I've been posting my unpublishable slushy stories on this website. It's my fun page of fiction.
Here is a Chronological list of Stories with the type of transformation involved in each story.
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PETTIFORE'S BIBOLET AND BAGATELLE
October 3, 2003
The clock radio blasted a noise that sounded like a submarine Klaxon. Troy wanted to stand up and yell - Dive, Dive, Dive! But Nick, lay sleeping. They had celebrated their second anniversary last night and not only did the Tequila Sunrises flow like water, something called a Champagne Depth Charge concocted of wine, bourbon and malt whiskey that left a minty aftertaste when he puked it all over the bar. Troy lay on the bed with his eyes wide open as he remembered -- everything.
The clock radio blared again. This time, like a discombobulated foghorn from a 1950's movie. Nick's hand snaked out, grabbed the baseball-shaped radio and threw it across the room. He wrapped his thick, muscular arm around Troy's torso and snuggled, trading body heat.
"You were the belle of the ball last night..." Nick bit Troy's ear gently. Troy's tumescent man-pole stiffened against Nick's hard abs. Troy's arms moved over Nick's back and held his butt.
"Christ was I drunk last night. I can't remember a damn thing," Troy said.
"You called me the gayest con-cock-tion since Absolutely Fabulous went off the air while dancing naked on top the bar." Nick made up the outrageous act. This was their memory game and they played it well.
"A cheesecake? I remember your big, beefy body, but no cake. Did it have your cherry on top? I can't remember because of your champagne cocktails. " Troy mumbled. His fingers kneaded Nick's firm glutes. Nick kissed Troy's neck.
"Best effing queer cocktails ever, smashingly deadly to sobriety."
"So you really don't remember when I told you I was leaving?" Nick bit Troy's nipple just hard enough to make him jump.
"Bastard!" Troy laughed. He threw the sheets off their bodies, stretched out his arms and legs and pushed Nick off the bed. His manhood lay thick on his stomach with his testicles bunched high and tight like big furry goose eggs. Nick's hand reached up like a crane as he crawled onto the bed. It landed like a vise on Troy's delicates, squeezing just tight enough to cause discomfort but not pain.
"Not the boys! Not the boys!" Troy grabbed Nick's hand and tried to pry it away. Troy's penis stiffened into the Washington Monument.
"Did the boys remember our anniversary party? Do they know what they did last night," Nick laughed. Troy curled up on his hand and knees with Nick still holding him tight. Nick released the pressure and sucked Troy's ball sack. Their hands and tongues explored each other's body.
A flash of white from the dresser pulled Troy's attention. A pair of action figures nearly eighteen inches tall and dressed in white wrestling outfits with dark brown racing stripes running up and down their sides drew Troy's attention. "Where did those wrestler dollies come from?" he asked, sitting up.
"Action figures dammit, not dolls, action figures! I had our bodies cast into rubber and dressed as wrestlers." Nick said. He grabbed the figures, handing on to Troy. They grinned and pulled at the figure's flexible arms and legs. Troy pulled the statue's wrestling singlet off and fingered its oversized manhood.
"Oh you dirty boy, they got pee-pees just like us. Where did you get these, that little penis shop of whore-ios in the Strip?" Troy grabbed Nick's figure and pulled the singlet off.
"It's called Pettifore's Bibolet and Bagatelle."
"I loved the clerk with the ginger-boy haircut and the uppity British accent. He's so well mannered and kept repeating, what 35 times or so, I'm straight." He puckered up and made mock kissy-faces and kissy-noises at Nick. "Did you tell him that straight men don't run curio shops and straight men have the decorating sense of cockroaches." He twanged the rubbery penis and rubbed it against his real penis. They laughed and poked at each other with the rubber dolls. They stood up and posed in front of the mirror for comparison.
"When I dropped trousers, I called him Willy Filly. Hell, I had to show him how big to make our replica pee-pees."
"You called him Willy Filly? That's so disrespectful, especially when you're wagging your wienie in his face."
"I teabag nobody but you, darlin'." Nick leaned against Troy and continued. "But to be fair, He found matching wrestling singlets for us and the action figures. I gave him a big tip for all that work." He picked up a box from the Louis the 14th chiffonier. It contained white wrestling singlets with four, thin brown racing stripes down each side.
"I take it all back, Mister Wilfred Filby is the last of the last true romantics."
"All dressed up like our very own action figures. Happy anniversary loverboy," Nick said. Troy stretched the neck of the outfit and stepped into the singlet. Nick put the toy singlets back onto the action figures and then stepped into his singlet. The white nylon material stretched over their bodies like a coat of glossy paint. Nick's darker, olive-toned skin took on new highlights. The muscles in Troy's legs bulged like a bas-relief. A modesty panel cupped their genitals and formed manly bulges. The scooped neck showed off their broad chests, huge deltoids and well-developed arms. The fabric clung to every dimple and curve of their physiques.
"We should have had these back in college for all those pervie photogs who posted the pickle shots." Troy kissed Nick. They grappled and rolled onto the bed. They knew the moves and holds to reach orgasm while dressed in singlets.
The action figures lay next to Nick and Troy as they made love; their eyes gleaming over soul-sucking grins on the rubbery faces. With orgasm inevitable, the substance of all that was Nick and Troy slipped from their existence of flesh and blood and flowed into each rubbery doll. Too late Troy and Nick realized their bodies ceased being solid and their substance flowed into the rubber statuettes.
The room grew silent. The bed grew cold.
An hour later, the maid - one Remy St. Claire - knocked open the door to roust his boys, as he called Nick and Troy. He found the bedroom empty. Only the two action figures, wrestlers in white singlets, lay on the bed where Nick and Troy slept. Remy phoned his buddy Wilfred and invited him over. Together, they spent the day putting Nick and Troy's legal affairs in order.
Remy and Wilfred lived happily for many years and increased their collection of naughty action figures with authentic anatomical bits and pieces. Pettifore's Bibolet and Bagatelle thrived in the gay neighborhood, after all, who could resist their wares?
1100 words more or less