgeous legs then to accentuate the beauty of his powerful calves and tight thighs. He wore a pair of short shorts and a wide yellow collar. His body glistened with sweat and he couldn't help himself from constantly touching himself, running his hands all over and letting them roam longingly over his tightly packed cock while winking at several men in the front row. His tight compact dangerously slim torso seemed to burst from the waist of the tight leather shorts like a viscous V. his ripped pecs bounced as he flicked his nipples and swiveled his hips. He stopped his audacious little sex show however when Ryan boot one big hard and firm hand quickly on his delicious little butt with a thwack. Making him jump in his go-go boots.

And last but definitely not least came Mikey. He emerged from the back in all his glory. His flawless cocoa skin and Adonis body bared to all the crowd save for the small areas left to the imagination that were concealed by a white leather thong. He also sported a white leather cowboy hat. He kicked one thickly corded and broadly muscled leg up into the air until it was against his jaw and then licked down his own knee, sending the crowd into hysterics. Then he turned and began to shake his stunning broad ass making the firm round ass cheeks shake enticingly. The audience was insane yelling, screaming, clapping and behaving like wild animals. Kyle moved toward the front of the stage beside Deana and turned to her, "Before we perform our hit single, we'd like to do a special number in salute of Dean and her fabulous club and of course, our dear friend Damien," he then moved toward Damien and put one hand on his flame coated shoulder making him very uncomfortable. Then the other members, cute Darren, sexy TJ, Hunky Ryan and hot Mikey all came up and collectively grabbed his ass. Guys in the crowd began hooting and Damien's face behind the length of his bangs began to redden as deep as his shirt.

In the audience Big dumb David seemed confused his partner Gabriel seemed jealous and green with envy. Gino however had that familiar look of suspicion as if to say, "oh yeah Hamlet something is definitely rotten in Denmark".

Damein just smiled and shrugged.

"Wow look at D, go up there," David said as he hugged Gabriel tightly.

"Yeah he actually looks like he's having a good time, too bad he doesn't let loose and have fun like this all the time!" Gabriel observed.

Gino was quiet and thoughtful and then looked ahead at his strange roommate and resident noir crush. "Yeah too bad..."

And then all five guys on stage closed in on the audience humming a refined harmony, And Darren began to sing as the music drummed up behind them with a heavy and familiar rhythm,

"MY MY at Waterloo Napoleon did surrender,"

They al sang "OH YEAH!"

"And I have met my destiny in quite a similar way...

The History book on the shelf, is always repeating itself!" "WATERLOO!" Again they all sang and were dancing in sexy unison. "I was defeated you won the war, I was defeated you won the war! Promise to love you forever more!"

When they sang the next line Damien smiled a big dark Grin bearing his teeth, a sinister tickled smirk that only Gino caught. "COULDN'T ESCAPE IF I WANTED TOO!" Next- The conclusion of "That Old Black Magic" I Put a Spell On You

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