Target practice

By Cris Kane 
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Mark and Jake sat in matching camp chairs on the balcony of their frat house, a tapped keg positioned between them, watching as the crowds began to filter toward the stadium for this afternoon’s football game. Jake slathered his smooth hairless physique to maintain his golden tan, while Mark’s profuse body hair filtered out most of the rays before they could reach his skin. Jake wore nothing but red UnderArmour compression shorts, while Mark’s thick cock was stuffed into his skimpy yellow Nike running shorts. Mark unleashed a beer-fueled belch which they could hear ricochet off the other buildings on Fraternity Row. Jake laughed uncontrollably and drained his Solo cup of its contents, gulping in air in hopes of working up a burp that would top Mark’s.

Until recently, football, beer, tanning, and belching had not been priorities for Mark and Jake. In fact, three weeks ago, Mark and Jake had been Marcus and Jacob, two nerdy social misfits whose lives were forever altered by the unthreatening little pink gun currently resting in the cup holder near Mark’s right hand. Jacob had invented a device with extraordinary potential to remake the world in any way they wished, but after their first two experiments had turned the dweebs into dimwitted dudebros, neither Mark nor Jake seemed capable of utilizing the gizmo for anything but creating more gay muscleheads.

“Yo, check it out,” Mark said, pointing one of his stubby fingers toward the sidewalk where a preppy-looking guy in a V-necked pullover, khaki shorts and deck shoes was strolling, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. He had the angular features and trim athleticism of an Abercrombie model, his wavy blond hair swept back from his forehead. “Whatta ya think?”

Jake pulled out a pair of binoculars to scrutinize the stranger more closely. He scrunched up his face, uncertain. “I think I know that guy from one of my classes. Pretty sure his name’s Adam. He always seemed like kind of an egotistical asshole.”

Mark grinned as he unholstered the pink gun from its circular holster. “He don’t hafta be.”

Jake boned up inside his skin-tight shorts. Although he and Mark and the rest of their frat brothers spent nearly as much time fucking as they did hoisting brews or lifting weights, Jake and Mark found the process of bending a stranger to their whims to be even more arousing than any blow job. “He is pretty cute. But he could definitely be… improved.”

Mark leaned forward in his chair and drew a bead on the unsuspecting victim. Mark had become an expert marksman with the little gun, but he had never tried to trap anyone at such a distance. He clicked the trigger and waited for the beam to strike its target. Through the binoculars, Jake watched as the young man froze in place, freaking out as he became caught in a pink force field which held him in suspended animation.

“Nailed him!” Mark exclaimed. “Hey there, cutie,” he said in a quiet voice, knowing that his quarry would be able to hear him clearly, even at a distance of twenty yards. “Just relax. Nobody else is noticing you.” And, sure enough, the people in the crowd were walking past him, oblivious to the strange sight of someone caught mid-step inside a glowing pink membrane.

“You’ve been selected to join the coolest frat on campus. Doesn’t that sound awesome? Of course, we do have some special requirements for anyone who wants to be part of our frat. First, you have to be gay. I can’t be sure, but from the looks of you, I’m thinkin’ you might be gay already. Tell you what, raise your hand if you don’t wanna be gay.” He paused for a few moments, knowing that his prey couldn’t possibly raise any part of his body in objection. “Okay, I’ll take that as a no. Just to be absolutely sure,” Mark said, shifting into the commanding tone he adopted whenever making a reality-changing pronouncement, “you are now a 100% gay himbo who’s more interested in sex and partying than studying.”

Through the binoculars, Jake focused his attention on the preppy’s face, as his eyes widened in dismay, only to relax as the pink glow carried out Mark’s command. The young man’s agitation gave way to a grin of satisfaction and acceptance.

“He looks kinda scrawny, don’tcha think?” Mark asked.

“Lemme guess, you’re gonna give him fifty pounds o’ muscle, just like every other guy in the frat.” The raygun had zapped varying degrees of muscle onto Calvin, Brody, Beef, Ox and Chad, all of whom had continued to gain as they pushed to outdo each other in the frat’s basement gym.

“I ain’t heard you complain before,” Mark countered.

“I’m not sayin’ don’t give him any muscles. But not everybody’s gotta look like a bodybuilder.”

Mark thought it over and agreed to take the modest approach, knowing that he could always use the gun to bulk up Adam some more later on. Mark focused and said, “You will gain twenty pounds of muscle, evenly distributed across your body.”

Even from a distance, it was obvious that the pink glow was expanding to make room for the additional muscle. Mark snatched the binoculars away from Jake so he could get a better look. Beneath his v-neck, Adam’s chest and arms were swelling and his neck thickened, pulling up the hem of his sweater to reveal the bottom of a clearly etched six-pack. The cuffs of his shorts tightened around his growing thighs, and sharply-defined calf muscles emerged.

Jake couldn’t help but notice Mark’s cock throbbing its approval, tenting his shorts. “Tole ya. He looks like he oughta be a surfer now.”

Mark was well aware of Jake’s kink for airheaded surfers, but Mark had a fetish of his own that he was itching to satisfy. “I think he’d be even better as a tatted-up skater boy.”

Jake reached over to extract the gun from Mark’s hand. Although Mark was the unchallenged leader of the frat, Jake still felt he should have some say in how the gun was used, no longer aware that he was actually the one who had created the gun in the first place. Jake gripped the gun by the barrel, while Mark attempted to pull it away from him. As the two bros wrestled over control of the gun, Jake said “Surfer!” at the same moment Mark shouted “Skater!”

A pink flash burst on the sidewalk below, more intense than anything Mark and Jake had seen during their previous transformations. They shielded their eyes from the glare, but each peered cautiously through their fingers and gasped as the intense pink glow split into two separate entities.

As the intensity faded, they could see two figures on the sidewalk, still trapped inside a pink energy field, both looking puzzled. They were the same height with the same toned physiques and identical facial features, but that was where the resemblance ended.

On the left stood a shirtless surfer, sun-bleached hair dangling past his broad shoulders, sporting a sparse blond goatee. Teal blue board shorts were cinched around his slender waist, and sandals had formed around his feet.

Beside him, his twin had a short spiky haircut with pure white frosted tips. His left eyebrow was punctuated with three silver hoops, and gauges emerged in each of his earlobes. A pale blue ripped tank top clung to his torso, and ripped and baggy jeans hung loose around his hips, displaying the waistband of his Fruit Of The Looms. Tattoos were rising to the surface of his exposed arms and around his neck. Scuffed and dirty checkered Vans completed the look.

Jake and Mark sat on the balcony, slack-jawed by their achievement.

“Shit, dude,” Jake said. “We’re, like, geniuses or somethin’! We split the Adam!”

“Fuckin’ A,” Mark said. “You got your surfer and I got my skater!” He raised his hand, which Jake slapped in an exuberant high-five.

They gazed back down at the sidewalk where their creations were still trapped in the glow, unable to move. Jake and Mark felt like proud parents. “What should we call ‘em?” Jake asked.

Mark aimed the gun at the skater, squeezed the trigger and intoned, “You will now be called Ad-Rock.”

He then handed the gun to Jake, who pointed to the surfer and declared, “Your name is now Adonis.” He released the trigger, and the two newly minted studs were freed from their electric cocoons. They looked down to inspect their unfamiliar new bodies and clothes, then noticed each other. As they took in the sight of each other, they grew instantly horny and moved toward each other.

“Shit, I tole ya he was self-centered,” Jake said. “He wants to fuck himself.”

Mark snatched the gun away from Jake and fired it toward the sidewalk. The two new Adams were close enough to each other that the ray encompassed them both. “You will be horny for all of your frat brothers but you will not be attracted to your twin.”

Jake reached over and took the gun from Mark, continuing to hold down the trigger. “Unless Jake or Mark tells you otherwise.” He turned to Mark and explained, “I dunno. Watchin’ twins makin’ out can be kinda hot.”

Mark had to agree. He regained control of the raygun and said, “C’mon inside, Ad-Rock and Adonis. It’s time to meet your bros.”


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