Chris had only ducked into the alley to get away from the noise for a minute. The music from the mix of gay and straight bars still thudded through the brick walls, and laughter spilled out every time a door opened at the end of the block. After finishing college in the Spring, Chris had felt detached and out of his element - finding it difficult to adjust to a new life with more rigid rules and timelines. Sometimes he longed for the days when people would just tell him how to live his life.
He loosened his collar, checked his reflection in the dark phone screen, and smiled to himself. Despite his current listlessness in life he looked exactly the way he liked to look—young, polished, blond, untouchable.
Then he noticed a man leaning against a nearby wall staring the way a lion watches a zebra… He was older, thick through the torso in a way that suggested strength, his open leather vest showing a dense spread of chest hair under the glow of the streetlamp. A cigar rested between his fingers, and his heavy mustache gave his half-smile a strange authority. He looked like he belonged to the night in a way Chris suddenly felt he did not.
“You look lost,” the older man said. “My name’s Jeff. Maybe there’s something we can do to help each other.”
Chris opened his mouth ready to interject with some quick, sharp reply - but the older man had already stepped closer - pinning Chris to the alley wall.
The cigar slipped from Jeff’s fingers and hissed out on the damp pavement. He drew Chris close with startling ease, one hand settling against his shoulder, and kissed him. It was not tentative. It was deliberate. The kind of kiss that made the rest of the alley seem to fall away into the darkness and puddles.
Chris stiffened at first, startled by the force of the moment—but before he could even decide what to do, heat ran through his face and down his throat. His heart pounded so hard it made his vision shake. He broke away just enough to stare at Jeff, breathing fast, one hand flying to his mouth.
“Why did you do that!?” Chris shouted.
“I’m doing you a favor kid. You have the air of a man looking for something more. Someone to guide you.” Jeff smiled beneath that thick mustache.
Just then Chris felt a surge of heat course through his body. His muscles all began to cramp and his skin began to crawl. He doubled over in pain briefly before regaining his composure.
Chris staggered toward a darkened shop window and froze at the stranger looking back. His neat blonde side-part was breaking apart, the hair at his temples pulling backward as if erased by an invisible hand. A shadow had appeared over his lip — thicker by the second, darkening into the beginnings of a broad mustache. His jaw looked heavier. Older. His shoulders strained strangely against his blazer, as though his frame had decided it wanted to occupy more space than it had a moment ago. Even his clothes were changing - fleece and denim being replaced with black leather. The smell and touch both intoxicating and arousing to Chris’s shifting mind.
“No,” he whispered, then louder: “No.”
He clawed at his fading hairline, felt the changed shape of his own face, the roughness gathering where his skin had been smooth and young. Beneath his sleeves, new hair prickled down his forearms. His breath came fast and shallow. He looked over at Jeff, who watched him not with surprise, but with knowing satisfaction.
“You’re fighting it,” Jeff said taking a drag of his newly lit cigar and blowing the smoke towards Chris and chuckling. “That’ll only make it worse.”
Chris backed away, but even his posture was changing - his panic caught inside a body that was already learning a different way to stand - a different way to exist.
The next wave was quieter. That terrified him more. The panic was still there in Chris’s eyes, but it had begun to fray at the edges, interrupted by flashes of something else - familiarity, confidence, a low simmering pride that did not belong to him and yet somehow did. A growing heat in his groin at the thought of men, leather, cigars.
His clothes had continued to change with him: the soft sweater gone, replaced by leather that creaked when he moved and fit as though it had always been tailored for him. His chest felt warmer, heavier, hairier, rougher beneath the vest. His arms looked thicker. His hands looked older.
His hand rose to his lip. The mustache was full now—broad, dark, authoritative. Perfectly at home on his face - as if it had always been there. “Hadn’t it always been there,” Chris briefly thought. “I’ve had it since my late 20s at least…”
He looked at Jeff, and for one strange second it was like looking forward in time and into a mirror at once. Their hairlines matched. Their builds matched. The set of their shoulders, the angle of their mouths, even the cool, assessing look in their eyes — everything was converging.
Memories began to blur at the edges. The bar. The frat brothers. His old laugh. His own name. They all seemed suddenly thin, flimsy, unimportant.
“Who am…” he started, but the question died halfway out. Instead a wide cocky smile formed across his mustached face.
Jeff reached up and adjusted the front of Chris’s vest with almost affectionate precision.
“There you are, Geoffrey” Jeff said. “I was hoping to catch you here in the alley - alone…” But before Jeff could finish the sentence the formerly young Geoffrey pulled him in for a deep kiss with the intensity of a man in the desert being led to an oasis.
Geoffrey’s hands roamed up and down Jeff’s body - relishing the feel of the leather and the scent of tobacco and bourbon on Jeff’s breath. He knew exactly what he was doing when he unzipped Jeff’s pants and reached a newly hairy paw into his underwear - releasing the man’s cock from its leather prison.
Between smoky kisses and tongues deep in each other’s mouths Jeff gave a soft smile - relishing his handiwork at creating a doppelgänger that would know how to satisfy him exactly like he wanted. Exactly as he would do.
Jeff reached into Geoffrey’s pants and pulled out an exact copy of his dick on the formerly young man. He then ran a thumb around the head, already peaking out from the heavy foreskin covered with precum. He reached in and pulled out two round testicles and let them rest free against the leather pants.
Jeff then pushed Geoffrey against the wall looking him up and down and said “Who’s the hottest fucker around?”
“We are” was the response.
“What do we do for fun?”
“Put on our leather and fuck in the alley.”
“Good answer,” Jeff smirked as he turned Geoffrey around and pressed his face against the cool damp brick wall - while simultaneously grabbing Geoffrey’s pants and lowering them just enough for his hairy ass cheeks to spread apart. He then spit on his hand and shoved three fingers deep into the former frat boy - who moaned and jumped like it was the first time he’d been penetrated - now in a body that was clearly more accustomed to giving than receiving.
Jeff then spit on his dick and shoved it deep into his doppelgänger’s tight ass. He put his cigar back into his mouth and took a deep drag while beginning to pump into “himself.”
“Do you like daddy’s dick” he whispered in Geoffrey’s ear while exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“Yes, daddy” Geoffrey replied.
“Would you like some of daddy’s cigar?” Jeff asked.
“Yes, sir” Geoffrey moaned between thrusts. Jeff took another drag and offered one to the former frat boy - who relished the opportunity.
Jeff’s pace quickened as Geoffrey reached a hand down to his own engorged dick and started jerking it. Just as Jeff reached climax and shot his load deep into the mirror image of his ass, Geoffrey followed suit - spewing rope after rope of cum on the alley wall.
After Jeff came down from his climax, he took another drag of his cigar and pulled out - replacing his cock and balls into their leather confines. He slapped Geoffrey on the ass spun the man back around and said “Good job, boy. I think I’ll keep you like this for a while. Daddy will have further use for your services.”
Geoffrey pulled up his pants, keeping Jeff’s load inside like a warm souvenir of some both special and simultaneously common-place event. He rolled his shoulders and felt the easy weight of his body settle into place, solid and undeniable. He reached up, smoothing a hand over his mustache with a gesture so natural it required no thought. Somewhere deep down, there was a fading impression that he had once been someone younger, softer, easier to impress. A man named Chris. But that life had the texture of a dream forgotten by noon.
When they stepped out of the alley together, the city seemed to welcome them differently.
What remained was certainty. He took the cigar Jeff offered him, fitted it between his fingers, and smiled when he caught his reflection in a passing window. The face that looked back at him was rugged, self-possessed, and undeniably handsome. More than that - it was right.
Jeff gave him a knowing glance. “You remember now?”
He did. Not the life he had lost. That had already dissolved into the night. He remembered who he was now.
Jeff and Geoffrey walked toward the glow of the bars, matching stride for matching stride, like they had been leaving alleys together for years.
And by the time the door opened and the music spilled over them again, there was no trace of Chris left at all.
